#virgine vitae

[hazelmead]

été vert

#summer aesthetic #aesthetic #nostalgiacore #dreamcore #green moodboard #la dolce vita #la vie en rose #pinterest #summer creek #summer #the virgin suicides #sufjan stevens #sufjan stevens summer

[fanaticsnail]

Kiss their cheek

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 220-650 for each character

Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

Synopsis: It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?

Notes: I have hit a follower milestone and I am freaking out about it. I don't normally post about the follower count, but this is simply too incredible to not mark the occasion for. To distract myself from the sheer number of you that found my writing good enough to follow, I have a little drabble for you to enjoy for my favorites. To quote the goodest and bestest boy there ever was: “Thank you for loving me.” I love you all too. All 1,200+ of you.

Themes: cheek kisses, feelings, monster trio, supernova trio, crewmate!reader, unrequited love, confessions of love, no prior romantic relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, A little OOC while I'm still learning about a couple of the blorbos.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun

Blackleg Sanji

“Dinner was beautiful as always, Sanji,” you cooed at him, swooping forward and collecting his smooth cheek beneath your lips in a small kiss, “Well done, Chef.” Holding his cheek in contact with your lips for a few moments longer before pulling away with a broad smile. 

“You’re most welcome, love,” he returned your affectionate demonstration, his lips finding your cheek and grazing your flesh with his lips. 

Both of you reacted as if this touch was not uncommon, not something out of the ordinary in the slightest. This was the first time you had given him this small gesture, demonstrating your appreciation for his hard work with something as simple as a small kiss. 

The fact that this kiss was so freely given to him had Sanji’s heart catch in his throat, his pulse rapidly beating and elevating the flow of his adrenaline through his veins. His family of origin comes from a culture that kisses on the cheeks to greet and farewell friends, acquaintances and even enemies. Why did this kiss feel so perfect against his skin? 

He would do anything to feel your lips on him again, often giving you preferential treatment in the hopes your lips would find his skin once more. Should he gather up the courage to turn his head, claiming your lips within his own, would you turn away? He hoped you wouldn’t. 

Roronoa Zoro

His mind could not comprehend the moment that just befell him. 

It was a simple night of comradery and relaxation. The air felt alight with joyful merriment: Brook playing music, Sanji ensuring each of you had an adequate meal. It felt light: nothing plaguing, hunting, seeking, nor fighting. It was simple, and that is what it felt. 

It being a simple and small kiss against his right cheek.

“You are an excellent first-mate, Zoro,” you laughed up at him, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “A noble knight and fearless protector.”

Zoro’s head couldn’t produce a single thought to form a string of a sentence. He had not felt this way, the ignition of a small swell of passion to not involve swordsmanship, ever before. 

In all the realms of intimacy and subtle touches, Zoro was inexperienced in receiving and reciprocating. Zoro was, for lack of a better word, a virgin to such an expression of unbridled affection. 

“Th-Thanks, I guess?” he grunted, his brows arching at you. You giggled, patting him on the shoulder and offering him a warm smile. 

“You’re welcome, soldier,” you cooed up at him before turning on your heel, following the gentle rise in rhythm with your hips, dancing along to Brook’s playing. He followed your movement with a keen eye, more enthusiastic about your gentle sway and soft laughter than he was moments prior. 

Monkey D Luffy

“Oh, Captain!” you smiled at him, hooking your arm over his shoulder and drawing him close to your face, “Your cheeks are so cute. I could just-,” you halted your words, lunging forward and peppering his tanned cheeks with several fluttered kisses, humming throughout each press. 

“Oi, oi, Docinho,” he chuckled, swatting at your hands and writhing within your arms, “Stop that. I am a hardened criminal. I am a captain! You’re not meant to think I’m cute, you’re meant to dote on me and offer me tribute of your loyalty!” You giggled, allowing him to swipe your body away from his. 

His eyes darted away from yours, his lips curved in a soft pout with his brows furrowing in a deep frown. For a moment, you thought you truly offended him by your lips finding his skin. Your eyes widened, your hands shaking defensively to desperately retract your affectionate touch.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to-,” you were silenced by several inexperienced kisses littering your cheeks, nose and forehead. The cheeky chuckle that followed each of the small pecks only prompted your mind to chase your heart with its rapidity. He placed his hands over your shoulders, laughing whole-heartedly at your frazzlement. 

“If this is the way you’re offering me tribute as a wonderful captain,” he hummed thoughtfully, “Perhaps I’m not so bad at the job after all.” 

Trafalgar D Water-Law

“You work too hard,” you sigh against his cheek, pulling away from his cool flesh and raking your eyes over his face, “You deserve to take a break some time.” You watched the small hue of pink rise to dust over his cheeks, his hair at the nape of his neck standing alert and rigid. 

Unsure what exactly prompted you to seek out your captain’s cheek with your lips, you were regretting the small brush of your lips over his smooth skin the instant you drew yourself away. Watching as Law inhaled a deep breath through his nose, he exhaled a lengthy breath through his lips: following the small gesture with a soft hum. 

“Just know that you’re appreciated, Sir,” you reiterated your stance, ensuring you held your eyes against his to reinforce your seriousness, “I-... We appreciate you, Captain. We love you, and want to help you achieve your goals. Just-... Just know that, okay?” 

Yellow eyes followed your exit, watching every step that you took and hearing the hollow floor ricochet the reverberating tap of your boot heel. His haunted gaze held firm to your retreat, silence growing heavy at the closure of his office door. 

He could not stop thinking about the kiss all day. The way your lips felt against his cheek, the way he felt the small elevation of your smile - the way his heart swelled in his chest, and the way his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to know what it meant. He needed to know if you were being friendly and supportive, or if you wanted more. 

Lips over his cheek, the catching over the words “I appreciate you” with your reassurances that he is loved and worthy of devotion, inhibited him from welcoming slumber for several days. In the hopes of providing him encouragement and loyalty to soothe his rapidly sporadic mind, you aided in him in only finding restlessness. 

Growling at his own racing emotions, he hastily drew up the transponder snail and dialed your personal shell. He awaited the annoying hum, the crackle of the receiver halting as you picked up the call. 

“C-Captain?” your groggy voice called over the snail, “Cap, it’s nearly five in the morning. I clocked off the overnight shift and only just got to sleep-.”

“-Do you love me?” he quickly spurted the words before he could stop them. 

Your mind did not have the capacity to mask your words, given your groggy sleep deprivation. Yawning your answer into the transponder, Law’s heart raced at hearing your words.

“Of course I love you. We all love you,” you confirmed, rolling your neck and taking a moment to collect yourself, “You’re my captain. I pledged my allegiance to follow you, sir. What are you calling me at-?”

“-No,” Law’s voice crackled over the receiver, his tone immediately waking you of your prior tired state, “I need to know what it meant. I need to know what it meant. Why did you kiss me?”

“What?” you began, shaking your head and brows beginning to knit in confusion, “I don’t understand what you’re-.”

“-Why would you kiss me knowing your lips would haunt me? Knowing that that kiss you gave would scorch and mark my heart?” his voice rose as his temper boiled over the edge. “You know I closed myself off to this bullshit. You know what giving me a small amount of your affection would do to me. Why would you-?”

“-Because I love you, Law,” you uttered in a low voice. You flung your legs over the bed, feet finding your sleep shoes beneath your mattress. Your confession hung heavy in the air, your heart and mind fully awake and comprehending your every waking minute. Silence was heavy and swollen with tension, your mind racing over all the possible retorts Law could throw at you. 

Dismissal, execution, exile, abandonment: these were the responses you deduced to be the most appropriate response. In its stead, you were greeted with a small huffed chuckle and a low rumbled retort.

“Come to my office,” he hummed into the receiver, “Show me more. I-I-...” the transponder crackled as Law found his words, “...-I need more.”

Eustass Kid

“In some cultures, it’s seen as a sign of respect,” you nodded your head, bowing your down to him, “It’s an extension of submission and admission to serve beneath a mighty ruler. Hands are the most common to touch, but kissing a cheek is the most intimate expression of-.”

“-Fine, you can kiss me,” the gruff rumble of Eustass Kid’s voice dismissively crackled. He rolled his eyes, turning his cheek away from you to hide the bite of his lip to stifle his rising blush. 

Affectionate touches was not something Kid, nor his crew, were very experienced in receiving. When he offered you the chance of joining his crew to achieve his goals, Eustass Kid did not expect you to dote and coddle each of his crewmen into submission beneath your affectionate touches. As the last member of his crew to be a recipient of your gentle touch, he truly did not comprehend why his heart was beating with anxious rapidity. 

“Only if you’re sure-,” you began, halted by a harsh bark from your captain.

“-I said it was fine, didn’t I?” his gruff voice cut through the air. While his head was still turned from you, he stretched out his right hand to await a small touch from your lips. 

But his cheek was right there. You couldn’t help but spring at the opportunity to rise up to Eustass Kid’s seated position on the wooden bench aboard the deck. He was ripe for doting and peppering a flurry of kisses all over his face, but you held yourself back from such an expression of unbridled affection. You opted to start slow.

