#❝ DO GOOD RECKLESSLY 〈 MUSINGS 〉 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 5 months ago

Text

Degraded[*]

Nesta x reader

a/n: I haven’t written anything unhinged in a while

warnings: degradation, manipulation on Nesta’s part, slight dubcon because of that, reader having a vague cnc kink, also a bit of a fear kink, dumbification, heavy d/s dynamics, collar + leash, intense humiliation, squirting, slight overstim, orgasm denial, Nesta’s definitely a mean domme in this so have fun I guess?

word count: 6,323

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You relish the cool bite of the night air as it nips at the exposed skin of your neck, content to take your time on the late walk.

The sidra is always lovely at this time of night, with the colours amplified by the darkness of the sky, and the smell of food in the air, vendors selling treats and snacks to other like-minded fae as you, who enjoy taking strolls before bed.

Alcohol permeates just below the slight smokiness of the night air, but you can manage to ignore it—you’re long past that point in your life of drinking until the sun’s rising, scrambling for clothes that were recklessly strewn off the night before. Yes, that’s all far behind you now. And you’re glad of it.

Your heels click faintly atop the cobbles, streetlights twinkling high above as you pass through various alleyways, taking your sweet time as you meander through the familiar parts of the city. Maybe it would be worth paying a visit to Rita’s…catch up with some familiar faces. It’s been a while since you last swung by, and you find yourself missing the pleasant comfort that’s always available there. The distinct coziness and security provided by the establishment.

A hand snatches at your wrist, and you nearly stumble as you’re jerked into a narrow alleyway, the abrasive texture of brick grazing your back harshly.

Your mouth opens in a yelp, but another hand has slapped over your mouth, nails tenderly biting into your cheeks as eyes the colour of mercury burn into you. Instantly you recognise the female, tension dissipating as you relax into the relief, before your brows are furrowing in question—what’s going on? Her palm recedes from your mouth but her hand remains firmly shackling your wrist, and you look at her in confusion.

“Nesta…” you greet, nervously. “How’ve you been?”

“Perfect,” she replies, her voice whispering down the vertebrae of your spine, small hairs rising at the nape of your neck instinctively at that quicksilver sound. “You?”

“Good…” you hedge, glancing about skittishly. “I’m— I’ve been good.” You swallow, trying to regain your composure. Her lips curve faintly. Oh dear…

“I haven’t seen you recently,” she drawls, stepping closer so her foot is between your own. “Have you been hiding from me?”

“Hiding from you?” You question, forcing a laugh into your voice. “Why would I be hiding from you?” Her smile sharpens faintly, a hungry glint in her eyes that has your pulse spiking. Heart stuttering further when she again raises her hand to your cheek, gently scraping a nail below your jaw to tilt your head upwards for her. Pushing a strand of hair away, tucking it behind an arched ear.

You swallow.

“So…what are you doing, out this late?” You manage to ask, head wanting to dip so you might be spared from the intensity of her gaze. The ire that seems to be continuously ablaze in the depths of her silver stare. “Evening entertainment,” she muses lightly, fingers grazing a spot she knows you find sensitive just shy of your ear, a spot below the hinge of your jaw. You inhale softly.

“And you?”

Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips, momentarily fumbling when she follows the motion. “I wanted an evening walk,” you answer, eyes averted and you glance to the relative light from the street. “Then I’ll be getting to bed,” you smile, forcing another laugh, “I like my early nights now.”

“Hmm? Has all the fun been drained out of you, lamb?” She drawls, a mirthless laugh slicing from her own lips. “Did Amren suck you dry?”

“No! No, no. I haven’t seen Amren actually since…” you fumble trying to think back, her pesky nail repeatedly scratching at that spot that has your breath trembling. Her grin widens. “Probably in a few months, at least…”

“And now I’m to understand you’ve taken to staying in, on nights like these?”

You swallow thickly, all too aware of her proximity, that wretched nail scratching away at the tender soft spot below your ear. Nod your head. “I enjoy it,” you stammer out softly. “It’s pleasant, to…be alone for some nights…” You wonder if she catches your meaning.

“Only some?”

Fuck.

“I suppose…company is nice…sometimes too…” you hedge, nervous to displease her. Anxious to slip out from her dominating presence. Her lips curve into a vicious smile, one that you’re sure would feel like steel across your mouth. “Sometimes…” she muses, eyes glinting with ravenous hunger, “tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know about tonight…I’m quite worn out…and I’ve been falling asleep earlier, as of late, so…”

Her smile vanishes, dropping faster than a millstone through water. Apprehension strangles your throat at that look, heart pounding wildly. Her nails close around your neck tenderly, scraping as she steps closer, able to feel her breath on your lips. “Repeat that?”

You fumble, lungs trembling as your pulse spikes, and you could swear a bead of sweat gathers on your temple. You look away. “Nesta…maybe you should stay in for the night too. By yourself.”

Her nails scratch at the soft flesh of your cheeks as she grips you harder, forcing your face up. “I thought you liked being my little bitch,” she whispers sharply against your mouth, marking the involuntary shiver of pleasure that tremors up your spine. The small noise that gets caught in your throat. “Has something changed?”

“No…! Nesta, let me go…” You mumble beneath her grip, hands beginning to raise to pry her fingers away, but one sharp glare has them recoiling to your chest. “My sexuality is as it’s always been, but that doesn’t entitle you to it…” you whimper softly, fingers trembling beneath that barely restrained ferocity.

Her temper seems temporarily soothed in the blink of an eye. A bat of her eyelashes and it’s gone. Then the hand on your wrist is releasing you in favour of pulling your dress out of the way, her palm sliding effortlessly between your thighs as she cups you through your underwear. Your eyes go wide, inhaling sharply as your lips part at the violation. The entitlement. Her fingers shift, and your hands ball tight over your chest as she presses at your clit.

You’re unable to look away, her silver eyes burning into your with a starving, simmering heat that’s bound you tight in her spidersilk, breath beginning to pant from your parted lips as she leans closer, mouth skimming your own. “You like this,” she murmurs, so tenderly, fingers swiping softly between your trembling thighs. “Remember how it felt? How much you enjoyed it?” She asks, removing her hand only in favour of gripping your wrist again, but you don’t think to fight against her as she brings your palm to touch her.

“Remember this?” Nesta whispers, mouth almost atop your own, hips grinding softly over your hand, riding her scent into your skin. “You loved getting the chance to put your pretty face between my thighs, getting to taste me…” she goads, “and you were so good at it too. Better than any of those males by a long shot. So good with my clit.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, heat flushing your cheeks with an overwhelming ferocity, hunger paired with fear. “Is that what this is about?” You force a whisper, lips trembling as her mouth returns to its sharp curve. “You’re bored?”

“I’m bored of not finding my satisfaction,” Nesta drawls atop your mouth. You inhale raggedly as she slips your palm into her underwear, inviting your fingers to dance through the sopping wetness of her heat. “And you will definitely satisfy me,” she murmurs, grinding down on your fingers before guiding them away. “As you always do.”

With an almost tender touch, she plies your lips apart, guiding your glistening fingers to slide into your mouth, pushing her taste across your tongue. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” She muses, pressing her leg between your thighs, watching how your pupils dilate at her flavour, the memories coming back to you.

She can feel she almost has you.

You swallow thickly, eyes dropping away from her own, glancing downward toward the light of the street. You’re supposed to be getting back from your walk soon…supposed to be settling into bed…supposed to be going to sleep soon…

Nesta pulls your fingers from your mouth, cupping your cheeks in both hands before carefully laying her lips atop your own. There’s the faintest taste of alcohol, but you’re surprised how sober she is…probably hadn’t had time to visit a tavern before she found you… Your breathing stutters, able to feel the faint caress of her lashes against your cheek, her tongue nimbly swiping out to taste you…and you crumble.

“Just…just tonight…?” You ask, head slightly dipped when she pulls away. A hair-raising laugh spills from her lips as she gazes down at you, hands still cupping your cheeks. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, be my guest.” You flush, looking up at her from beneath your lashes, brows furrowed faintly. “Do you want this or not?” You mumble, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.

“You’ve crawled on your hands and knees for a taste of my cunt before,” she drawls, pressing her thigh closer between your own, causing your breath to hitch, “you’ll crawl again, before the night is up.”

“I don’t have to come with you, you know,” you try to argue, but there’s already a distinct heat pooling in your lower belly, and she looks like she’s considering dragging you away herself if you won’t follow of your own accord. “You won’t be coming at all, if you keep up with this attitude,” she hisses, a shiver sprinting up your spine.

