#it just feels like he's trying to keep me as far away from him as possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animasola86 · 1 day ago

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🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, this part will continue in TWO DAYS! Stay tuned!

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

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mattsfavoritestar · 3 days ago

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ICEBREAKER , chris sturniolo

synopsis… inbox request !

warnings… toxic!chris, exbf!chris, hockeyplayer!chris, mentions of violence, mentions of cheating, minor mention of bloody injury, degrading, little bit of manhandling (good way dw), hair pulling, spanking, rough fingering, rough sex, unprotected p in v, lowkey public sex

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

“my ass feels like it’s going to fall off” you say as you rub your hands together for warmth. you already knew how cold the ice rink was yet you still decided to wear a skirt, thinking that your fleeced tights would keep out the frosty air. “i don’t know what’s more stupid, the fact that you wore a skirt or the fact that you’re wearing it for ch–“.

you quickly covered your friends mouth as you felt blood rush to your cheeks. “i'm not wearing it for him! i just thought it looked cute,” you grumbled. that was a lie. you did wear it for chris. you remembered how much he loved seeing you in one (as much as he loved the easy access). “okay, look at me.” your friend says as she grabs your shoulders.

“we caught him texting other girls, remember?” she says. you frown at the vivid memory. he had you wrapped around his fingers with that stupid smile and his baby blue eyes. you found countless of nudes (which weren’t yours) in his camera roll along side the many dirty texts to multiple contacts, yet he still somehow looked somewhat innocent in your eyes.

“now c’mon, we’re here for your brother not him” she says before walking towards the entrance. as you followed behind, you gave yourself a mini pep talk on how you were gonna completely ignore his presence and focus on your brother. you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t realize someone walking into your direction. right as you collided into his chest, the stranger quickly steadies you by your waist.

“careful” he says with a smile. you noticed the jersey being a number 12 with the opposing teams color. with a quick apology, you removed yourself from his hands and made your way to the arena. little did you know a fuming chris caught the whole interaction with a deathly grip on his hockey stick.

“another goal for the boston bruins!” the announcer shouts as the crowd roared. you were jumping as you clapped for the team. so far, the game was going smoothly with barely any penalties. a glimpse of chris’s number 3 jersey catches your eye. you watched as he rushed to the puck with determination. on the opposing team, number 12 surpasses him and hits the puck to the opposite direction.

it seemed like chris didn’t care for the puck anymore as he raced towards number 12. a series of gasps follow as chris harshly shoves him to the floor. the game pauses as the players watch chris rip his helmet off and toss it. he climbs on top of 12 and takes off his helmet then delivers him a punch to the face followed by another. and another.

the referee blows the whistle multiple times but the screeching sound fell deaf to chris’s ears. you saw your brother as well as number 2 race over to pull chris off him with a slight struggle. chris pushes both of them away from him then gets off the ice with an angered expression.

his coach meets him at the gateway as he yells at chris for attacking the opposing teammate. the entire time his coach is lecturing him, chris was looking around the bleachers. then his eyes locked on you. his face was flushed from the cold mixed with heated anger and his hair was damp with sweat. a small smirk found its way to his lips as he watched you practically check him out. you couldn’t lie, your body was providing you with a warmth that went straight to your core.

chris breaks eye contact as his coach tells him to go cool off in the locker room. “alright ladies and gentlemen— we’ll be back after a brief intermission” the announcer says as players start to exit the rink. you looked over to your friend— who was distracted by trying to get a close up of number 12’s bloody bruised face. you slipped out of the bleachers then left the arena in search of the locker room.

your heart hammered as you slowly opened the door. you haven’t spoken to chris in a week, which was the longest you’ve gone before giving in. the lights were dim and the room was quiet. you knew chris was in here since his gloves were laying on the bench in-front of you. “chris?” you called out cautiously.

you jolted as you heard a locker door slam shut followed by a heavy sigh. as you drew closer to the sound, you saw a trail of chris’s gear leading up to where he stood. he was leaning on the lockers with his head tilted up as he breathes rapidly— as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“miss me already?” he says as a devilish smirk forms on his face. you said nothing as you pad over to him and analyze his hands—which were closed into a tight fist. you take one of them into your own and lift it to eye level. his knuckles were bruised and dried with blood, you were unsure if it was his or the other guys.

