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reidmotif · 1 year ago

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Dialing up for Trouble

Summary: Reader and Spencer were fuck-buddies, until Spencer cuts her off quite suddenly. A party and some risque images may be enough to get them back to their old routine.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: semi-public sex, sexting, mentions of nude images and descriptions of generic lingerie, masturbation (f!receiving), penetrative sex, semi-dom!spencer

Word Count: 3.5 k

Masterlist

Clichés bothered me. There was no other way to put it. I’d grown up hating the likes of love triangles, meet-cutes, chosen ones, and right now, I was being reminded more than ever of that hatred because, what the fuck?

“Too much of a good thing” was the reasoning Spencer had cited when he proposed we stop sleeping together casually, and return to our previous relationship of “just coworkers”. I’d let him know how ridiculous I found his sentiment, and attempted every possible method to continue our secret rendezvous, but he was absolutely dead-set on his decision, it seemed.

No more sex. No more late-night calls. None of it. It was all over. All because of a cliche.

We seemed to agree on one thing, and that was, yes. The sex was fantastic. It really was that good. While I’d never wish weariness on Spencer Reid, I couldn’t deny that in the aftermath of stress and frustration from whatever life had chosen for him, the way he’d deal with that was absolutely electrifying for me.

I’d find myself constantly breathless, pulled into hotel rooms, storage closets- anything resembling the barest hint of privacy, and allow him to use me as he saw fit. I gave him complete trust and control over my body, and in turn, he rewarded me with some incredibly life-changing orgasms. And for what it’s worth, he seemed to get an equal amount of satisfaction out of our hidden trysts, which only made his recent decision that more devastating.

It’d been roughly a month since we’d had sex, or anything resembling the sort, and I found myself absolutely deprived. When the FBI gave out invitations to its semi-annual gala, I imagined the festivities would be enough to distract me, but I was completely in error for assuming so. Amidst drinks and conversations, there was the occasional lull where I couldn’t help but absentmindedly imagine the feel of his hands over my skin, squeezing the fat of my hips. His lips trailing up and down my neck, focusing on spots only he knew about. The way his hair would tickle against my thighs when he’d bury his head-

“Hey.”

The voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I have to remind myself not to choke on my beverage. There he was. The current subject of my thoughts, standing in front of me, live and in the flesh. Spencer Reid.

“Hey.” I mirror back, taking a sip of my drink, acting as lax as I could, given the circumstances. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, gesturing to the party in front of us, the general ambience.

“You know me.” He replies, pausing for a second, keeping his gaze trained on mine. “Not my scene but.. doable.”

I chuckle for a moment, understanding perfectly. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most social guy out there. I was honestly surprised he’d chosen to come to this thing at all in the first place.

“You look nice.” He says, suddenly. “Your dress. It’s nice.” He rushes out the words, as if he’s scared to say them in the first place.

I smooth down the fabric instinctively, nodding. I try not to let the compliment affect me so much, keeping my head down for a split second to hide the creeping heat emanating from my cheeks.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I surprise myself with my own answer. The silence for that tick is horrible. I appreciate it? Jesus. I couldn’t think of the right words anymore. The correct and witty response that would allow this conversation to flow smoothly.

I truly wanted to fuck this man so bad, it made me look stupid.

And stupid I was, because yet again, I attempted to test the current parameters of our relationship he’d put us on. I swallow my pride, lifting my head to meet his eyes with mine.

“If you like it so much, you could- you know. Take it off.” I say, biting my lip. There’s a light tease in my voice, but it’s obvious I’m being as forthcoming as I possibly could. No games. No jokes. I didn’t want to dance around it, and I hoped my boldness would reward me as it did previously in the past.

But no, it seems that fortune does not favor the bold, because Spencer’s immediate response was to shake his head, lowering his voice. He pulled on my arm to decrease our proximity, to the point where it was ensured no passer-bys could possibly hear our conversation.

“Come on.” He pleads, almost looking desperate. “I told you we should stop- hasn’t that worked out? We can be coworkers. This works.”

I roll my eyes, letting my displeasure show plainly over my face. “This works?” I say, and the sarcasm is clear in my voice. “Sex worked too, you know.”

“I know it did!” He says, in a hushed whisper. “But- we can’t. No. It’s not right. Too much of a-”

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to god.” I say, my expression turning much more volatile. I forcibly shrug his arm off me. “This is stupid.” I continue, trying not to let my voice rise. “I see the way you look at me. I know it was good for both of us. I know you’re thinking about it just as much as I am, so why not!” There’s a hint of hurt in my voice as well. Underneath all the sex, I’d grown to miss the interactions after. The giggles under covers and the feel of his hair in my fingers. I missed him. All of him.

There’s a miserable pause on his end, and I hold my breath waiting for his next words. Spencer sputters, looking absolutely defeated. “Because- because we just can’t, okay?” He replies, helplessly, stepping back from me, as I’d done with him. “Look. I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the party, okay? Take care of yourself, yeah?”

Before I can get in another word, demanding a real explanation from the man, he leaves me alone, replaying the words of his confusing outburst in my mind.

I take a short time to myself, electing to go use the restroom and take a breather from the party, a bit on edge after our exchange. Was it possible he was completely fine with what the loss of our arrangement had done to us? Was I the only one absolutely losing my mind? Any attempt to diverge my attention from the topic proved futile, and I remained in the closed room, mindlessly adjusting myself in the mirror with no real rhyme or reason. There’s an eventual use of my phone, focusing the camera directly on my face to make sure nothing had smudged or looked off on my face in the time I’d last checked my makeup. In the use of the device, I remembered the pictures I’d taken before coming here.

The pictures weren’t meant to serve any true purpose. I’d bought new lingerie for this dress, as my previous bras weren’t suited to the cut and shape of the specific piece of clothing, and decided to take a few pictures for myself. It was lacy, and pretty, but nothing truly special. The bra had a slight push-up effect, and the panties were a bit cheekier than my normal, day-to-day undergarments. The actual lingerie was innocent- harmless, even. Looking at the images right now, though, a salacious idea creeped into my head.

Under the right circumstances, these could be exactly the catalyst to finally receiving what I wanted.

I open the messaging app on my phone, finding Spencer’s contact, and beginning to type out a simple message.

hey.

The response is immediate.

What’s up?

You good?

Where’d you go?

I laugh a little. I imagined him scanning the crowd for me, trying to figure out where I’d gone off to.

all good, don’t worry

so we’re still sticking to the no sex thing?

I see his typing bubble pop up, then pause. Then starts up again.

Yes.

Trust me, it’s for the better.

I groan internally. Of course he thinks that. Always thinks he knows what’s good for everyone.

trust me

if you knew what i had planned for us

you wouldn’t say that

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, indicating he was now calling me? I hadn’t planned for this.

“Spencer?” I remark, waiting for his voice on the line.

“What do you mean?” He says, quickly. I can no longer hear the bustle of the party in the background, so it’s only reasonable to assume he’s moved somewhere quieter. Still, I ask.

“Are you around other people?” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

“No. Alone. What did you mean by your last message?” He repeats, quickly.

There’s my in. I respond, feigning an unmistakable innocence in my voice. “Mind if I show you?”

“Show me?” The confusion in his voice is palpable.

“Show you.” I reply, more definitively. “Check your messages.”

I bring my phone away from my ear, electing to send the first picture I saw in my camera roll, which prominently featured my breasts- a feature of mine I knew Spencer was quite interested in. I return to the call, my heart pounding wildly.

“Did you see?” I ask, hesitantly, when all I can hear is his breathing on the other line.

The response is a choked out, breathy mess of a sentence. “Yeah- I did. Jesus.”

“Want more?” I murmur, biting my lip as the realization dawned on me that this possibly had a chance of working.

There’s a delay in his words on the line, before I finally hear:

“Yes. God, yes.”

I grin ear-to-ear, beginning to send an assortment of pictures I’d taken previously in the day. Knowing this was having an effect on him, that somewhere in this party Spencer was sitting alone, his gaze trained on his phone intently, did something to me. He was behaving this way because of my body, because of what I could do to him.

It was hard not to get wet at the thought.

“You look so good.” He breathes out, and the desire in his voice is unmistakable.

“Yeah?” I mumble to the speaker. “You think so?”

“Mhm.” He murmurs. “You’re wearing this right now?” He asks, seemingly needing that confirmation at this moment.

“In all its glory.” I try not to giggle before murmuring teasingly, “What, you wanna see?”

“Where are you?” He asks, suddenly seeming very determined. I can hear the shuffling on the other line, indicating he was now starting to move from where he was currently situated. He was completely, and utterly serious about this.

“Bathroom, on the left corridor of the entrance.” I say, feeling exhilarated at the thought of him meeting me here. This was happening.

Finally.

“Stay.” He replies, and the call cuts.

There’s an impatient itch that creeps up on me during the two-minute wait for him, before I hear a solid knock on the door, and my name being whispered through the door, belonging to a voice I’d grown so accustomed to and fond of.

My fingers undo the lock, opening it just enough so that he could squeeze through without drawing too much attention to ourselves right now.

And as soon as he’s managed in, he’s practically on me, devouring me with a kiss with a passion I’d never felt from him before. My hands go to wrap around his neck, pressing our bodies flush against each other, every ragged breath of his shooting directly to my core, which was now throbbing with need.

“Fuck. Missed this so much.” He breathes out, gasping for air in between our kisses. I couldn’t so much as get a whimper out, before he’d dive right in again. It’s like he wanted to eat me alive.

And I’d let him.

I moan softly into his mouth, starved for more contact between us. It’s as if he can read my mind, because in an instant, he guides us from the center of the bathroom, towards a wall, slotting his thigh between my legs. He takes a momentary break from ravishing me with his lips, now adopting a slower, more sensual pace as he works down my neck, each soft kiss leaving me craving him even more.

His hands drift down to my hips, keeping me pinned against the wall as he murmured soft praises. My legs felt wobbly, absolutely taken aback by how quickly I could go weak for this man.

“You like this, mm?” He mumbles, letting his teeth nip over the lobe of my ear, before switching to a more neglected side of my neck. “Like me that much, mm?”

I don’t care about the cockiness in his tone. I don’t care how smug I render him. I just need him to continue this, for as long as I can have him.

“Yes.” I breathe out, my voice higher-pitched than it normally would be. “God. Love this so much.”

There’s a flash of hesitance from him, as he pulls his face away from my neck, staring at my eyes with his own. I can’t dwell on the pause, because for once, I’m finally seeing him. His hair was absolutely ruined, sticking up wildly in different directions. His cheeks were a light pink, serving to make his features even prettier and doe-like than before. But what got me were his eyes. His pupils were blown out, the normal honey-hazel I’d seen on a daily basis replaced with an absolute abyss of black. The darkness served to cause a surge within me, practically launching forward to meet his lips with mine.

There are no words required for what happens next, as I feel his hand creep up my back, pulling me away from the wall and towards the closest surface, which happened to be the sink. He guides me to bend over, and I do so with no resistance.

He could have me, whichever way he wanted, whenever he wanted. All I needed was his touch.

I can feel him crouch to his knees, slowly reaching under my dress to hook his fingers around my panties, slowly pulling them down. I can feel a string of my arousal clinging to the fabric, and it seems Spencer can too, because he practically moans as he drags the soiled piece of lingerie down my thighs. I step out of them quickly, and turn my head back, fast enough to see him stuff the proof of our debauchery down his suit pocket.

“Eyes ahead.” He whispers, leaning down close to my ear to nip at the sensitive flesh again.

“Okay.” I murmur, slipping into a more submissive version of myself that he seemed to bring out in me. There’s a sense of relaxation and excitement all at the same time, and I’m absolutely wracked with lust for him.

His fingers stroke my clit for a moment, applying pressure in just the right way. The movements are practiced, precise and guaranteed to hurl me off the edge if he continues this way.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He murmurs, almost amazed, letting his fingers slip away. “All this for me?”

I can barely respond, whimpering and nodding. “Yes. Please- Spencer.” I beg, needily.

“I know, I know.” He replies, and I can hear how pleased he is. There’s a certain delight he derives from my submission, and while in any other circumstance, the smugness he displays would turn me off, right now it only served to further my hunger.

I can feel him start to work on his belt, sliding the coarse material of his dress pants just enough, so that his cock could spring free. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, his tip sliding through my folds, and I clench at the thought of him finally being inside of me.

Just when I believed his teasing to be done, there’s a knock at the door, and we both freeze. Spencer swallows, and quickly raises his voice. “Occupied!”

There’s silence, and that previous sense of lust and content drifts back into our bodies, Spencer’s fingers trace up to my face, and he lets his finger slip into my mouth. I can taste my arousal on his fingers, and there’s a genuine struggle on my end to stay upright. How could I, when the man behind me rendered me so indisposed?

He draws his fingers out of my mouth. “Good girl.” He whispers.

It seems the universe has other plans though, because yet again- a knock sounds at the door. I can hear Spencer’s groan, and watch through the mirror as he attempts to come up with a response that would give us the seclusion we required.

My patience however, had worn thin. His cock was right there, and I’d be damned if I was forced to wait any longer. I turn my head towards the door, complacency and submission gone from my voice.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to fuck him in here!” I say, snarking out the words.

There’s a silence, and a murmur of mortification on the other side of the door. Footsteps. And then at last, silence.

Spencer quickly leans down to kiss my cheek, mumbling out an “I love you.”

Before I can even comprehend the words, he’s guiding himself into me, sliding his cock through my walls, and I have to bite my lip to keep a scream in. He feels so fucking good inside of me, stretching me out in ways no man ever could. I can feel the underside of his cock hitting that spongy spot deep inside of me, and my breathing turns rapid in mere seconds.

“There we go, relax for me baby, yeah?” He mumbles. “Nice and slow.”

I moan out my affirmative, gripping onto the sink as I let my jaw drop, eyes squeezing in absolute ecstasy. “So good for me.” He murmurs. “So warm and wet, Jesus.”

And with that, he starts a pace that works for both of us. It’s hard and fast, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The feel of his cock gliding through my puffy walls is intoxicating, and I can only wonder how I went so long without feeling it.

It seems Spencer’s having similar thoughts, because through my moans and his occasional groans, I can feel his grip on my hips get more bruising by the second, marking me as his own. I can hear occasional fragments of words through his noises.

“Never letting you go. Oh fuck. Fuck.” He mumbles, and despite the overwhelming amount of arousal shooting through me, my heart swells.

“Me too.” I whimper out, gripping the sink even harder. I can feel my wetness seeping all around us, splashing against my thighs with every movement he drives into me. “Need you so badly.”

“Rub your clit for me.” He demands, whispering out the words. “Need to see you come on my cock first, pretty girl.” The words are strained, and I can tell he’s doing everything to keep from spilling inside of me prematurely.