You look away. “You never made me come anyway…you always made me do it by myself…”

“Give me a reason for you to deserve one.”

“You…you like my mouth better than a male’s…” you mumble softly.

“You could put in half effort and still be better than a male’s. Maybe if I think you’re actually trying to make me come I’d be inclined to return the favour.”

“I always did,” you insist, flushing. “I always made sure you came. You never did anything for me…you just wanted pleasure…”

“Oh please,” Nesta hisses, shoving firmly at your shoulders, making the brick of the wall dig into your back. “Like you didn’t get off on it. I know you loved how objectified I made you feel, how much you loved getting to shut up and follow my orders. That’s why you kept coming back, because you love my kind of degradation. And that’s exactly why you’re going to drop everything for me tonight and fumble your dumb, ditzy way back to my place, just so you might get the tiniest bit of approval from me.”

You stare at her, speechless, arousal thick and heavy in the air as you flush.

“Now, I’ll ask you again,” she murmurs, and you can feel her breath as it fans across your mouth. “Do you, or do you not, want to be my good, little, bitch.”

————

Honestly, you’re surprised how clean her apartment is. Sure there’s still some clothing strewn about, but as far as you can tell the sheets are washed and crisp, the duvet recently changed, and only the faintest scent of liquor in the air. You’ll admit a part of you had been antsy at having to go over to her place, where you’d be so isolated, but… well, it looks okay, at least…

“Strip,” Nesta orders, and you turn to look at her. “Do I need to repeat myself for those dim ears of yours?” She murmurs, worryingly softly. Like the calm before the storm. You flush. Look away. “No…”

“No, what?” She probes.

You bite the inside of your lip. “No, ma’am.”

Silver eyes narrow on you, then she’s turning away, and you glance down at yourself, feeling how swiftly your body has prepared itself for her. The sensitivity in your breasts, the tingling heat between your thighs…you lick your lips, sliding the straps down over your shoulders before lifting the dress up over your head, leaving you bare save for your underwear.

“Come here,” she commands, your skin prickling at the stern tone.

Bare feet pad across the wooden floors, and she turns to face you. “You know, I thought you might be a little hesitant to return to me,” she drawls, her hands faintly skimming your bare hips, nails scraping over the thin string of underwear. “So I got you something I think you’ll like.” She applies a pressure to your hips. “Kneel.”

You settle on the floor, hands in your lap as you look up at her shyly.

Nesta’s lips curve, them her fingers are deftly releasing the strings holding the bodice of her dress together, allowing the material to go slack over her lovely form, before pulling it away entirely. Leaving her in little clothing. “Do you like the view from down there,” she muses, one palm lightly cupping her breast, the other trailing tauntingly lower, fingers slipping between her parted legs. You swallow. “Yes, ma’am.”

Silver eyes twinkle, then she’s pulling something from the drawer at her back. When you realise it’s a collar, you hurry to look away to hide the ferocious heat that’s undoubtedly ravishing your body. A single, disciplinary tut has you righting your posture, spine straightening as you incline your chin so she can attach it to you. “I knew you’d like this little thing,” she murmurs, tightening the straps so it fits well, still able to slip two fingers between the collar and your skin, before she attaches the leash.

“I told you you’d be crawling for me before the night was over,” she taunts, feet parting a little wider as she gives a short tug on the leash, beckoning you up onto your knees. She wraps the lead around her knuckles, keeping it tight when she tangles her hand in your hair. “Keep still. Don’t move until I tell you to,” she commands, giving a punishing tug.

You release an involuntary whimper as she steps forward while holding you still, a mere scrap of fabric between you and her cunt as she stands over you, close enough your mouth is pressed flush to her clit. It’s a struggle to not part your lips, with her heat and her scent right there. How her arousal is filling your every breath.

“Now, you’re going to listen carefully because I’m only going to tell you this once,” she mutters, grip tightening on you. “I think you have been avoiding me lately, and I don’t appreciate it. There are a lot of males in this city I could go to for pleasure, but very few of them would actually give it to me. Fewer still well enough to make me want to return to them, especially when it comes to knowing how to work their mouths well.”

You try to concentrate, but your mouth is watering from how dizzyingly close you are to her cunt, practically able to feel the dampness seeping through onto your lips.

Another punishing tug on your hair, pressing her hips closer, so Nesta can really only see your nose and eyes, though she’s working on making more of you disappear from her vision.

“Knowing all that, don’t you think it was cruel to vanish like you did? To deprive me of that pleasure? That only another female could give me?” She drawls, tone sharpening to something icy and bladed. “I went so long without it, you know. Missing the feel of your lovely, pretty mouth between my legs, the way you actually know what to do with your tongue. Even those dumb noises you made when I was particularly punishing to you.” She takes another small step, forcing you to crane your neck back as she settles over the lower portion of your face, nose now pressing to her clit, mouth poised to…you can’t finish the thought…

“So if you think for a second I’ll be warm and welcoming to you, grateful that you’re dumb enough to fumble your way back to me, you’re mistaken.” Her hips buck, rubbing her scent into your skin, giving in to that need to mark you as her own, so nobody else can claim your pleasure. “You won’t be getting so much as an ounce of pleasure from me,” she whispers, thumb stroking with faux-care over your scalp, “until you’ve repaid every night I’ve missed. Every orgasm I’ve had to settle for since you decided to take your mouth away from me, every half-decent lay, and the ones less that that, you’re going to make up for every, single, one of them.”

Gods, your limbs already feel weak. You need more of her.

“And you’re going to degrade yourself wholeheartedly, because your only goal tonight is to please me. Understand?”

You whimper in response, wanting to touch her, to wrap your hands around her thighs, but you know you’d only get in more trouble for that. Her lips curve, apparently satisfied with whatever she finds in your eyes, but steps away before you can get a chance to use your mouth on her.

“Now crawl,” she murmurs, making to walk over to the bed, forcing you to descend onto your hands and knees to follow after her, the leash still clutched taut in her hand. Humiliation pleasantly simmers beneath your skin as you cross the floor, a small portion of you happy to be engaging in this behaviour with her again. After so long without it.

Nesta prowls onto the edge of her bed, keeping you behind her as she settles on her knees, bringing a pillow forward for her to lie on, looping your lead between her legs. Then she settles down, tugging faintly on the leash to drag you closer. “I’ll take my underwear off when I think you’ve earned it,” she tells you, getting comfy on her bed, and you can make out the rustling of pages.

She did this a lot when you were with her before—hiding you away beneath her skirts, or tucking you under a thin sheet then turning to a book to conjure up a fantasy. Maybe not the healthiest dynamic you’ve been in, but gods did it turn you on how she demeaned and exploited you. Pretended you weren’t there for the sake of her own pleasure.

“Are you waiting for something?” She mutters, jerking hard enough on the leash you’re pulled to her cunt, parted lips settling over her centre, and she bucks her hips lightly, thighs spreading wider to get you closer.

You hastily raise into a sitting position, hungry to start working on her, to please her enough she’ll let you have a taste… She makes no noise of contentment when you lay your hands on her, but her figure relaxes significantly, muscle melting into her bed as she resigns herself over to you, and a kernel of pride blooms in your chest that you could get this terror of a woman to give herself over to you.

You swallow thickly, one palm resting on her ass while the other thumbs down her centre, getting to work on slowly building up that heat. She prevents abrupt and intense stimulation, but with the added layer of difficulty of her underwear in the way, capping the amount of sensitivity you can exploit from her, you’ll have to take a more slow, deliberate approach. You allow your breath to ghost across the inside of her thigh, nosing lightly at the intimate skin, letting her anticipation build as your fingers trail teasingly across her hind, almost reverently.

As lightly as you can manage, you press your lips over the top of her underwear, slowly, slowly making your way down, following the thin, grey silk band to where it darkens, arousal having soaked the lovely material. You can feel her tighten beneath your mouth. Nesta shifts on the bed, and a page turns.

Swallowing thickly, you press your lips to the apex of her thighs, and she snatches at the opportunity you’ve presented to grind back against the tip of your nose, tightening the pull on the leash so you’re flush with her cunt. Smoothly, you graze your palm across the exposed skin of her hind, redirecting sensitivity while you open your mouth. Gently, you lay the flat of your tongue against her clit, giving time for the saliva to soak through, so the material will be less abrasive.