“why’d you do it?” you ask in a soft voice. chris scoffs then snatches his hand away. “why? you worried ‘bout him or somethin’?” he rebuttals. you sigh as you meet his eyes and search through them. you could never understand chris or why he does things like this but you sure as hell try to.

“saw you gettin’ familiar with him earlier so i thought i’d introduce myself” he shrugged. a frown painted your face as you recalled the countless of times that chris has gotten friendly with other girls in front of you. “but chris— we’re not together anymore” you reminded him.

you watched his eyes darken as an angered expression formed onto his face. you gasp as he harshly grabs your waist and pulls you closer. “yeah?” he says as he leans closer to your face, “didn’t i tell you that y’can’t ever leave me?”.

he flips you both over and roughly pushes you into the lockers. you’re body burned more then ever but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal. probably both. “chris m’not here for this” you say trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no?”, he leans down to your neck and trials kisses up to your ear, “then why’d you follow me in here?” he whispered. you give him no response. a shuttered breath leaves your lips as chris continues to attack your neck with kisses and occasional bites. your fingers curled into his jersey, pulling him closer and causing him to smile against your skin.

you gasp as he suddenly flips you around to face the locker. you felt him tug your tights down along with your underwear. the cold air against your skin made you shudder but it quickly surpassed as the harsh contact of chris’s palm connected to your skin making heated blood rush to that area. “said y’not here for this yet here you are in a skirt f’me— fucking slut” he scoffed.

you whined as he roughly grabs your hair and forces you into an arched position, your bare ass against fully clothed pelvis. you felt two of his fingers swipe through your folds then slowly enter you as he towers over you, watching your expression as he tucked his his bottom lip between his teeth.

your eyelids dare to shut as your jaw hung open with not so quiet moans leaving your throat. “did y’think he could make you feel this way?” chris snarled. you replied with a near scream as he picks up the pace. your legs shook as an unexpected orgasm came over you. you didn’t know if the blood in your cheeks was from embarrassment of cumming to quickly or pure desire as you felt your body yearn for more.

chris laughs as he delivers you yet another sharp slap to your ass. he removes himself from you completely but before you could turn around, you felt his hands grip your waist tightly. you felt his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, slicking itself with your arousal. you tried pushing yourself closer to him but he held you in place.

finally after what felt like ages, chris sinks into you slowly. “fuck baby— i needed this” he groans. your cheek was smooshed again the cold locker which contrasted to your burning skin. chris didn’t waste a second as he immediately picks up the pace, going deeper inside you everytime.

chris places one of his hands beside your head while the other nearly forms a bruise under his grip tightening. “look at you letting me use you— but y’not here for this, right?” he mocks your words with a small chuckle. your jaw hung open, your cries fell deaf to your own ears while a buzz replaced the lewd sound. with a slight whine, chris delivers one final harsh thrust then roughly pulls out.

he jerks himself off as ribbons of white painted your bruised ass. your legs shook with a dull ache, you were sure they would give out any second. you didn’t realize that he pulled out before you could finish but regardless, you wouldn’t really care anyways considering the lingering high from his fingers. loud banging at the door startled the two of you, “yo chris, coach needs you back on the ice!” a teammate shouted from the other side.

you were shocked on how you made it back to the bleachers on your own with your weak legs. “hey where’d you–“ your friend did a double take before taking in your appearance then giving you a disappointed look. a hockey jersey with ‘c. sturniolo, 3’ printed on the back that stopped mid thigh covered your clothes, leaving only your fleeced tights on display.

#𝓒𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝓢.#𝓒𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝓢. ♡︎ 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 #𝓒𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝓢. ♡︎ 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠 #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolos #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

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idkyetxoxo · 2 days ago

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Gwayne Hightower - Sworn to Protect

Summary - Who more fitting to protect the Queen than the King's own uncle, a renowned knight with a profound understanding of the solemn duty that his role as her sworn protector entails? His commitment is so steadfast that he would go so far as to challenge the king himself.

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower x reader

Warnings - Violence

Word count - 2139

Masterlist for Gwayne • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

"Ser Gwayne, I do not need an escort inside the sept," I said, a soft laugh escaping my lips as I turned to see him standing just two feet away.