There’s no reason to temporize, and my fingers make their way down to the sensitive bundle of nerves, and the effect is almost immediate. It takes roughly a minute of my incessant rubbing and the feel of him inside me before I’m coming with a soft shout, growing limp against the sink as my muscles twitch and fill me with a deep sense of relief and satisfaction.

Spencer isn’t far behind me, humping into me a few more times before coming inside of me, the release signified with a loud moan and a sense of warmth flooding my deepest point. He slumps against my back, pressing a few, soft kisses to my neck.

As we both come down from our highs, I recall the words Spencer mumbled in my ear previously. I let out a self-satisfied giggle, which Spencer smiles at.

“Mm. What’s that about?” He murmurs.

“You love me?” I ask, softly.

A pause.

“A little.” He responds, voice equally as soft.

“Is that why you stopped having sex with me?” I mumble out, gently.

He presses another kiss to the nape of my neck. “Mhm. Please don’t be mad.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “Not mad. The opposite, really.”

He pulls me up, causing us both to look at each other. “You feel the same way?”

I nod, biting my lip. “We could try this out, I think. I want to, Spencer.”

I stop, and decide I do need to tease him a bit, especially after the sex-less agony he put me through for a month.

“Though, I do recall someone telling me too much of a good thing can go bad..”

His lips part in confusion, before he picks up the teasing nature of my words and leans in for a soft, simple kiss. He keeps his forehead on mind, his eyes staring into mine with a gentle reverence.

“Let’s indulge just this once.”

holy shit has it been a long time since i've written a fic!! i'm so sorry?! i've been dealing with life and other assorted things and writing sort of took a backseat in that period of time <3 i hope this was okay. as usual any feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are so so greatly appreciated. i love writing for spencer, and i hope you guys like that writing too <3 i'm sorry that the two previous fics i promised seem to be delayed, i swear i'm gonna write those next, but inspiration sort of just struck on my end f or this, and i hope it was good <3 but yeah!! thank you so much for reading and interacting with this in any way you choose!! i appreciate it greatly!!

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religious-extremist · 8 months ago

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A Christian must not be fanatical; he must have love for and be sensitive towards all people. Those who inconsiderately toss out comments, even if they are true, can cause harm.

I once met a theologian who was extremely pious, but who had the habit of speaking to the secular people around him in a very blunt manner; his method penetrated so deeply that it shook them very severely. He told me once: “During a gathering, I said such and such a thing to a lady.” But the way that he said it, crushed her. “Look”, I said to him, “you may be tossing golden crowns studded with diamonds to other people, but the way that you throw them can smash heads, not only the sensitive ones, but the sound ones also.”

Let’s not stone our fellow-man in a so-called “Christian manner.” The person who – in the presence of others – checks someone for having sinned (or speaks in an impassioned manner about a certain person), is not moved by the Spirit of God; he is moved by another spirit.

The way of the Church is love; it differs from the way of the legalists. The Church sees everything with tolerance and seeks to help each person, whatever he may have done, however sinful he may be.

A truly humble person never behaves like a teacher; he will listen, and, whenever his opinion is requested, he responds humbly. In other words, he replies like a student. He who believes that he is capable of correcting others is filled with egotism.

Saint Paisios the Athonite

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castawaycreature · 1 month ago

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Stop fighting

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Warnings: curse words, oral fem receiving, penetration (no protection, but you wrap it up), slight angst

A/N: hello, i'm a newbie here. I'm from Italy, so i don't know if my english is perfect or not, but this freaking man got me back into writing. So i though I'll give this a try. I always loved writing but through the years I lost the creativity and the passion. But I wanna start again, maybe I'll feel alive again. Soooo, this is a first try. If you can, start gentle with me but every comment and opinion and most importantly, correction it will be very much appreciated. ps. actually this is for @delulu-for-norman my new friend who on our first conversation sent me her favorite pics of Jon and for @societyfolklore who pushed me to write again. Thank you babes, this is for you.

The silence of the night was broken only by the buzzing of the shabby neon light hanging from the steel beam of the underground shelter. Frank had been hiding there since his last mission — a silent, surgical bloodshed, as usual.

Because that’s who he is: schematic, controlled. He studies the mission, checks the area and who’s around it, and once he has perfectly grasped the rhythm and secrets of the place, he acts.

He wields his guns, puts on his bulletproof vest — and Frank, as we know him, disappears. In his place remains only the Punisher.

He hadn’t said a word since you followed him there — stubborn, uninvited. Not that you needed permission. Between you and him, a new language had formed: made of looks and held-back tension.

You closed the door with a sharp click. You were still wearing your black jeans and an old grey T-shirt. The gun he gave you hung at your hip, but that wasn’t what distracted him.

It was that look.

Set, steady, on him.

Frank was cleaning his guns. His hands — strong, slow, battered — moved with precision. Every motion part of a methodical sequence, almost mechanical. He’d done it so long it was second nature, like brushing his teeth.

He didn’t look at you immediately, but his breathing deepened.

He felt you getting closer. Heard your steps echo softly on the concrete floor.

When you finally spoke, your voice was calm — but powerful.

“You can’t keep doing it alone.”

“I’m not alone,” he grunted. “You’re always there, even when you shouldn’t be.”

You stood directly in front of him. You grabbed the gun from his hands, using the disarming techniques he’d taught you, and set it aside. His fingers curled into a fist reflexively, and he took a deep breath — almost a growl.

But he didn’t stop you.

You bent down slightly, locking eyes with him. There was fire in him. Contained. Wild. But underneath it, hidden, was old fatigue — a pain he wouldn’t let out.

“I want to see you… when you stop fighting.”

Frank swallowed hard. His hands twitched — maybe to push you away, maybe to touch you — but you were faster. You climbed into his lap with purpose, arching your back against him. The contact between your bodies was like a sharp shot. Frank inhaled. His strong hands landed on your hips, holding you firmly.

But he didn’t push you away.

“You know I’m not good at this,” he said, his deep eyes glossy. “I’m not good at stopping myself.”

You challenged him with a slow smile — almost cruel in its tenderness.

“Then don’t. But stop running.”

He grunted — a deep, animal sound, like something sensing the cage opening.

Then he kissed you.

Anything but sweet. Nothing short of desperate and raw.

His lips were rough, hungry. His breath came in short bursts. His large hands slid up under your shirt, finding your skin hot and slick with sweat.

He lifted you up, carried you to the old wooden table, sweeping the tools away with a sharp gesture. You clung to him with a soft moan, fingers in his short hair, your mouth crushing against his neck.

“You’re real,” you whispered against his skin. “You’re not just blood and lead, Frank.”

He froze. Just for a second.

As if debating whether there could be more to life than pain, revenge, and rage.

Then he looked at you with his dark, haunted eyes.

And he gave in.

He lifted you again and carried you to his cot — the one that had seen too many of his nightmares. He laid you down carefully, his lips trailing along your neck, biting gently as if to mark you.

The shirt you wore came off quickly. You gave in to him, breathing in his scent — metal, sweat, gunpowder, and something deeply human.

Your hands ran over his chest, grazing the scars on his abdomen. You pulled up his shirt, eager to feel his skin.

The kisses turned messy, intense — all tongue and teeth.

Frank’s tongue traced your skin, slow and lethal.

The rhythm between you started to shift — not slow enough to risk exposing your hearts, but not fast enough to miss a single gasp.

His rough hands unzipped your jeans, removing them with urgency, kissing each newly exposed inch of your body.

He knelt in front of you for a moment, eyes devouring you. You looked flushed, and he thought he’d never seen anything so vulnerable — so yours, offered only to him.

You couldn’t wait anymore. You grabbed his hands, making him nearly fall on top of you. He cupped your face and kissed you again.

Your bodies were so close. You opened your legs, letting him settle between them. His bulge pressed against your clothed core, making both of you moan.

You’d always suspected he was big, but now that he was grinding against you, you wondered if you could take him all. You couldn’t wait to find out.

You fumbled with his jeans, unzipping them. Frank sighed with relief.

You broke the kiss to give him room to undress. He looked up at you as his hands landed on your thighs, caressing you slowly but firmly.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You nodded and he got his hands closer to your inner thighs, grazing your soft skin. Your body jumped at the touch of your skin and little moans left your mouth, trembling at the next touch.

Frank got very close to your lower stomach, leaving little kisses on your burning skin. His fingers interwined with your panties and he slid your panties off, and the cool air hit your wetness, making you shiver.

Frank paused — eyes glued to you, glistening and swollen, just like he was. Rocking hard and his tip dripping with precum inside of his boxer. He cursed under his breath and lowered his mouth to your core, planting kisses that made you moan.

His fingers teased your thighs, then moved between your folds, collecting slick and rubbing your clit and entrance.

“You’re so fucking wet… fuck.”

You cried out, your hips jerking upward, making Frank smirk. He did it again — and again.

Then his mouth replaced his fingers.

He buried his face in you, licking, sucking, devouring like a starved man.

He licks, sucks and ravish at your cunt, like captivated by your needy sounds and your intoxicating smell. He sucks your little bundle of nerves, spreading and tasting with his tounge the juices you made, twirling and flicking his tongue around it.

You were full on dizzy and warm, feeling things you've never felt. Your skin was hot and red flush, your chest rising on an off beat, whining at every movement of his burning tongue. His mouth and hands on you were so intense that you will be a fool to even thinking of pulling him away.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby doll. You’re killing me,” he groaned.

He slipped one, then two fingers inside you, pumping steadily. Your body tightened around him, and he growled, imagining how you’d feel around his cock.

You were so close. The knot in your stomach was tightening, your breath ragged —

And then he stopped.

You whined at the emptiness, but he only looked at you, lips shining with you, eyes dark with hunger.

“You don’t get to come just yet, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

The words made you clench around nothing. Your hand reached for his bulge, stroking him through his jeans. He moaned, hips bucking into your touch.

You freed him from his boxers, stroking his thick length, spreading his pre-cum down his shaft.

“Fuck, stop. I can’t take it anymore. I need to be inside you,” he growled.

He tossed his boxers aside. The shelter was quiet except for the distant hum of Lieberman’s computers and the symphony of lips, moans, gasps.

He lined himself up, teased your clit with his tip, watching you squirm.

Then — slowly — he pushed in.

Both of you hissed at the stretch.

He braced himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, voice strained.

“Oh, Frank… it feels so good,” you moaned against his lips.

He filled you to the hilt. And stopped.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, doll… squeezing me so hard…”

“You’re so big… fuck…” you cried.

He was deep — deeper than anyone. He ruined you for everyone else.

“I have to move… I need to move,” he growled.

You nodded, and he started thrusting — deep, deliberate strokes.

Your eyes rolled back, your body trembling as he found that perfect spot.

His pace quickened. He gripped your thighs, fucking into you faster.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart. You gonna come with me? Yeah?”

His thumb rubbed your clit in circles.

“You gonna show me how good you are?”

The familiar coil twists in your stomach, a fire starting to burn low in your abdomen. A different sensation you've never felt, not alone not with anyone else. A sensation only Frank Castle could ever makes you feel. You clenched around him, crying his name as your orgasm ripped through you.

“Yeah baby, atta girl— I’m gonna come too,” he gasped, pounding into you a few more times before growling, releasing inside you.

You gasped for air, dizzy and trembling. You cupped his face, forcing him to look into your eyes as he came — watching something break in him. Something finally let go.

He collapsed on top of you, making sure you could still breathe. He kissed your nose, panting.

Then he slowly slipped out and lay beside you on the cot.

No more words.

Just breath, skin, sweat.

Silence.

You were still naked, close, in this forgotten shelter.

You spoke first.

“Now you’re here. Finally.”

Frank didn’t reply.

But he held you close.

And for the first time — he didn’t look like he was about to leave.

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle x y/n #marvel #personalworks

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prettymfwrites · 8 months ago

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Bar Fight

Vi x Caitlyn x Injured Reader

You get into a bar fight which worries your girlfriends.

---

The dim glow of the streetlights barely penetrated the misty atmosphere of the Undercity. The chatter in the bar had been loud, but not loud enough to drown out the murmurs Vi and Caitlyn overheard from a passerby as they strolled home after a long evening.

“You see that girl in the fight earlier? Messed her up good. She barely made it out.”

Vi froze, her sharp ears catching every word. She turned to Caitlyn, her eyes narrowing in concern. “What’d they just say?”

Caitlyn’s hand brushed Vi’s arm, attempting to steady her. “Let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“They said girl,” Vi cut her off, her voice taut. “What if they meant Y/N?”

Caitlyn’s chest tightened at the thought. “Let’s find out.”

The two of them immediately altered their path, retracing steps that brought them closer to the chaos. It wasn’t hard to find signs of a scuffle—shattered glass on the pavement, muffled arguments still echoing from the bar. But no sign of you.

“Where the hell is she?” Vi growled, her fists clenching as she scanned the streets.

Caitlyn, always more methodical, noticed a shadow limping down a narrow alleyway a block over. “Vi,” she murmured, tugging her sleeve. “There.”

Vi was already moving before Caitlyn could explain further.

You hadn’t made it far. Your steps were uneven, one hand clutching your ribs while the other tried to steady yourself against the damp walls. When you heard hurried footsteps behind you, you flinched, turning sharply, only to sigh in relief when you saw Vi and Caitlyn.

“Hey,” you croaked, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Y/N!” Caitlyn was at your side in an instant, her hands carefully reaching for your arm. “What happened? Are you hurt? Let me see.”

Vi’s jaw tightened as she crossed her arms, hovering behind Caitlyn. “You got into a fight?” she asked, her voice low and dangerously calm.

You winced, both from the pain and the tone in her voice. “It’s not as bad as it looks—”

“Not as bad?” Vi snapped, stepping closer. “You’re limping, Y/N!”

“Vi,” Caitlyn interjected gently but firmly, giving her a look that said not now. She turned her attention back to you, her hands soft and steady as they guided you toward her. “Let’s get you home first, okay?”

With Caitlyn supporting one side and Vi reluctantly taking the other, they walked you back to your apartment. Vi stayed quiet, but you could feel the tension radiating off her in waves. Caitlyn, meanwhile, kept whispering soothing reassurances, her hand brushing yours every so often.

Once inside, Caitlyn settled you on the couch, fetching the first-aid kit while Vi paced the room like a caged tiger.

“I’m fine,” you said, watching Caitlyn pull out bandages.

“You’re not,” Caitlyn corrected gently, kneeling beside you. Her fingers brushed your skin as she examined the bruises forming on your ribs and the cut on your temple. “This will sting a little,” she said, dabbing antiseptic on the wound before leaning in to press soft kisses along your forehead and cheek.