Nesta shivers as you apply a slight pressure, grip slackening on the leash enough for you to run your thumb down her centre, switching positions to lick at the dip between her thighs, softening the already wet material, sucking on it lightly to better taste her arousal. Her spine curves faintly as you push the pad of your thumb to her clit, oscillating slowly as you focus on working her up, tongue flicking at her entrance.

When she begins to get impatient, tightening her hold on your leash, you switch back. Your thumb rests over her entrance, circling thrice before slipping beneath the dove-grey silk, pressing flush to her heat. Nesta rolls her hips down, and you kiss up her centre, pressing your middle and further finger against her, soaking them in her slick and it takes all of your discipline to keep from licking at them right then and there. Only in favour of sinking them inside of her, feeling how she grips at your digits, already knowing how much pleasure they can bring.

“Hurry up,” she mumbles, but you can hear the slightly breathless note in her voice, the way her hips are winding, and anticipation builds in the pit of your belly.

Focusing on pumping and curling your fingers, you continue applying that pressure to her clit—more than anything that’s been the kind of stimulation she’s been missing, so it’s the kind you will target. Relentlessly. When you have better access to her, that is. For now, you’re searching. It’s been a while since you’ve been with her, and you need to re-familiarise yourself with her— there.

Her toes curl, body moving atop the pillow as she squeezes at your fingers, clenching around them when you brush up against a spot she likes. Your lids flutter with pleasure, sealing your lips over her heat, pushing your fingers further inside to better rub their pads against that spot, kissing at her cunt while beckoning her closer…and closer… Nesta’s body goes taut, her toes curling as the orgasm releases through her, her fingers gripping the sheets as you push against that spot, not once slowing or shifting your rhythm as she flutters around your digits.

A quiet curse slips from her lips as you carry her through the aftershocks, pulling back to rub your thumb atop her clit, sending fresh pulses of pleasure through her.

Nesta raises from the pillow lethargically, like an ancient creature at last waking from its slumber, and she pulls on the leash again, dragging you to her wet cunt as she spreads her thighs, grinding over your face, the lead rubbing against her clit. You inhale deeply, hands tenderly wrapping around her thigh and calf, keeping yourself close.

A low, mocking laugh drags from her lips, forcing you to remain plastered to her cunt as arousal seeps through onto your skin, holding you there as she rides out her pleasure. “You’ve missed this, haven’t you slut?”

You whimper at the name, and she laughs again, using you like a pillow to rub and grind against until she’s satisfied.

“Now,” she instructs, settling higher onto her hands and knees, “I want you to remove my underwear. Don’t use your hands, and don’t lick anything. Get to work.”

You swallow a moan, rising higher to latch your teeth over the band at the base of her spine, forcing yourself to drag the material away and keeping your mouth to yourself. It’s a harder task than it sounds, watching the slick fabric peel away, strings of silvery arousal webbing between her thighs, the heavy traces of her orgasm difficult to ignore, but you manage to complete your task. Enough so that Nesta shifts on her own, removing her underwear when you’ve tugged it down to her thighs, exposing her to the cool air of the bedroom.

“Come up here,” she instructs, shifting along the bed to make room for you, and you follow swiftly, crawling up onto the plush mattress. Her lips curve when you pause a healthy distance from her. “Closer,” she drawls, reaching for your lead but you scurry forward before she can tug on it. But still, “closer.”

You pause when your knees might as well be brushing her own, hands set in your lap as you look up at her nervously.

“There were a few things that surprised me, when I first decided to try you on,” Nesta muses, letting her fingers roam across the top of your thigh, moving in faintly circular patterns. “One of them was how shameless you were,” she continues, “I couldn’t fathom ever submitting myself in the way you do. But I suppose that’s why I’m the one who does the degrading, not the other way around.”

Her fingers persist on their travels, skimming to the inner part of your thigh, and when she taps her nail twice, you shyly part them a little. Nesta hums slightly, and her palm slides between your legs, fingers running over the damp material clinging to your hips, dragging them over your sex teasingly, noticing possibly for the first time just how you react to her touch—hands tightening into fists just shy of your knees, the increase of temperature in your skin, that wonderfully bashful look that’s kept in the set of your brows.

“But I think what I found the most surprising was how, despite your pretty exterior, how you put yourself together, your composure and polite demeanour,” she smiles, and no good can come of that smile. You feel yourself getting wetter, aching for her, but as if sensing that acute need, she pulls away, instead dragging her underwear closer. “All of that was put together to hide that nasty little fixation of yours, hm? Isn’t that right?”

She circles the tip of her finger atop the mattress, in one of the holes for her legs, and you swallow thickly, catching the way a section of the material glistens with a thick coating of slick. Hers. Her orgasm.

You’re too busy off in your own world that you don’t notice her hand until it’s gripping your jaw, nails lightly piercing your skin as she holds you still. “You’re so dirty beneath all of that,” she mutters, fingers curling around the band that would settle at her hip, “and yet you have the guile to try and act so innocently to the world. Pretend you’re so sweet, and quiet, and charming. But I know better.”

She grips her underwear in her hand, fingers squeezing firmly at the hinge of your jaw and you have no time to think as she shoves the erotic flavoured part of clothing into your mouth, holding you still so you’re utterly under her control.

“So dumb beneath all that, aren’t you? Silly, stupid, foolish girl,” she hums, pressing down on your tongue to draw more whimpers from your throat, mind fogging at her rough touch. “There’s nothing going on behind those eyes of yours, is there? Not a single thought, other than trying to memorise what I taste like, trying to conjure up a dirty little fantasy to help get yourself off. Not even trying to please me anymore, are you?”

Nesta’s silver eyes glint like mercury as she rubs her fingers over your tongue, infusing her flavour with your saliva, making sure you get all of it in your mouth.

“How hot and bothered would you get if I tied you up and left you tucked away beneath my bed for a few hours, with my underwear gagging your dumb little mouth to stop it from making any more of those stupid noises?” She croons, moving closer, rising up onto her knees so you have to look up at her. “Would you like that?” She whispers, a power-hungry gleam in her eyes. “What else can I make you do, hm? How far will you go for me, if I tell you to? Wear that collar in public for me? Let me permanently mark those thighs of yours? Spend full days on your hands and knees for me? I bet you’d love that last one, such a pathetic little slut, aren’t you?”

Nesta laughs, gripping you tighter as a wetness shines on your lashes, able to smell as your arousal spikes, humiliation flushing your skin.

“Go on,” she mutters atop your mouth, smiling cruelly. “Tell me how you’re my perfect little slut.”

Your eyes widen, looking away, tongue swiping across your lips when she pulls her underwear from your mouth expectantly. “Nesta…that’s a bit far…”

“Hm? A bit far?” She parodies, making to lay back on her mattress, that smug, domineering smile staying on her perfectly curved lips. “You don’t get to say I’m going a bit far when you’ve waited hours on your knees beneath my vanity for me to give you the okay to stick your ditzy face between my thighs.”

Your lips part on a shocked inhale, vicious flame engulfing your body whole, like you’ve been dunked in a slightly too-hot bath and need to be getting out.

Nesta smirks, laying back into the plush cushioning of her pillows, legs bending at the knees to spread herself open, and you flush further when she beckons you over, a single elegant finger directing you toward her exposed, dripping cunt. “Come over here,” she murmurs, still looking smug.

Shyly meeting her gaze, you crawl forward, settling lower to the bed as you open your mouth, anxious to finally lay your tongue over her, to bury your face into the sopping wetness of her pussy. But Nesta hasn’t let her original plan go, and you squeal when her nails rake across your scalp, holding you in place, less than an inch from her lovely cunt. So close you could probably lick her, if you tried.

“I told you to say it,” she whispers in a tone that sounds like it’s trying to mimic care. A little whiney, a little taunting. Wholly mocking.

“Go on,” she encourages, lips curving into that smarmy little smile again, “say you’re a pathetic little slut. Or I’ll be more than happy to toss you back to the streets.” You can guess that’s a lie after how she sought you out, but her pride is fierce enough, and she’s stubborn enough to possibly follow through…

Silver eyes pierce into you. “…I’m…your…”

“Where are you looking?” She drawls, tugging on your hair once, redirecting you to her cunt. “I know what you are. Tell her.” She pulls you closer, so her arousal glistens on your lips, and it would be so easy to flick your tongue out…

Your toes curl with embarrassment, an arousing twinge of shame unspooling in your abdomen as you lower your gaze to her pussy. “…I’m…I’m your pathetic little slut.”