Gently touching his shoulders, you stooped down and pressed a sweet and intentional kiss atop the apple of his cheek. You felt his breath catch in his throat, an unintentional whimper halting in his nose at the soft expression of your admiration.

As you pulled away from him, your upper left arm was caught by the wide and firm grasp of the captain of the Victoria-Punk. His face was still turned away from you, but the crimson hue of his pale face gave away the elevation of his heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry, Captain. I should’ve just gone for the hand-,” you began, attempting to tug away from his grip and apologize properly to him. 

“C-Can I-...” he grunted out a gruff cough, continuing to hold his face away from yours, “...Can I have another one?”

#one piece #x reader #opla #one piece live action #monkey d luffy #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #eustass kid #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #kid x reader #op headcanon #op drabbles #op kisses #follower milestone #thank you for loving me #i might do another one of these #for the little bit older guys

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid smut #criminalminds #criminalminds fanfic #criminalminds smut #virgin!spencer reid #smut #smut with fluff #mdni #minors do not interact #lots of consent #not beta read #halloween feels #friends to lovers #garcia is a ray of sunshine #bonus points if you guess the movie #virgin!spencer is my bby and no one is allowed to say bad things about him #spencer's tummy is adorable #i love him your honor #reposting here bc i deactivated my sideblog #my gif #milla writes n*s*f*w*

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Please note - All stories smutty unless otherwise stated.

Nobody's Girl (Luca/OFC Series)

Immortal Beloved (John/Vampire!OFC Series)

La Dolce Vita (John/Cosima Changretta OFC Series)

Your Touch Builds a Bonfire (John/Reader one shot)

The Art of Pleasure (Modern day!Dom!John/Reader) - Part One Part Two

The Promise of Rubies (John/Reader one shot)

Wet Sheets (John/Reader one shot)

Baby Face (John/Reader one shot)

She Belonged to the Wild (Tommy/Reader one shot)

Storm (Tommy/Reader one shot)

Buffed Brass and Baritones (Arthur/Reader one shot)

Animal (Luca/Reader one shot)

Improper (Luca/Reader one shot)

Menace (Luca/Reader one shot)

~*~ Drabbles & Shorts ~*~

Twitch (John/Reader)

Burn Bright White (John/Reader)

Little Sunshine (John/Reader)

Tiny Shelby Feet (John/Reader)

Never Forgotten (Arthur/Reader)

First Bloom (Tommy/Virgin!reader)

Devastating (Tommy/Reader)

Hungry (Luca/Reader)

Dance with the Devil (Luca/Reader)

Prompt short - "I know he's the one you're getting married to, but he'll never love you like I do." - (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short - "Really? You're pregnant?" - (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short - "If I have to stop what I'm doing, you won't be able to walk for the rest of the week." (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short -  “Stop being a tease, or I’ll take you to the nearest darkened corner and fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.” (Tommy/Reader)

Prompt short - “Good with your hands, hmm? I think I want to know more.” - (John/Reader)

Prompt short - “No, we’re not going anywhere yet. Not until I get to show you just how gorgeous I think you look.” - (John/Reader)

Prompt short - “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t like it when I play them back.” (Arthur/Reader)

#john shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #john shelby x ofc #tommy shelby x ofc #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky fucking blinders

[5eraphim]

MASTER LIST ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🫧

(LAST UPDATED 10/30/2023)

⚠️this is an 18+ Account!!! Minors Please NO NOT INTERACT!! This is a general content warning for angst, yandere, non/dubcon, and other such upsetting topics. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE: Do NOT interact if any off this is triggering or offensive to you. Your media consumption is your responsibility, you have been warned.⚠️

(reblogs are always appreciated ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡)

TIP JAR // RULES FOR REQUESTS

₊˚⊹ One shots ( ♡₊˚ = personal favorites)

⋆Big Slugger (Yandere Scout)

Content warnings: yandere, gunplay (obvi), blowjob, bloodplay (?), humiliation, noncon

⋆Nocturnal Intrusion (Dark Junkrat)

noncon, degradation, humiliation, rough play, break-in

⋆A Wrench to Grind (Dark Engineer) ♡₊˚

Noncon, mating press, misogyny (AFAB Reader), slapping, choking, rough, bad ending, Engie straight up uses reader's mouth as an ashtray...

⋆Call Me Little Faulein (Yandere Medic)

Praise kink, voice kink, sensory deprivation, abuse of power, oral (female receiving), misuse of medical equipment

⋆Laid to Rest (Yandere Spy) ♡₊˚

hurt/comfort, yandere, forced intimacy, depression, unhealthy relationship dynamics, angst

⋆Big Slugger Pt. II (Yandere Scout)

dubcon, alcohol,  yandere, forced relationship gunplay, humiliation

⋆Cruelest (Classic Heavy) ♡₊˚

Dubcon, abuse of power, oral (male and female receiving), size kink, shaming, edging, BAD ENDING, rough

⋆Nuthin' Personal (Dark Engie, Dark Sniper and Heavy) ♡₊˚

noncon, three way, Dark!Characterization, humiliation, AFAB reader, oral (male receiving), choking, knives, blood, punishment, double penetration, spit, groping, jarate used for SPITE, bad ending

⋆S'nowhere to Go (Yandere Heavy)

hurt/comfort, forced intimacy, dubcon, yandere, canon divergence, thigh ridding, unhealthy relationship, handjob

⋆John 1:9 (Dark Medic) ♡₊˚

Heirophilia, priest kink, guilt tripping, BLASPHEMY, yandere, mind break, blood, needles (Or whatever the hell you want to call the vita saw), abuse of power, handjob

⋆Safe and Sound (Yandere Spy)

yandere, mind break, Stockholm Syndrome, servant/master dynamics, denial/edging, sexual massage, possessive behavior

⋆Look Ma No Hands! (Yandere Scout)

afab reader, dubcon, forced intimacy, oral (female receiving, scout is kinda weird about feet for a moment i guess?, biting, kidnapping, yandere, toxic relationship

⋆Fingertips (Dark Medic) ♡₊˚

Dark!Medic, HARD noncon, forced intimacy/orgasm, AFAB reader/ female gendered terms, misogyny kink, corruption, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive behavior, rough, virgin breaking, medical misogyny (and slight infantilization)

⋆Keep your Friends Close (Soft-yandere Heavy and Medic) ♡₊˚

AFAB reader, smut, three way, oral (female receiving), first time, size difference, slight intoxication, dubcon (nothing too intense, but for the sake of intoxication/slight coercion), heavymedic sandwich.

⋆French Invasion Tactics (Yandere Spy) ♡₊˚

dubcon/coercion, Touch starved reader, yandere, hand kink, manipulation, possessive behavior, outdoor sex (graveyard sex), fingering, heresy/blasphemy, slightly rough, toxic relationship, AFAB reader, bad ending/angst

⋆Birthday Cake (Yandere Engineer) ♡₊˚

MAJOR daddy kink, dub-con, spanking, aphrodisiacs, yandere, toxic relationship, forced intimacy, fingering, possessiveness

⋆Poacher's Pride (Yandere Sniper)

Dub-con, exophilia, mild terato, Dark!Sniper, werewolf, breeding kink, angst-y ending, stalking, yandere, possessive behavior, mates, size difference, forced cuddling/intimacy

⋆Night Light (Yandere Medic)

yandere, possessive behavior, mind break, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship, implied NSFW, kidnapping, touch starved reader, cuddles, reader is gender neutral, implied dehumanization/slight infantilization

⋆Heaven Waits (Yandere Medic) ♡₊˚

Slight spoilers for Emesis Blue, Sad Medic, asphyxiation, sexual massage/hand bathing, gender neutral reader, yandere, oral (male receiving), angst/bad ending, religious themes, death

⋆Puppy Eyes (Yandere Scout) ♡₊˚

dubcon, breeding kink, yandere, tetro (mild), full moon horniness, mating press, AFAB reader, exophilia, fingering, dirty talk, abandonment issues/daddy issues scout, scout drinks reader's sweat? if that's anything?

