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only-omo · 3 months

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characters who "dont wet".

and by that i mean characters who always have enough bladder control that even when they are past their limit and urine is slowly dribbling down their legs, thats all it ever is. no forceful wetting, no "loss of control", not completely. just leaking every few minutes until they can hold it again. sometimes big leaks that immediately give them away (or dont, but now they cant move without being caught so), throwing those around them into a panic; sometimes smaller leaks that are easier to hide in terms of damage, but so much harder in terms of the strain it puts on their bladder to only let out so little

and it really is something special, because it can get to a point where their pants are notably soaked to the hems, maybe even a small puddle or two depending on if theyve been walking around, and theyre still squirming like mad, or trying not to, because this is damage that happened over the course of nearly an hour or more.

eventually if theyre with people someones gonna ask why they dont just give up already, theyve already fully wet themselves in terms of damage, and doing it this way is really doing nothing but causing way more damage than necessary. because at this point even if they wanted to hide it still - i mean, it is horribly embarrasing to consistently wet yourself over the span of an hour (or more) i think - its painfully obvious every time they leak, their clothes too soaked to absorb it quick enough, unavoidably leading to small-to-incredibly-messy puddles each time.

whether theyre able to answer the person or just stutter and get out not much more than "i dont know", they cant bring themselves to intentionally stop holding, despite the risks, and the only way to fully empty their bladder not at a toilet would be to intentionally choose to wet. so they keep "holding".

from here it will go one of two ways, either they finally get access to a bathroom, where they will likely suffer latch-key incontinence and finally fully lose control on the way from the door to the toilet, likely not able to do anything but maybe sit down to try to minimize mess, otherwise just staring as urine re-soaks their pants and gathers on the floor underneath them (and its obvious they re-wet, so they cant pretend they made it, potentially leading to comments from someone about why they bothered so hard just to not make it anyway, to their utter embarrassment). or they dont find a bathroom, and theres nothing they can do but keep trying to hold it.

now i know from experience that around this point you really do start to feel sick, but its in an exhilaratingly horrible way. your body starts to fight itself to the point where it actually changes your thought pattern. and not in the typical "ohmygodohmygodineedtopee" type of way that some people arent susceptible to, but in a strange way where the most logical thing in existence at that moment is that they should not be holding their pee, regardless of location, as if societal standards didnt exist, as if it truly didnt matter where they peed or what they were wearing when they did it. the way their bladder is so confused it cant do much but dully ache, no longer sharp or threatening leaks, but still the most pressing thing on their mind.

their bladder will actually shut their brain down, reverting them to basic instinct, and theres a good chance at some point their bladder will contract, and the only thing they can physically do is not only just let it out, but actively push it out as hard as they can, and if they could think it would feel intentional, the way their muscles are locked forcefully contracting as if almost by choice, completely negating the previous struggle of eventually regaining control; but they arent thinking, and that choice is more "dont die" than it is "wet myself".

obviously, its messy. its messy and its sudden, as they likely started to go despondent as the sickly feeling hit. its sudden, and its messy, and its loud. theyre not only just wetting themself, but pushing as if the urine was burning their bladder, and they have to get it out (not too far from the truth). trying not only to get out every last drop, but to get out the last drop as soon as possible. and there isnt any relief until a good minute or so after they finish, so theyre wetting with that full force, as if their bladder were still full, the entire time - which is likely a good minute or two, as despite everything theyve lost until now, their bladder was still mostly full - until it suddenly cuts off. it will get everywhere, and itll have everyones attention, and then itll be silent, aside from the light pattering of stray urine that hasnt yet reached the floor.

the most common response would likely be speechlessness, people arent used to bladders that can cause that much of an issue, even incontinent people usually just wet and get it over with.

and the wetters brain will only kick back on after theyre empty, though still in an almost daze of all the sensations and emotions. theyve been sitting in their slowly growing shame for at least an hour at this point so the social repercussions arent really hitting them (though they definitely will as the adrenaline drops), and theyre mostly focused on the stressful feeling of knowing that this must be horribly unhealthy, to end up feeling that way, and to just be primarily aware of the fact that they just totally pissed themself; more than they are anything that means, aside from that theyre soaked.

#omoclean #omorashi #fictomo #omo prompts #lowkey me

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ammoknightsofficial · 3 months

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I like LouiMar in an academic way. I appreciate the kind of themes and character drama people cook up with it, how I've mostly seen LouiMar used as a method of character exploration, and how a lot of people don't shy away from more adult themes with it, like the cheating aspect. As a gay man, I appreciate A LOT how it is the main ship in the fandom, and I've never once seen the fact that it's a gay ship be called attention to aside from explorations of Olimar's mentality and sexuality. I like how the gay part of it isn't the main appeal to people, it's the characters and how they work together or against each other. It's genuinely interesting. I love seeing what people do with it. It's the most respectful I've seen a fandom handle a gay relationship at large.

I do not ship it though, because I think Olimar being, like, a cishet hardworking family man, and everything society wants, is a huge part of his character, and making him a part of an "other" really stunts the visceral criticism of capitalism and social standards within the text of the games. It weakens the sheerness of the dichotomy between Louie and Olimar- Olimar representing the pinnacle to Louie's nadir. Louie's everything society hates, and he isn't at fault for it. He's a victim to harsh, oppressive social and societal standards he cannot live up to. Olimar is everything society wants, the perfect everyman, and he's suffering under these systems, too. He's a model citizen, and yet we see him descend into an increasingly more and more unkind person from Pikmin 1-3, due to pressures that society expects him to be able to handle with a smile.

Louie refuses the masquerade. He rejects the notion that he "should" be anything, that he needs to change himself for the easy consumption of others. He doesn't feel at home on Hocotate, and while he does fine on the Planet of the Pikmin, and would prefer to live there, he still finds himself hurting over being forgotten and rejected. Both of these men lack choices. Olimar has to keep up a brutal, soul-sucking grind to provide for his family, Louie is constantly bossed around, thrown around, told what he should be, that he's unacceptable as he is, and never given the option to be himself in peace or choose what he gets to do with his life.

Society's Best/Society's Worst type of dynamic. Both under pressure to keep performing. Neither have a say in the matter. It's a very interesting duality.

#pikmin #louie pikmin #captain olimar #louimar #louie.pdf #olimar.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.txt

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blackswallowtailbutterfly · 1 year

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Things that are true at the same time

1) Romantic relationships are presented as the be all and end all of human relatonships, especially to women.

2) Given how other animals pair up, there is probably also a biological drive to find a mate.

3) Humans have proven time and time again that they will risk anything to have a chance at a romantic relationship, including external violence (for interracial relationships, homosexual relationships, relationships outside of marriage, any other relationship not approved of by family or the state) or internal violence (thousands of women are killed by their current or former husbands or boyfriends each year).

4) However, it is entirely possible for a human to have a fulfilling life without a romantic partner, and plenty of people have done so--women are at their happiest in their mid 80s, which is after the life expectancy of men.

5) Danger due to external violence and internal violence is not the same.

6) There is no social pressure to specifically be in a homosexual relationship while plenty exists specifically for a heterosexual relationship.

7) Opposite-sex-attracted women will often be shamed for their choice in relationships but it’s not to do with their opposite sex attraction.

8) Same-sex-attracted women will often be shamed specifically for their same sex attraction.

9) Even though OSA women are often shamed for having sex with men that people in their lives disapprove of, they are also shamed for not having sex with men, and lesbian women are shamed for not wanting to have sex with men at all.

10) When the risk is of external violence, it is the society that must change to accept relationships that are not inherently harmful (homosexual, interracial, etc.).

11) When the risk is of internal violence, the options are limited: A. have high standards and watch for red flags and hope you get lucky, or B. just don’t date.

12) Telling people to just not date regardless of the reason is not likely to be listened to.

13) That doesn’t mean it should never be said.

14) A small group of people on the internet telling you not to date someone with whom there’s a risk of internal violence is not the same as being threatened with external violence if you date someone.

15) The external societal pressure on women to date men far exceeds any “pressure” in radfem circles not to do so.

16) Telling you not to get a pet bear isn’t the same as telling you not to get a pet cat or dog. The latter might make it more difficult to find a place to rent (external). The former will literally be the one to destroy your home (internal).

17) Using misogynistic language isn’t cool, no matter who’s saying it to whom.

18) It’s also not nearly as commonly used in radblr as people are saying.

19) It doesn’t excuse homophobia or more misogyny as a response.

20) It is okay to take a break from this site sometimes. A lot of people here who are at odds would have a perfectly civil and productive discussion in person (not everyone, but a lot). Please take a walk outside, and put what you see here into context. No one on this website has any control of your life decisions.

Full disclosure: I am a heterosexual woman, I had sex with a man over the winter holidays. He is very likely the last man I will have any such relations with, but I trust him with my life and I will continue to have a handful of such encounters with him each year unless I feel I can’t trust him or he wants to stop. Nothing I read on radblr is going to change that. I had sex with him on Thanksgiving weekend too. And on the week I took off in the summer. I’ll probably have sex with him some time this spring. What radblr has done is validated my not feeling safe dating anymore men after my rape several years ago. My standards have raised considerably and I feel no shame for having them. I accept that I may never find a romantic life partner or have any children but realize a fulfilling life is still possible.