Nesta laughs, spreading her legs wider as she pushes you against herself, hips winding against you as her thighs squeeze either side of your head in pleasure. “I knew you’d say it,” she taunts, “too desperate to go without it. Dumb, ditzy, desperate slut.”

You could moan from how good it feels to be so intimately placed in relation to her bare heat, feeling how she’s lightly riding your face, swiping her hips up and down to glide across your slick-soaked features, liking how your mouth feels pressed flush to her entrance, nose pressing at her clit. “Get started,” she muses, a little breathless, thighs squeezing you with need. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

Your lips part, and her flavour rushes in, pulled further into your mouth with every fervent swipe of your tongue through her centre, parting her until the tip reaches her clit, circling and trailing around it in the way she’s been yearning for. Nesta’s hips buck with pleasure, and you close your lips around her, suckling eagerly while your palms wrap beneath her legs, skimming the tops of her thighs as you drink her taste down, so much more concentrated that what you got from her underwear.

Gods, she’s heavenly.

Nesta curses on a low, rushed exhale, grappling for her book again, and you flush as she balances it across her sternum, effectively blocking you out once more. You feel at least a small part of you should be indignant about her obsession at refusing to acknowledge you, but it allows you to focus on her.

Carefully removing your hand from her thigh, you trail down to her entrance, pushing your tongue against her, lapping and flicking against her as you begin pushing small circles into her clit. She inhales sharply, and you know the sound. It’s always different when it’s someone who understands what’s going on between your legs, who can choose to target sweet spots and use them to their advantage. Your tongue flattens against her, pushing inside, and the circles become tighter; meaner. Rapidly dragging her closer, making use of the sensitivity you’ve created from that first orgasm.

The curses become more frequent, though they’re all barely muttered under her breath. You switch around, lips wrapping around her clit to suck while your hand slides lower, slipping in your middle and forth finger with arousing ease.

She’s so wet.

You know it’s helped on by the first orgasm, but even then, she’s practically drooling slick onto the sheets, even after you’ve spent so long licking it up.

“More,” Nesta murmurs, voice breathy and undone; you follow obediently.

You know exactly where to touch, where to rub up against again, curling your fingers and keeping in rhythm with the suctioning pulses you’re creating with your mouth and tongue, pulling her clit between your lips and circling the tip of your tongue against that sensitive part. You can feel how it’s hardened from the stimulation, growing taut beneath your ministrations.

Nesta’s spine arches, and you keep pushing against that spot, knowing exactly the kind of reaction it’ll reward you with.

She makes a strained noise in her throat, deep and breathy, book falling aside as she tries to cover her mouth as the second orgasm gushes through her…and from her. You moan as she splashes onto you, a little taken aback, having forgotten what it was like to have her soaking you.

Heated, silver eyes glance downwards, a beautiful pink flush heavily colouring her cheeks, and you have to press your thighs together when she reaches down and spreads herself apart, making an upside-down V with her fingers, intentionally squirting across your face, taking her pleasure in marking you so territorially. You get the vague impression it’s turning her on more that it is you.

Nesta doesn’t once look away, practically coming again from the humiliation of it all, her lips curving in a feline grin, dripping feminine satisfaction, sinking into the luscious plushness of her pillows. As if she’s finally back where she belongs, after being denied her rightful position.

Her fingers shakily roll over her clit, delivering slow, almost lazy circles that cause her thighs to flinch with each pass, and you obediently return to lapping at her heat, gently licking up the orgasm from her dripping pussy, careful not to waste a single drop.

With a steadied grip, Nesta pulls on your leash, and you rise desperately from her heat, your own cunt aching for some kind of relief.

“Nesta…it’s your turn,” you insist softly, a deep flush on your cheeks from how needy you sound. She arches an eyebrow, and your brows curve with desperate frustration. “Nesta, you said you wouldn’t do this,” you whine, following her pull on the lead until you’re hovering above her, poised to lower yourself to her breasts should she order you to. “Please, I need to cum so badly…”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch yourself,” she muses, two finger looping directly beneath your collar to pull you closer to her mouth. “I can sit on your face, while you use those talented little fingers on yourself,” she croons, lips brushing against your own, making you release a noise of disappointed frustration.

“No, you said…” you fumble, recalling that she didn’t exactly say anything. “I’m not… I’m leaving if you don’t. It can’t just always be for your pleasure, you know. I’m serious this time. I’ll leave…” Nesta’s lip curls, silver flame blazing bright in those tormentingly beautiful eyes of hers, inciting both your fear and your arousal. “You aren’t stepping foot outside this bedroom, much less getting to come on your own until you make me do that at least two other times,” Nesta hisses against your mouth, a snarl coming through from beneath.

“And don’t even think about trying to sneak yourself some relief now,” she mutters, a punishing ire gleaming hot in her silver stare. “Pathetic little sluts don’t get to cum. Now stop whining. I told you exactly what you were in for before we started, so don’t try and act all shy now,” she tells you, her legs moving to guide you into the next position she wants, dragging you back down her body to continue servicing her aching pussy.

Her mouth shifts with knowing, a distinctly self-satisfied expression passing over her cruelly honed features, voice softened to a mocking drawl.

“This is exactly what you want.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

#nesta x reader smut #nesta x reader #dom!nesta x reader #dom!nesta x reader smut #nesta archeron #x f!reader

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sunny-mercya · 5 months ago

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Trafalgar Law x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Requested by -> @bunbunboysworld

Masterlist | Related OS |

It had been two weeks—which equals into 14 days and those were approximately, plus minus, 336 hours—since you had fallen into a coma.

A coma which could've been prevented if your captain wasn't so recklessly careless with your health and—in a sense of way, profusely—ignored your medical needs—at least that's how Laws oh so humble opinion of view about this was.

When you had collapsed, for once and final—in the mere hours of the ultimate last battle, after you stood up once more to fight, against Kaido—Law picked you up and teleported back to the Polar Tang, into the Medical room, hooking you up on the machines and tubes—doing is best to get you stable.

Your heartline had deflated more than once during the first attempts of getting you stable enough—out of the death threatening double zero blood sugar zone—and Law, by any means of being a damned good Doctor, had doubted himself all these hours whenever your heart dropped out of living.

For someone, mused Law to himself in his lonesome thoughts—which he couldn't share with you at the moment, to get your input and opinions about whatever plagues his mind—like Monkey D. Luffy, who declares literally war against everyone and anything, even against humanity itself if needed to be, when whoever dares to hurt his dear friends—he really does like to care little and less about the wellbeing of his own crew mates.

Slumping down onto a chair next to you, Law breathed out a heavily sigh of defeat—his hand moving towards your ashen face, fingers gently tracing over the feverish skin.

»[Name]-ya, would you even agree to leave the Strawhats and come with me instead?« a whispering question, Law knew would never be answered and which he also would never dare to repeat to you again.

But Law wished, longing in a sort of way even, that you would just stay with him instead of Luffy—but knowing your faithfulness of loyalty you have pledged and declared loudly—especially against the whole Marines and Admiral Akinau—during the battle of Marine-Ford to the Strawhat and what history you have with him, Law knew you would never waver and Law himself didn't want to force you to choose between two sides.

~~~

The first thing Law hears, when going to the Strawhats—wanting to ask either Robin or Chopper, if they could bring some of your clothes to him—was how Luffy declared you as almost dead and Law stopped in his tracks—Bepo, Sachi and Penguin crashing into his back and looking slightly confused and concerned at him.

Mentally Law counted till ten and he also tries to recall, when he ever said something along those lines. He certainly didn't.

Law did say, that your health condition is still considered critical and that it takes a while for you to recover—but he definitely never said that you're dying or being dead.

»[Name]-ya isn't dying. Not anytime soon and not when I'm still a Doctor.« comment Law, making his way to Robin, greeting her with a curt nod.

»But Traffy! You said [Nickname] is close to death,«

Law wonders why he still bothers with such a Captain as Rival.

»Yes. When [Name]-ya's blood sugar reaches Zero and if no one's there to keep him stable or gives him the insulin, than he's close to deaths door. I did explained before, didn't I?« Law sighed out, clenched his jaw and trying his best not explode any seconds from the up building anger.

How many times did he told them? More than often. From Punk Hazard all the way to Wano, Law had explained—even in simple folk terms—what sort of medical issue you having, what it caused and how to prevent it mostly—but here they are, once again, having to go such discussion repeatedly again.

»If you had listen, to what I have said at Punk Hazard and Dressrosa, then you wouldn't need to ask again.« Law might have said it a bit harshly, but to the above—he doesn't care at the moment.

Laws tired, honestly exhausted, having slept at all these past weeks—he hadn't a good schedule of sleep to begin with, always being a bit insomniac—hadn't a good cup of coffee either, because he only ever drinks it when your brewing him one—it just taste much better in his opinion—and besides him having to do his duties as a Captain and Doctor—he's in a constant mood of worry over you.

So, please, excuse Law when he's about to be done with whatever nonsense shit Monkey D. Luffy is babbling on about.

»You know Strawhat-ya, if you keep this up, I might just snatch [Nickname]-ya away from you. After all I'm his husband, so he belongs to me and I honestly to god don't give a fucking shit, if this means war between us.«

For once, Law doesn't stop himself to speak unfiltered when tired—feeling rather relieved even to have said such declaration now.

»Ehhhh?! Whatcha mean? Watcha mean with this Traffy?!«

Law ignores Luffy's whining questions and his bouncing around—thanking Robin, ignoring her teasing smile and made his way back to the Polar-Tang.