"It is late, Your Grace. I would feel more at ease knowing I am near," he replied, his tone respectful yet firm. I nodded, a small shrug accompanying the gesture, before lowering myself to my knees.

As I closed my eyes and clasped my hands in prayer, Gwayne's gaze swept the room, his vigilance unwavering.

Yet, even in his watchfulness, his eyes eventually drifted back to me. He couldn't help but linger, captivated by the sight of me in such a serene pose, the flickering candlelight casting gentle shadows across my face.

His breath hitched, and he exhaled slowly, struggling to pull his thoughts back to his duty and away from the image of my perfect form, illuminated so beautifully in the dim glow.

When I finally finished my prayer and stood, I noticed Gwayne's intense gaze fixed upon me. "Are you all right, Ser Gwayne?" I asked a touch of concern in my voice, sensing that something was amiss.

It was not the first time I'd seen that look.

Gwayne blinked and quickly regained his composure. "Yes, Your Grace," he replied, his tone steady and reassuring. "I am fine."

He offered a courteous bow before leading me back to the keep. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the sept, and the quiet of the castle amplified the soft sound of our footsteps.

As we neared the main entrance, a servant stepped forward, their anxious demeanour evident.

"Your Grace," the servant said breathlessly, "The King is looking for you."

A pang of sadness tugged at me. Aegon's summons was unexpected and, from his tone, likely carried a hint of displeasure. I nodded, trying to mask my feelings. "Thank you," I replied softly

Gwayne's perceptive eyes caught the subtle shift in my mood, but he chose to remain silent, offering only a sympathetic glance, we made our way through the dimly lit corridors, each step echoing in the silence of the night.

When we reached Aegon's chambers, the door stood slightly ajar. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before pushing it open and stepping inside.

The room's atmosphere was tense, and Aegon's sharp, frustrated gaze met me immediately. His face was flushed, and he moved restlessly around the room, the agitation in his posture unmistakable.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger. "I've been waiting for you."

I met his gaze steadily, despite the unease settling in my chest. "I was at the sept," I replied calmly.

His reaction was immediate and harsh, he scoffed and closed the distance between us, his demeanour revealing that he was far from sober. The stench of wine clung to him, and his movements were unsteady, a clear sign of his inebriation.

It was evident he was looking for a confrontation.

"Do not lie to me," he spat, his voice sharp.

A pang of frustration mixed with my growing unease. I took a step back, trying to create some distance between us.

"I am not lying," I insisted, my tone firm. "Ser Gwayne accompanied me. He can attest to where I was."

I turned toward the door, raising my voice to call out. "Ser Gwayne, if you would be so kind as to come in?"

The door creaked open wider, and Gwayne's imposing figure filled the doorway. His eyes swept over the scene, and he stepped in with a composed demeanour that contrasted sharply with Aegon's current state.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice steady, "I can confirm that we were at the sept. I accompanied her there."

Aegon's reaction was dismissive, he rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Of course, you say that," he retorted, the irritation clear in his tone.

I frowned, confusion knitting my brows together.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration. The accusation seemed unfounded, and I couldn't understand why Aegon was so agitated.

Aegon's gaze flickered with a mixture of anger and something else, resentment, perhaps. He scoffed and turned away from me, his frustration evident.

"Despite being my uncle, he ogles over you like some lovesick fool," he spat, his voice thick with contempt. For a moment, his eyes were not those of a king but of a man betrayed, before they hardened again into a glare of pure venom.

I took a step back, the shock of his words hitting me like a cold wave.

"Ser Gwayne?" I glanced at Gwayne, searching for his reaction, but he remained stoically silent, his expression unreadable.

The accusation hung in the air, making the already charged atmosphere even more uncomfortable.

"I don't know what spell you've cast on him, but his attention toward you is anything but honourable," he added, his voice lowering but still carrying an edge. "It's causing unnecessary distractions and unrest."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions.

"I assure you," I said calmly, "there is nothing inappropriate between Ser Gwayne and me. I am certain his conduct reflects his duty as a sworn protector."

Aegon's face twisted with unbridled rage. "Of course, you say that," he spat, his tone dripping with disbelief. "Always quick to defend him. It's as if you're blind to his behaviour."