⋆Hunting Party (Dark Demo and Dark Soldier)

Noncon, death threats, stalking, blades, guns/getting shot, Dark! Characterization, outdoor sex, double penetration, rough, AFAB reader/female terms used, fearplay, primal play, blood, depersonalization, boot licking, bukkake, threeway

⋆The Bunny under the Bridge (Yandere Scout)

Dark! Characterization (nothing too heavy, but still, definitely there), dubcon, light humiliation, coercion, hazing, AFAB reader, bargaining, reader is naïve, oral (male recieving)

⋆Unspoken Alliances *TEASER* (Yandere Spy)

⋆Back stabbers (Classic Heavy)

yandere, AFAB reader/female terms of affection used (good girl/my girl), abuse of power, dubcon, boss x employee dynamic, TOXIC RELATIONSIHP, possessiveness, rough, degradation, toxic masculinity/sexist cheavy big time, technically hurt/comfort but more accurately hurt/hurt the other person, arguing but it's basically foreplay

⋆The Chateau (Dark Vampire Engie and SpY) ♡₊˚

dubcon, Dark! characterization, corruption kink, sexual venom, three-way, hostage situation, coercion, blood drinking, degradation, implied bad ending, AFAB reader/female pronouns and terms used, reader is a masochist, Spy is a massive jerk and bullies Engie and reader

₊˚⊹ Headcanons

Yandere Medic Caretaker Headcanons

Yandere Scout NSFW Alphabet

⋆The Huntress, The Mastermind and The Oni x Altruistic survivor

Deathslinger, Wraith, Doctor x Altruistic survivor

⋆Yandere Spy NSFW Alphabet

Yandere Engineer NSFW Alphabet

Yandere Sniper NSFW Alphabet

Heavy Yandere Alphabet

⋆Medic Yandere Alphabet

Yandere Mercs Love Languages

Yandere Mercs most to least likely to babytrap their s/o

Medic, Spy and Sniper with a captive developing Stockholm Syndrome

The Clown, Shape, Mastermind and Artist with Somnophilia

Yandere Engineer and Medic with a captive who managed to escape

Yandere Scout CNC headcanons

Scout, Demo, Engineer and Soldier getting NSFW call spammed by their s/o

Vampire Heavy, Demo, Medic, Engineer vampire AU headcanons

Scout, Sniper, Spy Vampire AU Headcanons

Yandere Medic NSFW Alphabet

Yandere Heavy being lead on by Reader

Yandere monster mash demo, scout and spy meeting their s/o

yandere mercs with an oblivious love interest

Yandere Medic, Spy and Sniper with a masochist s/o who likes danger

₊˚⊹ Miscellaneous/Drabbles

GREAT WALL OF HUSBANDOS TEIR LIST 2.0 (INTERACTIVE)

GREAT WALL OF WAIFUS TIER LIST 2.0 (INTERACTIVE)

DBH Characters Ranked Best to Worst Huggers

Engie Thirst Post

A Wrench to Grind Mini Drabble

On Writing Medic and Engie

On the "let's make a deal/dark gamble" trope

Yandere Spy Drabble

cnc horny ramble

TF2 Monster Mash AU

Tucking you into bed

Fluffy Sniper Drabble

My Little Sparkle Jump rope queen

Live Blogging Emesis Blue

Ranking the mercs hottest to least

Traveling Priest Engie Drabble (A character which I BLATANTLY stole from my writer's envy and heart's beloved @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered)

Emesis Blue drabble

Administrator Drabble (CURSED)

Birthday Cake Drabble (the fic)

Happy Father's Day Everyone

Fandom PSA

TF2 if they were on survivor

TF2 Star Sign Headcanons

still genuinely curious about this one

emesis blue speculation w/@fatgumsurpremacy-remastered !!!!!!!!

(poll) which of the mercs mothers is most likely to have kept their baby clothes

i need to protect him......

Why some characters are tagged Dark vs Yandere

(poll) if you were a blu captive who from the red team do you wish is gonna torture and hold you as prisoner

Mercs least to most fun to go shoplifting with

(poll) Who is most turned on listening to you whimpering

mercs i wanna smash watching the sunday morning cartoons

CaraTour Assignment

jumpscare

who is the hottest when they're mad (poll)

merc's body appreciation post

Spy thirst

Engie thirst

Classic Heavy Drabble

hits the mercs with a big scary gun that turns them british

TF2 Character food pref.s post

top kinks and a case for the underated kink of "marriage play/playing wedding night"

yandere red spy hiving complicated feelings for the blue scout reader

#master list #yandere #x reader #self ship #yandere masterlist #yandere x reader #dbd x reader #yandere smut #yandere imagine #yandere drabble #dbd smut #overwatch smut #tf2 smut #mdni #overwatch x reader #yandere x you #yancore #male yandere #kinktober #tf2 x reader #yandere tf2 #team fortress 2 x reader #x reader smut #monster x reader #monster x human #smut

[ghostja]

The Misunderstanding of Mori(BSD)

I have realized Mori is a misunderstood character in BSD due to his abilities name, Vita Sexualis.  I recently finished reading the book, and the title is misleading.  I assumed it was an erotic book; I could not have been more wrong.  It’s a story about Kanai(MC), who is writing about his sexual experiences intended for his son to be provided as a means of sexual education.  It is not inappropriate whatsoever, and the act of sex is never described in detail.  

Throughout the story, you come to understand Kanai and how he has a lack of sexual desire.  The story starts when he is a child, and adults tease him for his innocence.  It was disgusting seeing adults toy with his innocence, especially since the story starts when he is six.  

Later in the story, when Kanai is close to graduating from university, his parents think it would be best for him to marry.  A meeting is set up for Kanai to meet a girl whom he finds nice.  But he debates the difference between this girl and all other nice girls.  He also questions if most men settle for a nice girl due to their sexual desire.  Since Kanai has a low sex drive, he believes this is the reason he can’t settle.  I believe he is bringing up the difference between love and sexual desire. Also, how sexual desire can act like love.  

Here is a quote about Kanai's thoughts on marriage,

 "I suspected that some probably decided under the stimulus of sexual desire. Because I was deficient in this area, I guessed that even if I felt the young lady was quite nice, the deficiency was probably why I didn't want to marry her."

There is an incredible tetralogy called The Sea of Fertility by Yukio Mishima, which discusses the downsides of sexual desire. In the first book, Spring Snow, Kiyoaki(MC) becomes infatuated with Satoko. He lets his desires control him and wishes Satoko to marry him, but she is engaged. Instead of putting her happiness first, Kiyoaki lets sexual possession take control of him, leading to his demise.

In the third book, Temple of Dawn, Imanishi created his own story, "The Land of the Pomegranate." It's about how sexual love leads to possession.  As soon as the people in this world reach peak desire, they are discarded.  This stops sexual possession from taking over.

I bring up these books to further show the difference between love and sexual desire. And how controlling this feeling can be with it acting like love.  

I believe the author(Ogai Mori) is trying to tell the readers you are most capable of love when young because you have no experience. Sexual desire can be extremely passionate to the point where it controls you. In the story, Kanai reflects how once a month, his roommate Koga would let his sexual desires loose. While he personally found no importance in those activities. I find it vital to state even though he doesn't care for sex, it doesn't mean he wants to be alone. In the story, he says,

"Yet even though I had a longing for love and affection, I didn't feel, as one normally would have expected, any real sexual drive."

Now to connect this back to BSD, I believe Elise is a child to represent innocence. Maybe Mori himself is like Kanai and does not care for sexual relations. And what is the opposite of that? A child who knows nothing of sex and does not care for it. They do not have sexual desires, and it has nothing to do with their type of love. Elise might simply be someone for Mori to love and receive the same type of love back. Or she represents his innocence and the type of love he craves.

I believe she could also represent his hidden innocence because when you are older you wouldn't want to be called innocent or pure. It's embarrassing to be labeled a virgin or not understand a sexual joke. But not everyone cares for these things, and some yearn for a different type of love, one that is not sexual.

Hopefully, people will stop labeling this character as a pedo and look for the meaning behind his ability instead.

#bsd #bsd mori #bsd elise #bsd port mafia #bungou stray dogs #mori ougai #bsd mori ougai #bungo stray dog #bsd manga

[noonwalkdiary]

current interests: romantically neurotic diarists, female perversion in literature, virgin lambswool knitwear, vita sackville-west, violette liqueur, opaque white eyeshadow, 14th century english cookery, isolated seaside villages, narcissus perfume oil, pickled cherries

#diary

[jokeroutsubs]

EXCLUSIVE NEWS: Joker Out sign with Wasserman agency.

As reported by Siol, Metropolitan, and other Slovenian media outlets, Joker Out have signed a contract with a booking agency, Wasserman. The Wasserman agency, which was established in 2002, is one of the biggest agencies in the world and is active in a total of 32 countries around the world.

The following is a translation of the Siol article, published today, 7.11.2023:

DO NOT REPOST!

New success for Joker Out

Exciting news is coming from the camp of the hottest Slovenian group. Recently, an agency that takes care of a number of celeberities has taken them under their wing, they just recieved a gold plaque in Finland for their song Carpe Diem, meanwhile they're playing multiple sold out concerts.

After playing the biggest headlining concert in their career, Joker Out signed a contract with the booking agency Wasserman, who represents many famous musicians, such as Ed Sheeran, Coldplay, Billie Eilish, Imagine Dragons, Lorde, Skrillex and Run The Jewels.

[Photo caption: Joker Out with the golden plaque which they received for their success on the Finnish music market. Photo: Vita Orehek]

After signing with the agency Wasserman, the group recieved another award - a golden plaque for their single Carpe Diem, which gathered two million streams in Finland. The award was presented on Friday by Virgin Music Group at a press conference in Belgrade which was confirmed by IFPI Finland. The song Carpe Diem has gained over 40 million streams worldwide.

"Proof that language isn't a barrier for a successful international career"

"This award isn't only a confirmation of their success outside their national domestic market, but also proof that language isn't a barrier for a successful international career," said Fabian Stilke, general manager for Universal Music Group in the western Balkan region.