~~~

When you woken up from your coma, you had been barely awake and neither responsive—you still weren't, even after days, falling back into the clutches of sleep more than often.

Once you were more coherent enough to respond to Laws medical questions and doings, he had deemed you not critical of condition anymore, but still not recovered.

»It's....hot...« you mumble out, moving—albeit still weakly—under the blankets, wanting some coolness onto your skin.

»I'll bring you another frozen washcloth soon.« said Law, turning another page of his book—a book about medical history—sitting next to you on the bed, his bed to be exact—had moved you there, after Law was certain you didn't need the machines to keep your heart and lungs from collapsing.

You suffering through a high fever and an sensitive stomach—couldn't keep any sorts of food in, without vomiting it out right after—was an outcome Law had predicted to come—after all, blood sugar comas were tricky.

Law's glad it's only a high fever you had gotten and not something like internal bleeding or decaying limps—like said before, blood sugar coma are tricky life threatening risky.

»Can I have.....uhm....that one warm drink too? Please?«

»Hot Chocolate?«

»Yes! No, wait, the other warm drink, what I had last night,«

»Tea?«

»Yeah, yeah tea, please.«

»Sure, whatever you wish for, love.«

Marking the page and putting his book away on the nightstand, Law lays himself down—getting more comfortable—to you, arm draping over your blanket covered stomach, while his other hand supports his head.

Such flushed, Law mused to himself with an upcoming impish boy smile—blood flowing red your face is—expression and the slight sweat, suits you really well and if you weren't currently bed ridden and on recovery—Law would have nibbled on your exposed skin already, teasing and edging you till you're close of passing out.

Although Law couldn't enjoy some passionate sex with you, he could cuddle with you as much as he wants now and this sounds by far like a much better deal anyways—after all, you and him are more separated than together, so Law takes every opportunity he gets to have you.

Perhaps, Law doesn't have to declare War against the Strawhat—not as long as you're sick anyways and once recovered and healthy, maybe than Law could persuade you to go with him from now on.

Law had lost his focus on his train of thoughts and all his future plans, when you booped his nose. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Law glances down at you.

»Law, please, I'm hot and I also wanna have some tea and cuddles.« you pouted a bit, scrunching up your face from the uncomfortable warmth.

»As you wish.« Law leaned down, giving you a kiss on the forehead and moving from the bed.

Law's indeed glad—despite the circumstances of how—to be a Doctor and you're his patient, but he's absolutely overjoyed to have you has his Husband now and forever.

#male reader #x male reader #anime #fanfiction #malereader #manga #oneshot #xmalereader #law x male reader #trafalgar law x male reader #law one piece #one piece #trafalgar law

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temporal-discounting · 5 months ago

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Just musing on how Stede never really got to resolve his passive suicidality and general ambivalence about living in the way that Ed did when he had his Mermaid moment. I would have loved a parallel to this in s3 - a moment where Stede explicitly and emphatically chooses to live.

From the Pilot, we see clear evidence that Stede is ambivalent about living (at best) or passively suicidal (at worst). This is best exemplified by the way he responds to Oluwande's 'Do you want to live?' question, but it's also easy to draw this inference from the very fact that Stede chose piracy. And he does so knowing that piracy is dangerous, and that there is a very good chance that any raid could be his last ('some of us won't be coming back')

We also get glimpses of Stede's generally cavalier attitude towards his own existence in s2. During the morning after scene, he kind of shrugs off Ed's plea that they avoid near-death situations. And then he recklessly challenges Zheng - surely knowing deep down that he doesn't stand a chance against her.

There's still so much Stede needs to work through. He needs to realise that his life has intrinsic value; that his existence means something to the people around him. He needs to choose life.

(Addendum: maybe his mermaid moment is choosing to become an innkeeper with Ed. I wish we had gotten to see that on screen)

#stede bonnet #ofmd #our flag means death #cw suicide #cw suicidal ideation

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ghostwise · 3 months ago

Note

sparks when skin brushes skin

Aya’s heart is racing unpleasantly beneath her sternum. She's a bundle of nerves tonight—most nights, really, as Jaheira had so wryly put it: for all the gifts Bhaal’s children inherit, a peaceful night’s sleep is not among them.

But tonight the din is loud enough to rouse Astarion from his trance state. He rolls over to face her, brow furrowed, preternaturally alert already.

“Whatever is the matter?” he asks.

What a question.

Aya gives him a tired look in response; a do you really want to get into it? look, or maybe a don’t ask stupid questions look, or perhaps, if they opted to be very liberal with interpretation, a sorry for waking you with more unfixable problems look.

After a moment, he reaches over to carefully unwind her fists from the rumpled sheets, coaxing the fabric from her grip. He eases her hands into his own and massages her fingers lightly.

“Feeling violent, darling?”

The question is posed with an innocent touch of his leg against hers.

Ever since that night she’d bested her urge to kill him he seems convinced she can do it over and over again. She’s not sure whether to be flattered or concerned at how highly he thinks of her. More to the point, she’s not sure she can live up to the ideal.

Fortunately she does not feel the Urge now.

No, tonight all she feels is good old-fashioned Dread.

“My body’s not doing a good job at being a body,” she says.

“More so than usual, you mean?”

Aya rolls her eyes. She takes his hand and holds it to her chest.

“Yes, now that you mention it,” Astarion muses, “It is going rather fast, isn’t it?”

He shifts closer upon the mattress and presses an ear against her chest, listening to her misbehaved heart.

Aya bites her lip and shivers. Astarion, very generously, does not comment on this, nor on the way her heartbeat quickens.

When did this happen? When did either of them get so stupidly, recklessly, foolishly comfortable?

“You poor thing. Come here,” Astarion says simply after a moment, holding out his arms.

Aya leans into him with a sigh. He's just a few degrees cooler than a body should be. She likes feeling his own heartbeat, slow and phlegmatic, lulled by undeath; a counterpoint to hers. But she doesn’t feel better.

She feels like dry kindling. She feels like an abandoned bomb, ticking away.

Astarion’s hands dance along her back, leaving a trail of sparks.

#rinnywrites #bg3 #astarion ancunin #durge #astarion x durge #oc: aya #insomnia ayastar hoursssss (and hours and hours and hours)

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lummyzzz · 7 months ago

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I had been studying for the past week, so here's a dumb 15 minute drabble about our favorite couple.

Leona Kingsholar x Ace Trappola (DTW)

Desperate.

Ace thinks he might have overestimated himself this time, perhaps even more than he had before, to even dare think that he could hold Leona's attenttion for long.

The little Halloween fiasco had spark a chance, sure, merely a few hours of wandering aimlessly in an unknown realm had provided Ace with the center of his attention for a short while. Perhaps Ace had manage to extend it far longer than it should, popping up cheeky here and there everytime Leona round a corner or with his nearing obsessed clinging days after just to hope that the senior would spare him another glance.

It got him a little pat on the head, nothing much, but maybe Ace had been smiling to himself more frequently every time he recall the shadows of it.

Yuu was right, Ace is desperate at this point.

But hey, it's not easy crushing hard for a prince, and neither was it everyday you get his attention for it.

Not that Ace could keep it for too long, not with this school constantly being the center of trouble and dragging them all into it. Halloween had soon become forgetful enough that no one talks about it anymore, not with the Masquerade shenanigans shinning in the spotlight of the huge rumor circle and its peculiar power pairings that had unexpectedly but cleverly solve the possible world's crisis.