Take radblr as a balancing act: liberal men tell you to have sex with lots of men (and some women too as long as the men can watch) and that you’re a prude if you don’t, conservative men tell you to have sex with one man only and that you’re a slut if you have sex with more than one. Both tell you it’s wrong not to have sex with men at all (even nuns are called brides of Christ). Radblr simply says, hey, whether it’s one or it’s many, men are dangerous and it’s safer to not have anything to do with them. Difference is women in radblr have no power, external or internal, to enforce what they think you should do. Men do, both external and internal, and they use it frequently.

You can have sex with men if you want to have sex with men! You can date men and hope to find your unicorn, I hope you do too! But it’s no bad thing to hear, in what is a small space on the internet, “Hey, consider not doing this risky thing” in a sea of “Do this risky thing this way or else” and “No, do this risky thing this way or else”. It’s okay. It’s literally okay to be told “We don’t think you should do this” and still do it. And if the day comes where you don’t want to anymore, at least you know you have a--again--small place where people won’t shame you for that decision.

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gurugirl · 2 years

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Tales From the Modern Incubus Part I*

Summary: Harry is an incubus hunting for a female to carry his next heir. He sniffs someone out as she's masturbating and she might just be the one.

A/N: Please read all warnings listed in the TFMI masterlist before continuing - this is dark!harry content and it's not for everyone. There could be triggering topics so please consider that before reading.

Warning: Smut, anal, making fun of religion, making fun of god, non-con sexual touching, dark humor, mentions of abortion, talk of incantations and charms, voyeurism

It’s in Harry’s nature to be a whore. He was created this way by The Almighty after all, in his own image, a perfect angel, his ancestors deceived and then tossed away to earth as if God himself didn't intend for his very essence to be that of a sexual being. Incubuses carry a long line of sexual "deviancy" and have been marked as evil by humanity. Harry finds the whole "demons are evil" mark to be funny generally because for as long as he's been around (and he's been around) humanity is far far worse.

But that's just a gripe he's had to live with for thousands of years (yeah, he's old). It's become nothing more than background noise for him. Over many a millennia he's adapted to humanity and their ways because he hasn't had a choice. As weak and stupid as people are, they are what create social standards and biases and Harry's had no option but to put up with their ever changing tastes and preferences. One day punishing and putting to death an adulterous woman is okay by societal standards, the next, it's illegal and called murder (where the murderer will then likely be punished and put to death - see how confusing that is?).

When he first started out, he'd sneak upon those asleep in the night and take what he needed from women and men (he has no preference truthfully). He'd cast an illusion incantation and make his chosen believe they were dreaming so his presence didn't seem unusual and he could avoid a struggle. Though, he used to not mind the struggles so much. Sometimes it made the encounters even more fun. But that was during a time when humanity was very primal, more animalistic and aggressive, less intelligent. Society dictates what’s good and what’s evil, and what’s thought of as evil today wasn’t always evil in the eyes of the world.

As he’s matured during his time on earth, he’s really just found it’s better to deceive the mortal rather than force them. But his personal favorite is when his pick of the night is choosing him. It gives his massive ego a little boost. He’ll be the first to admit, he’s arrogant and he’s totally full of himself. So he loves it, absolutely adores it when he’s wanted. Or when someone tells him he’s the best. Perhaps he has a tiny praise kink.

In 2022, though, finding a person to fuck every night is very easy. Humanity has become just as whorish as all the incubus (well, they've always been but it's just more acceptable to admit nowadays). Women don't mind one-night stands, men and women and everyone in between are out with their sexual preferences, and then there are all those who are experimenting and Harry doesn't mind showing them what it's like. He still uses an illusion spell on occasion when he really wants a taste of a human who doesn't seem interested (such a rare occurrence), but Harry prefers being desired.

All of that sexual acceptance and openness (for much of the world) among humans is great for Harry’s favorite hobby. It makes things really easy for him. But because he oozes sex and he’s so painfully attractive (if he does say so himself), he can go years without ever hearing a no from anyone. However, the year to find a woman to impregnate has come. Harry must seek out a fresh and fertile womb in a human female. Every 100 years (or so), this is part of his deal with the higher ups. To bring about a new heir.

He needs to spread his seed to continue the lineage of the damned and eternally tormented incubus (Harry can be a bit dramatic) but he is glad he only has this task once every century or so. It’s not that Harry is lazy. It has more to do with finding the perfect incubator for his heir. The human woman would need to be healthy, intelligent, beautiful, and willing to let the demon come into her bed and come into her… well, to get her pregnant.

His powers are indescribable. Not only is Harry as strong as any demon could possibly be (there aren’t many beings stronger than a demon in general, but an incubus demon like Harry possesses strength that is unmatched) he’s clever, sometimes tricking his victims into submission by cock, as he so lovingly calls it.

He enjoys human pussy (or ass) regularly, maybe even nightly if he has a free hour to kill. It was, after all, in his nature to fuck helpless humans as they lie vulnerable in their beds at night. He’d easily sniff out someone masturbating and go to them, seduce them further and then find himself balls deep in an already soft and soaked cunt or nice taut asshole (or even a mouth), all ready to be stretched by his demon sized prick (incubus are especially well endowed among demons and angels).

But, nowadays, all he had to do to get laid was go to a bar, or even the grocery store which he found was a great spot. Trader Joe’s always seemed to really give him the most hits. But for many a millennia he would sneak into a someone's room and assist them in masturbation and then have them convinced they were dreaming him up so his sudden presence wasn't questioned. It’s not so hard to get invited into a someone's bed in these modern times. Not when Harry looks the way he does, speaks the way he does, charms the way he does.

But for the past few days he’s been on the hunt for the perfect womb. The perfect woman. So he must work a little harder than just picking up a beautiful piece of ass for a one night stand. He’s not in a particular rush, but his time to create a new heir is upon him.

Harry was born of a human woman just like all his heirs. No, he wasn’t the original incubus but he’s old by any standard. Being born of a human just means a demon will look like anyone else to the average person. It means anyone you meet could be a demon (or even an angel) and you wouldn't know it. They feel like, look like, sound like, smell like, and even taste just like a human. Hell, sometimes even Harry gets tricked into thinking an angel is a human from time to time.

Tonight Harry is in another crowded bar scoping out the talent. There isn't much here in the way of the perfect female for him tonight. But he is noticing a particularly handsome lad across the room who keeps catching his eye. Harry himself, is fucking gorgeous and it almost doesn't matter what sexual preferences the person has, he can easily convince a straight man to take his cock down his throat or in his ass. Harry's quite convincing naturally, but he also relies on his evil gifts to get what he wants. He doesn’t like the idea that his gifts are labeled evil by humans, though. But that’s a discussion for another time.

Harry leans on the bar with his hips jutted out, showcasing his nice bulge under his well fitted pants as he keeps his eyes on the tall man across the room. He knows he doesn't even need to approach the man; the man will be coming to him. And soon enough Harry's prediction is coming into play and the guy can't help himself when he begins to walk toward Harry.

“I’m Randy. Saw you looking at me.” He puts a hand out toward Harry to shake and he takes it with a nod and smirks at Randy. Of course his name is Randy, Harry thinks to himself.

“I’m Harry. And yes, I was looking.”

The two men size one another up for a moment before Harry is speaking again, “So, what’s on the menu tonight, Randy? Anything I can help with?”

Harry wasn’t one for much small talk. Not when Randy looked like he’d enjoy a quick romp. Harry’s natural state making him feel quite randy himself. He'd rather just get down to it.

It wasn’t long before Harry and Randy were sharing a taxi back to Randy’s apartment.

Harry sat through twenty minutes of listening to Randy talk about his job and his new car. Harry tried to be polite and act interested so he bit back a yawn that wanted to give him away.

Harry just didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get a good fuck in and Randy was the hottest person at the bar tonight. And Harry could smell Randy's own need. Randy hadn't been laid in a while and with Harry's heightened supernatural senses, everything pointed to Randy being very horny and very willing.

Even once they’d gotten to Randy’s place he wouldn’t shut up. He took Harry through the parking garage so he could show Harry his new car.

There weren’t many things that could impress Harry and he knew Randy was showing off a little. It was a nice car. But Harry had enough wealth to last until the end of all time. So, a nice car and a good paying job just did nothing for Harry. He just wanted to be balls deep in Randy soon so he could feel that yummy tingle he was addicted to. To do what he was created to do.

Harry was on the verge of just taking what he wanted and speak a binding incantation over Randy so he'd shut the hell up and pull his pants down but Harry really did most enjoy it when humans gave in to him of their own will. Not that he hadn't employed the other tactics in his time roaming the earth but it was an ego boost to be desired without the need for coercion. Harry loved being wanted, being desired almost as much as he loved getting his dick wet.

And when the time had finally come for Harry to get what he wanted he was relieved by Randy's eagerness. Randy dropped to his knees and took Harry down his throat first and Randy admitted that Harry was the biggest he'd ever taken. Harry wanted to say I know but instead he just acted surprised as he always did when he'd hear that. But he loved hearing it nonetheless.

Then Harry bent Randy over his ugly arm chair and fucked him senseless. Randy was really into it too. Lots of squealing and arching of the back before Randy was coming way too fast for Harry's liking, but Harry didn't stop his hasty and deep thrusts into Randy because Harry still needed to come himself. Randy did try pushing Harry away but Harry was nearly there.