Vi stopped pacing, her sharp gaze locking on yours. “Who was it, Y/N?” she asked, her voice tight.

You sighed, meeting her eyes. “Vi—”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied firmly. “It’s over.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter,” Vi shot back, her fists clenching. “If someone laid a hand on you—”

“Vi,” Caitlyn cut in softly, her hand resting on your thigh as if grounding you both. “Let her speak.”

You reached out, grabbing Vi’s wrist and pulling her closer. “It wasn’t anything serious, okay? Some drunk idiot wouldn’t leave me alone, and when I told her to back off, she swung at me. I handled it.”

Vi’s expression darkened. “Clearly not well enough.”

You tugged on her wrist, forcing her to sit beside you. “Vi, listen to me. I’m okay. I don’t want you going out there and making things worse.”

Her jaw worked as if she wanted to argue, but the look in your eyes softened her. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I just—seeing you like this, it—”

“I know,” you said, your voice gentle. “But you don’t need to fight every battle for me.”

Caitlyn, having finished bandaging you up, leaned against your shoulder, her arms wrapping around you protectively. “She’s right, Vi. She’s safe now. That’s what matters.”

Vi looked between the two of you, her tough exterior cracking just enough to show the worry beneath. Finally, she sighed again, leaning forward to press her lips to your knuckles. “Fine. But next time, you call us. Got it?”

“Got it,” you promised, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Caitlyn kissed your temple once more, her touch feather-light. “And you,” she said, her tone affectionate but teasing, “should maybe avoid bars for a while.”

You laughed softly, leaning into her warmth. Vi reached over, squeezing your hand as the three of you settled into the quiet comfort of home.

For now, the world outside could wait.

---

I take requests💜

#arcane #vi x caitlyn #vi x reader #vi imagines #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #gxg imagine #arcane imagine #arcane fanfic #vi fanfic #caitlyn fanfic #caitvi

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weavergrovedevotional · 3 months ago

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Digging Deep: Why Spending Time in Scripture Matters

In our busy lives, filled with work, family, and endless to-do lists, it can feel like finding time for anything extra is a monumental task. But today, I want to talk about something that isn't just an "extra" – it's a lifeline, a foundation, and a source of immeasurable blessing: spending time studying Scripture.

Think of it like this: imagine building a house. You wouldn't just slap some bricks together and hope for the best, would you? You'd need a solid blueprint, a detailed plan to ensure stability and strength. The Bible is our blueprint for life, given to us by the ultimate architect, God himself.

But just owning the blueprint isn't enough. It needs to be opened, studied, and understood to guide the construction process. Similarly, having a Bible on your shelf is wonderful, but its true power and purpose are unlocked when we actively engage with its pages.

Why is digging into Scripture so vital?

It's how we truly know God. The Bible isn't just a collection of stories; it's God's revealed Word. Through its pages, we learn about His character, His love, His justice, His mercy, and His incredible plan for humanity. How can we truly love and follow someone we don't know? Scripture unveils the heart of our Father.

It equips us for life's challenges. Life throws curveballs. We face trials, temptations, and moments of uncertainty. Scripture provides wisdom, guidance, and comfort in these times. It's our spiritual armor, helping us stand firm in our faith and navigate the storms with God's truth as our compass. As it says in 2 Timothy 3:16-17, "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work."

It transforms our hearts and minds. Spending time in Scripture isn't just about gaining knowledge; it's about allowing God's Word to penetrate our hearts and shape our thinking. As we meditate on its truths, the Holy Spirit works within us, convicting, encouraging, and transforming us into the likeness of Christ. It helps us to see the world through God's eyes and align our desires with His.

It strengthens our relationship with Jesus. Jesus himself constantly referred to and quoted Scripture. By immersing ourselves in the Word, we connect with the very words that shaped His life and ministry. It deepens our understanding of His sacrifice, His teachings, and His ongoing presence in our lives.

It provides clarity and discernment. In a world filled with conflicting voices and opinions, Scripture offers a clear and unwavering standard of truth. It helps us discern between what is right and wrong, what is godly and ungodly. It provides a solid foundation upon which to build our beliefs and make wise decisions.

Making Time for the Word:

I know it can feel overwhelming to add another thing to your already packed schedule. But even small, consistent efforts can make a huge difference. Here are a few practical tips:

Start small: Even 15-20 minutes a day can be impactful.

Find a method that works for you: Whether it's reading chronologically, focusing on a specific book, or using a devotional guide, find a way to engage with Scripture that resonates with you.

Be consistent: Aim for a regular time each day, even if it means waking up a little earlier or using your lunch break.

Pray before you read: Ask the Holy Spirit to open your heart and mind to understand God's Word.

Reflect and apply: Don't just read; take time to think about what you've read and how it applies to your life.

Discuss with others: Consider joining a Bible study group to learn from others and share insights.

Friends, let's make a conscious effort to prioritise digging deep into God's Word. It's not a chore; it's an invitation to know God more intimately, to be equipped for life's journey, and to experience the transformative power of His truth. Let's build our lives on the solid foundation of Scripture, one verse at a time.

What are some ways you make time for Scripture in your day?

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swampstew · 10 months ago

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Dark King Brat Tamer

Summary: Inspired by this gif submitted by @indydonuts (sorry I prematurely deleted the ask and couldn't find the original!)

Warnings: Silvers Dark King Rayleigh X F! Reader, modernish AU, consent is implied, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, vaginal penetration/fingering.

Minors DNI - my content is for mature audiences only

“You’re a real brat,” ice cubes clinked in your glasses as Rayleigh set his drink down. Rising to his feet, he caged you in your seat with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“Don’t condescend to me, you’re not my dad,” you stuck your tongue out at him, refusing to surrender to the tingling in your stomach at the escalating tension. Every conversation with him turned into this – face to face battles to see who would break first.

Who would make the first move.

“No, I would have taught you better manners. However, I’m not above giving some course correction, and I definitely use the spanking method for brattiness.”

“You wish your hands could spank this ass,” you flit your dilating eyes away, trying to suppress the excitement glowing on your cheeks at the thought of his large, worn hands running up your body.

“You’re too much of a gentleman.”

Rayleigh’s dark eyes widened at the accusation, aghast that you thought so highly of him.

“That’s the thing Y/N, you don’t know me that well,” his body shifted so fast you almost missed him, had you blinked your eyes.

One moment, he was standing in front of you and the next he had taken your seat and sprawled your body over his thighs. A sudden crack in the air followed the sharp slap against your cheek, the feeling of blood pooling in the area was soothed with a heavy hand that gently rubbed the spot.

“You don’t know me at all.”

You let out a gasp as you felt his hand caress the globe of your ass, lowering to the peak where your thighs met. Your ruffled skirt hid his hand as he slipped it under the fabric to feel you better.

Pressing the pad of his finger against your clothed core, your excitement from his touch had left a gooey spot that leaked through. Rayleigh teased his fingers between your covered lips repeatedly before pushing down on the button of your clitoris, which caused your hips to buck. He didn’t stop, grounding his palm against your aching center, pushing the panty aside so he could lubricate his hand.

With the easy access, he started sinking his fingers deep into your cunt until each long digit was soaked with your essence. Watching him lick them made your mouth water until you let out a low whimper for more.

Casting you a proud glance, “Oh does the brat want something?”

You let out a huffed pout, refusing to give him a real answer.

Another crack, your ass cheeks clapped from the force and your throat betrayed you as you let out a mewling yelp.

“Speak up, I’m an old man you know!”

Another smack, but this time his hand was under your skirt as he massaged your puckered flesh. With a gentle nudge of his fingers, your thighs parted slightly and his hand slid down your slit.

Rayleigh let out a low whistle at the pool of slick that had dribbled out of you. The whistle caused some heads to turn at you both, but a single glare from the legend was enough to make all voyeurs around the small, darkened dive bar pass out. Bar tender included.

“Now, where was I?” the lilt in his voice made your body squirm. “Oh right, you were going to say something?”

No the fuck you weren’t. You were many things, and a quitter wasn’t one of them.

Instead, you gave him a challenging smirk.

“Ohhh, you’re in some desperate need of house breaking…” he growled, spreading your legs wider.

Hopeful that he would touch you more, you didn’t expect what came next. Stinging rippled between your legs and the shout you let out echoed in the silent bar.

Rayliegh’s thumb gently rubbed your swollen clit from the mean slap he gave it.

“Let’s try that again. Does the brat have something to say?” “Y-y-yeeeessssss sirrr❤️~”

#silvers rayleigh #rayleigh x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #dark king rayleigh #rayleigh x yn #one piece fanfiction #silvers rayleigh smut #swampstew bedtime stories

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vermilionsun · 1 year ago

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This post translates directly to @musas-sideblog's about how Touchstarved ties with Victorian horror and implicit/metaphorical sex, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so here is a lengthy theory. Enjoy :)

Note 1: Victorian era authors used an unholy amount of ways to imply sexual feelings/acts etc, so I here I will include only the ones that are of interest. Note 2: I've highlighted the "most important" parts. Note 3: I'm not an expert at this, so please bear with me and feel free to correct me. Note 4: Do I need to add a TW? I think it's obvious-

Overview: What is Victorian Horror?

Victorian horror refers to the genre of horror literature, art, and culture that flourished during the Victorian era, roughly from the mid-19th century to the early 20th century, coinciding with Queen Victoria's reign from 1837 to 1901. This period was marked by a fascination with the macabre, the supernatural, and the dark aspects of human nature, reflecting the anxieties and societal changes of the time.

Key Themes and Characteristics

Supernatural Elements:

Ghosts and Spirits: Tales of haunted houses and spectral apparitions were central to Victorian horror. Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol" (1843) and Henry James's "The Turn of the Screw" (1898) are notable examples.

Monsters and the Gothic: The era's literature is filled with monstrous creations and gothic settings, such as in Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" (1818), Bram Stoker's "Dracula" (1897), and Robert Louis Stevenson's "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" (1886).

Science and the Unknown:

The Victorian period was a time of great scientific advancement, but also of fear about the implications of these discoveries. This is evident in works that explore the dangers of unchecked scientific experimentation, like "Frankenstein" and H.G. Wells's "The Island of Doctor Moreau" (1896).

Exploration of the Human Psyche:

Victorian horror often delved into the darker aspects of the human mind, including themes of duality, madness, and the hidden, sinister side of human nature. This is seen in "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" and Edgar Allan Poe’s works, such as "The Tell-Tale Heart" (1843).

Social and Moral Anxieties:

The literature frequently reflected Victorian society's fears and anxieties, including issues related to sexuality, class, and the role of women. Gothic novels often contained subtexts about societal norms and the consequences of transgressing them.

Urban Fear and Isolation:

The rapid urbanisation of the Victorian era contributed to themes of isolation, alienation, and fear of the crowded yet lonely cityscape. This is evident in the settings of many horror stories, such as Arthur Machen's "The Great God Pan" (1894).

Sexual Content: Victorian literature is renowned for its strict moral codes and conservative views on sexuality. Explicit depictions of sexual activity were considered taboo and were subject to censorship. Consequently, authors developed subtle and nuanced methods to imply sexual scenes or themes.

Literary Techniques for Implying Sexual Scenes

✧ Symbolism and Imagery:

Sexuality was often conveyed through symbolic imagery. Objects, actions, or natural phenomena could serve as metaphors for sexual activity or desire. For example, in "Dracula" by Bram Stoker, blood and biting symbolise sexual penetration and the exchange of bodily fluids, infusing the act with a sense of forbidden desire and eroticism.

Clothing and Undress:

Gloves: In Victorian culture, gloves were highly symbolic. The act of a woman removing her gloves in the presence of a man, or a man assisting her in this act, could signify a moment of intimacy or vulnerability. Similarly, a man giving a woman his gloves could be a sign of affection or a deeper connection.

Hats and Bonnets:

Corsets

Objects and Personal Items:

Locks of Hair

Jewellery

Books and Letters

Touch and Physical Contact:

Kissing Hands

Hand-Holding

Food and Drink:

Wine: Sharing wine or a meal in an intimate setting often suggested a prelude to deeper connection. Descriptions of characters drinking wine together in private could imply a romantic or sexual undertone.

Fruit: Certain fruits, like apples, grapes, or peaches, were laden with sexual symbolism. Eating or sharing fruit could represent temptation or indulgence. For instance, in Christina Rossetti’s poem "Goblin Market", the act of eating the goblin fruit is rich with sexual symbolism.

Flora and Fauna

Flowers and Gardens:

Roses: Roses were often used to symbolise love and passion. A red rose might suggest romantic or sexual attraction, while a wilted rose could imply lost innocence or sexual ruin.

Lilies: Lilies, especially white ones, represented purity but could also suggest a contrasting theme when associated with a fallen or tarnished character.

Garden Settings: Scenes set in secluded gardens or amongst lush, overgrown vegetation often hinted at secret or forbidden encounters. Descriptions of characters wandering through or tending to gardens could imply sexual exploration or awakening.

Flowers Blooming or Opening: The blooming of flowers often represented sexual awakening or the act of losing one's virginity.

Nature Imagery:

Rivers and Water: Flowing water and rivers often symbolised sexual desire and the act of lovemaking. For instance, in "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" by Thomas Hardy, Tess's encounter with Alec d'Urberville is often described with metaphors of nature and fluidity.

Storms and Weather: Storms, with their intense energy and sudden outbursts, were frequently used to symbolise sexual passion or climactic moments.

Birds and Beasts:

Animals, especially those that are wild or predatory, often symbolised primal sexual instincts and desires. The taming or interaction with these animals could imply a character’s grappling with their own sexuality.

Fire and Heat

✧ Phrases and Sayings

Euphemistic Language

Descriptive Phrasing

Dialogue and Confessions

Private Spaces:

Secluded or Dimly Lit Rooms: Scenes set in private, darkened rooms often suggested clandestine sexual encounters. The privacy of the setting allows authors to imply what could not be explicitly stated. In Wilkie Collins’s "The Woman in White", many key interactions happen in secluded spaces, hinting at secrets and hidden desires.

Dreams and Fantasies:

Dream Sequences:

Dreams and fantasies were used to explore a character’s subconscious desires and fears, often revealing their suppressed sexual longings. These sequences provided a socially acceptable way to delve into erotic themes.

Hallucinations and Madness:

Moments of madness or hallucination could serve as a metaphor for overwhelming passion or uncontrollable sexual desire. These states allowed characters to express forbidden feelings in a way that was metaphorically safe.

Physical Interactions and Horror

Touch and Proximity as Menace:

Unwanted or Forced Touch: In horror, touch that is typically a sign of affection or intimacy becomes a source of fear.

Physical Closeness in Horror Settings: Close proximity in dark, secluded places amplifies the sense of claustrophobia and vulnerability, turning what could be an intimate setting into one fraught with terror.