A pair of senior and junior who got a bit along was nothing too remarkable anymore.

And that's the hard thing about NRC, if there are rumours and whispers circling about how much two people got along, then they would have a reason to get along. Approaching each others during meals for activities recanting random details about what they had done previously until the farce is strong enough that the circle regard them as such, then they could do that any other day.

Sometimes the freshmen wouldn't exactly follow this rule, switching between club activities or dorm outings, but Ace had never seen any other upperclassmen gets too chummy if no one had been talking about them.

So you see, Ace was nowhere close to even solidifying that rumour about him and Leona yet. Not when the senior's constant absence from lunch and his little fanclub of Savanaclaw students makes approaching him like hell on earth. Stumbling onto the greenhouse mid-day wouldn't work either, not when Ace values his life and reputation a bit too much to recklessly intrude on Leona's den then proceed to get fanboy plastered on his face.

So, like every other time Ace is met with a blockage in his road, he slumps. Face first on the lunch table with his friends glancing worriedly amongst themselves and seniors decking for another table at the earliest troublesome signs.

Real good friends, all of them.

"What happened?" Someone asks, settling themselves on his empty right side nearly touching his shoulder, a bit too close for personal spaces.

Ace assume it's Floyd in a rare good mood, the senior never had any respect for it.

"Life problems." Ace spits out, can't even be bothered enough to raise his head.

"More like love problems," Yuu muses to his left, "He has been tormenting us all like this for a week."

"Shaddup, I'm not doing it on purpose."

"The point still stands," His supposed best friend argues, tone unchanging even though he knows Ace's calling him all sort of names in his head. "Take him away and saves us all now, would you?"

"Yuu," Ace groans, turning his head to the left so he can actually scowl at the traitor. "You can't just sell me to Floyd-senpai because you hate feelings."

"Never said Floyd was buying." Yuu says instead, eating another spoonful of curry before he points it behind him. "You might wanna turn around."

Ace doesn't particularly want to see Floyd and his moody grin at the moment, but he turns anyway. Snapping his head back under the table and do a 180.

"You can't even recognize my voice?" Leona scoffs, still holding his chin in his hand as he cuts Ace a glare. "Some admiration you got, spikey."

What.the.fuck

Ace straightens himself immediately, part in shock and another in awe. Pulling his body from the table with a little jolt as his face flushs a crimson red.

Holy sevens, Leona came to the cafeteria during lunch, and sat next to him and even bothered participating in a bullshit conversation about buying Ace as a whole.

"What are you doing here?!" Ace asks in shock, volume hanging a bit high as he finally realizes just how much attention they were getting just from Leona settling there.

"You hadn't been sneaking around anymore," Leona answers, amusement in his tone. "Thought I might check if my biggest admirer broke his leg or some sort while I'm here." He stops, then a grin. "But go figured, you were encountering some different problems instead."

"Yeah, a big one." Yuu adds, playfully supporting this whole charade even though he could have just informed Ace of Leona's presence when he first came in. The fucking traitor.

"Shaddup!" Ace turns with a glare, it's not too intimidating to be honest, but it's the best he got when Leona's staring in his face. "You are officially the worst best friend ever." He glares at the rest of them, the traitors holding their head sideways to avoid his glare. "Worst.friends.ever."

"Fine by me," Yuu shrugs, not even minding Ace a tiny bit. "You heard him, he doesn't want us anymore."

Leona laughs, standing on his feet momentarily as he holds onto Ace's arm and starts dragging him up. "I'll take the brat then, could use a body pillow since I missed so much of my nap."

"Wait, what?!" Ace splutters, not exactly processing anything now that Leona's basically manhandling him out of his seat.

"You wanted a reason, right?" Leona offers, letting go once they were out of the seats before picking Ace up by his legs, the freshman slugs over his shoulder with an oof. "Let's make one."

"W-wait just a damn minute!" Ace yelps, elbows poking on Leona's neck as his hands tries for a proper grip on the gold uniform, struggling in the lion's hold without much progress. "You can't jus-- Leona-senpai! Leonaaaa!!"

Leona didn't mind the failing, not when he walks steadily out of the cafeteria with a screaming Ace on his shoulder as they onlookers crane their neck to follow. Some even poking their heads out of the door to stare as the third-year makes his way down the hallway, mumbling and whispering the newest rumour in circles.

Yuu and the rest continues on with their meals, the first-year looking a bit guilty as they cast some glances towards the laughing seniors and between themselves. But Yuu stays unaffected, chewing on another piece of curry even as Floyd slings an arm around him cackling nonstop and Riddle throwing a furious glare from his spot.

Ace came back to them before curfew, looking a bit worse to wear with a few bites on his nape and a swelling, cherry lip.

#ace trappola #leona kingscholar #disney twst #leoace

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poetriarchy · 6 months ago

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IWTV THOUGHTS!!!!

someone else said this felt like less strong of an ep compared to others this season and i see that as far as it being more set-up for upcoming plot rather than plot itself. but i think it's still a really interesting ep with some really strong moments.... digs into the characters in a way the other eps so far haven't had as much time for.

louis giving up on photography, then later letting go of the ghost lestat. and getting this outside opinion from the art dealer guy that he's got an eye for others' work but his own photos aren't strong. i think it's him giving up on trying to fill the hole in his life that was left by (the things he liked about) lestat. i.e. giving up on trying to be someone he's not. and then acknowledging that ghost lestat's commentary is actually just his own words (the "say apple" dialogue). jacob mentions in the post-ep that louis kind of falls into a lestat role in his relationship with armand because he knows he can manipulate him and get away with a lot, because armand is so insecure. so i think the moment of lestat's ghost losing its illusion and disappearing is in part louis absorbing that part of himself back into himself. acknowledging that he too can be powerful, he too desires control. that's not lestat, that's always existed in him.

WHICH sets up louis saying to armand "i don't know much about art, but i know a lot about running things". louis clearly retains his insecurity about not being able to be an artist like the artists he admires—and this continues to the present day as we see with the photos—but here he's willing to fall back into the role that feels good, the role that he knows he's good at. there's also that funny sort of parallel set up here between louis as pimp and louis as art dealer/theatre business guy/whatever. you can kind of picture him pulling the strings behind the scenes at the theatre, and doing it well. that's unlikely to actually happen now that the coven has claudia's old journals (and also just because they dislike him so much lol) but it's fun to think about.

there's also an interesting connection there with armand's personal history—being sexually exploited, and also being an artist's muse (i didn't catch some of that part bc no subtitles, so idk if i'm fully correct on that). louis' own personal history as a pimp works as a crazy foil to that, even if it's just on a subtextual level. the two of them are not on as level of ground as we might have thought, and armand as the eldest may not have the power over louis that one might assume from their present-day interactions. armand's "yes maitre" is CRAZY

anyways CLAUDIA. i'm kind of wishing we got more inside her head in this ep, especially because she doesn't have that much time left... it's interesting because you can see her spiraling and she says to madeleine how she feels broken, that there's something inherently wrong with her, but even then we still don't get a full window into her mind. it makes sense given the limited perspective of louis and armand as narrators, but still kind of sucks because she's the central female character of the whole show lol.

engaging with the show on its own terms, though, it's interesting how it's set up that claudia is denied subjectivity on multiple levels in this episode.

she's always been denied subjectivity by virtue of being perceived as a child. she's further denied subjectivity by being told to "live" the role of lulu by the coven she calls her family, being told to fully embody this naive, reckless, neglected child. this makes it so that later, when she behaves recklessly (being w/ madeleine), when she calls out louis for again prioritizing his romantic relationships over her, the audience is invited to ask—how much of this is her, and how much is just the role she's literally been forced to embody? she IS naive, and reckless, and neglected, but that is her real life, and her real emotions. by making her play a theatrical part that's a flat, cruel synecdoche of her life, you make her feel as though her real life and justified emotions are nothing but the tantrum of a stupid child. then you invite that (mis?)reading of her by the audience. then maybe, after enough time, she becomes that caricature of herself and is finally lost in the manner that armand suggested (...and orchestrated) in the previous episode.

and THEN, once she's gone, you have the additional layer of lost subjectivity. because she's no longer there to tell her story.

seriously fucked up

i guess the ep is all about ROLES. louis, claudia, armand, everyone. kind of obvious but still a useful shorthand for understanding how louis' and claudia's story arcs here overlap. even in the place where louis says he felt more free (as a vampire, as a Black man, as a gay man) than he did in the states, even in the old country that claudia longed for, they're still both coming up against that double consciousness.

looking forward to rewatching on my usual subtitled piracy site instead of having to cycle thru vpn servers for mega lmao

#iwtv #iwtv spoilers

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darkestrellar · 6 months ago

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Negative Character Traits. Below is a list of 102 negative traits to describe your character. Bold the ones that fit.