"Gonna fucking let me come or not?" Harry snarled at Randy as he continued pounding away into Randy's rear. Randy remained quiet after that and just let Harry take what he needed. Harry's large cock was a bit painful once Randy had already come as the lube was beginning to dry up a bit at the intense friction Harry created.

Harry didn't really need the lube himself. He liked the sting of the pull on his cock from a taught bum hole or even the way it felt in his own ass. Most humans did not like it, though, he came to find out. Even the most experienced of anal lovers insisted on lots of lube because going in dry hurt too much for humans to really appreciate it like he did. He'd found only a handful of humans who enjoyed that type of pain as much as he did over his lifetime.

Harry loved fucking a willing participant. He hated that most of them insisted on a condom, though. Which, Randy had. So, Harry, with his already incredible stamina and ability to last longer than a human male during sex would last even longer with a fucking condom. So, Randy would just have to put up with it since he insisted on the condom in the first place.

It's not like Harry would be getting Randy pregnant or passing on any diseases. His body didn't carry disease like humans. His body was that of an angel, in fact, and angels are as close to perfection as one can get, after God the creator of course (but Harry thinks that's debatable). Even if Harry was a fallen angel, he was still part of a lineage of angels that were the creation of The Almighty and an angel by all accounts. He was just an angel with a worldly point of view really. It was humans who dubbed him a devil. A handsome devil, Harry thinks.

So, he hated condoms but he put up with them when necessary. When Randy began to whine in agony and the tightness of his hole was squeezing the ever-living fuck out of the demon's cock, Harry finally found his own release. He rutted into Randy a few more handful of times as hard as possible, his long cock reaching deep into Randy as he dumped into his condom with a low growl.

Harry didn't stick around long after cleaning himself up to poor Randy's disappointment. He was already out the door and into the night to search for his earthly vessel, a warm spot to dump his load into and impregnate. The tricky part was getting the female to be okay with having unprotected sex, and then to be okay to keep the child once she found out she was pregnant. Now, these days, abortions were more common and he'd had yet to experience this difficult probability as the last time he had to bring an heir into existence was in the early 1900s. Abortions happened back then too, but it was quite rare.

Some of his other incubus counterparts had told tales of finding their perfect incubator only to have her later get an abortion, putting them back at square one.

Harry roamed in night smelling all of the potential. Many were asleep already this evening and he passed through like a ghost as he neared his own home to settle in the for night.

But then something stopped him. The scent of someone masturbating. A female. He knew the scent and he'd smelled it already a couple of times tonight passing through, but this one was different. This was the scent of a pure, virgin vessel. Sweet and innocent. Healthy. Fertile. Completely unadulterated but it was so potent. The female had to have been completely soaked. He could smell how desperate she was. He drew closer to the home in question and the perfume of her arousal made him feel like a wild animal. He honed all his senses in order to take in the naughty deed by the virgin female. She was desperate, but she was being very very quiet. Her heart rate was fast, he knew she was near her own orgasm. He didn’t want to miss seeing it with his own eyes so he made himself appear invisible like a ghost and entered the room of the young woman masturbating.

There she was, the sweet thing, he could tell she was rubbing at her clit but she was covered by her blankets for modesty, he assumed. He slowly plucked her blanket to pull it away so he could see her pussy up close and sniff it without the barrier of a blanket.

The girl had no idea the demon stood over her, watching as her blanket moved down her body. She was enjoying her current state far too much to notice. She’d been pent up and frustrated all day and as much as she hated to masturbate she just couldn’t hold back tonight. Her fingers ran over her clit and she dripped over herself, completely making a mess that she knew she’d have to clean up before her parents noticed, but for now, her pleasure was boiling over and her head was in the clouds with lust.

Harry fell to his knees, with a thud to the floor that the girl luckily didn’t hear, and he hovered over her, keeping his eyes on her body as she flushed from heat and stimulation. Her smell was unlike anything he’d ever taken in. He wanted a taste so bad his head was spinning. Even though he’d just gotten off with Randy, this young woman was far more exciting to him. Her face was pink, puffy lips parted, hair splayed under with her eyes closed. She was beautiful, he couldn’t deny it and her body was soft and healthy. She could give him an heir, she could be his mistress, his vessel.

A small moan fell from her lips and Harry wanted to see her breasts when she arched her back. She was wearing a t-shirt and he could see her erect nipples poking through the thin fabric but he wanted to see her. He gently pulled her shirt upward over her breasts, very slowly and when one of her breasts came into view he had to blink his eyes at the sight. He’d seen millions of breasts, but these… When he’d pulled her shirt up over both her breasts he whined lowly at the view and then looked over her tummy and down to where her fingers were working her delicious cunt.

He couldn’t help himself when he gently, softly, put a finger over her wetness that had dripped onto her inner thigh. Just a soft gentle touch so as not to make her aware. He immediately brought the nectar to his mouth and closed his eyes at the flavor and neglect he tasted. She had been neglected, pent up, frustrated. She rarely allowed herself to release but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d help her release as often as she liked, he imagined any other man or woman would as well.

Her breathing picked up and she softly moaned when she spread her legs further. Harry quickly unzipped his pants and brought his dick out into his hand to get himself off again. He was hard as rock and he needed to come again. He slipped two fingers over her wet cunt lightly to gather some of her lubricant and rubbed it over himself and nearly groaned at the feel. Her arousal on his cock was magical. He gently reached over her again with her fingers quickly moving over her clit and brought his fingers lower to near her entrance and stuffed just the tip of a finger into her and quickly removed his hand as she opened her eyes and moaned, looking down at herself. She liked that, he thought to himself.

With more of her arousal now on his fingers he smoothed it over his shaft and began to stroke himself. But he wanted to see if she’d enjoy more of a finger inside of her. As he stroked himself to the site and smell before him, her pussy making wet sounds at each pass of her fingers, he slowly put a finger at her entrance again. She started to shake as her orgasm came near and that made it easier for him to put a finger into her and thrust back and forth, curling upwards to drag across her g-spot.

It was so gratifying to see for Harry; this innocent girl rubbing over her clit as she’s about to come, while he slowly thrusts his finger into her without her being aware. She opened her eyes and looked down to where his hand was, but when she saw nothing she continued her sloppy ministrations and began to choke out a quiet moan.

“Oh fuuu…” she squeaked out as she began to orgasm into her hand and on his. Harry loved watching it. He hadn’t done something like this in a long time and he was unable to stop himself from touching her – there was a sense of need in him that he hasn’t felt in many, many long years. He felt quite savage at the sight of her as he began to come onto her floor and on the side of her bed. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep quiet. His head spun in longing and with the lingering taste of her on his tongue and the smell of her arousal permeating the air he breathed, he was ferociously stroking himself, emptying onto her bed clothes and floor.

Before she could finish coming, he had the sense to pull his finger out of her before she could be confused about the matter. He promptly stuck his fingers into his mouth as his come coated more of her rug below him, sucking her erotic syrup down his throat with his eyes closed.

He felt at ease with comfort once he’d calmed from his orgasm. He watched her as she heaved her breaths and stilled her fingers over her clit when she’d felt the similar comfort as him with her own orgasm gently fading away.

Harry wouldn’t bother cleaning up after himself. It would dry and no one would know what it was. They’d assume just a messy girl or something like that. He tucked himself back into his trousers and stayed longer to watch her as she took account of the aftermath of her mess. She blew out a breath in silent laughter and then pulled her shirt down over her breasts so they were sadly hidden from the demon’s view once again.

She sat up and he watched her hair fall over her shoulders and she leaned over to take some tissues from the box on her nightstand next to Harry. He sniffed her in when her arm got close to his face and now she didn’t smell of the neglect he’d tasted. She had her release and she was soothed by it now. He smiled at this notion. An orgasm was good for the soul. If anything, what Harry did for a living was giving back to humanity and helping people feel good.

He wished he could wipe her up with his tongue, clean her until all of her slick was down his throat and coating his insides so he could take the taste with him everywhere. Instead, he watched her wipe it off with tissues only to be tossed in the garbage. If Harry were any less civilized he'd dig into her garbage like a dog and eat her come coated tissues so her essence wouldn't go to waste in the garbage can.

He stayed close to the girl, astounded by her. She was delicate and soft, and very innocent. He wanted to hold her down and take her virginity quite badly but he also wanted her to be his vessel. His mistress. He’d take advantage of her naivety easily but he wanted her to be willing at least. To carry his child and not abort it. To want to be a mother and care for the heir until it was ready to take on its cognate nature.

She got up from her bed with her bottom bare to Harry, another superb vision, and she tossed her napkins into the trash before slipping her cotton panties up her legs, covering her bitable bum and her virgin pussy. He followed her around her room like a shadow as she went to her desk and removed a notebook and pen and then back to her bed where she sat, her lamp dim, and she reached into her nightstand and pulled out the fucking Bible.

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. Of course. This beautiful, sexual creature was a virgin because she’d been brainwashed by the Bible which was mostly fake tales made up by delusional psychopaths and attention seekers. Even The Almighty himself disliked the content. Harry wasn’t fond of God because of what had happened to his forefathers at the beginning of time, but God wasn’t like the God of the Bible. The Almighty was God (who went by any other name of god you could imagine) for billions of years before men learned how to write and read and one day some decided it would be fun to make up some stories about the things they’d seen (delusions) and heard (made-up stories passed down from generations). It was all fake. The real story was much more interesting, darker, more magical than the Bible told of.