Undress and Exposure in Horror:

Loosening Corsets and Vulnerability: The act of undressing or loosening clothing, which can be a prelude to intimacy, in horror often leaves characters vulnerable to attack or exposure of their deepest fears.

Food and Consumption in Horror

Cannibalism and Vampirism:

Blood as Sexual and Vital Fluid: The act of consuming blood, as in vampirism, blends the themes of sustenance and sexual exchange. The vampire's bite becomes a metaphor for both sexual penetration and the transfer of life force.

Example: "Dracula" is a prime example where blood consumption is deeply eroticized, with Dracula’s victims often portrayed in a state of ecstatic submission as he drains their blood.

Food as a Lure: Food and feasting, typically symbols of pleasure and indulgence, in horror contexts can be used to lure victims into dangerous situations.

Example: In "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti, the goblins’ fruit is both irresistibly tempting and dangerous, representing a forbidden and potentially fatal indulgence.

Plot and Character Dynamics in Horror

Power and Domination:

Common Dynamics with a Dark Twist

Predators and Victims: Characters who prey on others are often literal monsters in horror, representing the loss of control or innocence.

Secrecy and Concealment:

Hidden Desires and Monstrous Revelations: Characters who conceal their true identities or desires often find these hidden aspects manifesting as monstrous or terrifying in horror narratives, suggesting that repression can lead to dire consequences.

Clandestine Meetings and Forbidden Encounters: Secret meetings and forbidden relationships, often tinged with sexual implications, add an element of danger and fear, suggesting that transgressing social norms leads to horror.

Common Themes in Victorian Horror

Duality and the Doppelgänger:

Theme: The concept of duality, where a character has a hidden, darker side, or encounters a double (doppelgänger), often symbolises the internal conflict between good and evil within individuals.

Connection: This theme reflects Victorian anxieties about identity, morality, and the consequences of repressing one’s darker impulses.

Gothic and Supernatural Elements:

Theme: Victorian horror is rich with Gothic elements such as haunted houses, dark landscapes, and supernatural beings. These elements create a sense of dread and evoke the mysteries of the unknown.

Connection: The Gothic setting often serves as a backdrop for exploring human fears, isolation, and the impact of the supernatural on everyday life.

Decay and Degeneration:

Theme: The fear of decay and degeneration, both physical and moral, is a recurring motif. This theme often examines the decline of individuals, families, or societies and the consequences of corruption and vice.

Connection: This theme mirrors Victorian concerns about the erosion of social and moral values amidst rapid industrial and social changes.

Madness and Psychological Horror:

Theme: The exploration of madness and psychological horror delves into the fragility of the human mind and the terror of losing one's sanity. This often includes hallucinations, obsessions, and the thin line between reality and delusion.

Connection: This theme resonates with Victorian fears of mental illness, the limitations of medical knowledge, and the impact of societal pressures on mental health.

Forbidden Knowledge and the Faustian Bargain:

Theme: The pursuit of forbidden knowledge and the resulting consequences is a central theme. Characters who seek power, immortality, or forbidden truths often pay a heavy price, reminiscent of the Faustian bargain.

Connection: This theme highlights Victorian anxieties about scientific progress, moral boundaries, and the potential hubris of human ambition.

The Uncanny and the Unknown:

Theme: The uncanny involves the strange and unfamiliar becoming eerily familiar, often unsettling the reader and characters. It blurs the lines between reality and the supernatural, invoking fear and discomfort.

Connection: This theme taps into Victorian fears of the unknown, the foreign, and the otherworldly, reflecting broader anxieties about social and cultural boundaries.

Death and the Afterlife:

Theme: Victorian horror frequently grapples with themes of death and the afterlife, exploring the fear of mortality, the possibility of an afterlife, and encounters with the dead or undead.

Connection: These themes reflect Victorian preoccupations with death, the spiritual realm, and the possibility of life beyond death, often intensified by the era's high mortality rates and interest in spiritualism.

Isolation and Alienation:

Theme: Isolation and alienation are prevalent themes, often highlighting characters who are physically or emotionally detached from society, leading to their vulnerability and descent into despair or madness.

Connection: This theme resonates with the Victorian experience of industrialization and urbanization, which often led to feelings of disconnection and loneliness.

Class and Social Anxiety:

Theme: Victorian horror often explores themes of class and social anxiety, including the fear of losing social status, the consequences of poverty, and the tension between different social classes.

Connection: This theme reflects the rigid class structures of Victorian society and the fears and tensions that arose from social mobility and economic disparity.

Moral Corruption and Hypocrisy:

Theme: Victorian horror frequently critiques the era’s moral standards and exposes the hypocrisy of societal norms. Characters who appear virtuous often harbor dark secrets or engage in morally dubious activities.

Connection: This theme mirrors the Victorian concern with appearances and the underlying tension between public propriety and private desires.

The Five Pillars of Victorian Horror & The Five Love Interests

The Supernatural and the Gothic (Ais)

Essence: Victorian horror often revolves around the supernatural, blending Gothic elements to evoke a sense of dread and otherworldly terror. This includes ghosts, vampires, haunted houses, and curses, which create an atmosphere where the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural blur.

Impact: The use of Gothic settings and supernatural phenomena provides a backdrop for exploring deeper themes of fear, mortality, and the unknown.

Psychological Depth and Madness (Vere)

Essence: Victorian horror delves into the complexities of the human mind, exploring themes of madness, obsession, and the psychological effects of fear and trauma. Characters often grapple with their sanity, facing inner demons as terrifying as any external threat.

Impact: This focus on psychological horror allows for a deeper exploration of character motivations and the impact of societal pressures.

Moral Corruption and the Double Life (Leander)

Essence: Themes of moral corruption and the duality of human nature are central to Victorian horror. Characters often lead double lives, presenting a veneer of respectability while concealing dark, sinful secrets. This tension between outward appearances and hidden truths reflects the era’s social hypocrisy and fear of scandal.

Impact: These themes critique Victorian society’s emphasis on propriety and the dangerous consequences of repressing one’s true nature. The idea of a double life or hidden self adds to the horror by suggesting that evil can reside within anyone, masked by a facade of normalcy.

Decay, Degeneration, and Disease (Kuras)

Essence: The themes of physical and moral decay, societal degeneration, and disease permeate Victorian horror. These motifs symbolise the fragility of human life and the inevitability of decline, reflecting the anxieties of a society grappling with rapid change and uncertain futures.

Impact: By focusing on decay and degeneration, Victorian horror underscores the transient nature of life and the ever-present threat of corruption and decline, whether through ageing, moral compromise, or societal breakdown.

Isolation and Alienation (Mhin)

Essence: Isolation and alienation are pervasive themes in Victorian horror, often depicted through characters who are physically or emotionally cut off from society. This separation heightens their vulnerability to external threats and internal fears.

Impact: Isolation serves to intensify the psychological tension and sense of dread, as characters confront their fears alone. It also reflects the era’s social and existential anxieties, including the fear of being disconnected or outcast from society.

Generally, I believe each LI connects with a pillair (as seen above). Perhaps by looking at the archetypes we could deduce propable endings and route elements.

Forgive me, for the following part is MESSY;

Ais

Vere

Leander

Kuras

Mhin

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bump1nthen1ght · 2 years ago

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A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 27 (Double Penetration)

Kink: Double Penetration (In Two Holes)

Pairing: Male!Naga x Fem!Reader

Other Kinks: N/A

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1107 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“You’re doing so well, darling.” Davya purrs, thumb circling methodically around your slit. A buzz runs up your stomach, hips twitching, just enough movement to tease the cock deep inside you. But Davya is quick, grabbing tight onto your sides in quick response, keeping you in place. “Ah, ah, patience, lovely.”

You whine for your poor clit, left unstimulated. You’d try to grind down on Davya’s tale, feel the friction of his smooth belly scales, but his strength stops any kind of movement. You know he loves to watch you grind down on him, the cock deep in your pussy pulsing at the attempted wiggle of your hips. But he remains steadfast, practicing what he preaches.

“Almost, lovely.” Davya chides, like a mentor correcting an over-eager student. “Good things take time. Now,” One hand slides down the side of your hip, patting the top of your ass, “How do you feel back there?”

“G-good.” You whimper, feeling the anal beads shift inside you with every movement. The toy was the biggest thing you had taken yet, making you quite sensitive to every shift and movement. It doesn’t help that Davya’s cock sits right underneath your quivering hole, nudging against the end of the toy. A shiver runs up your spine. “I think I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Davya pats your ass again. “I know you are desperate, lovely, but don’t write checks your body can’t cash.”

Your lips curl into a pout, shooting a Davya a dirty look. He may be in control tonight, but that doesn’t mean you're totally helpless.

You contract your stomach muscles, pussy walls putting Davya’s cock in a vice grip.

“Hnggh!” Davya squeaks, hips jerking up unconsciously to meet the pleasure. You smirk.

“I said, I’m ready.”

It takes a couple moments for Davya to catch his breath, fresh streams of precum running down his cock and leaking out of your pussy. Still, he tries to keep his calm facade up, fingers digging into the fat of your sides.

“Naughty girl.” He pants, forked tongue licking at his lips. “Well, I’ll take your word for it.”

Davya’s hand leans behind and grabs at the end of the anal beads, slowly pulling them out. A sigh ripples down your chest, anticipation clenching your heart at what's to come.

The slick feeling of Davya’s second cockhead presses against the tight ring of muscle, and you can’t help but bite your lip. Just the beads and one cock had left you feeling full, how was this going to feel?

“Let me know if you need a break.”

You nod hastily, urging for him to just do it already. Davya chuckles, patting your butt again before sinking his second cock into your ass.

Goosebusmps dapple all up and down your back, the tapered head of Davya’s dick stretching you kind of how the anal beads did. But this stretch burns hotter, tapering into a thick shaft that pulses with blood, searing you inside and out.

It feels incredible.

“You’ve taken all of me, dearest.” Davya rubs massaging circles into your lower back. “Congratulations. It's not an easy-” His breath hitches, feeling your holes contract around him, revealing his own burgeoning pleasure, “-not an easy task.”

“Move, please.” Your voice is desperate, throwing away any bratty defiance. “I need it.”

Davya responds with a sassy swivel of his hips, but is quick to lift you up off his cocks, leaving only the tips inside. He doesn’t often show off his superior Naga strength, but this is certainly a situation that calls for it.

“Oh gods!” You moan, head tossed back as Davya drops you back on his cocks, a cacophony of pleasure shooting up your body. But Davya gives you no moments to reflect this new feeling, quickly yanking you upwards again and bouncing you on his dicks.

“Hmmph.” Davya grunts, forehead creasing as he begins to move you up and down like a fleshlight, fucking your gummy insides with a desperate hunger. You had always stimulated both of his cocks during sex, usually riding one while stroking or sucking another, but this was different. He couldn’t have imagined how warm both of your entrances at once could feel, how’d they milk him so deliciously. “Fuck, lovely.” Davya pants, eyes locked on how you swallow him, all of him, “I fear I may grow addicted.”

“M-me too.” You sing, eyes rolled back into your head. Your nerves are too overwhelmed to form complex thoughts, all firing off from your lower half. “So-o good.”

Davya’s fingers dig hard into your skin, enough to leave deep bruises on your skin. But the slight pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

Your body falls forwards, hands finding purchase on Davya’s chest and your clit now rubbing right up on his tail. Slick leaves sticky trails across his scales, your hips now grinding everytime he sets you down on the base of his cock.

You never thought your clit could feel even better, mixing exponentially with the shockwaves inside of you, making your toes curl and your eyes water. By the gods, you don’t know if you could ever grow tired of this. Even now, with your thigh muscles beginning to protest, it is paltry compared to the high you chase.

The two of your bodies rock, locked in sweaty embrace. Your hands scramble across Davyas’s abs, not just for purchase but to feel everything. The muscle is the solid tether keeping your mind in place, else it be lost in complete bliss.

“Kiss me.” Davya pants, leaning his neck forward, urging you downwards. You are in no place to say no, meeting him in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and passion.

You can feel him moaning into your mouth, feel his tail muscles clench under your clit, climax inching closer. Your teeth catch on his lip, drawing blood that’s quickly lapped up by you both.

“Shall I cum-” Davay whines, only detaching for a second, “-cum inside you?”

You nod, falling back into the kiss like it was oxygen, like your body demanded it.

The two cocks pulse inside you, stoking your own orgasm with every pump.

“Oooh!” Davya cries, muffled against your mouth, as he spends himself. Two jets of cum fill you entirely, your own orgasms crashing over you like a tidal wave. The duel sensation leaves your holes trembling, bursting with juices as you collapse onto Davya’s chest.

You both lay like that for a while, catching your breath, Dacya’s cocks eventually sinking out of you and back into his sheath.

A warm hand caresses your back.

“Good Job, my love. I knew you could do it.”

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #monster romance #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #female reader insert #naga

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talonabraxas · 6 days ago

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“In reality, saying ‘We must see Brahman in everything and everywhere’ is also not quite correct. Only that stage is final, where there is no seeing, where there is no time or space. There will be no seer, seeing and an object to see. What exists then is only the infinite eye.” - Ramana Maharshi Brahman - Eye of Sirius Talon Abraxas Created Portals by the Galactic Federation Friends Of The Great Planet! We Are With You On The Ground And In The Skies Above All Areas. But There Are Many Methods Of Travel And Movement Unseen. We Have Revealed Many Of Our Locations Of Bases, White Hats And Areas Of Meetings Around The Earth. There Are Many Places That Will Remain Unseen And Undetected. Many Of You Will Enjoy This Communication As We Allow One Of Our Greatest Operations To Be Known. With Great Leadership And The Highest Technology Available, We Are Virtually Unlimited In Action. Elder IKAI Has Directed The Creation Of Missions Since The Beginning Of Any Flights Throughout The Great Expanse Of Stars. Visits To Earth Were Made Simple By His Guidance And Wisdom. My Family Continues To Visit And Teach. My Beloved Mother And Brother Are With You Now. Never Doubt Our Great Love For You As We Serve Life As We Breathe. Missions Will Continue Throughout This Waking Dream And Culminate With The Rising Of The Crystal Transmitters In All Locations Of Earth Beneath The Ground, Mountains And Oceans. A Great Meeting Of The Galactic Federation Was Held With Representatives Of All Elohim Races. Elder IKAI Revealed His Plan To Create Massive Frequencies Of Light That Would Serve As Openings To Portals On Precise Locations Of The Outer Perimeters Of Earth Where Motherships Could Enter. These Openings Would Be As Light Tunnels Than Could Traverse The Entire Earth From Within. There Would Be A Straight Crossing From One Side Of The Earth To The Other Seamlessly And With Great Speed. Once The Light Tunnels Were Established, Locations Were Reached Without Ever Being Seen. Not All Crafts Have Ever Been Soaring Through Areas Above You. Many Are Within The Earth Itself. One Of The Bases In Antarctica Has A Powerful Portal Opening With A Frequency Tunnel That Reaches The North Pole. The Arctic Ocean And Greenland Have Several Bases Utilized By The Light Forces. President Trump Is Very Aware Of These Locations And Has A Great Desire To Join The United States With Greenland. BASK In The Sedona Location Has A Pathway Of Light To A Large Base Within The Indian Ocean. There Are Eight Light Tunnels Of Massive Proportions Throughout The Earth. Each Of Them Has Exit Points To Traverse To Other Locations And Bases. Light Can Be Directed To Cross Through Mountains And Oceans. The Light Itself Is Programmed As A Barrier Of Protection. Nothing Can Penetrate It And No Detection Can Be Noted Or Observed. This Allows Any Type Of Mission To Be Carried Out With Great Power. Moving Forward, We Want You To Know That Earth Will Never Be Destroyed. The Promise Of Sheen Is Very Real. The Love For Earth Is Within The Crystal Heart Of Elder IKAI. The Earth Left Following The Shift Will Be Replenished And Restored By The Light And Power Of The Galactic Federation. Find Hope Within As We Are With You! Only Good Is Before You! Love One Another And Find Peace Within! EN EEKE MAI EA! I Love You So! NEIOH

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littlepuddingsworld · 1 year ago

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Okay, this is going to sound insane, but please hear me out.