[Photo caption: Concert in Belgrade. Photo: Vita Orehek]

In October, Joker Out played two concerts in Novi Sad, were guests at Rakičan manor, fired up Vienna, and played two more euphoric concerts in Belgrade at the end of last week.

The Serbian music portal Headliner wrote that it was a concert "As if tomorrow didn't exist". On Friday and Saturday, they're preparing the same party in Tvornica Kulture in Zagreb, which will be followed up by concerts in Warsaw, Vilnius, Wroclaw, Poznan, Prague, Rijeka, Skopje, Munich, The Hague, Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona, Celje, Maribor and Novo mesto.

Translation cr: @joyridinglove, proof read by IG Gboleyn123

DO NOT REPOST!

#joker out #bojan cvjeticanin #kris gustin #jan peteh #jure macek #nace jordan #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #jure maček

[aconflagrationofmyown]

The Great Elvis & Elaine Conspiracy of ‘58

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: Elaine’s father, Mr. Phipps’, perspective on that two week engagement

Warnings: lots of talk about wifely duties, virginity and sex-ed being withheld from a bride, Elvis continuing to be a very sweet but slightly creepy fiancé if ya think too hard about it (or think at all), grinding and an untouched male orgasm resulting in ruining pants, brief, blink and you miss it mention of entrapment

Special thanks to my darling and ever so capable beta reader @prompted-wordsmith for her plotting and her editing and her killer addition sentences 🌹

Hope y’all enjoy and don’t hold back in my comments and dms, your feedback is aqua vita. And trust the process, this got you one shot closer to that wedding night fic 😈

“Who’s gonna tell her…about her…marital duties?” Mr. Phipps, alone in his truck, asked his speedometer the question that had been tormenting him ever since Elvis informed him he was gonna marry his daughter.

Mr. Phipps missed his Eleanor every day since she passed, but the days leading up to the wedding of their only child made him miss her more than ever. Elaine was as ready and molded and perfect as any mother could have hoped for in a child, steady and good, even in Eleanor’s absence. But decorum and hostess skill and tax smarts don’t prepare you for falling into bed with a rockstar. Mr. Phipps was young once, too, and hungry, dirty, uncontainable passion for his Eleanor had created Elaine, after all. He knows the drive, the spine tingling urge, the rabid hunger of a man for a woman. It shames and terrifies him to speak of it now that object of his passion is moldering in the ground. She would have known how to phrase it in lofty, gentle, tender words that would elevate so crass an act as sex into the sacred verbiage of marriage. But she was gone.

And there was never a good time for it ever since, stupid hope had led him to believe that what his daughter didn’t know would not tempt her. Now he wished she knew more, every hint he dropped to test her knowledge she passed with flying, pearly white colors of stellar virtue. And meanwhile the days passed and Elvis Presley watched her like a man possessed, large hands already entitled to holding her own whenever they were together, his smoldering eyes raking and surveying his imminent conquest—her ripe, young body.

Mr. Phipps shuddered over ham sandwiches and asked Elaine if she believed in storks. She had laughed long and hard over her lunch before rolling her eyes in bemused exasperation with her father and returning her focus back to the list of personal items to be moved to Graceland tomorrow.

“Who’s gonna tell her?” he asked his truck, pulling into the back of the groom's mansion.

This would be his girl’s place, legal and symbolic, before the week was up. She’s a clever one, his Elaine, business savvy even in the thick of romance, just as she is terribly, terribly innocent in carnality. He has a sick feeling that Elvis, like a lotta young men including Mr. Phipps himself twenty years back, finds that combination achingly delightful. That thought always kills right in its tracks his cowardly impulse to leave it to Elvis himself to tell his bride all about it.

God knows what sorta perversion that could lead to. Eleanor would kill him, he’d kill himself if he let Elvis hurt her, shame her, defile her.

But it’s a slow death as is, trying to clear his throat and think of a way to describe phalluses going into vaginas that ain’t inappropriate for a father to relay to a daughter. These attempts always end as they begin, with his daughter looking expectantly at him and offering lozenges, confused as to why he interrupts her preparations when he has nothing to say.

He thinks Divine inspiration has struck when upon pulling up to the back of Graceland he sees Mary, the hired cook who’s more family than employee, coming out to help him unload Elaine’s dishes and servingware. Eleanor’s heirlooms, famillair china pieces of no great value beyond sentimentality, but Mr. Phipps loves his daughter for the fact she moves her mama's dishes into the fully stocked mansion, solely because they were her mama’s.

Elvis had cleared a place beside Gladys’ newer collection with his own two hands, pressing kisses to Elaine’s forehead and swearing his home was her home now. The married cutlery in the drawer proved it.

Mr. Phipps couldn’t deny the boy's sincerity when it came to his feelings for Elaine. Those feelings gushed out of him in gifts and promises and tears and thanks, in petting and holding and kissing and watching and in grinding—her father suddenly squinted at Mary and the Divine thought came to him.

“Say Mary, uh, you’ve been around awhile,” he stuck his foot in his mouth and marched right on over it, “uh, do you reckon you could take Elaine under your wing? Ya know sorta, show her the ropes, fill her in on uh… womanly duties and such?”

“Why, Mr. Sam,” Mary had chided him with a large smile on her face, stacking the heirlooms lovingly, “course I will. Though I reckon that girl knows all there is to know, never seen a child so proficient in the kitchen as your daughter. Makes Mr. Elvis’s eyes pop clean outta his skull the way she handles a spatula.” Mr. Phipps did not want to think of just what went on in that wiggly boy’s head concerning his daughter in an apron and wielding such an utensil.

Mary’s voice had trailed off, a dreamy look of admiration on her face as she reminisced on Elaine’s culinary proficiency. His hint entirely misinterpreted, Mr. Phipps returned to his truck in melancholy resignation.

“Wish we could give ya a weddin’ shower, let the ladies at the church spoil ya a bit.” He had later tried this track with Elaine, too, meaning he wished they could spill the beans about the upcoming wedding so the church ladies would squawk and flutter round to give the necessary advice to the young bride.

“Oh daddy we can’t!” Elaine had dropped her fork and grabbed his hand earnestly, acting as if he’d just proposed betraying government secrets, which come to think of it was about the scale of leaking Elvis’s intention to marry, “They’ll let the papers know and that'll alert Parker an’ it’ll be a mess! Just the family, it’s gotta be just the family, and I’m alright with that.”

Family. The remaining female population of the family consisted of a sister of Eleanor’s and Minnie Mae “Dodger” Presley.

Dodger no doubt could do the job of educating the girl well enough, but Mr. Phipps was loath to bring up the subject of sex with the wizened old bird. Not so much out of embarrassment so much as a gnawing presentment that such a lady could sniff out a man’s background and inner thoughts, that she could look into his skull as if it were a crystal ball and see that he had once nearly failed his own vows and banged his secretary. He had no appetite for chancing Dodger being as intuitive as he worried she was.

So that left the aunt, Eleanor’s sister. And initially, when he asked her to talk to the girl about wifely duties, it went over shockingly well. The aunt had marched up the stairs to the girl’s room right away, and came back downstairs five minutes later, saying it was done. Mr. Phipps wanted to know what all had been covered and explained in a meager five minutes, wanted to know if Elaine had taken the lesson well or was perturbed by it.

“Brother,” she had corrected stiffly, “these are not matters for a man and woman to discuss. I told her to be good and obedient. That’s all she needs to know.”

And the aunt was right, there was nothing proper about discussing it, but somehow not discussing it and letting poor Elaine bounce into her fancy new bed on her wedding night only to have that boy roll atop her and shove himself in with no explanation struck him as equally horrible. And it kept Mr. Phipps awake at night. Someone had to tell her. Someone, he thought with a growing headache, that he had yet to find or convince or conjure up. He was running out of time to perform this miracle, too.

Elaine herself had an irksome feeling something was being kept from her. But now that her curiosity was burning and her clock was ticking, she found all avenues of knowledge thwarted. Books she went to rent raised eyebrows and she could not bear to approach the library desk and have them checked out, the prospect of returning them once known and famous as the new Mrs. Presley a very real hurtle. Similarly, asking young girlfriends or their mothers would cause chatter and later be remembered and tied together with her union to Elvis. People would talk and say he married someone unprepared, a girl and not a woman. What she did in these upcoming weeks would reflect on him for the rest of their lives, every interaction, every glutted curiosity, every blush would be recalled and documented as hints of the Great Elvis and Elaine Conspiracy of ‘58.

So she contented herself with Elvis’ assurances that they would work and his promises that he would teach her in due time. She watched the silver screens fade to black during movie kisses and had to assume the scene fading before her hinted at sleep. What else was there?

Until that “what else” arrived, she was worked off her feet to keep the wedding under wraps and shift her belongings and schedule to align with Elvis and his orbit.

And in the meantime there were his kisses.

It was right and proper to hold hands now, Elvis assured Elaine. It was permissible to let him put his arms around her. Acceptable for him to map out the curves of her hips and waist over her day dresses when he kissed her.