But here his sweet human was, cracking open the pages to a passage in the Bible and taking notes with her legs crossed under her after she’d just made herself orgasm (with the devil’s help of course). He appreciated the absurdity of the situation and wouldn’t let this little thing get in his way of manipulating and winning the girl over. He would be feeling her and fucking her and making her scream his name soon enough. He’d just need to rework some of her viewpoints a bit. He’d done it before with other devout religious humans, he could certainly do it to her too.

She sighed and then put her head into her hands and he heard her murmuring. She was praying! Harry loved to hear prayers especially when no one could actually hear them but him if he was in proximity. He loved the idea that a person was praying to God, yet the only one to hear them was a demon. His dark sense of humor played into this being a very funny scenario for him, but he was sure it would break the hearts of many if they knew the truth.

“I just feel so distanced from you, God. Why can’t I hear your voice like Amanda? Are you ignoring me? What should I do to make you hear me? To speak to me? I’m weak and I’m full of sin. Please forgive me, Lord…”

There was a part of Harry that was relieved that she wasn’t one of the ones who insisted they heard the voice of God. He was pleased that she struggled even in private to “hear” him and that she felt he didn’t hear her. Because that was the reality. The Almighty doesn’t listen in to prayers, nor does he answer them unless you are doing him some kind of favor or have something he wants. He’s quite selfish, and quite elitist if you ask Harry. So knowing she was still of sound mind gave him solace in that his heir wouldn’t be born to a fully brain-washed delusional being. Because she would be the mother to his child. He knew it now. He didn’t care the lengths he’d need to go to convince her and make her his (at least for a short time to achieve his goal).

When the girl had put her Bible away and her notebook, she climbed into her bed and covered herself up to find sleep for the night, Harry decided he’d stay in her home as she slept. He’d lie under her bed, like a monster. He would have just rested out in the open or on the couch in the living room (or perhaps a spare room with a soft bed would work too?) but he wanted to be as close to her as possible. Have her presence envelope him fully. He would have preferred to lie with her in his arms and keep his nose tucked into her neck but they weren’t at that point in their relationship just yet.

So, he slept under her bed, well, more like, lie under her bed and rested (sleep for demons wasn’t easy to come by so therefore it was not necessary but rest was quite important) while the girl slept soundly, unaware of the demon’s presence just below.

Part II

Into incubus!harry? Tip my ko-fi? 😘

Check out my masterlist if you enjoyed this 💕

Xoxo

@victoria-styles

@michellekstyles

@ssaama

@angelqueen99

#harry styles smut #demon!harry #incubus!harry #virgin!reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #dark!harry #harry styles writing

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nerdygaymormon · 10 months

Text

Happy Pride 🏳️‍🌈

I want to wish a Happy Pride to:

Violets, “the Lesbian flower”

Sappho (c. 630-c.570), the Greek poet who lived on the island of Lesbos, often referenced violets in her ancient poems, thus creating a connection with female love, and this coded association endured for centuries. In fact, in 1927 the New York City district attorney’s office shut down the Broadway play The Captive because a female character in the play sent a bunch of violets to another female character, creating a big scandal

Crop Tops

Crop tops used to be associated with sports and were a popular option for manly, athletic men. However, the fashion of 1990′s and early 2000’s was dominated by loose and baggy clothing. Crop tops, which had once been viewed as hyper-masculine, came to be seen as more feminine and a fashion statement, which made straight men reject the crop tops and gay men embrace them.

Pirates

Back in the Golden Era of Piracy (1650-1730s), homosexuality was highly stigmatized on land and illegal in most places. However, piracy was known for rejecting societal standards and expectations. Queer relationships at sea were not uncommon, and pirates even had their own form of domestic partnership called matelotage. If you want to learn more, there are many pirates to choose from, but you can start with these: Anne Bonny, Mary Read, John “Calico Jack” Rackham, and Pierre “the pansy pirate” Bouspet.

Carabiners

Carabiners are a steel loop designed for rock climbers because they can easily be opened with one hand, which is useful when hanging on by the other hand. This practical tool for carrying around equipment was adopted by working-class people to carry keys. In World War II, a large number of women entered the workforce, and those who went into manual labor were usually more butch than femme. More traditionally feminine industries, like sewing or secretarial work, were closed to them due to their gender presentation. After the war, many women were reluctant to give up their new financial independence, and thus the carabiner is linked to female liberation and working-class aesthetics and this belt-side key chain came to be part of the lesbian style.

Lavender

Lavender is used interchangeably with “rainbow” to mean “LGBTQ+” at events like Lavender Graduations and the annual Lavender Law Conference. It’s thought that lavender became code for gay because it’s created by mixing pink and blue—colors which are culturally connected to girls or boys—thus blurring the distinction of what is feminine or masculine. One sweet use of this color connection within the queer community is on Valentine’s Day, lavender roses are often the choice of LGBTQ+ partners.

Lambda (the Greek letter)

In the early 1970′s, based on the recommendation of Tom Doerr, New York City’s Gay Activists Alliance chose as its symbol the Greek letter lambda, which looks like a lowercase “y” flipped upside down, because it’s used in science to represent kinetic energy. Kinetic energy is energy an object has due to its motion, thus making lambda a symbol of change. For example, Lambda Legal works for positive change to the legal status of queer people

Ace playing cards

Due to the word “asexual” being commonly shortened to “ace,” this led to a play on words by ace playing cards coming to represent asexuality. The ace of hearts and ace of spades are used to symbolize being aromantic and asexual respectively.

Undercuts

Queer people find ways to challenge heteronormativity, whether it’s gay men bleaching their hair blonde or lesbians rejecting the association of long hair with womanhood. Short hair has become associated with lesbians, whether it’s a bob, a brightly-colored close crop, and most iconically the undercut which is a hairstyle that leaves the top part of the hair medium length or long but has one or both sides and/or the back of the head shaved closely

Brunch

Brunch is THE gay meal and for a number of reasons. There was a time that brunch wasn’t viewed as respectable, but rather was a meal for those who’d stayed out late partying. Bucking tradition is a queer tradition and so brunch is a natural. On Sundays, brunch exists at a time many people are at church, and it’s a great use of that time for queer people who chose to leave churches that reject them. Gay spaces were generally bars and clubs which are usually nighttime spaces, but brunch was radical as a place gays could gather and be themselves in the daylight. Historically, queer people found it more difficult to secure gainful employment, and brunch is a bargain, usually half the price of dinner, so it makes sense the queer community flocked to a meal that was more affordable. Brunch is more casual than a proper breakfast or dinner and therefore is often accompanied by fun conversation and gossip. Brunch offers a greater variety of food options than the typical meal, there’s something for everyone. Could anything be more queer than variety & acceptance?

Ms. Frizzle

In the 1990s, the popular children‘s television show “The Magic School Bus” featured a teacher, Ms. Frizzle, who was never confirmed to be queer, but she was definitely queer coded, such as her quirky fashion style of mismatched brightly-colored patterns & those big earrings. She bucked gender norms by being a woman teaching STEM topics, and having a love of adventure. Another clue is she wasn’t married at a time when gay marriage was not legal. Also, the character was voiced by lesbian actress Lily Tomlin.

Women’s Hockey

Women’s hockey has a joyous history of lesbian players who are visible. In 2017, Caroline Ouellette and Julie Chu—former captains of the Canada and US ice hockey teams—welcomed their newborn daughter into the world. The following year Meghan Duggan, the captain of the US women’s Olympic ice hockey team, married her girlfriend Gillian Apps, who played for Team Canada, and they had faced each other in the 2010 and 2014 Winter Olympic finals. Dating & marrying your opponents, lesbians are setting the example for World Peace

BLÅHAJ

Blåhaj—pronounced blaw-high—translates simply as "blue shark" in English, and is a toy introduced by IKEA in 2014. The blueish body, white underbelly, and pink mouth are the trans flag colors. There’s so few things designed and marketed for trans people, that it’s delightful they latched onto this cute and cuddly plush shark

Keith Haring art

Keith Haring was an American pop artist who advocated for safe sex and AIDS awareness through his images. In 1988, Haring designed the logo for National Coming Out Day, which is still used today. A year later, he established the Keith Haring Foundation to provide funding to AIDS organizations. He died in February 1990 of AIDS-related complications. His distinctive and instantly recognizable style came to define the 1990′s

#happy pride 🌈#lgbtq+

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cebwrites · 2 years

Text

jealousy HCs (Law, Kidd, Mihawk)

gn reader (kidd, mihawk), poly masc reader (law), he/they law word count: 0.7k

Law

They’re secure enough in their relationship with you to let most things slide, knowing that you’re tough enough to handle yourself in a pickle, but when something does tick Law off enough to bother them, my god are they petty

It could be a stranger, one of your crew mates, or hell, maybe even his own - the moment Law registers someone as intentionally going after your romantic or sexual affections, he’s turning the Bitch™ up to an eleven

He suddenly and inexplicably gets really physical - sliding an arm around your waist, cuddling you from behind, kissing your cheek, coming up to you mid-conversation and changing the topic entirely so your focus is entirely on them instead - all while either completely ignoring the other person or glaring the offending person to death

A silent, ‘I’m in minding MY man’s business, bitch, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Law already has a hell of a resting bitch face to begin with, but now? He’s looking at the offending party like that on purpose