In the 19th century, there were doctors who specialised in curing "female hysteria", which was often just misdiagnosed sexual frustration (Whenever women were too out of control for men to handle, it was diagnosed as hysteria. So it was basically anything, sexual frustration included...). The cure was fingering...yeah. It was relatively normalised to, as a doctor, finger someone's wife...quite a way to make a living. There was basically a handbook written in Latin about how you do it (oil up your hand, insert here, there will be muscle contraction, the lady in question will breathe heavily before ultimately having a hysteria paroxysm (this is a former medical term for orgasms btw)). Obviously, there were mixed opinions about giving another man's wife an orgasm, however, the Catholic doctors concluded that it cannot have been sexual, since there was no penetration. "It's our duty as doctors to cure these poor women of their hysteria, Sir 🫡"

FUN FACT: Since some doctors would experience wrist pain from the...hard manual labour, they invented a device that does it for them: The vibrator. When the vibrator was first used in pornography, the doctors said NOPE and left their profession behind. In 2011, there was a period romcom made about this called Hysteria. It's not even that bad, unironically. Oh and by the way, the name hysteria is derived from the Greek word hystera, meaning uterus, hence why only women were diagnosed with hysteria.

Anyway, getting to my point:

Imagine a yandere thinking that you're being incredibly hysterical, emotional, out of control and then proceeding to sit you down and curing you of your hysteria the old-fashioned way...

They either do it knowingly, or are just too oblivious to even realise that what they are doing is...not quite the correct solution for the problems they caused you in the first place...

Just wanted to share this with someone...take it as you will...

,,, to be honest, I knew about the hysteria, but I didn't know about the fact that a vibrator was created that way,,,, sexy big brain<3333 i love your words so much, mercury kissed you at birth,,,, very brainy, very many cerebral convolutions, I love it,,, come here to kith kith pretty pie—

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

your husband is so sweet, so adorable — especially when he's on his knees in front of you, purring something about how he should help you, as if it's not his personal fault that you feel like this.

... ♡ unhealthy relationship, misconception of the century / time, hierarchical society, mild sexism? (more classism?), mild maledom elements, mention of religion, forced marriage implied, male pregnancy mentioned because no pregnant reader, unethical treatment methods?; doctor!noble!husband x darling!reader

dubious consent (dubcon) -> consensual sex, crying, mild sadism/masochism, mention of degradation (g.), hair pulling (g.), oral sex (r.), mild fingering (r.), praise (r.)

If THEODORE had been told that he was "mistreating his darling spouse", he would have

agreed.

It was logical: if he treated you well, then would you enter into a frenzy of emotions, scream and look as if you were about to faint before falling at a table made of pleasantly smelling wood, — Theodore knew that you love this variety; almost all tables, chairs and other wooden utensils was of this sort, — completely exhausted, unable even to drive away your narrow-minded husband, only waving a fragile palm in his direction, as if desperate, while he took your fan, straight from the hands of the best chinese craftsmen, and gently fanned you, letting you hang head? Of course not.

You, his breathtaking spouse, were so touching and gentle, full of spring charm and a few drops of exquisite, expensive coquetry, like the first flowers in spring — delicate, almost transparent, not at all like the luxury of scarlet roses that gardeners grow every season, or the exuberant scent of lilac and juniper, especially in July. Not at all. Your charm was subtle, unique, corresponding to the rumbling of the first rivers or the first drop falling from the roofs after the melting of the snow. You have never been a socialite — never; parents were rich enough to support you and your siblings, but not rich enough to live in idleness and not worry about money.

You were introduced at the first ball and attended others from time to time, but most of the time you couldn't afford to walk around with "old dresses", not wanting to be considered poor or shame family by not being able to buy new clothes. Theodore understood perfectly well — being from a not-so-rich family, somehow coping with this whole world, you simply could not afford to live bohemian, expensive and shameless out of fear that money was too little, as if you did not even think that you could just marry someone rich and sponsor with their help your family. Theodore didn't blame, having heard about you for the first time from the mouths of other dandies who follow every new "coquette fan", more than an eloquent sign of finding a partner, though; "too conscientious and didn't understand how this world works" or just a prude,

but now, he understands that you just knew your worth and waited for someone like

him.

After all, in a world where divorce can only happen after death, and infidelity is punished by an enraged spouse with a knife, how could you easily marry someone? You were so alluring, like ripe peaches filled with juice — naturally, not everyone can and should touch your delicate, perfumed hands and caress skin so soft that no overseas silk can compare.

Theodore was sure that there were words about you: "If the cost of their kiss was hell, // then I will kiss their lips, // so that in hell I can brag to the devils // that I was in heaven without even entering it." Because you were paradise, it didn't matter if you smiled, cried or screamed — or were "not a couple who deserved," but only because you could have become the monarch's spouse right away, but he found you earlier.

He had no doubt that you were special — definitely to him. Therefore, he did not think long before he came to your parents to take you to his estate, in the sweetly itchy haste of first and only love, kissing your hands and touching the slightly trembling fan with thin fingers while you looked down in frightened amazement, while your parents confusedly exchanged glances, not understanding why he came to "court you". Theodore did not ask if you had someone — after all, if you had, you would rather slit your throat than let another touch your thin fingers, because he would have done exactly the same in your place if he were still a dependent young man (now, of course, he was not — having studied at a very prestigious university, where his parents also studied, he was more than an enviable independent bachelor and knew it). And if earlier he was afraid that, what if!, was not "normal", then when saw you, he knew that he had been waiting for you all this time — and you were undoubtedly waiting for him too.

If, in order to be with you, he had to refuse the sky, the sun and the moon, he would do it without hesitation. This is love — Theodore had no doubt that you yourself understand this.

Your parents, however, soon dispelled his prejudices. You didn't just "didn't understand it" — you weren't like that, but Theodore, hesitating only for a few seconds, realized that you just weren't like everyone else. While others were blinded by love, like him, you couldn't be like that — you just didn't understand it, didn't feel like that, and your parents were only afraid that your "defect" in the marriage market would make you lonely for the rest of days.

Theodore, however, did not think so: you were the same age as him, he was childless, unmarried, rich and educated, had an estate with intelligent and trained servants, good sources of income, a lot of free time, did not have the habit of drinking a lot of alcohol or tobacco, — and the fact that you were allegedly "not sensual enough" was, of course, stupidity. He wasn't going to use the fact that you can't pick up a knife to kill an unfaithful spouse! And I wasn't going to cheat! He won't do any harm! Yes, you may be a little... very very little defective-ish, but isn't love blind? He will accept you at any cost, even with such a... 'setback'.

... Of course, it is wrong and even abnormal that you cannot kill someone who is cheating on you, and are not ready to die just to be with someone you love, and that it is wild for you to give up everything for your beloved... But Theodore understands that you are already too perfect, and it's okay to have flaws. He's not thirteen anymore.

As long as this is not passed on to children, everything will be fine, please, don't worry, ma joie, — he gently whispers to you, touching gloved fingers, stroking fingers gently, looking into your very happy face ? — I'll accept you for who you are, even with this. With everything. Because you and I, being whole by ourselves, become more than just "ourselves" together.

And it was true, don't get him wrong! His pedigree was good, he was, uh, "thoroughbred," and his family tree was beautiful, worthy of your hand. Theodore was not self-confident, but he was confident, buying everything you want, not walking through salons and entertainment houses and not being in any dubious circles, his entourage was only intelligent people who had an education and could both write and read, and not in two languages, and there was no one in his circle someone of the same gender, and he wasn't squeamish or suspicious. After all, what else can you worry about? But you were worried. Over time, it's even a little noisy.

You shouted, sometimes threw yourself, behaved strangely, as if he was not a refined learned man who was your shadow and wrote poetry to you, not forcing you to do anything even after your approved marriage, but a brute or an invader. Did he take you away without permission? Perhaps using his status in society to a little and influence your parents with children who have not yet appeared to the beau monde, and used a little influence to convince these people that he will help your siblings in the future to find a better match than they can now count on — but then why does he need it: status, influence, reputation, — if he can't even convince his love to stay with him? Otherwise, you can't blame—

... Oh wait.

You can.

Theodore realizes with annoyance, sitting hs office with a book in hands, writing notes in diary, and adjusts his glasses: he had completely forgotten — you're "not like that." You're different. Your parents told him. You understand love differently, you look at your partner differently, you cannot understand the concept of love itself... Theodore used to think that they just raised you wrong, but now he understands what they meant: that the feelings that ordinary people spend on a partner, you leave inside, letting them accumulate, and when you realize that you can no longer, you emotionally explode and behave as if something is wrong with him or you — it's obvious! You just can't do it any other way! Of course, why else would you be unhappy with your situation? After all, it's natural that your family hardly communicates with you or that you can't spend a lot of time outside the house — everyone lives like that, except the unmarried! You just don't understand it!

Because you are so emotional, so sensitive, so responsive, that, naturally, you need special care and care, and not a sidelong glance from your husband, who behaved so coldly, only supporting, but not helping you in any way! After all, he studied at the best university, was one of the best students, even had an internship and, of course, corresponded with his comrades, learning new ways to deal with diseases and disorders. After all, what kind of "good husband" is he if he can't even help his gentle, easily excitable spouse cope with their, he's not afraid of that word, illness?

You just don't understand...

“... Darling, we need to make one thing.”

You are gentle, soft, not submissive — both in clothes and under them, and although you may consider him a little pathetic when he whispers it to you, burying cold nose in your thigh like a lost dog, but after shouting and throwing things, you are no longer so full of destructive energy. Holding him tightly by the hair, you look down with pursed lips, but do not answer anything — and in expensive clothes, with jewelry, sleek and clearly not deprived of the love and affection of a bohemian husband, you look like a deity that descended from heaven.

Theodore knows that he must decontaminate for sure, but what can a spouse hide from a spouse, right? After all, you are more than a "single whole", especially when he is sitting on his lap, no problem as long as you are sitting on a chair made of your favorite wood, soft and comfortable enough, allowing him to carefully get rid of excess clothes without disgrace, looking at how thin lips touch your skin in a respectfully pious way.

Even your heavy breathing from the outburst of emotions sounds like music that should be played in the church if they want the heavenly ambassadors to descend.

Is he too "sugary"?

No, he's just a realist.

“Darling, please...”

You don't push away even when fingers gently touch your thighs like feathers, just frowning a little harder. But not by pushing it away. You are smart, you always have been, and, of course, you yourself understand that you are sick, and only he, as your husband and doctor, can help you. It's natural. Why do you need another men- or women- another doctor? How dare someone else touch you? Only you can touch him and only he can touch you. He's yours — a husband, a doctor, anyone. As soon as you become healthier, he will definitely be your lover — and maybe one day you will take a child or will he carry it. After all, how dare he sleep with you and use you, so gentle and airy, like a messenger from heaven, while you are so deeply ill, not even really knowing what love is and how to react to it?

“Darling... It's just a little help. Just say the word and we'll stop anytime. I don't want to harm my spouse, you know... Besides, you can always stop me by force.”

You yourself spread your warm, soft, almost plush thighs while he meekly looks up from the bottom, trying to unobtrusively encourage you to let him just look a little. Theodore was not an expert on issues related to sex life or the influence of genitals on human behavior, — although, undoubtedly!, it was important, but he preferred less dirty things, — but now, kneeling in front of you on a soft carpet, stroking your skin, it did not seem something vile or dirty, animal, but for some reason pleasant and... airy-natural; the very sight made him want not to wince and turn away, but not to look away, even when you pull his hair harder, frowning, clearly not too willing to continue this, but it's better than if he drags you to someone else.

You knew yourself that your husband sometimes got too involved with the human body in a not too, uh, "harmless" sense, but it was never dangerous or illegal, unless against the law of god, so you let him correspond with 'friends' and 'colleagues', studying new diseases and learning more about experience and practice. But if you knew that one day you would be the subject of research, you would definitely throw his ink and letters into the fireplace — along with other things.

“Mi único... I want to help... Do you know what hysteria is? This is when a darling behaves very much... emotionally because of the internal tension. And so we have recently come up with a... new way to deal with similar diseases. It can help our marriage... Te quaeso?”

Theodore is not an idiot; rather, he feels like a trainer or a tamer, gently pushing and touching, without making any sudden movements while you look at him, gradually relaxing the tense body, letting his fingers, slightly slippery from oil and disinfectants, touch the delicate skin of the inner thigh, massaging and stroking, not hurrying. He doesn't have much experience — practically none, you never shared a bed even after the "wedding night", — but there is enough theory and ideas how to use it, especially when thin, slightly cool fingers slowly touch the skin under stomach, stroke as lightly as possible along a sensitive line, kissing with warmed lips the skin. If he could, he'd love to just open his mouth and eat you, or at least nibble — but he's not the type who eats his darling and then walks around saddened widowers and widows without the opportunity to remarry, he's a more sophisticated type and definitely not that creepy, even if the way you are you pull his hair as fingers gently circle around, rubbing and stroking, using precum for better contact, makes his eyes water and his mouth open slightly, breathing, feeling too ambiguous even for a "husband", let alone the role of the "doctor" in which he was.