Kisses, oh his kisses… now, those were new, exciting, and bizarrely addicting. A large hand cradling the base of her little noggin and the other wrapped around her waist, those kisses could be gentle or fierce, but they had her melting in his arms, awakening a deeper level of that hunger she’d first tasted when he had lifted her skirts and proclaimed her perfect.

He was still sore, deeply mourning his mama and wildly veering from joy to melancholy, an emotional rollercoaster she patiently rode alongside him. His entourage were not aware of their plans as yet, but already they accepted Elaine as a feature and a staple in his life. Miss Gladys haunted that place and seemed to arm the girl with authority and wisdom.

And Elvis clung to her like a lifeline, cuddling her and taking comfort in it, wrapping his body around hers like a giant child and sure, it caused Mr. Phipps to fret when he came across their intertwined bodies on the living room floor, but nothing objectionable was ever occurring, all hands quite visible and clothing buttoned primly. It was a gentle communion and he did not have the heart or moral high ground to disrupt it.

It was a lost cause, anyway, his baby girl was gonna get plucked in mere days, and he trusted Elvis to be right about it, kind about it, wait for the proper time. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a shock to have a man stuff himself inside her if he’d held her hand first.

So, without even speaking, the men in her life came to an agreement and Elvis clung to her a little harder and longer as the days went by, standing in the kitchen, sitting on the piano bench, laying on the couch, keeping her overnight as her father slept in the armchair just to keep up appearances.

“Elvis, son, you’ll be gentle with her, won’t ya?” Mr. Phipps couldn’t help himself from pleading as Elvis flopped next to him, worn out from spinning Elaine around to the suggestive lyrics of “The Girl Can’t Help It,/She Was Made to Squeeze”.

They’ve got a nice and private little shindig going on here at the old studio, a rehearsal dinner of sorts if they had bothered with a rehearsal. There’s been finger foods and music and laughter, the happiest he’s seen Elvis since Gladys passed. The young man was back in his civvies and he’s got some of the old carefree swagger in his step. He had doted on Elaine all evening. Watching him go over across the room to kiss her bashful lips in front of the crowd of friends and family, insisting to her she was family now—it had settled the panic Mr. Phipps felt growing in him as each subsequent night had marked one day closer to giving the girl away. That calm was unsettled by then watching Elvis twirl Elaine around, at arm's length so he could fully admire her figure as she spun, a reminder of the boy’s hunger. Miracles, as it turned out, were rather hard to come by on such short notice.

Mr. Phipps had no doubt Elvis was very good at… making it good. That was hardly a secret around town. It was just that good was very different from gentleness, from patient explanations while sitting on the bed with a clueless virgin. What he needed to know was, if he was gonna be passing the buck to her virulent young husband, Elvis must know it and swear to treat her innocence as the precious thing it was, not an embarrassing oversight in her education to be disposed of quickly and savagely.

“I’m gonna worship her, sir!” Elvis had sworn in response, not wasting breath or vanity in acting offended or embarrassed by the injunction.

Elvis Presley was a good boy, and an honest boy, Mr. Phipps reminded himself. She could do much worse.

So Mr. Phipps let it rest. He comforted himself that night—when he went up to bed, leaving them together on the porch swing—he comforted himself with thoughts of young people on desert islands who knew nothing but came to understand each other by the time of their rescue, of Adam and Eve and the command to have children, the way they had figured out how left to the fog of time.

Mr. Phipps would allow Elaine’s carnal education to run the same course.

Below him on the porch swing Elvis has Elaine snug in his lap, her legs folding over his own as his feet push against the peeling porch boards to propel the bench swing to move. Back and forth, back and forth in the cozy veil of night, his large hands interlocked over her belly a steadying weight and the sway of it makes her ache strangely and wiggle atop his thighs.

When she isn’t at Graceland with him, he is here with her, his motorbike hidden in the garage and the dead honeysuckle vines draping up the porch, their screen from the outside world. It’s too cold for fireflies or cicadas, but the wind makes a tinkling choke of the swing chains and Elvis’ frozen nose sniffles softly in her ear. He has wrapped his oversized coat around them both and buttoned her up in it with him like a baby kangaroo, much to her delight. It’s a furnace in the fleece-lined haven and her legs are chilled beneath the thin fabric of her dress but neither can make a move, it would invite a chill and they just got warmed up and a little sweaty, his lips smooching her neck and his cheek pressed to hers.

Besides, despite the late hour they’ve no desire to part and Elaine is regaling him with details of her machinations to combine their lives without alerting the general public. It’s a full on special service style operation and he finds he loves this side to her more than he ever realized. Watching her run the March of Dimes was one thing, witnessing her play cat and mouse with the Colonel is hella funnier still—and alarmingly sexy. The fact she’s doing this for them, dodging, scheming, bribing and finagling all so he can have the private wedding he longed for… it hits the spot and he finds himself holding her closer, the rocking of the swing speeding up as her story progresses, a tale of lying to caterers about the need for cake at Graceland.

She had told them it was Dodger’s birthday, the day after tomorrow, and she wanted “forever and always” in icing piped to celebrate turning seventy. Elvis can’t stop his giggles which spurs her on to more dramatic tellings, and he can’t stop swinging the swing and making them rub against each other, his loose trousers strained as his throbbing cock innocuously wedges itself between the globes of her ass. Elaine can feel the thump thump thump of his heartbeat down there, matching the way hers is always bounding these days, worse when the butterflies hit her belly or his kisses melt her insides. She can feel the pulse of him down there, and there’s a funny little twitch occasionally when his feet shove off the porch just right, it drags against her lil house just so, and her story suffers from the momentary jolt of pleasure.

These lapses of clarity are happening more often in his company, his kisses wipe her active mind blank in a way she craves, like sleep to the insomniac. Such helpless responses of her body to his have felt natural since he first rocked her to sleep, now they are lawful, too. She has logistics and a future to worry about, the way he makes her shudder and gasp from a lick or press is not of consequence.

“I told the fella that Fettucini Carbonara isn’t the same without bacon bu—Elvis?” his hands had begun to clutch her belly, fingertips digging into the plush curve of her achy womb and his breaths were tumbling out quick and urgent against her neck, a reaction entirely unwarranted by the story. “Elvis?” she repeated, sensing something building, though she didn’t know what.

It’s funny, Elvis is thinking, one never knows what a person will be like in bed until you’re, well, in bed with them. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have clues. And he’s done his fair share of detective work and then proof proving in his time with women.

Elaine has taken up more of his curiosity than anyone before or after he first began to think of her that way. From her athleticism and vigorous competitiveness he can assume she has stamina, her curiosity and lack of judgment indicates a propensity to experiment, her selflessness suggests she would be generous and eager to please but it’s her… craftiness… that makes him shudder now, that strong capability he always liked about her, but is now taking an edge that makes him think of laying beneath her and being used up himself. The fantasy has never veered this direction before but it hits him sticky, searing and potent, even as he shudders through it, hips jerking up to the rhythm of the all consuming thought -use me use me use me, Elaine, use me for your clever purposes—

“Elvis?” much softer this time, her tone is unmistakably concerned, as it should be with him limply shuddering behind her and a wet patch forming between them. “What’s goin’ on, darling?” her hand, that was occupied inside the jacket spinning her large new diamond ring, snakes down to his thigh and rubs it solicitously, unintentionally extracting a last little sputter out of him as he sucks in the chilly night air like he’d been cut down from the gallows.

These past few weeks she’s dealt with his moods and snot and that clammy, sweaty way he gets when worked up, never once flinching or so much as grimacing over it, used to children and hospital work, bodily functions have little power to disgust her. But he reckons that wetting the back of her skirt might be the thing that pushes the envelope, and he thinks he should explain, explain he didn’t just piss himself or half die on her but all he can think in his hazy post-release haze is to mumble

“I love you.”

against her neck, ardent and boyishly certain despite his awareness she won’t, can’t say it back just yet.

“Oh, E,” she whispers, turning her face to him, her nose cold as it nuzzles his cheek sweetly even as she probably thinks he just soiled himself, “Are you alright? What can I do?”

That’s her version of “I love you” and it’s one he’s happy with, now his mama is not there to say it, Elaine must and she never fails to.

“M’alright,” his mouth is dry and his brain is jelly and he can feel his mess growing sticky and cold where its excess drips down his pant leg, he wants to never let her go or he’ll get similarly cold all over, “I jus’ got excited, s’all.” he mumble into her ear and she listens intently, always curious, always eager to learn.

“Excited?” she repeats in a whisper, as if alone on the porch, hidden by the inky blankets of midnight she can preserve his dignity with a whisper, “So that’s not—what were you excited by?”

She changes course midway through her sentence and his drugged mind suggests now might be a great time to talk about sex but this whole arrangement it tenuous enough as is, he can’t bear to spook her with the mechanics and details until she can’t back out, ‘till the law says she’s lawfully his to keep and use, not until she’d have a mound of divorce papers ahead if she doesn’t like that concept of them joining. He has a smug feeling that even if she pursued a separation initially, he could make her like it, bring her around to the idea before she filled out more than two pages. It’ll keep.