They’re fine with poly arrangements, although it would have to be discussed beforehand and take some time for him to get used to, old monogamous habits instilled by societal standards nip at his ankles and jealousy brews in the back of his mind before Law has to remind himself that your partner was there before him and that you didn’t love him any less regardless of that

But a little reassurance that you enjoy being his man every now and again would be appreciated (good luck figuring out that’s what they want that though, Law is chronically known for keeping insecurities to themself then subsequently getting upset that their partner isn’t doing what they aren’t telling him to do)

Kidd

Very territorial

Kidd’s wholly and entirely devoted to Killer, but neither of them mind if one or the other wants to keep someone on their arm on the side, nor do they mind (much, on Kidd’s end) if you’d like to keep your options open too

He will sneer at anyone stupid enough to openly flirt with you in his presence, though

You walk into the common area with hickeys on your neck and your captains spots them almost immediately, Kidd would command you to sit in his lap

He’s grouchy and huffy about it but Kidd be damned if he’d be so transparent about his feelings like that, especially around his crew

Later he’d show you what a real partner actually feels like, remind you why he’s the best and will always be the best you’ve had

Let him have his fun by “asserting his dominance”, it’s an easy way to pound town and a good time, if not some soreness and more lasting marks on your person, but that’s a small price to pay

Come to find out that the marks were actually from Killer, Kidd’s main partner, and now Kidd’s pretending like he didn’t rail you within an inch of your life and beg for his superior cock for no reason

Mihawk

He’s unbothered, in his lane, still loving you and thriving

Mihawk’s been around long enough as a pirate on the high seas to know that if were to take on other partners for the night that would be your business and yours alone - he does on occasion too - and if that connection with this other person(s) ever turned into something more, you’d have the emotional intelligence to come to him about it so you could discuss moving forward from there like proper adults

If it’s advances from someone potentially unwanted he trusts you enough to skewer them yourselves but if you do call for his help, cariño, they’ll be split in two before you can even sigh your next ‘no’

The one thing he might side eye you for though, is if that choice for the night happens to be Shanks

Yes, Mihawk has laid with and loved that absolute garbage-fire disaster of a man before, more than he’d care to admit, but he’d expect at least you, the love of his life and the stars in is sky, to have at least a little more self respect than he does

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 3 months

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Ok, Ayn Rands in the comments. A is A. What an argument. I don’t see what’s there to be confused about my ask. I’m responding to the idea that you have perpetuated that anyone who engaged in these practices is inherently and undeniably evil.

Separately, the morality of rape as a practice, viewed universally, is far different than assessing an individual's moral worth, which is inherently contextual.

There mere fact that someone engages in a practice you deem immoral, does not make them inherently evil. That's kind of the point of the show.

If society collectively accepts a problematic practice, it's far more difficult to individually fault a person for succumbing to that societal pressure and the associated negative consequences.

For instance, a farmer trying to make a living in a slave economy absent slaves, will be at an impossible competitive disadvantage.

He will not have the capital to run his farm. It's unlikely he will be able to even subsist. Whether someone lives or die, their entire quality of life, and their profession, could hinge on whether they owned slaves.

This is a similar argument to people who say “Rape is rape, regardless of legality, the morality of it was wrong then as it is wrong now.”

(1) First, "rape" quite literally isn't "rape" when comparing historical periods because there were completely different definitions of rape, which was my entire point.

Words change.

What we considered rape now, wasn't considered rape back then.

Even in the last 15 years, the definition of rape has dramatically changed both in common linguistics and legally.

IN the 1980s, rape was more narrowly defined as violent, forced penetrative sex.

We now live in a world where failure to affirmatively get verbal consent before engaging in non-violent, unforced sex, is considered rape.

These terms are constantly evolving. Your definition of "rape"--and countless other words--will undoubtedly change over the remainder of human history.

Future generations will look at some of your beliefs as barbaric, no matter how morally certain you are of their worth now. Including practices you may have taken part in. Does this make you evil?

Yes, undeniably slavery is bad. In the modern economic landscape, a lot of people will argue that the free market driven Capitalist system is just employing slavery with extra steps.

But, if you want to be rationally historical, slavery was an institution practiced by not only by one culture, but EVERYONE, commited on EVERYONE regardless of race/gender/nation etc. During the viking times, it is either you win over your enemies and take them as slaves (lest they go back and bring more people to take your people out, and of course as farm hands and more labor) OR get enslaved yourself and your loved ones. It was barely a choice, you were thrust into it by the conditions of warfare and survival. Some became "successful" and get this institution passed down to their children, who don't excatly know what to do with what they were born with except continue it as they are trained to.

No one should justify slavery, and yet it is easy to villify history seen through modern standards. I wouldn't know what exactly to do in such a scenario myself. The most righteous ways are either, try to be a harmless slave owner, or actively fight against the institution then you n your family get slaughtered by the king, or kill yourself from the get-go so you don't have to deal with society and it's problems at all!

Reducing people's inherent moral worth into binary "good" and "evil" is already an obnoxious and narcissistic practice on its own.

Reducing that moral worth on the sole grounds of whether they owned slaves--an accepted practice in many cultures in human history--is so god damn simplistic.

I am comfortable calling slavery a "bad" practice." I am uncomfortable saying every single person who owned slaves throughout human history is inherently evil on that sole basis.

What a comfortable, naive, and privilege position you have, as you sit in judgment from your sofa, looking backwards 1000 years.

Back then, entire economies were built around slavery. The choice of whether to own slaves, was a choice of whether to survive or to starve to death.

The world was a far more desperate and dangerous place.

When people refuse to hold any kind of nuanced judgements, you enter into a conversation where no matter what another says there will never be an understanding. A step above that is holding extreme viewpoints.

Is slavery bad? No shit. Are there shades of gray? Absolutely. Refusing to acknowledge that is forgoing nuance and acceptance of reality. Not everything is pure black and white.

It's all just an extension of these posters' own moral narcissism (ironically).

The subtext here is that they all view themselves as amazing people. The logical implication of their argument is that 99.9999999999999999% of all humans living before them were shittier people than they are.

How convenient a world view that everyone who lived before "you" is inferior to you, simply by virtue of their participation in antiquated (but accepted-at-the-time) societal practices, while you sit in judgment from your couch.

These naive, narcissistic fools, all pretend they would be "better" people if they were magically born into those same historical eras.

the world is not drawn in absolute moral binaries. Yet, the vast majority of you draw people in absolute moral binaries, e.g., "everyone who supported or practiced “rape” or slavery is inherently evil."

No one is saying that Slavery is good. It's bad. I'm not excusing slavery.

I'm simply suggesting that historical circumstance--just like mens rea--has a role in assessing morality.

People are products of their time and place. I have a hard time calling someone "evil" merely because they engaged in some antiquated practice, which was difficult NOT to engage in (or else suffer terrible consequences).

It's also a spectrum. Someone might own slaves, but not beat their slaves. And slavery varied by country and time. I feel like people are automatically treating all historical slavery as if it is American slavery.

Slaves in Roman times could be extremely educated and live fairly comfortable lives, in the case of Greek slaves. Romans would often use Greek slaves for administrative purposes rather than manual labor (e.g., Greek Slaves would read and write letters for their masters whose vision was failing).

That kind of slavery is far less brutal than, e.g., American slavery, where you are keeping people in cages, and working them to death.

When the only realistic option in a feudal society is being a slave-owning noble or merchant, or a impoverished serf who dies at age 30 from starvation, I'm far more sympathetic to people engaging in a bad practice.

hey did you know you can make your own blog

#imma keep it real with you chief… nobody will read all that #i didnt #ask #i still dont know what post triggered this manifesto #its kind of funny though this goes in the gallery #shit talking

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hereticpriest · 1 month

Text

Swallow

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Laszlo Kreizler x reader

Summary: This is a prequel to Bite and a sequel to Chew. This is the wedding night of Laszlo Kreizler and his new wife, The Typist. After much planning through increasingly intimate letters, Laszlo and his wife finally get to indulge in each other.

Warnings: Loss of virginity, educated but not experienced, odaxelagnia, sexual letter exchanges, breeding kink, oral sex, vaginal fingering, mating press, panty kink, panty sniffing, scent kink, mutually masturbating with your partner's clothing, pillow humping, praise kink, pregnancy kink.

Note: Kincsem means 'my treasure' and szerelmem means 'my love' in Hungarian.

Despite your shared disinterest in propriety and societal standards, Laszlo keeps your relationship proper for your good appearance. Regardless of the way you burn for each other, as you both make clear in your decidedly improper letters, you don’t share your first kiss until the end of your engagement, shortly after you set your wedding date. Your courtship is short, which is entirely natural, however your engagement is almost equally short, shocking most of the society pages. Three months after you get engaged, you find yourself married in a lavish but short ceremony, and you demand a portrait for your society column announcement rather than a photograph. John Moore paints you with your new husband, and you know it will cause a stir, for unlike most portraits you’d forgone the stoic expression. Instead, you were smiling, leaning into your husband’s side while he gazed at you with all the love in his heart. Laszlo requested John make a recreation for your home, and your husband smiled as you squeezed John’s hands while professing your adoration for the portrait, drawing an endearing blush to his cheeks. Rumours abound that the speed with which you marry is to cover up a pregnancy, however your lack of bump dispels those rumours quite swiftly. Then, they discover the truth. That you’re simply in a marriage of true love.