“Please... d-darling...” He chirps something slightly hoarsely, stroking, caressing, breathing every other time, as if you are holding not by the hair, but by the throat; when his fingers tremble slightly, you hiss, making him blush slightly shamefacedly, as if from your swearing, — but he tries not to break the rhythm, ignoring, as befits a refined well-mannered husband. Do well-mannered husbands use their fingers on their spouses? Theodore doesn't have that much experience to respond, especially when you flinch slightly, curling your toes, — and he wants to bite just to remove this strange shameful, almost perverted feeling of a mixture of lust and guilt inside, clearly not too approved by religion, but when you start breathing shallowly and harder, closing your eyes, Theodore moves his fingers faster, watching your face.

Is that right? You don't hold him so tightly, but don't take your hand away, and his fingers are so slippery and wet that he's almost ashamed, as if it's all his juices, and he definitely should at least look away, but this is scientific curiosity, just curiosity, even when he changes his position, sinking lower shamelessly, feeling himself for a moment, it really was some kind of fallen man from entertainment houses, with an implicit gurgling feeling in the lower abdomen, listening only to your breathing and slightly squelching sounds. Theodore hardly breathes, looking at his fingers, trying for a moment to distract himself with the fleeting thought "good that cut nails" — but when your... your bare foot touches his shoulder, it seems so perversely seeing your calves that he does not know where to look — freezing for a moment, his eyes are drawn only to you, even if it looks so... sweetly vulgar, completely wrong, — but you're already married, so it's okay even if you're not like that, right? It's okay when he sees something below your neck and bare arms, it's okay when you squeeze his hair tightly again, it's okay when he hears your hot, loud breathing, as if you're breathing directly into his red ears, although he can't even look up from the way you're holding him.

Your fingers are strong, dexterous, squeezing his strands so hard that he can't move anywhere, but for some reason he is too pleased with this than he should be, even when Theodore feels like you are pushing him even closer shamelessly, as if he is not your, actually, noble and high-minded husband, who is now plays the role of your doctor, helping you with your "hysteria", but some kind of fun boy!

Outrageous!

“D-darl-!~”

You hiss something, almost growl — and pull too hard, forcing Theodore to briefly let out a distant sigh without resistance — and obediently open his mouth, hastily removing his fingers so as not to interfere before he finds a new, more comfortable place. His eyes are slightly watering from the mild pain, but when he does not see a shadow of the old irritation or anger in your face, he obediently sticks out the tip of his red tongue, not trying to shirk his doctoral duties — or is this already a marital duty? Theodore doesn't know, he's not sure, — especially when you hold him even tighter, not listening to what he says, knowing that if he really was "against it", he would have already got out, and not looked at you like a fawn at a hunter, as if it wasn't because of him that you were here, with legs spread apart and heavy breathing from the heaviness in the lower abdomen.

Is this really what he was taught at university?

A boy for fun.

The corners of your husband's eyes turn red, but he does not try to say anything or justify himself, — why should he? — making inarticulate sounds, but only moving his head, hesitantly holding your hips as much as he could do it respectfully and unobtrusively; after all, he is a learned man, even if he was kneeling like some kind of animal or a slave.

When Theodore awkwardly, clumsily moves his tongue, trying to make sure that you feel good, for some reason the world feels much brighter and sharper, — especially when the heat gets stronger, making you tremble slightly, feeling a wide tongue and thin flexible fingers, as if they are perfect only for this, but there is less air in your lungs than you need to continue dirty deservedly whisper to him how low he has sunk, from his 'writing letters to the best doctors he studied with' to kneeling in front of his spouse.

It's not that you're going to stop him or let him change his position, of course, but just force him to continue doing what he's good for, while he's almost meowing, almost purring, not trying to pull away anymore.

... It's not that he's wrong, though.

You definitely feel better after a little therapy.

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monsterfuckerconfessions · 2 years ago

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Having an android ask you detailed and methodical questions about the human experience of penetration as an act of intimacy while you sit in their lap.

Having an android ask you detailed and methodical questions about the human experience of penetration as an act of intimacy while you straddle their lap, the silicone attachment they made themselves and modelled on the dildos you already own pulsing and vibrating inside you.

Having an android listen carefully to your ragged, half-formed answers as you cling to their immovable metal and plastic shoulders, tiny circular sensor patches stuck to your pulse points and your temples feeding them real-time data about your body's responses for proper comparison.

Having an android tilt their head curiously as your answers fade to apologies, because your self control has crumbled and you are riding them now, fucking yourself stupid on the phallic silicone shape while you mumble that you are sorry for ruining the experiment before they got to the end.

Having an android ask you, in a soft but impersonal tone, if inflicting corrective physical discomfort for this perceived failure would assist you to achieve sexual release. Sobbing out a yes with your arms tight around their neck and then cumming so hard you see stars when you feel a series of sharp, painful electric shocks against your inner thigh.

Having an android thank you calmly for your assistance with their data collection.

#monsterfucker confessions

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cantstoptheimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Interrogation Tactics (König | Call of Duty)

Summary — After König returns from deployment, the two of you indulge in some roleplay.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Smut (rough reunion sex between partners; interrogation roleplay (König pretends to be a dangerous stranger); oral (male receiving, brief female receiving, face fucking); penetration (vaginal, anal); cum is literally everywhere; spit kink; breeding kink; bondage and being tied up; lots of degradation (name-calling); slapping and spanking; slight housewife kink; brief usage of a blindfold; brief usage of a knife; brief discussion about safe words; tons of dirty talk; cursing; König speaks German a lot); I love masked men too much for my own good.

Notes ➳ Word count is 4,503. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). ➳ Google Translate was used for the German in this work. You can find translations at the end. If you have any corrections, please let me know!

The darkness caused by the blindfold over your eyes left nothing but anxiety curling within your stomach. Your wrists ached from the tightly knot rope that held them firmly behind your back. Another was secured around your hips, keeping you pinned to the chair you had been forced to sit in.

You felt numb, unsure of how long you had been like this. The entire house had been silent for quite some time. Aside from the occasional sound of shuffling that came from downstairs, letting you know that you most certainly were not alone, of course.

The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly ascending to the second floor of your home made your muscles tense. The knob of your bedroom door rattled as it opened. Heart pounding in your chest, you whimpered fearfully upon hearing the lock click.

“Oh, no need for all that,” muttered a deep accent, the footsteps slowly growing closer. “I’m only here to have a chat. Answer my questions and then you can be free. If I’m feeling generous.”

“Please—! Ah!”

A large hand harshly grabbed your throat and tilted your head back. You could feel the piercing eyes of your assailant drilling into you, even with the blindfold obstructing your vision. Tears began to well up as you were left struggling to breathe.

A deep chuckle made your heart sink, “Tell me what you know about your husband’s mission. When will he return?”

You sputtered, voice cracking under his tight grip, “I don’t know. Please, I don’t know anything. He doesn’t tell me about his work.”

He grunted, unsatisfied with your answer. It was the same one you had given him when he had initially arrived.

“Liar,” he growled, hand moving up to squeeze your face. “Maybe I need to use other methods to get answers out of you.”

“What?” you whimpered. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” he muttered, and you could almost envision an arrogant smirk on his face. “A good fucking should make you squeal. Besides, I haven’t been inside a pussy in so long. You’re lucky that you get to be the first to experience my cock after so many months. I always go hard after being out of commission for a long time.”

You felt a cold, sharp blade suddenly run over your skin. You tensed at the feeling. After swiftly cutting the rope around your hips, he ripped off the blindfold as well. Your tears blurred your vision, hardly letting you see the knife that he held up to your face as your eyes adjusted to the dark room.

“Now let’s get started,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

A pit grew in your stomach as you took in his appearance. He was ginormous, especially in height, dwarfing you in every way. He wore a dark uniform, though a lot of his gear has been taken and shoved into a corner of the room. His face was entirely covered by a mask, only allowing you to see his narrowed eyes.

He yanked you off the chair, setting his knife down in your place as he pushed you onto your knees. His eyes softened and your husband’s true nature broke through when you yelped at the sudden pain in your knees after they collided with the floor.

“We still got a safe word, Schatz?” he muttered, breaking his character as a cruel interrogator in order to caress your cheek. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember.”

“It’s ‘purple’,” you replied, nuzzling into his touch, wishing you could feel him properly.

König nodded, quietly admiring you for a moment, “You okay to keep going?”

Upon letting him know you were, he pinched your chin softly before sliding his hand back to your throat, “Good girl.”

He grinned beneath his mask when you let out a whine, each of you falling back into your chosen roles. He used his free hand to undo his pants.

Your eyes still sparkled with remnants of tears. He can’t help but roll his eyes. How did he ever end up with a weak thing like you?

König stuffed his hand inside his pants and pulled himself out. Similar to the rest of him, his cock was huge. It throbbed and twitched in his hand, swollen from being trapped within his tight briefs. It was completely hard and ready to be used however he desired.

Strengthening his grip on your throat, he tilted his head at you, “Machen Sie sich bereit zum Saugen.”

He pressed himself to your face, grinding his balls over your skin as he began stroking himself. Lining them up with your chin and flattening his cock against you, he laughed upon realizing he was long enough to exceed the length of your face.

“Can’t wait to make you swallow,” he muttered. “My cock is so big compared to you, you’re going to feel it all the way down your throat. C’mere!”

The hand around your neck moved to your face, forcing your mouth open. König wasted no time in slapping his leaking tip against your tongue. He smeared his precum over your lips. You whined fearfully when he then leaned down to lick it up, only to spit it into your mouth seconds later.

“Time to use that sweet, wet mouth of yours.”

You gagged around him, tears welling up once more, when he suddenly shoved his tip to the back of your throat. He grasped your head with his hands, harshly pressing down on your temples, to begin guiding your mouth on and off his thick length.

He quickly became soaked in more of your spit with every rough thrust. You audibly gagged and choked each time he sank into your mouth.

“Saugen!” he exclaimed, laughing as you attempted to free your wrists from their restraints behind your back. “Finish me with your mouth! Kleine Hure!”

His heavy balls slapped your chin with every movement. He almost couldn’t believe he had gone months without feeling you like this. He almost wanted to apologize for being so rough with you, only to remember that this was what you wanted.

You asked him to stay in his uniform and intimidate the living hell out of you while he took on the role of an enemy interrogator. You wanted to be tied up and used like you were nothing but flesh and pleasure for him.

And he wanted to fulfill those dreams of yours.

Eyes rolling back, he began to thrust even harder. The wet sounds of your mouth made his cock twitch.

“What would—? Ugh! Fuck!” he groaned. “What would your husband think of you? His precious housewife, desperate for attention, on your knees like a slut for a man you don’t even know?”

König felt sick whenever he thought about you while he was gone. He’d imagine you all alone as you took care of things at home, waiting for him to send his military payments. All so you could keep being the good housewife he wanted you to be since the two of you got married. You had earned this for being so patient.

His hands shoved your head down as far as it could go onto his cock. He sank deep into you, sighing when your nose met his pelvis. His hips circled in order to grind his balls against your skin, allowing him to listen to your gags and sputters as spit gathered at the corners of your mouth.

“Ah!” he moaned, and then another laugh escaped him. “Such a perfect hole, aren’t you, Maus? So good at choking on cock—! Ugh!”

He pulled you off, chuckling deeply, enjoying the sight of you. Covered in spit and sweat, gasping for any semblance of air, and fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You were so pretty.

“Please,” you panted with a sob, playing your role as a pathetic captive perfectly. “Please, I can’t take it anymore! Wait—!”

His cock forcefully shoving itself back into your mouth silenced your pleas. König glared through his mask, and scoffed, “Shut up! You’re fucking starved for attention, don’t deny it! How about this? Since you’re so hungry, you can eat up all my cum when I squirt it down your tight throat!”

He thrust in and out of your mouth at a lightning pace, balls slapping and bouncing off your face. There was no remorse in his eyes, only a dark glimmer of pleasure, as he used you for his personal desires.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Fucking taking it, aren’t you? Look at that bulge in your throat. Never had a cock this big before, I bet.”

The sensation of his length suddenly aching and twitching sent shivers down his spine. The mushroom-shaped head collided with the back of your throat with every movement of his hips. It sank deep into you each time, leaving you to choke in its wake.

“Ugh! I’m gonna cum!” he huffed, quickly giving you a harsh slap to make you cry around him. "Eat my cum when I let go in your mouth, hungrige Schlampe! Your husband shouldn’t have left you alone with a throat like this! Ah, shit! It’s like a fucking glory hole — used before, but still good enough to cum inside!”

With one last thrust, he flooded your mouth with his thick, salty release. You were once forced against his pelvis. He held you there, grinning and moaning with every burst of cum that squirted down your throat. His heavy load left you with no option but to swallow around his length.

Pulling out, he stroked himself hard and fast, groaning loudly as you whimpered. König slapped his cock against your face. His length trembled in his grip from the overstimulation.

“Want some on that pretty face too,” gasped König. “Want you covered in it like you’re my personal cumslut—! Oh!”

He made himself cum again. Sighing, groaning, and cursing as he did so, he watched his second wave of release squirt onto your face. He doused your skin in a mess of white, creamy cum.

He smiled as he admired your dirty appearance. Rubbing cock against you to smear his cum, he listened to the way you gasped and sobbed, “Please! I told you I don’t know anything! You’ve done enough!”

“Oh, but Armer Liebling,” he cooed with a dark glimmer in his eyes, “I still haven’t used your pussy yet.”

He almost laughed upon seeing your eyes widen. Slapping his cock against your mouth and nose, he beamed down at your pathetic, stained expression.

“Up you get,” he said, pulling you up by the hair and grinning when you cried out in pain. “Time to let me fuck that cunt of yours. I’m sure it’s nice and tight.”

He dragged you down onto your bed. Hands still bound behind your back, it was pretty much impossible to fight back against his overwhelming strength as he shoved your face into the comforter before lifting your hips.

“Face down, ass up,” he muttered. “Genau wie eine Hure.”

You pleaded with him to rethink his actions as he removed any and all clothing from your lower half, “I’ll give you whatever you want! Money, anything! Just let me go! Please, don’t make me—! Mmph!”

He’d apparently gotten tired of your begging, deciding to lean down and shove your removed underwear into your mouth as a gag.

Listening to you cough around the fabric, he rolled his eyes, “Den Mund halten! Ich bin fertig mit diesem Spermaloch, das du Mund nennst!”

With the side of your face shoved into the bed, you could barely see what he was doing as he kneeled behind you. A loud slap resounded through the air, leaving you to yelp into your makeshift gag.

König palmed your ass before giving it a much harder slap. He continued his cruel actions, spanking you more and more harshly as he went on. He wanted it to bruise in order to leave you with a painful piece of evidence that he had used you for his own desires.

“Let’s take a look at this pussy, shall we?” he chuckled.