“Was ‘cited by you.” he answers truthfully, “by bein’ with you, always makes me happy.” and that’s not a lie, not at all, his heart and his soul and his body cleave to her and adjust themselves to her presence like sunflowers to the sun.

“Oh.” she sounds so pleased, even as her eyebrows are drawn together with the weight of so much knowledge just out of reach.

It’ll keep her up tonight if he knows her, thoughts and confusions and he contemplates reaching beneath her skirt and stroking the ache he prays is there for him to soothe. But that seems risky, too. Day after tomorrow, he can do anything he damn well likes to her. And he’s got a laundry list, it’ll keep. He worries at that thought like his guitar strap. It’ll keep, it’ll keep.

“Ya know how you get damp down there when you’re excited?” he figures this tiny part of the lesson won’t harm anything.

She jolts in his lap and gasps like she’s been caught with her hand down the cookie jar, and if the light were better he knows he’d find her blushing like mad. “H-how’d you know?” she hisses urgently and he’s smug as hell she has no shame to ask him, that he’s the one she wants to learn from.

He wants to laugh but forces himself not to, even if his lips keep trembling in a happy smirk, “Oh baby, it’s natural, jus’ a natural way of your engine revvin’ up. Figured a healthy girl like you—gotta be real slick sometimes, waitin’ to get used.”

“Used?”

“Like the ache ya told me ‘bout,” he deflects, “it’s there to help ya grow those babies. I saw ya glistenin’ when I checked ya house, ‘member?” he prods and she begins to relax in his lap as facts slot into place in her mind, his brand of logic taking root. He pets her belly again, hoping it makes her ache worse, trying to recall her own terminology about this to use against her, “And that’s how ya know you work with someone, if they warm your engine, get ya drippin, means they excite ya.”

Elaine thinks of the night he crashed her date, driving her home and bullying her in the car with sensations and emotions she’d never felt before, and then in the kitchen as he backed her against the stove, delighting in making her uncomfortable. His whole act had been alarmingly purposeful despite his protestations of loyalty to his girls. She knew then he wasn’t playing, or not to the degree he said he was, and now she knows why. It wasn’t a lack of being comfortable with each other, it was suppressed excitement.

She excited him, and he had excited her.

But back then it had been wrong. It wasn’t right to excite someone you’re not gonna marry, not right or not even possible, she’s unsure which. Maybe that’s the problem everyone has with Elvis, he excites girls—a nation's worth—that he’s not gonna marry. She huffs out a relieved prayer of gratitude that he’s gonna marry her and she doesn’t have to be sorry for or fight against this feeling for the rest of her life, that all those nights of wedging a pillow between her legs and begging for that ache to burst were out of loyalty to the man ordained for her.

She nestles back against him contended, even as she wonders at the sheer amount of his excitement soaking her backside and making her dress cling to her. “I’m glad.” she whispers with a wide grin on her face as she stares up at the porch’s beams, “I’m glad I excite you, Elvis.”

Upstairs, as he tosses in his sleep, Mr. Phipps hears the chains of the porch swing resume their creaking rhythm again. He doesn’t recall when the rocking grind had stopped.

#elvis fanfiction #Sarge and lil mama #the great conspiracy of ‘58 #elvis one shot #elvis x you #austin butler elvis #elvis the king #elvis fic #elvis imagine #austin elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x oc #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis x y/n #elvis x elaine

[mask131]

Arthurian myth: Merlin (1)

Loosely translated from the article "Merlin" of the Dictionary of literary myths, under the direction of Pierre Brunet.

The literary fortune of Merlin was often dependent of the Arthurian literature. However, through its various resonances, the character gained its own seduction and its own popularity that allowed him to return outside of a medieval setting, gaining the status of an autonomous literary myth. He was at first the prophet of the Briton revenge, the one who had initiated the Round Table and who had inspired the errant-knighthood. Through his unique position between good and evil (he is born of a devil and a virgin), between life and death (his paradoxical survival within a “prison of air” or his vault), he embodies in modern times the enigma of History and of the future. Finally, he is the enchanter: causing or suffering many metamorphoses, he is a mythical builder and engineer, and sometimes a warlock/sorcerer. Merlin stays one of the prime heroes of the world of magic.

I/ Origins

The name and the character of Merlin appear for the first time within two Latin-written works of the second quarter of the 12th century, by the Welsh cleric Geoffroy of Monmouth: the “Historia Regum Britanniae” (1136) and the “Vita Merlini” (1148).

Nothing allows us to claim that a character named Merlin (Myrddin in Welsh) existed before these works. The very name of Merlin might have been an invention of Geoffroy, based on the name of the city of Kaermyrddin (today’s Carmarthen). It is also possible that Geoffroy used the phonetic similarity between the city and a “Merlin(us)” which belonged to the Armorican tradition (or more largely the continental one). However, Geoffroy of Monmouth did not start out of nothing. In the middle of the 12th century, Robert of Torigny, library of the abbey of Bec, claimed that two Merlin existed: a Merlin Ambroise/Ambrose (Ambrosius Merlinus) and a Merlin Sylvestre/Sylvester (Merlinus Silvester). This opinion was renewed thirty years later by Giraud of Cambria. Thes two names seem to correspond to two different traditions that Geoffroy joined:

1) “Merlin Ambrose” designates a character of the 6th century named Ambrosius. Gildas (in his “De Excidio et conquest Britanniae) made him the descendant of a Roman consulate family. Nennius( “Historia Britonum” presented him as a child born without a father, and whose mother had sex with an incubus – a tradition maintained by posterior authors. Nennius also provided the motif of the child revealing to the king Guorthigirn (Vortigern) the existence of two underground dragons preventing the building of his citadel. Discovered by the agents of the king at Kaermyrddin, the young Ambrosius interpreted the battle of the monsters as the omen of the long battles between the Briton and the Saxon. When Geoffroy retells this scene, he explicitly identifies Merln to this Ambrosius (“Merlinus, qui et Ambrosius dicebatur”).

2) “Merlin Sylvester” appears mainly in the “Vita Merlini”, and he seems to be the heir of older Celtic traditions. These traditions, shared by both Scotland and Ireland, depict a prince who lost his sanity and ran away into the forest, living there a wild existence while gaining supernatural powers. In Scotland it is Lailoken, known through the “Life of saint Kentigern”: on the day of the battle of Arfderydd (located by the “Cambriae Annals” at 573), this character, companion of the king Rodarch, heard a celestial voice condemning him to only have interactions with wild beasts [Translator’s note: The expression in French here is unclear if it speaks of human interactions or having sex, and I unfortunately can’t check the original Life of saint Kentigern right now]. Several predictions were attributed to him, predictions that the “Vita Merlini” places within Merlin’s mouth. Another incarnation of the “Merlin Sylvester” can be find back as early as the 8th century: in Ireland, the legendary king Suibne, turned mad after the battle of Moira, lived in trees (from which he ended up flying away), and shared similar traits with Lailoken. Similarly, in the Armorique there was the prophet Guinglaff, known through a verse-work of the 15th century “Dialogue entre le Roi Arthur et Guinglaff”.

The link between Merlin and those “wild men” becomes even more apparent thanks to several Welsh poems bearing the name “Myrddin”. Three of them belong to the “Black book of Carmarthen” (Welsh manuscript of the end of the 12th century) : The Apple-Trees (Afallenau), the Songs of the Pigs (Hoianau) and the Dialogue between Merlin and Taliesin (Ymddiddan Myrddin a Thaliesin). If the prophetic passages of these texts cannot be older than the Normand invasion, several lines where the bard talks to the trees and animals of the Caledonian forest (especially his pet-boar), complaining about his loneliness and his sorrow, could be the remains of a poem between 850 and 1050, which could be the oldest record of the Merlin legend.

Despite these many obscure origins, it seems that even before the publication of the “Historia Regum Britanniae” Merlin had awakened a certain interest within Geoffroy’s entourage, since Geoffroy decides to publish in 1134, due to the demands of several people including the bishop of Lincoln, a fragment of an unfinished work of his: the “Prophetiae Merlini”. Inspired by the Books of the Sybil, by the Apocalypse and by the prophetic imagery of Celtic and Germanic tribes, these “Prophecies”, that Geoffroy claimed to have translated from the language of the Briton, is first a record of several events that happened in Great-Britain since the Saxon invasion until the reign of Henry the First. Then, they announce in an obscure fashion the revenge of the Briton, and a series of disasters prefacing the end of the world. This text was a huge success: until the end of the Middle-Ages, these “Prophecies” were commented and quoted as equals to the holy Christian books. Alain of Lille, the “Universal Doctor”, wrote a commentary of the Prophecies in seven books. Merlin, first the great prophet of Wales, then of Scotland, was adopted in the 14th century by the England, which completely forgot the anti-Saxon origins of the character, and took the habit of beginning almost every speech by quoting a Prophecy of Merlin.