You move into your new home in the dead of spring after your wedding ceremony, and Cyrus kindly helps you carry your luggage in, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. That only spurs Stevie to help, and you find yourself pouting as you’re left with only one bag for yourself. Laszlo meets you in the foyer to show you up to your bedroom, and it is only in private that he reminds you you needn’t stay in your own bedroom, and it can merely be a place for you to get ready for events and store your clothing. Your face burns as you take the bag containing your nightdresses and robe into his bedroom instead, setting it on the bed. He slips up behind you, his arms around your waist as he lays kisses across your shoulder, and you sigh blissfully at the feeling.

While you both have not been what anyone might call tame, you’ve only kissed thrice, and you’ve come to crave the feeling of his lips on your skin. Physically, you’ve been relatively chaste. Laszlo had given your bottom a gentle tap one evening to get you to walk, and you once helped him change his shirt when it had been ruined. That was the most inappropriate physical contact you’d had with each other. Your letters, on the other hand, had been filthy. You had a habit of leaving page and line numbers along with a book title in your letters, leading him to either a sensual quote from a novel, a passage from a scientific text about sexual acts, or a line of poetry that reminded you of him.

In one, Laszlo confessed to enjoying the way you smell, and the way your soap and perfume blended. He would often walk past you just to get a whiff of you. Touched, you replied that you would give him a piece of clothing to hold in your absence - anything he wanted. Your face burned when you read his request, but you couldn’t help the way his choice made desire spark across your skin. The following day, he found a gift box on his desk containing the underwear you’d worn the day before, and you felt his gaze searing into you for the rest of the day while you did your best to focus on your work.

The gift box was back on your desk the next morning, and when you checked inside, you found your underwear, the gusset still wet and the back covered in a questionable stain. You shamelessly wrote him a letter during your work day requesting an item of your own - the shirt he was wearing that day. That evening, while you both were sharing a drink with Sara and John to discuss a development in the police’s case, Laszlo headed up briefly to his bedroom. He returned in a different shirt, a gift box in hand, which he placed in your lap with a charming kiss to your knuckles.

Laszlo came into work the next morning to find the gift box on his desk, a letter attached. In it, you confessed to putting his shirt on your pillow, which made him smile. He paused partway through the letter to open the box, and his cheeks flushed as puzzle pieces clicked into place. He raised the shirt to his nose and groaned softly, going back to your letter to find his wildest dreams come true. Overwhelmed by desire for him, you’d placed your pillow between your legs and ground against it until you reached completion. You’d even demanded a replacement at the end of your letter, since he’d made you ruin the first, as if that was entirely unavoidable and entirely his fault. That day had nearly broken the both of you. You could hardly count the amount of times Laszlo stepped up behind you as if to observe your work, breathing you in and sometimes giving your shoulder a squeeze before continuing on his way.

Which brings you here, to your new bedroom with your new husband who you’ve done nothing but fantasise about for months on end. Whose desires have been laid bare before you, and with whom you’ve shared your own with absolutely no shame to be found. There is no question here - no hesitancy. You know Laszlo wants you, and he knows that you want him.

“There are no expectations for our wedding night.” Laszlo murmurs against your skin, and you scoff playfully, nudging him in the ribs with a pointy elbow.

“On the contrary, dear husband, for I have expectations indeed. You will make good on your lurid promises from your letters that have kept me warm in bed for the many months I’ve waited to have you.” You correct him, and he laughs quietly against you, clearly pleased. You can feel the hard curve of him against your bottom, and it twitches at your words. You spin in his arms, nipping at his lower lip as your arms drape around his neck, then nuzzling your nose against his.

“This biting compulsion…” He teases, trailing off as you nip at his chin, his hands skirting over your sides to take hold of your hips. You bite your way down his neck, and his breath hitches with every one until you find the throb of his pulse and sink your teeth in properly. Laszlo groans, throaty and beautiful, his hands clutching your hips tightly enough that you might bruise and it makes you tremble with delight.

“Will you rid me of it, Doctor? This burning desire?” You whisper against the growing bruise you’ve left on him.

“I should much rather stoke it, szerelmem. I endeavour to see you fall apart for me many times by the end of the night, little wife.”

His words go straight to your core, and you press your lips to his, clumsy but hungry and willing to learn. He is no more experienced than yourself - though he has the scientific knowledge of anatomy and sexual acts, he has no experience with it, as he confessed often enough in his more intimate letters to you. You tremble as he strokes his thumbs over your hipbones, his lips moving against yours as if he simply cannot get enough of you. Your hands have found their place, one tangled into his perfectly styled hair while the other grasps at his chest to feel his breath shake under your touch. You part with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you pant against each other.

“I love you.” You whisper, and he trembles, pressing closer to you until you can feel the firm line of him through his trousers pressing into your aching heat even through the layers of your clothing.

“Én is szeretlek.” He murmurs back, cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissing you softly, “You are so beautiful, my sweet little wife.”

You whimper. His lips move against yours, tongue sweeping past your vicious teeth as if unconcerned that you might ever hurt him, and you reciprocate clumsily but eagerly. You wish to devour him. You can see it in your mind’s eye, sinking yourself into his body until you can hold onto his heart - chew and swallow until it lives inside of you.

“Breathe.” He reminds you, whispered against your lips as your chest seizes in a desperate need for air, “We have all night. We have the rest of our lives.”

Nothing has ever sounded sweeter.

Laszlo slowly begins to undo the buttons and lacing of your dress, though a bit clumsily with only one hand, and you help him as best as you can. He helps you out of your clothes with the patience of a saint, which you find interesting since he seems to get frustrated when he struggles with his own clothing. Once you’re down to your last layer, you begin to help him undress as well, taking the time to indulge in several sweet kisses as you work. By the time you’re both in only your underwear, you’ve got a beard-burn starting around your mouth, and Laszlo has a bruise forming on his neck. Laszlo presses you back into the mattress, hooking his fingers into your underwear and pulling them down while you blink and examine the expanse of his chest for a place to bite the meat of his pectoral muscles.

“You’ve got the look, little wife.” Laszlo teased, bringing your underwear up to his face and breathing in your scent. You lick your lips, watching as his eyes roll back, a low growly groan vibrating in his chest as he soaks in the smell of your cunt. He drops your underwear off the side of the bed, crawling onto it with you and dropping a kiss to your knee, parting your legs so he can slip between them. Another kiss to your belly, and then the centre of your chest. You catch him off guard when you lock a leg around his hip and flip you both over, and his hands grasp at your thighs, his cheeks going pink at the sight of you atop him. Grinning, you lean down to kiss him softly, combing your fingers through his chest hair. He knows what is coming, but he doesn’t stop you. It’s like he can feel it when you get the familiar ache in your jaw, the need to bite, the bloom of desire to see your mark on him. He looks so pretty with the imprint of your teeth in his skin.

A low, long groan leaves his lips as you cup his chest in your hands, giving yourself room to get a mouthful of his pec, and rolling the flat of your tongue across his nipple. His fingers lace through your hair, gripping gently as you sink your teeth into his skin, and you feel a shiver down your spine at the rightness as the ache in your jaw eases. Laszlo’s voice gets low and soft as he asks you how it feels for you when you bite him, and you whine against his skin, eyes half-lidded as you release him. You haven’t broken the skin, thank god. You always feel horrible when you do. Laszlo guides you to sit up, sitting atop his pelvis with your naked cunt grinding against the rigid hardness of his erection through his underwear.

“It feels… when I get the urge to bite you, I get an ache in my jaw. It feels like a need, Laszlo, not a desire. And when I finally do bite you, the ache goes away, and my thoughts get… quiet. Fuzzy? It feels right. Like eating when you’re starving, or drinking water when you’re parched.” You murmur, splaying your hands over his stomach while you grind on him.

“Fascinating.” Your husband murmurs with not a hint of judgement, resting his hands on your hips, “Would you like to take me like this, kincsem?”

You shake your head after a moment of consideration, laying down atop him and kissing him softly, cupping his cheek.

“No, my love, I want it how we discussed. I want to feel your weight on me. Perhaps next time I’ll try being on top.” You whisper against his lips, and he hums, carefully rolling you both over again so he can fulfill your desires. After so long a seduction - so many desires laid bare with this man who you knew wanted you desperately - you weren’t as nervous about this night as you thought you would be. If it were anyone else, you’d be petrified. But with your husband, how could you possibly be scared when you knew how deeply he desired you? When you knew that he wanted you so badly that the mere scent of your cunt had him taking himself in hand? You are utterly relaxed as Laszlo gently spreads your legs a little wider so that he can see all of you, and you gasp, eyes fluttering as he runs a finger down the seam of your cunt.

“You’re so wet. Does my sweet little wife want her husband?” He asks, rolling his thumb over your clit, a smile spreading across his lips as you gasp and arch your back, “Sensitive, szerelmem?”

You whimper in response, and he circles his fingertips around your hole, easing you into the feeling before he pushes one thick finger into you. It’s a little uncomfortable - his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and you’ve only ever been able to fit two fingers before this - but more in its fullness than any actual pain. Laszlo takes it slowly, sinking in to his knuckles, then slowly pulling out. He gives you a couple of slow pumps of his finger before he gently pushes a second finger into you. He swallows your moans and whimpers, whispering quiet praise that has you shivering and clenching around him.