You tried your best to resist the way he spread you open from behind. He pinned down your struggling legs the moment you attempted to squirm out of his hold.

Another mean slap made your flesh ache. You squealed into your underwear, shaking your head in hopes he would release you.

Satisfied that he had stopped you from resisting, he spread you open again. Wider this time, of course, so he could show you that he planned on doing whatever he wanted.

He wasted no time in shoving two fingers deep into your pussy, which was wet with your slick. Muffled cries escaped your body as he pumped them in and out a few times before removing them.

He slipped them beneath his mask and placed them against his tongue, licking and sucking your taste off his fingers, “So eine köstliche Muschi. Vielleicht lasse ich dich gefesselt, damit ich es heute Abend zum Abendessen essen kann.”

He spread you even wider until he could see your asshole as well. He smirked to himself and, unbeknownst to you, decided to save that for later. He wanted to ruin your cunt first.

Lifting his mask just above his nose, he leaned down to spit onto your sweet pussy. After licking a long stripe over your entrance, he rubbed his nose against you, taking in your wet scent with a satisfied hum.

“Love the smell of eager pussy,” he muttered, kissing your leaking hole before rising to his knees. “Almost as much as I love the taste.”

He then took you by surprise. He shoved his hard, thick cock into you without warning. Your eyes widened, a new burst of tears pouring out, as he began thrusting in and out of your squelching entrance.

“Oh, yes! You’re as tight as I imagined! Strangle my cock with that perfect cunt!” he commanded, delivering another series of hard slaps to your swollen ass. “No wonder your husband married a pathetic brat like you! He knew how good your pussy is at getting fucked!”

His heavy, aching balls hit you with every thrust. He grunted and groaned with every movement of his hips. He even let out a strained laugh when your eyes rolled back in both pain and pleasure.

The underwear in your mouth was soaked in your spit, doing little to muffle to the shrieks, gasps, and cries that escaped you. Tied up and firmly held by the hips, you couldn’t do anything but take the large cock that was currently abusing your leaking pussy.

“You like that, Schatz? Huh? You like being pounded by my fat cock, don’t you?” he gasped, sweating heavily due to the growing heat underneath his mask. “You’ll like it even more when I breed this pussy over and over again. I’m gonna leave you as nothing but a destroyed hole for me to use in my spare time.”

You shrieked at the mention of him releasing his orgasm inside your body. You could only imagine how many times he’d fill you up if he got his way.

“That’s right,” he chuckled, leaning down and hunching over you in order to whisper into your ear. “I’m gonna come back every night from now on to fuck you raw and dump my load inside this tight hole. Imagine your husband finally coming back from deployment, only to find you captured and being pumped full of a stranger’s cum. Maybe he’ll be angry, or maybe he’ll want to join the fun. What do you think?”

You wriggled against him, shaking your head as more sobs wracked your body. A thick layer of sweat covered your skin. Your body was becoming numb from the pleasure that was growing between your legs.

König chuckled into your ear, still leaning over you, his chest flush against your back, both of which were still clothed.

Warm hands slid from your hips, traveling beneath your shirt to flatten themselves against your stomach. König rubbed one in a slow circle while nipping at your shoulders.

“Gonna put my baby right here,” he said. “Need to fill up your womb first, but best believe I’ll keep cumming inside this quivering pussy until you’re all nice and round with the result of my sperm.”

He grinned at the feeling of your entrance squeezing around his cock. He always knew you were secretly so fucking dirty.

“Oh! Get ready!” he moaned, beginning to rut into you at a faster pace. “I’m gonna cum! I’m cumming again! Wish everyone could watch you take my load! Yes! Ugh, what a perfect hole!”

He forced himself as deep as he could go within your sopping entrance. Trapped in his strong arms, your pussy was made to suck in every bit of cum he released. So much of it filled you in seemingly endless spurts that a creamy white ring formed at the base of König’s throbbing cock.

His warm, heavy balls were snugly pressed to your dripping hole, collecting every drop of wet slick that slipped out.

“Nimm es!” he groaned, hands sliding from your stomach to your breasts. “Nimm es, du dreckige Schlampe!”

He continued to rut into you until your body finally gave into the pleasure. König let out a loud, mocking laugh when he felt your overstimulated pussy gush around him.

“Dumb whore!” he scoffed. “You’ll cum on any cock that’s willing to screw your pathetic fuck hole, aren’t you?”

Releasing your breasts after a few more tight squeezes, he gently kissed your neck and muttered a few sweet words into your ear, true colors shining through for a short moment. He quickly rose back onto his knees to admire the mess you had made.

He slowly thrusted in and out of your body, grinning at the sweet squelching of your entrance as he did so. His pelvis and thighs were soaked in your fluids and your ass was already beginning to bruise from his rough treatment.

Much to his excitement, he could feel himself becoming hard again. Your torment wasn’t even close to being over.

“Here we go again,” he chuckled. “Next round, Schatz. It’s time for you to ride.”

With his strength and overwhelming size, it only took him mere seconds to move you into a new position. Lying back on the bed, he placed you on top of him, chest-to-chest, tucking your cum-slathered face into his concealed neck.

He briefly thought about how he probably needed to take off his mask soon. The heat and sweat beneath it was beginning to be too much. Right now though, he simply wanted to fuck your weeping pussy at least one more time.

One of his large hands splayed over the space between your shoulder blades. He pondered untying your hands, but decided having you entirely at his mercy was far more enjoyable. The other hand palmed at your ass. He groped, pinched, and slapped you, thoroughly pleased with your desperate squeals of pain.

“Let’s see how well you can bounce on my fat cock so you can take my cum again,” he chuckled. “Sluts like you are always good at riding. Probably fucking made for it.”

You whined and then made another failed attempt to escape his hold. He lined up with your entrance, slapping your wet slick with the head of his throbbing length. The underwear in your mouth was quickly removed in favor of seeing your expressions up close and personal.

“Ah! Wait!” you said. “You already came inside! I can’t take anymore! Let me go—! Oh! Ugh!”

König plunged into you with no remorse. Hands shifting to grope your ass, he forced you to bounce as he rutted deep into your quivering, overstimulated pussy.

Your mouth fell open with a silent scream. And König couldn’t stop himself from laughing darkly upon seeing your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering uncontrollably.

“Good pussy,” he grinned with a moan and a rough slap to your ass. “Gute verdammte Muschi.”

You gasped with every thrust, “Ah! Ah! Big! Ah! Too big! Ah! Can’t!”

“Nichts als eine weinende, schlampige Schlampe!” he huffed. “I’m making it fit, aren’t I? Stop complaining!”

He controlled your movements with his tight, bruising grip on your ass. He jerked up into you at an almost inhuman pace. His cock fit snugly within your wet, clenching walls.

He tugged up his mask and forced a kiss upon your crying mouth, still begging for him to give up the torment of your pussy, “Mein gehorsamer Schwanzärmel, ja? Mein Sperma-Dump, nicht wahr? Answer me!”

“I don’t—! Ah!” you tried your best to speak. “I don’t know what you’re saying—! Ah! Ah! Ah! Please, show down! Ah! I don’t understand! Ah! Ah!”

He grunted, “You don’t understand?! I want you to admit that you’re just a fleshlight for me to fuck and breed whenever I want! Say it!”

His cock twitched within you, signaling that he wouldn’t last much longer. Frustration flared in his chest when you simply cried in response, “No, I won’t—! Ah! Ah! Won’t say it!”

He glared, only barely satisfied whenever you yelped in response to him landing a cruel slap upon your ass.

“Fucking say it!” he demanded, continuing to punish you with his mean spanks. “Fucking say you’re mine! Sag es!”

He carried on pummeling your entrance and wreaking havoc upon your blistering ass. His cock hit your cervix and tears welled up in response. He grunted and hissed, wanting nothing more than to fill up your womb for a second time.

You finally conceded, almost unable to breathe, “Please! Hurts! Ah! I’m yours! Ah! Ah! Ah! Yours to fuck and—! Ah! And use! Please, too much!”

He slowed, smiling at your desperate expression. He grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and pushed your crying face into his mask. The fabric muffled your sounds.

He bounced you on his cock once, twice, three times more. Cum burst out in ropes, filling you deep, as König ran a hand along your back.

“So good. Your pussy is so good,” he muttered. “Makes me wonder if your ass is even better.”

You didn’t even have the strength to fight back as König changed your positions once again.

Lying on your sides, he pressed himself as close as he could from behind with your hands still tied around your back. He felt between the swollen cheeks of your ass with the head of his leaking cock until he found your tightest entrance.

“Still all right, Liebling?” he asked quietly, lifting his mask in order to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses on the skin of your neck. “We can stop if you want. Did you mean it when you said it hurt?”

Your tired eyes glanced up at him, and then you whispered, “It did a little, but I’m okay. I like it when you’re rough with me, König. Keep going.”

“Let’s open up this puckered hole then, pretty thing,” he muttered, giving you another kiss as he fell back into character. “You wanna be left gaping? Huh?”

You whined at the feeling of his cock attempting to breach your ass. König finally squeezed his tip in after a few tries, groaning loudly.

You cried out as he pressed deeper and deeper, only to be silenced when he covered your wailing mouth with the palm of his hand. The other was used to lift your leg, spreading you enough for König to look down and watch his cock ease its way inside your tight, clenching hole.

“Disgusting slut,” he huffed, balls finally meeting the flesh between your shaking legs, “you like taking it up the ass? Such a shame I’m going to destroy this cock-hungry hole of yours. I might never be able to use it again after this, it’ll be so ruined.”

He pulled out to the tip before slamming all the way back in. You let out another cry into his palm, but that only made König grin beneath his mask as he did it again. Again. Again.

He continued thrusting deep into your trembling, worn out body. His movements were unlike how he had used your pussy, which had been fast and unwavering. This was slow and hard.

He stretched you open with every thrust of his throbbing, swollen cock. Everything was a mixture of both pain and pleasure.

You whimpered into his calloused palm each time his hips collided with your ass, “Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!”

“Good girl,” he muttered. “Such a tight set of holes. Here, let me get deeper.”

He let go of your leg and then rolled you onto your stomach. You couldn’t help but groan at the sudden loss of his cock in your ass.

He chuckled, hand still covering your mouth as he crawled on top of you, “Don’t worry, pussy. You won’t be empty for very long.”

You whined upon realizing that he had called you “pussy” rather than any of the other names he had been using all night. Being seen as nothing but a collection of holes for him to fill turned you on beyond belief.

“Not done with that tight ass quite yet,” he continued. “Still need to cum in it.”

He pressed himself flush against your back, forcing you to bear almost his entire weight. Your tied hands dug into his stomach the slightest bit. However, as König pushed himself back into your clenching asshole, he decided it was worth it.

“What a—! Ugh! What a perfect cum hole,” he huffed, finally continuing with his rough thrusts once he was shoved back inside. “Gonna fill you up again until you’re lying there with my load dripping out of your ass. Won’t be able to move, it’ll be so full.”

He sped up. Skin met skin at such a rapid pace that you could hardly breathe. You were being ground to dust by the combination of his thrusts and his muscular body.

You whimpered as König plunged in and out of your ass. His heavy balls bounced off your skin. He panted and moaned into your ear with every thrust, “Gonna cum again! Ugh! Ah! Think you can do it with me?”

You could barely even nod in response. You whined into his palm instead, which he took as confirmation that you were on the edge of your own orgasm.

“Do it,” he said. “Cum for me.”

In an instant, you gushed around his aching cock with a moan. He came as well, shooting a stream of creamy white cum into your ass.

He removed his mask, panting heavily against your skin. He groaned when he pulled out of you and eyed the way his cum dripped out of both your pussy and your ass.

He uncovered your mouth in order to listen to your quiet, relieved whimpers. He tried his best to layer your neck and shoulders in warm kisses as he began untying your wrists, only to find it difficult with his labored breathing.

“So happy to be home with you, Schatz,” he whispered instead.

German Translations, In Order of Appearance: ➳ “Schatz.” — “Darling.” ➳ “Machen Sie sich bereit zum Saugen.” — “Get ready to suck.” ➳ “Saugen!” — “Suck!” ➳ “Kleine Hure!” — “Little whore!” ➳ “Maus.” — “Mouse.” ➳ “Hungrige Schlampe!” — “Hungry slut!” ➳ “Armer Liebling.” — “Poor darling.” ➳ “Genau wie eine Hure.” — “Just like a whore.” ➳ “Den Mund halten! Ich bin fertig mit diesem Spermaloch, das du Mund nennst!” — “Shut up! I'm done with that cum hole you call a mouth!” ➳ “So eine köstliche Muschi. Vielleicht lasse ich dich gefesselt, damit ich es heute Abend zum Abendessen essen kann.” — “Such a delicious pussy. Maybe I'll leave you tied up so I can eat it for dinner tonight.” ➳ “Nimm es! Nimm es, du dreckige Schlampe!” — “Take it! Take it, you dirty bitch!” ➳ “Gute verdammte Muschi.” — “Good fucking pussy.” ➳ “Nichts als eine weinende, schlampige Schlampe!” — “Nothing but a crying, sloppy slut!” ➳ “Mein gehorsamer Schwanzärmel, ja? Mein Sperma-Dump, nicht wahr?” — “My obedient cock sleeve, yes? My cum dump, aren't you?” ➳ “Sag es!” — “Say it!” ➳ “Liebling.” — “Darling.”

#2024 #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty imagines #call of duty x reader #konig imagines #konig imagine #konig x reader #interrogation tactics

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manjiraki · 2 months ago

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Silence Between Tea and the Blade

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Reiji Sakamaki x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Cold, laconic, extremely clean, controlled, but with an emotional depth that is only revealed to those who are intelligent (and persistent) enough to notice it.

This scenario takes place in an alternative timeline where Reiji allowed someone to enter his life not as a project to be shaped, but as a mirror... and perhaps, a silent threat to his throne of control.

—————————————————————————

The room was immaculately tidy. The wall clock marked 6:03 in the morning - three minutes beyond the time that Reiji considered ideal to start the day. He knew she was already awake.

It always was.

The woman he was about to marry was a creature of methodical habits, impeccable hygiene and extreme economy of words. His penetrating gaze always seemed to judge the environment - and everyone in it - as if he were looking for the smallest particle of dust or the least logical inconsistency.

She crossed the hall in silence, with her robe closed up to her neck, soft but firm steps like someone who marches in a minefield. His steel eyes stared at him as if they evaluated his posture, the knot of the tie, the way he held the cup.

Reiji didn't look away. Neither of them deviated. It wasn't a couple who lived on touches. They calculated the presence of the other as someone who adjusts the measures of an elegant poison.

- You were late. - she finally said.

- Three minutes, only. I was adjusting the tea temperature.