TAGGED BY: @effigist 🫡 that's a lotta traits

TAGGING: I think everyone should do this. It's fun. But also, @jocundcompany, @muses-inn (or the other blog), @forjustice, @intriguant, @horizonboundtrainer...

... @narkissies, @blastburned, @picavecalyx, @twilighttheater, @experthiese... and anyone else. sorry I have to split the pings up because for some reason it's not allowing more than 5 per text block

Aggressive - pursuing one’s aims and interests forcefully, sometimes unduly so Aloof - not friendly or forthcoming; cool and distant Arrogant - having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance or abilities Belligerent - hostile and aggressive Big-headed - conceited or arrogant Bitchy - malicious or unpleasant Boastful - showing excessive pride and self-satisfaction in one’s achievements, possessions, or abilities Bone-idle - lazy Boring - not interesting; tedious Bossy - fond of giving people orders; domineering Callous - showing or having an insensitive and cruel disregard for others Cantankerous - bad-tempered, argumentative, and uncooperative Careless - not giving sufficient attention or thought to avoiding harm or errors Changeable - irregular; inconstant Clinging - overly dependent on someone emotionally Compulsive - resulting from or relating to an irresistible urge, especially one that is against one’s conscious wishes Conservative - a person who is averse to change and holds to traditional values and attitudes, typically in relation to politics Cowardly - lacking courage

Crass - lacking sensitivity, refinement, or intelligence Cruel - willfully causing pain or suffering to others, or feeling no concern about it Cunning - having or showing skill in achieving one’s ends by deceit or evasion Cynical - believing that people are motivated by self-interest; distrustful of human sincerity or integrity Deceitful - guilty of or involving deceit; deceiving or misleading others Detached - separate or disconnected Dishonest - behaving or prone to behave in an untrustworthy or fraudulent way. Dogmatic - inclined to lay down principles as incontrovertibly true Domineering - assert one’s will over another in an arrogant way Fastidious - very attentive to and concerned about accuracy and detail Finicky - fussy about one’s needs or requirements Foolish - lacking good sense or judgment; unwise Foolhardy - recklessly bold or rash Fussy - fastidious about one’s needs or requirements; hard to please Greedy - having or showing an intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth or power Grumpy - bad-tempered and irritable Gullible - easily persuaded to believe something; credulous Harsh - cruel or severe Impatient - having or showing a tendency to be quickly irritated or provoked Impolite - not having or showing good manners; rude Impulsive - acting or done without forethought

Inconsiderate - thoughtlessly causing hurt or inconvenience to others Inconsistent - not compatible or in keeping with Indecisive - not having or showing the ability to make decisions quickly and effectively Indiscreet - having, showing, or proceeding from too great a readiness to reveal things that should remain secret or private Inflexible - unwilling to change or compromise Interfering - tending to interfere in other people’s affairs Intolerant - not tolerant of views, beliefs, or behavior that differ from one’s own Irresponsible - not showing a proper sense of responsibility Jealous - feeling or showing envy of someone or their achievements and advantages Lazy - unwilling to work or use energy Machiavellian - cunning, scheming, and unscrupulous, especially in politics Materialistic - excessively concerned with material possessions; money-oriented Mean - one who makes no effort to understand or empathize with others Miserly - of or characteristic of a miser Moody - given to unpredictable changes of mood, especially sudden bouts of gloominess or sullenness Narrow-minded - not willing to listen to or tolerate other people’s views; prejudiced Nasty - behaving in an unpleasant or spiteful way Naughty - disobedient; badly behaved Nervous - easily agitated or alarmed; tending to be anxious; highly strung Obsessive - a person who is affected by an obsession

Obstinate - stubbornly refusing to change one’s opinion or chosen course of action, despite attempts to persuade one to do so Overcritical - inclined to find fault too readily Overemotional - having feelings that are too easily excited and displayed Parsimonious - unwilling to spend money or use resources; stingy or frugal Patronizing - apparently kind or helpful but betraying a feeling of superiority; condescending Perverse - showing a deliberate and obstinate desire to behave in a way that is unreasonable or unacceptable, often in spite of the consequences Pessimistic - tending to see the worst aspect of things or believe that the worst will happen Pompous - affectedly and irritatingly grand, solemn, or self-important Possessive - demanding someone’s total attention and love Pusillanimous - showing a lack of courage or determination; timid Quarrelsome - given to or characterized by quarreling Quick-tempered - easily made angry Resentful - feeling or expressing bitterness or indignation at having been treated unfairly

Rude - offensively impolite or ill-mannered Ruthless - having or showing no pity or compassion for others Sarcastic - marked by or given to using irony in order to mock or convey contempt Secretive - inclined to conceal feelings and intentions or not to disclose information Selfish - lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one’s own personal profit or pleasure Self-centered - preoccupied with oneself and one’s affairs Self-indulgent - characterized by doing or tending to do exactly what one wants, especially when this involves pleasure or idleness Silly - having or showing a lack of common sense or judgment; absurd and foolish Sly - having or showing a cunning and deceitful nature Sneaky - furtive; sly Stingy - unwilling to give or spend; ungenerous Stubborn - having or showing dogged determination not to change one’s attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so Stupid - having or showing a great lack of intelligence or common sense Superficial - not having or showing any depth of character or understanding

Tacky - showing poor taste and quality Tactless - having or showing a lack of adroitness and sensitivity in dealing with others or with difficult issues Timid - showing a lack of courage or confidence; easily frightened Touchy - oversensitive and irritable Thoughtless - not showing consideration for the needs of other people Truculent - eager or quick to argue or fight; aggressively defiant Unkind - inconsiderate and harsh to others Unpredictable - behaving in a way that is not easily predicted Unreliable - not able to be relied upon Untidy - not inclined to keep one’s possessions or appearance neat and in order Untrustworthy - not able to be relied on as honest or truthful Vague - thinking or communicating in an unfocused or imprecise way Vain - having or showing an excessively high opinion of one’s appearance, abilities, or worth Vengeful - seeking to harm someone in return for a perceived injury Vulgar - lacking sophistication or good taste; unrefined Weak-willed - lacking the ability to resist influence or to restrain one’s own impulses; irresolute

#point your finger and deny (dash games)#why is it when i decide to make an effort pinging people that it decides to be weird about it 😭 oh well

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quietlyblooms · 3 months ago

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embrace this pain | jujutsu kaisen

she knew the sort of work she was getting into. it was the sort of work she wanted to get out of, once upon a time -- and sometimes still. it isn't just the politics or the monotony of paperwork or the driving all over creation. it isn't even the late hours because chiyo can handle that. she can handle a lot.

but chiyo's never been good with death.

oddly enough, it's kind of the reason she decided to become a manager rather than leave sorcery behind. just a student who had no hope of saving her teammate from their fate but wanted to try anyway ( desperately, recklessly ), it was chiyo's manager who pulled her back, who saved her from a meaningless death. she hated them for it at first, thought them cowardly, blamed them for her friend's death. they couldn't have known what would happen. maybe chiyo could have saved them. maybe...

there wasn't any " maybe, " and chiyo knew it from the start. she just didn't want to accept it. her manager made the tough decision, the right decision, and she saved chiyo's life. she couldn't stop thinking about it during graduation. still can't. she feels some sort of responsibility to be that person for the next generation, maybe even for her colleagues. chiyo can handle a lot. she can make the tough decisions.

chiyo's never been good with death, but she'll pretend she is for them. she'll endure it all for them. that is who she is in this life -- the one who endures.

additional notes

though chiyo doesn't have an innate technique, she can hold her own against lower grade curses with cursed tools and her preferred shikigami. she never believed she would get far as a sorcerer, so rather than hone her craft as an adult, she chose to become a manager. she's been doing this since graduation.

that being said, if your muse is a sorcerer, there's a good chance she's probably been in charge of their assignments. it's always an easy place to start interactions!

also keep in mind that her age puts her in school at the same time as gojo and co., though it's very fair if she fell into the background. that's how chiyo likes it anyway uvu

post-shibuya, chiyo does take to training again to avoid becoming a complete liability. the state of the world requires her to adapt, so she does. i don't really see her entering the culling games because she'd likely be more valuable outside, but i'll leave that up to how our interactions go!

hmm that's all i can think to add for the time-being, but as always, feel free to ask questions!