“You’re so beautiful, szerelmem. So soft. Your sweet little cunt is so warm and wet, swallowing my fingers, and hugging them so tightly. Have patience, I’m going to give you an orgasm before I take you for the first time, wife. I don’t want to hurt you. I want our intimacy to be nothing but pleasure.” Laszlo murmurs, his thumb gently circling the button of your clit, rolling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was everything you’d ever imagined and more.

A cry rips from your throat as the tide sweeps over you, and you’re dragged into the riptide, your orgasm hitting you with the force of a tsunami. You grip onto Laszlo’s bicep but do your best to be mindful that you’re holding his weaker arm despite the overwhelming pleasure. You’re left trembling in the aftermath, and you watch in awe as Laszlo delicately pulls his fingers from your weeping heat and brings them to his nose, then flicks out his tongue to lick your essence from them.

Your clit throbs in protest of him turning you on again so violently and so quickly, but you watch with bated breath as his pink tongue swirls across his knuckles, and against the pads of his fingertips. You moan loudly as he slips both fingers into his mouth and sucks every drop of you from them. His own answering moan is throaty and deep, breath pushed out his nose harshly as he searches for more.

“Las.” You whisper, and he blinks as he comes back to the moment, his nearly-black eyes examining the way you’re laid out across his bed. He takes a steadying breath, then pushes his fingers back into you, adding a third on the next thrust to make sure you’re ready for him.

“Relax, Mrs. Kreizler, I’ll take good care of you. Perhaps we can spark those rumours up again as to the rush of our wedding.” Laszlo murmurs as he slowly stokes the fire inside you, scissoring his fingers to spread you open a little further for him, “Would you like that, wife? Would you like it if I put a baby in your belly on our wedding night?”

You moan, overwhelmed, your hands skimming up his arms to squeeze at his bicep as you roll your hips into his hand. Your lips can’t form an answer, all words leaving your head except his name, which you whimper desperately. He smiles, fond but edged with desire that strains at his husbandly nature to be good to you, and you gasp as he pulls his fingers free. His weaker hand pushes his underwear down over his hips, and he strokes his wet fingers across his length before fisting himself. You help him remove his underwear the rest of the way, your eyes fixed upon the thick cock you know will soon be splitting you open as he strokes himself before you. His fingers squeeze around the base, and you watch as his balls tighten, and you find yourself reaching for him before he can stop you.

He feels soft but rigid, and you can feel him throb through your palm as you wrap your hand around him and give him a gentle stroke, his quiet moan encouraging you. When you get to the base, you release him, instead cupping his balls and drawing a deep groan from his lips but inciting him to grab your wrist and push you back on the bed.

“Enough, little wife, unless you’d like to bring this night to an early end. I have dreamt of you for long enough that the sight of you was nearly enough to ruin me.” Laszlo says as he lays down atop you, positioning himself at your entrance and then holding himself up with both arms. You sigh blissfully, bringing him into a kiss that is hungry from the start. You break away to bite just under his jaw as he slowly thrusts his hips forwards, and even just the head feels like a fullness you’ve never known. Every inch feels more cataclysmic than the last, and your thighs clench around his hips, every part of you pulling him in deeper while you desperately try to keep a firm grip on who you are. The push of his pelvis into yours, the little gasp he gives as he bottoms out, and the firm pressure of him against your cervix is all doing its best to tear you apart.

Laszlo stops there, nuzzling his nose against your cheek and pressing kisses against your lips as you pant for breath, seeing stars and trying to make sense of them. You feel full, and that fullness feels right, like a completion you’ve never felt before. It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure is somewhat uncomfortable, though it's becoming less and less so as every moment passes. You press your feet into Laszlo’s ass, your arms looping around his neck as you finally come back to yourself, and your husband groans against your cheek as you clench around him.

“Move, Las. Need you to move.” You whisper, and he nods, panting a little as he slowly pulls out of you until only the head rests inside. He plunges back in, and you both groan in unison, trembling together as you struggle for self-control. Laszlo kisses you hard to smother his groans as he planted his arms at your sides and started to thrust. His pace was perfect - not too slow, but not too fast that he didn’t get nice and deep with every thrust, and you had never felt so full. You encouraged him by pressing your heels into his thighs and ass to push him into you, your hands grasping at his back as you moan for more.

“I’m going to… I’m going to orgasm, little wife. Shall I pull out?” Laszlo asks, an edge of a taunt in his voice, and you fall for his teasing easily.

“No! Las, no, don’t, I want it. I want your seed, I want you to fill me up! I want you to put a baby in my belly, Las, please, you promised!” You cry, and your husband’s responding chuckle is dark and lovely. You look up at his smug face with overwhelmed, teary eyes, examining the tenseness in his jaw and the flush to his cheeks to remind you that he’s just teasing and is just as affected as you are. His soft lips kissing away your tears certainly helped.

“Of course, kincsem. I’ll give you anything you desire.” Laszlo grips your thighs and pushes you up, moving with you to bend you in half, and using his body to pin you to the bed, “This position is said to be better for conception. Are you comfortable?”

You nod, your lower lip caught between your teeth as he sank impossibly deeper, and Laszlo begins again after his brief break. His thrusts are once again at that perfect pace, driving himself deep into you while you both pant for breath. He reaches between you both with his weaker arm, needing the stability of his strong arm to keep himself from crushing you, and you howl as he strokes across your clit with trembling fingers. Here, his weakness isn’t such a disadvantage. The soft strokes drive you wild, and you gasp for breath, chest seizing as he drives into you over and over and over again. You come so suddenly you can’t even warn him, and Laszlo groans gutterally as your clenching cunt sends him reeling over the edge into his own sweet abyss.

You sob as you feel his hot seed fill you, seemingly endlessly, each jerk of his hips pushing more deeper inside of you. It takes what feels like an age, and simultaneously like mere seconds before he’s spent, and he presses his face into your chest while he sucks in lungfuls of air. The angle keeps most of it inside even as he slowly begins to pull out to avoid the overstimulation as your cunt flutters, still wracked with the aftershocks.

“I love you.” Laszlo breaths, cupping your face and kissing you so softly your heart skips a beat. You nip his chin once he breaks it, then his nose.

“I love you more, my sweet, perfect, handsome, talented husband.”

He blushes, his smile genuine and soft, almost shy in a way you’re not used to. He wedges a pillow under your hips, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Another method of ensuring it takes?” You query, and he nods, stroking your thighs as he watches a bead of his cum drip out. He kisses your stomach on the way back up, laying beside you and pulling you in close.

“The timing is good. It could happen.” He murmurs, and you giggle, pulling him into a kiss.

“And you accused me of being the one desperate for a pregnancy. Look at you, Las, you little hypocrite.” You tease, bringing his hand up to your lips so you can nip at his fingertips.

“Nothing would make me happier than to see you pregnant with our child, szerelmem, except that you chose to marry me in the first place. Against all odds.”

“Against no odds. There was no one else. I have never felt anything for anyone like what I feel for you. I love you, so desperately I want to devour you and keep you in my heart forever.” You insist urgently, and he soothes you with a kiss, smiling against your lips.

“I love you too, kincsem. I’m so lucky to have you, my sweet wife.”

Your smile is blinding as you stroke the bruise on his pretty little throat.

“You’ll have to wear a high collar from now on, my love.”

“A punishment I will bear with grace.” He whispers as he presses a final kiss to your lips, “Sleep, wife. We will have plenty of time in the morning to play.”

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler

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sidewalkchemistry · 1 year

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2023 is the Year to Become a Mindful Consumer

With the level of consumerism today, it is good to practice to view everything as an advertisement. This is not to stress you out, but for the benefit of understanding where it's worthwhile to put your time, money, and energy -- all of which affect beyond just you and this current generation. It's an amazing lens to wear to encourage you to consider where your need for purchasing an item, adopting a certain lifestyle, or even following certain social media accounts is coming from. We are all transmitting and receiving messages amongst one another constantly. The question is, "Which messages do I find value in supporting? Are the intentions here pure? Will contributing to this allow me and my community flourish?"

According to Merriam-Webster, an advertisement is "a public notice especially : a paid notice that is published or broadcast (as to attract customers or to provide information of public interest)" Advertisement comes from the French word avertir meaning "to turn, direct, make aware"

So, understand this: Influencers, celebrities, and politicians are advertisements. Billboards and commercials are advertisements. Labels are advertisements. News broadcasts are advertisements. Newspaper/article headlines are advertisements. BUT ALSO...The clothing one wears is an advertisement (even if it is devoid of branding). One's behavior is an advertisement. A facial expression is an advertisement (informing others of one's feelings). Artworks are advertisements. Institutions of education are advertisements. Songs are advertisements. Blogs are advertisements. Photos uploaded to social media are advertisements. Speeches, sermons, and talks are advertisements.

All that influences you to make certain choices in your day is an advertisement. Some things are advertising positive messages. Some are advertising horrible messages. And others are offering mixed messages.

We don't realize the depth of advertisements in our lives, for one, because we are told to be advertisements ourselves. It feels important to our survival: to attain enough money, admiration, and acceptance. We are encouraged to look a certain way on paper (resumes, CVs, cover letters, report cards, exam scores, etc), in media (photographs, interviews, podcasts, videos), and in face-to-face interactions (accents, fashion style, body shape, makeup, etc).

We don't want to lose authenticity amongst friends and family. We want to talk to real human beings on emotional, logical, and spiritual levels, right? Becoming a mindful consumer is coupled in with helping you realize what you stand for, remain an active thinker, and hold secure with your empathy. When you step up in this aspect, it will encourage others to do the same. It's important that we stay connected with being truthful & kind individuals with depth, I would think.