The ”Historia Regum Britanniae”, after the story of the two underground dragons and the text of the Prophecies, attributes to Merlin the building of Stonehenge, in the memory of Briton princes treacherously killed. Finally, it tells of how the prophet gave to the king Uter Pendragon magical potions that gave him the appearance of the husband of the duchess Ingern. A trick that allow the birth of the future king Arthur. As early as this first work, Merlin appears at the same time as a prophet and a wizard: a character claims that no one can rival with him when it comes to predicting the future, or accomplish complex machinations (“sive in futuris dicendis, sive in operationibus machinandis).

The ”Vita Merlini”, told in verse, completes Merlin’s biography by telling adventures of a very different tonality. Seer and king in the south of Wales, Merlin became mad after a deadly battle, and lived in the woods like a wild beast. Only the music of a zither can appease him. Led to the court of king Rodarch, chained in order to be kept there, he proves his gift of second sight throughout several “guessing scenes”. Before returning to the woods, he agrees to letting his wife Guendoloena marry again. However, on the day of the wedding, he appears with a horde of wild beasts, riding a stag. Ripping one of the antlers of his ride, he uses it to break the head of Guendoloena’s new husband. The rest of the text depicts Merlin as being saved by his sister Ganieda: he performs a series of astronomical observations and makes prophecies about the future of Britain. His disciple Thelgesin (identified with the Welsh bard Taliesin), back from the Armorique, joins him and they talk lengthily about nature. Finally, Merlin regains his sanity thanks to the water of a stream that just appeared, but he refuses to rule again and stays faithful to the forest.

#merlin #arthuriana #merlin the enchanter #arthurian myth #arthurian literature #welsh mythology #myrddin

[turangalila]

Giaches de Wert (1535 - 1596)

Il settimo libro de madrigali a cinque voci novamento composto & dato in luce (Antonio Gardano, Venice, 1581)

– Sorgi e rischiara

Sorgi e rischiara al tuo apparir il cielo, / Santa Madre d'Amor, rimena il giorno; / Esca il sol più che mai di raggi adorno / E si dilegui d'ogni nube il velo. / Mirinsi accese d'amoroso zelo / Le più felici stelle, e l'altre intorno / Celinsi: e'n terra e'n mar d'onta e di scorno / Securo ogni animal viva, ogni stelo. // Scendi Imeneo! Copia di te sì degna / Non strinse unqua il tuo nodo. Ecco ch’unita / Già di fede e d'Amor te solo aspetta. / Or ciò che Manto lor predice e insegna / Cantin Mincio i tuoi cigni e tu gli alletta / Risonando Vincenzo e Margherita.//

– Misera, che faro poi ch'io mi moro

Misera che faro poi ch'io mi moro / Fiera stella empia sorte / Se quel che solo adoro / Si gode di mia morte / Amor dammi tu aita / O toglimi la vita.

Giaches de Wert – Il Settimo Libro de Madrigali. The Consort of Musicke, Anthony Rooley. (1989, Virgin Classics Digital – VC 7 90763-2)

#giaches de wert #renaissance #madrigal #choir #consort of musicke

[donaruz]

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (2011 Remaster)

C'E' UNA LUCE CHE NON SI SPEGNA MAI - The Smiths

Portami fuori stanotte

Dove c'è musica e c'è gente

Giovane e viva

Guidando la tua auto

Mai e poi mai voglio tornarmene a casa

Perché non ne ho una

Non più

Portami fuori stanotte

Perché voglio vedere gente e

Voglio vedere la vita

Guidando la tua auto

Oh, ti prego non accompagnarmi a casa

Perché non è casa mia, è la loro

E io non sono più il benvenuto

E se un autobus a due piani

Si schiantasse contro di noi

Morire al tuo fianco

Sarebbe un modo celestiale di farla finita

E se un camion di dieci tonnellate

Ci uccidesse entrambi

Morire al tuo fianco

Beh, il piacere, il privilegio sarebbe tutto mio

Portami fuori stanotte

Portami da qualsiasi parte, non mi interessa

Non mi interessa, non mi interessa

E nel buio sottopassaggio

Ho pensato "Oh Dio, è finalmente giunta la mia occasione"

(Ma poi una strana paura si impadronì di me

E proprio non riuscii a chiederlo)

Portami fuori stanotte

Oh, portami da qualsiasi parte, non mi interessa

Non mi interessa, non mi interessa

Guidando la tua auto

Mai e poi mai voglio tornarmene a casa

Perché non ne ho una

Oh non ne ho una

E se un autobus a due piani

Si schiantasse contro di noi

Morire al tuo fianco

Sarebbe un modo celestiale di farla finita

E se un camion di dieci tonnellate

Ci uccidesse entrambi

Morire al tuo fianco

Beh, il piacere, il privilegio sarebbe tutto mio

Oh, c'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

C'è una luce e non si spegne mai

"There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" è un brano della band inglese The Smiths.

Originariamente contenuto nel terzo album, "The Queen Is Dead", nel 1987

il brano venne scelto dalla Virgin per essere pubblicato come singolo per il

mercato francese, e solo nel 1992, cinque anni dopo la separazione della

band, venne ripubblicato dalla WEA in tutto il resto del mondo,

riuscendo a raggiungere la posizione numero 23 della Official Singles

Atlantide

#youtube #musica

[crazycatsiren]

My personal prayer beads

Mala:

Used in the context of Buddhism, a mala is a loop of prayer beads used for counting and keeping track of prayers/recitations when performing japa (meditative repetition of a mantra, sacred sound, or a divine name/epithet).

A mala consists of 108 beads. Often, factors of 108 such as 54, 27, 18 exist on the mala as well. A 109th "guru bead", not used for/included in prayer counting, is also very common.

The origin of the mala is actually unknown, which gives you an idea of just how old the religions that use it are. As far as my native land is concerned, there are no references to the use of malas in Chinese literature before the introduction of Buddhism during the Han dynasty. Historians can only theorize that the practice may have spread from India to China at that point in time.

Why 108 beads? There are lots of theories on this one, but the number itself has remained consistent. The number 108 holds religious significance in ancient Indian religions (including Buddhism). Traditional Buddhists believe that humans come with 108 afflictions or kleshas (mortal mental states that cloud the mind and manifest in unwholesome human actions). 108 is also the number of possible dharmas. In some Buddhist traditions, the 109th guru bead represents Amitabha Buddha or the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara (the East Asian depiction/counterpart/equivalent of whom is Guanyin) who has 108 avatars.

Rosary:

The rosary ("crown of roses" or "garland of roses") is a string of prayer beads used primarily in Catholicism. The Rosary prayer, which the rosary beads are used for, is arranged in sets of 10 Hail Marys, referred to as "decades". Each decade is preceded by 1 Lord's Prayer and followed by 1 Glory Be. The rosary beads are used for saying these prayers in their proper sequence and tracking their numbers.

Traditionally, 5 decades are recited in 1 session, and each decade recalls and meditates on 1 of the Mysteries of the Rosary (events in the lives of Jesus Christ and his mother the Virgin Mary).

A litte bit about the Mysteries of the Rosary: In the 16th century, Pope Pius V established 15 Mysteries, and these Mysteries are grouped into 3 sets with 5 Mysteries in each set (the Joyful Mysteries, the Sorrowful Mysteries, the Glorious Mysteries). Then in 2002, Pope John Paul II added a new set of 5 Mysteries, called the Luminous Mysteries. Now we have a total number of 20 Mysteries divided into 4 equal sets. The mysteries are recommended to be prayed on specific days of the week.

The exact origin of the rosary is subject to debate among scholars. The use of knotted prayer ropes in Christianity goes back to the Desert Fathers in the 3rd and early 4th centuries. The practice of meditation while praying "Hail Mary" goes back to Dominic of Prussia, a 15th-century Carthusian monk, and he called the practice "Life of Jesus Rosary" (vita Christi Rosarium). Then in 1977, Andreas Heinz, a theologian from Trier, discovered a vita Christi rosary that's thought to date all the way back to 1300. Pious tradition legend has it, the idea of the Rosary was given to Dominic of Osma by an apparition of the Virgin Mary in 1214 in the church of Prouille, and this apparition received the title of Our Lady of the Rosary.

#prayers #prayer beads #rosary #mala #catholicism #buddhism #religions #polytheism

[dangermousie]

#poll #kdrama #that winter the wind blows #absolute boyfriend #the innocent man #queen of the game #beyond the clouds #robber #que sera sera #bel Ami #la dolce vita #sang do let’s go to school #lost

[christian-heresies-tournament]

battle 1! descriptions of each below the cut, plus wikipedia links if you would like to read more.

army of mary: guys, the virgin mary got reincarnated in canada in 1921 as a woman named marie-paule giguère. this reincarnated mother of god started a prayer group in the 70s, called the army of mary—as an alternative to the legion of mary, a catholic organization.

her group got recognized by the catholic church, but once she announced her true identity, she and her followers were declared heretical and became independent from the church. in 2007, six nuns in arkansas got excommunicated for their support of the army of mary. our blessed mother died in 2015, but her followers still practice.

antonianism: in the start of the 1700s, a young kongolese noblewoman named beatriz kimpa vita was resurrected as the reincarnation of st. anthony. she returned to the abandoned capital of são salvador (now mbanza-kongo) with her followers to repopulate it, and they successfully established a permanent population in the city. additionally, kimpa vita proclaimed that jesus, mary, and st. francis had all been born in the kongo, that non-kongolese catholic teachings were wrong, and that st. anthony was on the level of a “second God.” kimpa vita was burned as a heretic by the catholic church in 1706.

antonianism had tens of thousands of adherents, even after kimpa vita's death, and they were a significant political force of kongolese unity and power in the face of portuguese colonialism.