#embrace this pain | jujutsu kaisen #this verse write up needed a new version so!! here we are!!#i plucked part of a reply i once wrote and slapped it here bc it really does sum up her background well #and i couldn't get it out of my head tbh #anyway i'm gonna link this on her verses page and then we'll see what else happens bc i've been eepy uvu #i sit before flowers & hope they will train me in the art of opening up | headcanons

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years ago

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Apple of my eye

This beautiful moodboard has been made by @sorisooyaa, my beloved baby...

In an attempt to break me out of my funk, here comes a little Ori story from the sweet sheet of the @fellowshipofthefics February Bingo.

Words: 1.5 k

Characters: Ori x reader

Prompt: Kissing in the rain

Your thoughts were flickering in and out of focus as you stared at the raindrops running down the opaque windowpane beside you despondently.

The weather had been rotten for days and you yearned for sunshine and blue skies with almost childlike fervency.

“What I wouldn’t give for a sweet, golden apple,” you sighed, well-aware of how whimsical and random that thought was, and leaned your head against the cool glass.

Rainstorms always made you feel profoundly lonely; they were meant for lazy cuddling by the fire and self-indulgent poetry readings. Unfortunately for you, the one who insidiously crept into all of your daydreams of sweet, innocent togetherness seemed stubbornly oblivious to your affections and so, you were doomed to petulant moping instead.

The slamming of a door interrupted your morose thoughts suddenly, and you looked up in surprise; surely, nobody would dare brave the vicious downpour when nightfall was so close at hand. You were, after all, well supplied and there was no good reason to venture forth at this hour.

“Lassie,” Dwalin grumbled reproachfully, “take a care what you wish for!”

Startled, you scanned the room and soon realised that it was indeed Ori, the very person you had been musing about so miserably, who had left the shelter of the small hut you were perched-up in together until the storm had abated.

“What is he thinking?” you exclaimed in dismay, springing to your numb feet in alarm.

“You’ve asked for some fruit, so he went to get you what your heart desires.”

“Nonsense!” you opined vehemently. “Why would he do something so recklessly thoughtless? He’ll get mired down in the mud or lose his way in the blinding rain! What my heart desires…and he leaves, really!”

Kíli gave you a long, dumbfounded stare, his unwavering disbelief starkly evident in every single line of his face.

“Ori would try to unhook the moon and pick stars like flowers for you,” he eventually said and shook his head regretfully. “Not that it has done him much good thus far.”

The heat of indignation and of disappointed love rose into your cheeks as you strode towards the door without sparing a thought or word for the unduly forward prince.

“Bloody fool,” you cursed. “Thrice confounded idiot!” Without paying any further heed to the astonished faces turning towards you in your passionate outburst either, you threw open the door and rushed out into the onslaught of icy water fearlessly.

Immediately, rivulets of stunning cold made their way down your spine and permeated your clothes as you advanced, tottering, towards the nearby line of fruit trees on unsteady feet.

This might well have been a mistake, you conceded, but you were too proud and decided to turn back now like a beaten cur.

Soon, you could make out the beloved silhouette of a small, dainty being – leaning forward to defy the vengeful violence of the sheets of rain driving him back – moving resolutely under the shadow of the dark trees.

“Ori!”

He turned around, wiping one hand over his eyes to clear his vision.

“What are you doing? Come in! It’s raining too much for you to go trudging off alone; it’s not safe.”

With a small, slightly quivering smile, he let his other hand shoot forward and – as his stiff fingers unravelled – you could discern a beautiful, golden apple lying like an unlooked-for treasure in his palm.

“I just…you said..” Ori grimaced and took a step towards you, his offering still stretched out reverently in front of his drenched and wretchedly trembling body.

Before you could either chide or thank him, he slipped on a treacherous spot of deep mud and fell hard.

“Ori!” You hastened forward, instantly losing your balance as your foot caught on a stone that had been obscured by the churned-up earth, and slithered into him on your hands and knees. “Are you okay? Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

Overcome by worry and love, you started patting his legs and arms – checking your hands for blood every other second – in a public display of attachment you would have been deeply ashamed of if anyone else had witnessed it.

“I just wanted to make you feel better,” Ori finished his previous thought quietly. “You looked so very sad because of the rain.”

“The rain?” It was true that you were not overly fond of overcast weather, but it had not really been the storm that had soured your mood. Maybe, you thought, it was time to tell him the truth; for once, you were perfectly alone and – surrounded by a veil of water – you truly felt as if you were the only people left alive in a world made of fury and darkness.

“I have tried to make you understand how much you mean to me for weeks now,” you confessed, crawling up over his prone body and staring longingly into his wide eyes. “It was the lack of a favourable reaction from you that has dampened my joy.”

Ori blinked in confusion. “That is highly irregular,” he finally said. “I might be slow, but I am steady; thus, I have dutifully studied your glances and smiles and I’ve memorised every one of them to make sure that I was not deluding myself.”

Proffering his apple once more, he blushed furiously. “I would have fulfilled your every wish, proving myself to be caring and reliable and then, a few months hence, I might have gathered the courage to present you with a token of my undying affection, made by my own hands and accompanied by a long letter of confession.”

He looked positively distraught now, wiping at his wet hair falling into his beautiful face periodically and gazing up at you with imploring intensity. “Never would I have guessed that my reticence would cause you pain. You must believe me when I swear that this was never my intention!”

You wanted everything he had described, of course, but you desired him more; you were restless and wet, and consequently good manners and wise precaution were not foremost in your troubled mind at that moment.

“Tell me true, Ori dearest, do you reciprocate my helpless infatuation then?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed, obviously scandalised by the minute flicker of doubt in your expression. “How could I not? Take this apple as a proof of my devotion; you yearned for sweetness and sunshine, and I’d stop the very rain from falling if only the depth of my love could tear the heavenly veils.”

“Sweetness,” you mused with a smirk and leaned forward to press your lips onto his brow. “I accept what you are offering, my darling.”

That face you had been dreaming about for so many days and nights was tilted up ever so slightly and your heart understood the cautious invitation before your mind could even make sense of everything that was happening; your lips wandered across his freckled cheeks and along his soft, bearded jaw to land softly on that expressive mouth you so admired.

It was still raining hard and, every so often, you tossed your head back to draw a deep breath to avoid drowning in your greed and the abundance of water battering your back unforgivingly, but – now that you had Ori to yourself – you couldn’t stop kissing him until you were light-headed with giddy triumph.

“You’re soaked,” you finally laughed, leaning your forehead against his, “and so am I. Let’s go in and dry off; I am more than willing to share my bedroll with you until we’re warmed up again.”

His golden eyes flashed with hints of amber and onyx as he realised that you were the only one allotted a separate chamber for privacy reasons; he had never set foot in that forbidden room and the thought of being secluded with you in so intimate a manner made his blush deepen and his fingers tremble.

“Highly…” he started.

“Irregular? Indecent? Tempting?” you supplied with a wink and scrambled to your feet cautiously, grabbing his hand and pulling him up alongside you.

“Yes!”

“Well, you’ve risked your health and happiness to get me an apple,” you grinned. “I would be remiss indeed if I didn’t risk my reputation and integrity to show myself appropriately grateful.”

Once more, he looked highly bewildered by your forwardness, but he followed you back to the cabin without saying another word.

“Ah, you’re alive!” The members of his company – friends and kin – seemed both relieved and amused by the muddy, drenched, pathetic sight of your victorious return.

“Indeed,” you said, still dragging Ori by the hand and presenting your apple proudly. “We shall now retire to clean up and to celebrate the successful foray of our dearest Ori.”

You disappeared into the small room at the end of the hall under a hail of hooting and hollering; someone wisely prophesied that Ori would end up marrying you and someone else – Kíli if your ears did not betray you – predicted an outcome of a much lewder variety.

If you had any say in the matter, as you hoped you would, you’d prove each and every one of them right before long.

So, special thanks to my darling baby for this beautiful edit...

And thanks to @fellowshipofthefics for the lovely prompts and the support.

Lots of love from a very sad little me!

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #fotfics february bingo #february challenge #prompt: kissing in the rain #The Hobbit #Ori #ori the dwarf #ori propaganda #ori x reader #ori my beloved boy #sweet and kind #no spicy

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