Before I could respond, Aegon's hand shot out and grabbed my arm roughly, his grip like iron. The sudden pain made me flinch, and I instinctively recoiled from his touch.

"Aegon, you're hurting me," I whispered, a tremor creeping into my voice as tears began to pool in my eyes.

I had known his anger before, but this was different—this was wild, unchecked, and I felt like a mouse trapped beneath the claws of a hawk.

"I do not care," Aegon retorted coldly, his fingers digging deeper into my flesh. "You should have thought about that before dishonouring yourself." His words were like knives, sharp and cruel, as he shook me roughly, his anger barely contained.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil his words inflicted. I could barely manage a response through the haze of distress.

"Aegon, please," I murmured, my voice barely audible as I struggled to maintain my composure. "You're misunderstanding everything. It's not like that."

Aegon's grip tightened, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mixture of anger and hurt. "Misunderstanding?" he echoed scornfully. "Don't pretend you're innocent in this. I see how you manipulate those around you. Even he isn't immune to your charms."

The accusation was harsh and unwarranted, and I felt a pang of betrayal at his words. "I would never," I said, struggling to free my arm from his relentless grasp.

Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the charged air. "Unhand her!"

I had almost forgotten that Gwayne was still in the room. He took a single, deliberate step forward, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across the room. His eyes, cold and unwavering, bore into Aegon, his usually calm demeanour replaced by a quiet fury that dared anyone to challenge him.

"Unhand her," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Aegon turned to face him, his expression shifting from anger to irritation. "No," he said dismissively. "This is between us. You can leave."

Gwayne's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a steely edge. "Unhand her," he said again, his tone brooking no further resistance.

Aegon's response was a contemptuous sneer. "No," he snapped, raising his hand as if to slap me in a final show of dominance. The air crackled with tension, and I braced myself for the impact.

Before Aegon could move, Gwayne surged forward with a sudden burst of force. He charged at Aegon, gripping him by the collar with a fierce determination.

"Touch her again, and you'll regret it," Gwayne threatened, his voice a low growl.

Aegon's eyes widened in shock and fear as Gwayne lifted him off the ground, the knight's formidable strength evident. Gwayne's grip was unrelenting, and his expression was one of cold resolve.

"I am giving you a chance to step back," Gwayne said, his voice steady and dangerous. "Release her, and you will not face further consequences. Continue, and I will ensure you regret every moment of this."

Aegon's face flushed with a mix of fear and anger, but he did not dare defy Gwayne's imposing presence. He released his grip on me, stumbling slightly as he tried to regain his composure.

Gwayne kept his grip firm, his gaze locked on Aegon, ready to act at the slightest indication of further violence. The room was thick with tension, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air as the confrontation reached its peak.

"I'm telling mother," Aegon declared, his voice shaking with a mixture of defiance and fury. His eyes darted between Gwayne and me.

Gwayne's lips curled into a disdainful smirk, his gaze cold and unwavering. "Go ahead," he said with a scoff. "Tell her exactly how cruel her son is with his wife."

Aegon's face flushed a deeper shade of red, a mixture of anger and humiliation igniting in his eyes. "You think you can intimidate me with your threats?" he spat, his voice trembling as he struggled to regain his composure.

Aegon's gaze hardened, and he straightened, trying to assert his authority. "I could have you executed, hanged for daring to speak to me in such a manner," he declared, his voice thick with menace.

Gwayne's expression remained composed, though his eyes held a glint of derision. He tilted his head slightly to the side, a gesture that underscored his disdain.

"My foolish nephew," he said, his tone carrying a sharp edge, "you will do no such thing."

Aegon's eyes widened momentarily, taken aback by the calmness in Gwayne's voice. "And why is that?" he demanded, his bravado faltering.

Gwayne's smirk widened slightly, a mix of contempt and amusement in his gaze. "Because, Aegon, you may hold the title of King, but you are far from untouchable. Your actions have consequences, and I am not afraid to make them known."

Aegon's anger flared once more, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes now. "You underestimate me," he snarled, trying to maintain his dominant posture.

Gwayne's demeanour remained steady, his voice cutting through Aegon's bravado with ease.

"No, I understand you perfectly," he said, his tone unwavering. "It is your own arrogance that blinds you to the reality of your position. And as long as I stand here, I will not allow you to treat her with such cruelty."