HOW TO (remember what I defined as an advertisement):

Notice what is being advertised. Is there a literal product (you may need to look for product placement, scripted review, restrictions on sharing honest opinion, etc)? An ideal? A societal standard? A new concept?

What was your honest emotional response to the advertisement? Did it seem alluring? Revolting? Boring? Intriguing? Disturbing? Confusing? Frustrating? (Notice as well what your gut feelings are saying).

Notice what sensory aspects of the advertisement affected your emotions. Was it the color palette, music, filter, word choice, lettering, vocal inflection, etc? What is the general vibe of the advertisement? Is it cheery? Fearful? Hopeful? Inspiring? Angry? Degrading? Does the emotional vibe make sense with the message?

Notice the intentions behind the advertisement. Is the predominant intention here to gain money? Make positive change for those struggling? Deceive or confuse people? Spread gossip or hate? Encourage? (Know about the characters of the individuals, the pasts of the companies, the institutional influences, the historical comparisons which can be drawn, if individuals are being taken advantage of, how true are the claims, if there is funding going on). Does the advertiser show indication of integrity? Do they make use of "experts," popular individuals, and buzz words to distract from the natural inclination to find proof or reason to approve of the advertisement's messaging?

If you are left at all unsure if you agree with what is being advertised, do research (be sure you know how to find reliable sources, but sometimes it's worth seeing what the opposition/competitors/opposing perspectives say too). It's always good to be informed. You can even send questions directly to the person or company advertising. Evaluate with logic & intuition, to avoid letting pure, knee-jerk emotionality to do the decision-making.

Remain flexible to change your mind about your initial evaluations. Sometimes, we aren't always accurate the first time because we didn't have a full enough picture.

Generally, it's good to realize that labels/appearances/glimpses are not going to fully or accurately represent the truth of what is being advertised. It's up to us to notice how true they are. Look at the fine print.

PRACTICE: look at the ads on television, social media pages, magazines, newspapers, and websites. Move into considering songs, television shows, movies, social media videos, and documentaries. And keep on evaluating as you expand what you consider to be an advertisement.

‼It helps to gain knowledge of what the most influential people, titles (eg. doctor, specialist, best-seller, award-winner, etc), and institutions are. They usually are not widely scrutinized and so their messages are taken on as near fact. They also will be able to influence entire markets/spheres/communities with ease.

GOOD DEMONSTRATIONS: a b

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xxlovelynovaxx · 1 year

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Anti-recovery people: hey, it's okay to be unhealthy. That's not always something you can change and it's certainly not something you have to do. It's okay to exist as you are.

"Pro-recovery" people: OMG YOU'RE what's wrong with the mental health community, you BRAINWASHED me into thinking it wasn't okay for people to seek help if THEY wanted it, this is honestly TOXIC AF.

Anti-recovery people: but ... that's literally not what we said. Most people view recovery as this linear progression of milestones that often includes becoming more palatably neurotypical, which is ableist. What we're saying is that it's okay to recover if you want to, but that doesn't have to look like the mainstream abled version of recovery, and that it's okay to not do so at all. Some people also can't recover to those standards and we celebrate accepting your limitations.

"Pro-recovery" people: So it's OKAY to just harm your friends because of your mental illness? You support being a BAD person and not bothering to change? Also being unhealthy is bad and I'm going to assume because I recovered that everybody is capable of doing so, even if using different methods, and just choosing not to bother because of YOU people.

Anti-recovery people: What? No! Hurting other people is not okay! Do you actually think that these symptoms of a diagnosis are what causes someone to choose to harm other people? That's both super ableist and also a fundamental misunderstanding of what causes harmful, toxic, and abusive behaviors.

Anti-recovery people: In the few cases where someone is truly incapable of controlling a harmful behavior, where someone has extremely high support needs, we support them getting the adequate societal support to have someone help them through these behaviors without anyone getting hurt, but more importantly, without exacerbating their own distress that they are very clearly expressing.

Anti-recovery people: In most other cases, conflating the choices and actions of someone who is mentally ill with their diagnosis is super ableist, as is conflating "it's okay if you struggle to brush your teeth" with "it's okay to treat your friends and loved ones like shit with no consequences". I assume you're defining harm as "actively insulting, belitting, invalidating, physically or sexually assaulting you, though, and not just visibly having symptoms of a mental illness or talking about their struggles, right?*

"Pro-recovery"people: . . .

Anti-recovery people: We're saying that it's harmful to moralize health, for multiple reasons. There's that you are not capable of determining if a person is able to recover, for any given definition of recovery. There's that even if a person is able to, them being unhealthy is not actually harming you, and they have the right to make those choices even if you wouldn't make the same ones for yourself. There's the fact that recovery looks different for everybody, and for many, accepting that you can't "recover" to the expectations set by the mainstream IS recovery. ESPECIALLY given that many things that are called "unhealthy" are perfectly harmless and healthy aspects of neurodivergence that have been unnecessarily medicalized by our ableist society and psychiatric institutions.

"Pro-recovery" people: . . .

"Pro-recovery" people: YOU'RE the reason I wanted to kill myself for a decade and didn't bother to do anything about it! Personal responsibility, ever heard of it? Once I left your CULT I started doing yoga and now I'm BETTER and so everyone else can do that too!

Anti-recovery people: ... Do YOU know what personal responsibility is? All the "anti-recovery" in our names means is that we are against the idea that it's morally wrong to refuse to recover, whether that means refusing to conform to the mainstream ideal of recovery, a choice that you make to not pursue recovery, or an acceptance of your own inability to recover. We are not against choosing recovery as a personal decision if that's what you want - in fact, we support those people.

Anti-recovery people: Anyway, you don't know what led up to someone making this choice. Someone with long-term treatment-resistant suicidal depression is not wrong for not continuing to try meds that have not once worked, pursuing expensive TMS they may not be able to afford which is not covered by most insurance, continuing meds that have some effect but worse side effects than the depression itself, or psychotherapy that may have little to not effect, especially if they have at any point been subject to psychiatric neglect or abuse, which is more common than you're aware.

"Pro-recovery" people: See, I was toxic like you but unlearned all of that so now I'm no longer toxic. Btw I'm currently actively harassing disabled people because they're not 'working hard enough' or using 'better coping skills' and them being unhealthy is a personally harmful to me and everyone that ever interacts with them. What do you mean that's not okay just because the disability is a mental illness?? That's ableist!!1

Anti-recovery people: Okay, so, you haven't even bothered to deconstruct the moralization of healthiness and how that ties into ableism, I see. It's actively bigoted to expect someone to meet certain standards of health when they have a CHRONIC HEALTH ISSUE. This is no different than expecting someone with a chronic illness never to eat or drink anything unhealthy, to exercise regularly, have perfect sleep habits, and otherwise be a paragon of healthy choices or else it's "their fault" for just "not caring enough to put in the work to recover. Of course, you likely also do those things, in which case the comparison is lost on you, because ableists are so rarely ableist against only mentally or physically disabled people and not the other.**

Anti-recovery people: You also seem to believe that you're ontologically incapable of doing harm - you say that it's an "ongoing process" but then your actions show that you haven't bothered learning to listen when people say you're harming them and have just changed your targets to be people who have less societal power than you so they're less able to stand up for themselves and you're less obligated to listen to them. Are you just trying to find a justification for bullying people that others will accept?

"Pro-recovery" people: . . . STOP HARASSING ME!!1

Anti-recovery people: *Looks into camera like they're on the office*

*I have actually harmed others in the past in ways that were influenced by my mental illness. OCD, of all things, was the one that most directly impacted my actions, and I owned my mistakes. That being said, they were still my CHOICE. The mental illness played a role, but it didn't cause the harm I did. You know what wasn't my choice, though? My overreliance on my friends for essentially trauma-dumping and for getting my emotional needs met because I was actively being abused and the system was neither providing me ANY way out nor even adequate mental healthcare (as if that's possible when being ACTIVELY ABUSED WITH NOT EVEN A BROCHURE OFFERED ABOUT HOW TO ESCAPE ABUSE.) I was a drowning person clawing at them for survival, and it was neither of our faults that the system is primed to actively keep disabled people in abusive situations. So don't @ me.

**I would know, I am both multiple physically and multiply mentally disabled.

#ableism #sanism #anti recovery #please I am begging you to use one modicum of critical thought and do like thirty seconds of actual research #I put 'pro recovery' in quotes because these people have actively hindered my recovery for years #like no actually my being unhealthy is harming no one besides myself #and in some cases harm reduction means deciding that 'recovery' would currently be more harmful to me than the illness #like that's BASIC harm reduction #healthy not morally GOOD. unhealthy not morally BAD. you're not ENTITLED to anyone else's health #like some people aren't ABLE to be healthy Karen #even for those that put a lot of hard work into recovery. which if you say you did I believe you.#do you understand that not everybody is capable of putting in that work in ANY capacity?#Also I'll give three guesses as to which types of neurodivergence they are disproportionately saying acceptance of is bad #(I'll bet it's PDs schizospec conditions and dissociative disorders/PTSD/trauma in general)#(they all conflate that last one anyway)#don't @ me I have all three #'pro recovery' people just block me you've done enough direct and immediate harm to me already

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