- I should have left it prepared last night.

Reiji smiled sideways. It was rare to see someone correct him with that tone and get out alive - but she not only did it: she did it accurately. And that's why he tolerated her.

Or rather, he wanted her, precisely for that reason.

⸻

She sat down at the table and passed a handkerchief over the arm of the chair before touching it. He watched the gesture carefully.

It was a silent ritual - like a dance of invisible swords. Her every move was dry, direct, and absurdly clean. Just like your thoughts.

- The wedding invitations were sent with a margin of error of four seconds in the international post. - Reiji informed.

- The margin should have been two. - she replied, without looking up.

- Considering the delay of the Budapest customs, I thought it was prudent to expand.

She raised a single eye.

- It's still a mistake.

He could have felt angry. But he felt... satisfaction.

⸻

The days with her were not sweet. They were sharp as razors.

Reiji began to discover that what attracted him was not his coldness, but the fact that she understood him through silence. Not by words or flattery, but by the symmetry of ideas. For the way he folded a napkin with military perfection. By the way he looked directly into his eyes and said: "You're wrong."

She wasn't docile.

It wasn't moldable.

And this... destroyed him inside - because for the first time, he was in love with someone he couldn't control.

⸻

One night, an argument took the corridor.

- I don't need your permission to clean the library, Reiji. - she said, with a low and precise voice, like a thin blade cutting the skin without immediate pain.

- Those books are organized by alchemical affinity and hermetic progression. Your "cleaning" can cost months of research!

She turned slowly.

- If your research depends on the order of the books on the shelf, maybe it is more fragile than it looks.

He approached, his eyes calling for contained irritation.

- You have no idea what you're saying.

- And you're afraid I'll have it. - she returned it.

Silence.

They got so close that their noses almost touched. Her smell was of mint tea, neutral soap and old paper. The smell of what was right.

She raised her chin in a minimal gesture.

- If you don't want me to touch what's yours... mark territory as an animal. Or teach me what you know.

Reiji narrowed his eyes. For the first time... he didn't answer.

⸻

That night, he appeared in the room with two books, a glass ampoule and a map of energy flows.

She was sitting folding socks to the millimeter.

He sat next to her. He didn't ask for permission.

- Let's reorganize the library. Together. - he said.

She stopped, looked at him with almost feline eyes.

- Did you finally understand?

He stared at her with a rare trace of kindness in his eyes.

- No... but I'm willing to give up a little control. Just to know how far you can take me.

She smiled.

Just for a second.

But it was enough to make Reiji realize that falling in love was not losing control.

It was to accept that someone was as impeccable as him - or even more.

And love her for that.

———

Epilogue:

The wedding took place in silence. No excessive flowers. No theatrical statements.

The wedding ring was thin, exact, molded in polished silver.

He put it on her finger like someone who seals a pact between alchemists.

And she said "yes" like someone who affirms a calculation that never makes a mistake.

Reiji never had complete peace again.

But for the first time, he had balance.

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#diabolik boys #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #diabolik oc #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki brothers

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acti-veg · 5 months ago

Note

can you please help me with sources to get this person to understand that bolt guns dont kill cattle and only stun them

This is an odd thing to be asked to prove, it’s not like it’s a secret - stunning is explicitly the purpose of a captive bolt pistol! See this USDA document here, just skip down to Stunning and the Humane Methods of Slaughter Act subtitle. See the EU instructions for correct use here, Humane Slaughter Association here, and even the Wikipedia article spells this out in the first paragraph.

The confusion may be coming from the fact that penetrating bolts used to be used as a slaughter method but are now widely discontinued, at least for commercial operations, because of the risk of contamination. Non-penetrating bolts have been the industry standard for years, usually followed by slitting the animal’s throat.

Some farms will use bolt pistols on smaller animals like piglets and calves who are ‘surplus’ or diseased, but that is not the standard method even in these cases. The most common method is still a percussive blow to the head or by swinging the animal against the floor or a wall. This method has how it compares to captive body pistols is discussed in this study.

That said, non-penetrating bolt pistols can result in death when used on fully grown cattle and pigs, as any blunt force trauma to the head can. That is not their primary purpose though, in fact, operators are advised to avoid killing with them.

#ask #slaughter #animal cruelty #vegan #captive bolt pistols #tw animal slaughter #tw animal cruelty

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artmolonara · 8 months ago

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Scratch My Back... - Short Lumpy Waldo/Detective Fluff

***Warning: Slightly suggestive at the end. Enjoy!!!***

How did things end up like this?

It had started out... well "innocently enough" wouldn't be the correct term, but it certainly had seemed relatively harmless at first.

A request, from his rival and tormentor, the insidious Waldo.

Long had the Detective followed along the blood stained path Waldo left in his wake, a nonstop parade of horrors that had claimed many lives, including their precious wife, Wenda. Her death had truly shaken the Detective to their core.

And perhaps it was that vulnerability that Waldo had sought to penetrate, in a new sick and twisted game.

The letter had appeared one afternoon, as they were busy going over their boards of evidence to figure out if there was any pattern to follow. The red envelope had been posted up on the wall, red string leading to it.

Upon the stationary, Waldo had left a short note:

My dearest Detective,

Does it frustrate you so, not being able to stop me by normal means?

I honestly hate to see you like this.

So, I'm willing to come up with a compromise; a new game for us to play.

One simple rule; provide me with a distraction, and I'll hold off my killing for another day.

We'll start off small. All I ask is you write back to me.

Address it to me and I'll find it.

Your's,

~Waldo

The Detective played into it, unfortunately. A letter was sent with the order for Waldo to turn himself in, which was hitherto responded with a request to know more about how the Detective was doing this week.

Unwilling at first to buy into this pen-paling, the Detective wrote again with the plea that Waldo face justice, promising that should he come quietly, they would ensure a less drastic sentence.

A body was the response, with the message, 'More on the way, tell me your day,' scrawled upon it, over and over.

Taking the hint, and knowing that to not do so would mean more innocent blood on their hands, the Detective vented their frustrations upon the parchment and sent it on it's way.

And so the back and forth commenced, well over a month, and Waldo seemed good on his word that he wouldn't kill as long as the Detective kept writing to him.

But then, it seemed boredom had set it, as the distraction requests began to change.

First, a meet up, no cops, just them, akin to that night Waldo had killed the Detective's beloved.

Begrudgingly, the Detective agreed, seeing it as an opportunity to take down the stripped man.

But of course, Waldo was sly and insightful. Any plan the Detective had for capture would quickly fall apart. And so they began to meet consecutively, each time the Detective would plan something new, and each time something would go wrong. Perhaps there was a slight of hand involved, as guns and handcuffs vanished when they met up in the crowds, thick enough that it was impossible to fully keep track of every individual around them, every hand that might pick their pocket. In any case, with no method of success, the Detective begrudgingly went along with the "dates".

And at some point, they stopped trying.

That may had spoiled the fun for Waldo, as his requests on their jaunts started to become more... personal.

Small things at first, to hold their hand as they walked, then an arm around their shoulder, then a hug goodbye, all with the simple statement of, "If you do, I may be distracted enough to not kill tomorrow."

And so it went.

"If you invite me back home..."

"If you kiss me goodnight..."

"If you show me a good time..."

The intimacy of the requests was now reaching a veritable boiling point, one which was definitely becoming too close. But like the frog in the pot, it had all happened at such an even pace that the Detective wasn't fazed.

Because at some point along the way, they had forgotten why they were doing this. Wouldn't admit it, but... they had begun to enjoy themselves when in the presence of the man.

And now, here they were, laying upon the bed the Detective and their wife had shared, long fingered hands gently kneading their shoulders. Today, Waldo had wanted to "help them relax," another excuse it seems to touch them. Waldo seemed very handsy as of late, nothing that the Detective wasn't ok with though; Waldo never pressed further than was comfortable.

... Goodness, it was comfortable... Despite their bony appearance, there was a strength and a softness to the hands that were slowly pulling and pinching the muscles beneath the flesh, loosening with a method that felt almost professional...

"Have you practiced this?" They asked softly, staring off across the dim room at a mirror that had Waldo's face just out of frame, but a smirk was still visible.

"I studied some tutorials..." He answered, before moving down their shoulder-blades, "You got a lot of tension here, Detective."

The scoff couldn't be contained. "Gee, I wonder why," they answered with concentrated sarcasm. Annoyance trailed off, however, when deft fingers began to work on their spine, each digit testing and mapping every rib and vertebrae it came across, tracing and... and...

A wave of sleepiness, brought on by the relaxation, lulled their head forward. A hand found their hair and massaged the scalp, making a soft noise escape them, brought out by the pleasant sensation.

It had been so long since they had felt like this, too long. Not since...

And with their nose pressed to the sheets, they inhaled sharply the lingering scent of her, and felt the pain return ten times over.

Waldo must have sensed the change, as he immediately paused his touches. "Something wrong?" He asked, which only made the Detective ball their fists in the sheets with muted anger.

"Get... get away from me," they hissed lowly, crawling over to the cool side of the bed, her side, and curling up in a ball, away from the monster.

Waldo didn't retaliate, only looked on, silent and still. The Detective might not have even know he was still there, but enough time had passed that they could tell, sense the presence.

And there in lied the torrent of the torment, the real pain Waldo inflicted. He had left a hole in the Detective's heart, and he sought out to fill it. But not by force, no. He had allowed the Detective to take him, willingly, into that cavity. Gotten a part of them to care.

It was sickening.

Tears formed, fell, and then the storm broke with rain, sobs racking them.

Eyes on their back watched on with silence, their inner thoughts unknown in the dark.

"You're such a bastard..." The Detective quietly hiccuped, "... hate you... why are you doing this to me?"

Waldo didn't answer, perhaps knowing the Detective wouldn't like the response right now.

Eventually, the saltwater flow stopped, and they just remained still in the cold sheets.

A warmth at their back.

They pressed towards it.

A gentle hand made circled on their neck.

"You're a bastard..." They whispered.

A soft sigh, "I know."

The Detective closed their eyes tight, trying to remain calm, but the rage flower was still smoldering.

"It's not fair, and you know it, doing all this, bribing me, making me..." care about you, left unspoken.

Waldo's hand paused, then drummed gently along their shoulder, an excitement at something the Detective had just mentioned. "I didn't do that." The playful smirk had returned, as did the tension.

The Detective knew prompting, but still looked back anyway at the messy head of hair. "You didn't do what?"

Vermilion eyes flashed, "Bribe you to do this."

Anger now flared, the Detective bolted up and glared nose to nose with the devil. "Bullshit, you did!" they growled, to which Waldo remained, unwavering.

"All I ever asked of you was a distraction, but you're the one who chose to do... this," And at that, Waldo traced their collar bone.

The Detective shuddered, but remained steadfast in their anger, "Don't twist things. You're the one who asked this of me! It was this or you would kill-"

"All I ever did," Waldo interrupted, gaze now sharp and all encompassing the Detective's vision, "was give you suggestions. I never said that it would be the only thing that would make me refrain from my... nasty habit." Waldo breathed out the S like the serpent he was.

Doubt started to creep in as the Detective now mulled over all that Waldo had said leading up to this moment. Had he really... "You said-"

"Maybe," Waldo finished the revelation, "I always said that if you did these things, maybe I would be distracted enough. You always had the power to make suggestions of your own." He leaned in closer, "But you didn't."

The Detective backed up, but only slightly, "I... I didn't think..." but it was weak.

And Waldo knew it, "You, the brilliant Detective, didn't think you could?" Fiendish eyes narrowed slyly, victoriously, "No. You know the truth. Deep down... " he breathed against their lips with a whisper "...you wanted this."

They felt themself chasing Waldo back slightly as he pulled away, stopping as they realized they just confirmed it.

But no, they closed their eyes in denial, focusing deeper into that which was roiling within.

Quell.

Wait.

He wanted a game?

"You want to know what I want?" The Detective's voice had changed, matching the other as their eyes opened to reflect. Waldo's eyebrows raised a slight degree, before giving a smirking nod.

A hand was placed over the wiry ones, before the Detective picked up one of Waldo's in both of their's. Waldo watched with an air of curiosity.

In a mimicking motion to the murderer had done to them, they slowly explored the thin digits, turning the hand over, mapping it's surface. Calloused tips traced up to pulse point, following tendon's trail, up along veins that began to speed up in their rhythmic flow. Along the way, pressure was applied, like wringing out a wet towel, pushing forearm, elbow, bicep. At the shoulder, hands split, one traveling to the fluttering heart, the other to a flushing cheek.

Concentration had been on the molding task, and now, finally, the Detective's gaze met back up with Waldo's. For a second, they were taken aback. Eyebrows were now fully raised in stunned surprise, his eyes now large black holes swallowing a red and dying star. They had gotten a rise easier than they had expected, but regardless, the Detective kept on their way.

"Do you really want to know what I want?" They asked again.

Waldo blinked, confusion as to why the Detective was repeating themself, with a soft, "Yes," as a response.

It didn't satisfy, and that is what the Detective hoped for.

With a sudden motion, hand over heart went tight around neck, while it's mirror twin gripped and pulled back his oily black hair, painfully, or at least, the Detective hoped it was.

It was a risk, they knew, a prod of a hungry tiger. But the Detective didn't care, only that the message would be received.

"I won't ask you again," the Detective hissed with malice, towering over Waldo now while the man gripped the sheets.

After a moment, Waldo responded with a shaky and awestruck smile, "What do you want, Detective?"

And here, the Detective hesitated, the truth caught slightly in their throat. Was it embarrassment? Shame? Fear at what it would bring once spoken?

Waldo could smell it like blood, and the demonic playfulness returned through a tightened windpipe, "Don't be ashamed. You can tell me." He pressed into the violent hold, "It's just us here..."

A second more of trepidation, then the Detective leaned close and whispered out their inner darkness.

Waldo gasped, "Oh, Detective..." Eyes alight with fiendish fire, "I never thought you had it in you..."

A growl snuck out of the Detective, chocking him as to show their seriousness, to which Waldo just laughed.

"If you do that," he wheezed, eyes pleading, "I think I'll be distracted a whole week!"

It was a shame, knowing Waldo had brought the Detective so low. But through the broken shards of their soul, something wrathful leaked out that would make him regret that victory. Make it hurt.

In that darkness, where no one but them existed, a shadow bloomed out and took control, fueled forth by the mocking laughter.

And how Waldo laughed.

...

~FIN~

Quick little thing here, ending on an ambiguous note. I do have my own vision as to how this could continue, IDK, maybe if I get enough Ko-Fi support I'll write that "...And I'll Scratch Your's" follow up.

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#lumpy touch where's waldo #lumpy touch #lumpy where's waldo #ltww #writers on tumblr #tw suggestive

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