[5eraphim]

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧ Masterlist

(Last updated: 6/1/2023)

⚠️this is an 18+ Account!!! Minors Please NO NOT INTERACT!! This is a general content warning for dark themes, angst, yandere, non/dubcon, and other such upsetting topics. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE: Do NOT interact if any off this is triggering or offensive to you. Your Media consumption is your responsibility, you have been warned.⚠️

MOST RECENT MASTERLIST CAN BE FOUND HERE (10/30/23)

Reblogs are always appreciated  (۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶

TIP JAR

One shots ( ♡₊˚ = personal favorites) ✧˖ °

˙⊹French Invasion Tactics (Yandere Spy) ( ♡₊˚)

(Content Warnings: dubcon/coercion, Touch starved reader, yandere, hand kink, manipulation, possessive behavior, outdoor sex (graveyard sex), fingering, heresy/blasphemy, slightly rough, toxic relationship, AFAB reader, bad ending/angst)

˙⊹ Keep Your Friends Close (Heavy and Medic!Poly)

Content Warnings: AFAB reader, smut, three way, oral (female receiving), first time, size difference, slight intoxication, dubcon (nothing too intense, but for the sake of intoxication/slight coercion), heavymedic sandwich.

˙⊹ Look Ma No Hands! (Yandere Scout)

Content Warnings:  afab reader, dubcon, forced intimacy, oral (female receiving, scout is kinda weird about feet for a moment i guess?, biting, kidnapping, yandere, toxic relationship

˙⊹ Fingertips (Dark Medic)  ( ♡₊˚)

Content Warnings: Dark!Medic, HARD noncon, forced intimacy/orgasm, AFAB reader/ female gendered terms, misogyny kink, corruption, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive behavior, rough, virgin breaking, medical misogyny (and slight infantilization)

˙⊹ Safe and Sound (Yandere Spy)

Content Warnings: yandere, mind break, Stockholm Syndrome, servant/master dynamics, denial/edging, sexual massage, possessive behavior

˙⊹ John 1:9 (Yandere Medic)  ( ♡₊˚)

Content Warnings: Heirophilia, priest kink, guilt tripping, BLASPHEMY, yandere, mind break, blood, needles (Or whatever the hell you want to call the vita saw), abuse of power, handjob

˙⊹ Nuthin’ Personal (Dark Heavy, Engie and Sniper)  ( ♡₊˚)

Content warnings: noncon, three way, Dark!Characterization, humiliation, oral (male receiving), choking, knives, blood, punishment, double penetration, spit, groping, jarate used for SPITE, bad ending

˙⊹ S’nowhere to Go (Yandere Heavy)

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, forced intimacy, dubcon, yandere, canon divergence, thigh ridding, unhealthy relationship, handjob

˙⊹ Cruelest (Classic Heavy)  ( ♡₊˚)

Content Warnings: Dubcon, abuse of power, oral (male and female receiving), size kink, shaming, edging, BAD ENDING, rough

˙⊹ Big Slugger Pt. I (Yandere Scout)

Content warnings: yandere, gunplay (obvi), blowjob, bloodplay (?), humiliation, noncon, B*stonian Male 

˙⊹ Big Slugger Pt.II (Yandere Scout)

Content Warnings:  dubcon, alcohol,  yandere, forced relationship gunplay, humiliation  

˙⊹ Laid to Rest (Yandere Spy)

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, yandere, forced intimacy, depression, unhealthy relationship dynamics, angst

˙⊹ Call me Little Fraulein (Yandere Medic)

Content Warnings: Praise kink, voice kink, sensory deprivation, abuse of power, oral (female receiving), misuse of medical equipment

˙⊹ A Rainbow Named Pain (Yandere Pyro)

Content warnings: Noncon, yandere, rough, blood

˙⊹ A Wrench to Grind (Dark Engineer)  ( ♡₊˚)

Content Warnings: Noncon, mating press, misogyny (AFAB Reader), slapping, choking, rough, bad ending, Engie straight up uses reader's mouth as an ashtray...

˙⊹ Nocturnal Intrusion (Yandere Junkrat)

Content warnings: non-con, degradation, humiliation, rough play, break-in

Headcanons  ✧˖ °

˙⊹ Scout, Sniper and Scout as vampires with a vampire hunter Reader  ( ♡₊˚)

˙⊹ Demo, Engie, Heavy and Medic as vampires with a vampire hunter Reader  ( ♡₊˚)

˙⊹ Heavy getting lead on by Reader with a size kink

˙⊹ Scout, Soldier, Demo and Engie getting bootycalled while away from home on business

˙⊹ Yandere Mercs ranked most to least likely to try and babytrap their obsession

˙⊹ Yandere Medic NSFW Alphabet

˙⊹ Fearplay with Yandere Scout

˙⊹ Villian!Tenya Iida Headcanons

˙⊹ Caretaker Medic Headcanons  ( ♡₊˚)

˙⊹ Yandere Eddie Gluskin and William Afton pervert headcanons

˙⊹ Scout NSFW Alphabet

˙⊹ Emperor, Tower, Devil and Moon tarot card asks for Yandere Scout

˙⊹ Judgement and Death tarot card asks for Yandere Spy, Sniper and Engineer

˙⊹ Devil Tarot card ask for Yandere Medic

˙⊹ Fool, Hanged Man and Magician tarot card ask for Yandere Medic

˙⊹ Sun, Fool, Hierophant and Wheel of fortune tarot card ask for Demo

˙⊹ Hanged man, High priestess and the magician for yandere Administrator

˙⊹ Medic and Engie (separate) with an obsession who managed to run away  ( ♡₊˚)

˙⊹ Medic, Sniper and Spy with a kidnapped obsession who develops Stockholm syndrome  ( ♡₊˚)

˙⊹ Engie with a rival engineer reader  ( ♡₊˚)

˙⊹ The Shape, The Artist, The Clown, The Mastermind and The Doctor with somnophilia

˙⊹ Heavy Yandere Alphabet

˙⊹ Yandere Sniper NSFW Alphabet

˙⊹ The Doctor, the Wraith and the Deathslinger with an altruistic survivor

˙⊹ The Mastermind, the Oni and Huntress with an altruistic survivor

˙⊹ Yandere Engineer NSFW Alphabet

˙⊹ Yandere Merc’s love languages

˙⊹ Yandere Spy NSFW Alphabet

˙⊹ Medic yandere alphabet

Drabbles  ✧˖ °

˙⊹ Traveling Priest Engie drabble (credit to the OG concept of traveling priest engie to the most treasured and beloved @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered​ !!)

˙⊹ Emesis Blue Engie NSFW imagine (tw: implied noncon, breeding, revenge sex)

˙⊹ Cursed Yandere Administrator Drabbles (tw: drugging, noncon, modern day, red room)

˙⊹ The Monster Mash AU

˙⊹ Heavy, Demo, and Spy tucking you into bed

˙⊹ Sniper with a musically inclined s/o

˙⊹ Random noncon drabble

˙⊹ Random Yandere Spy Drabble

˙⊹ a few little tips for writing Spy

˙⊹ analyzing the “Corrupt Barging” trope

˙⊹ Drabble inspired by A Wrench to Grind

˙⊹ Horny rambling about yandere Medic and Engie

˙⊹ Sniper and Medic with cute aggression

Misc. Posts/Personal Favorite Non-writing Posts  ✧˖ °

˙⊹ My Freudian personality test results

˙⊹ How I think I could defeat the Mercs in battle

˙⊹ Live posting watching Emesis Blue

˙⊹ Eras on Tumblr I could give hour long TedTalks about

˙⊹ Ranking the Mercs from Ugliest to Hottest

˙⊹ Some AWESOME Yandere Engie fanart made by the talented and wise @officiallyai​

˙⊹ idk this post always makes me laugh for some reason

˙⊹ My top kinks

˙⊹ my BDSM test results

˙⊹Medic with Sharp Teeth

˙⊹ Satyr Demo

˙⊹ cringefail selfship art

˙⊹ the most BRUTAL anon i’ve ever gotten

#housekeeping docs #yandere #x reader #self ship #yandere x reader #dbd x reader #tf2 x reader #bnha x reader #overwatch x reader #yandere tf2 #yandere overwatch #yandere bnha #yandere dbd #yandere imagines #male yandere #dbd smut #overwatch smut #tf2 smut #yandere x you #.txt #yandere drabble #yandere imagine #yandere smut