Aegon's eyes narrowed in frustration, his fists clenching at his sides. With a final, frustrated glare at both Gwayne and me, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him with a resounding thud.

The moment Aegon was gone, the oppressive tension in the room began to dissipate. I turned to Gwayne, my eyes brimming with gratitude.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice trembling with the remnants of fear and relief.

Gwayne's stance relaxed slightly, though his eyes still burned with a protective intensity. He breathed out, a hint of relief mingling with the tension that lingered like smoke in the air.

He gave a slight nod, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and relief. "It is my duty to protect you, Your Grace," he said simply, his voice gentle.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the confrontation lift slightly.

"I'm truly grateful," I said, my voice filled with sincerity. "Your presence and your actions today... they mean more to me than I can express."

Gwayne's gaze lingered on me, and I saw something in his eyes that spoke of deeper feelings. There was no need for words, I had long sensed the depth of his affection, an unspoken truth between us that neither of us had named.

I had always known, in the quiet moments and the subtle glances, that his feelings for me went beyond mere duty.

He held my gaze, and though he did not voice the feelings that were evident, the unspoken understanding between us was palpable. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the constraints we faced, his dedication to his duty and my position as Queen.

Gwayne took a deep breath, and his expression softened further, a mix of warmth and resignation.

"I'm just glad I could be of help," he said quietly. "I will always be here to protect you."

I nodded, the sadness and appreciation intertwining in my heart. "I know," I said softly, recognizing the depth of his commitment even if our circumstances made it impossible for anything more to develop between us. "Your support means more to me than words can convey."

Gwayne's eyes held a tender, unsaid promise as he gave me a final, reassuring nod.

We stood in silence, the connection between us undeniable and profound, even if the nature of our relationship remained defined by duty and unspoken affection.

A/n - 'Serene pose' - on her knees you mean 😝

Gwayne tag list - @deniixlovezelda

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd s2 #team green #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #ser gwayne #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne x you #gwayne fanfic

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 hours ago

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I got a request! How about Sukuna's reaction to Reader dressing up as him for Halloween?

You don’t even make it two steps into the room before you feel Sukuna’s eyes on you. Heavy and unimpressed, his gaze drags from your head down to your toes, taking in every minor detail of your costume: the rough outline of his signature tattoos, the fake arms drawn crudely on your torso, and the striking crimson kimono you spent way too much time trying to find.

And then, Sukuna laughs. Low and ominous, slipping out like a warning rather than genuine amusement.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” he sneers, though his eyes glint with a dangerous kind of curiosity.

He’s lounging on his throne, legs spread wide, one hand resting on his chin, and looking at you like you're his next meal -metaphorically or literally, you’re not sure.

You cross your arms, tilting your head to show off the faux tattoos on your face.

“Who do you think I am, genius?” you reply with a smirk, pleased with yourself.

Sukuna’s mouth curls, all sharp teeth and predatory interest.

“Are you trying to mock me, brat?”

You shrug, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks as his eyes continue their unabashed journey over every inch of your costume.

“Figured it’d be fun. It’s Halloween, after all,” you say with a playful wink.

“Thought you’d appreciate my… dedication.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Is that so?”

In one smooth, lethal motion, he’s on his feet, closing the distance between you in a few strides until you’re caged between him and the wall. You swallow, feeling the burn of his presence as he leans in close, his face barely inches from yours, his hand lifting to toy with the edge of your makeshift robe.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered… or offended.”

You try to keep your voice steady, but it wavers slightly. Fuck, did you really take it too far?

“Maybe a little of both?”

Sukuna chuckles again, a dark, rich sound that seems to roll through you, making your pulse flicker.

“You’re cute, dressing up as the King of Curses. But you know-” he trails a finger down your cheek, stopping just at your jawline, “-you don’t quite have the presence to pull me off.”

“Oh, really?” you retort, huffing, even as your heart thumps in your chest.

“I think I look pretty convincing.”

“Is that so?”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

“Then go on. Show me just how convincing you can be.”

You hesitate, trying to maintain your composure.

“Well, first of all, you’d need to bow down to me.”

Sukuna barks a laugh, loud and mocking, as if the very idea is absurd.

“Oh, you’ve got some nerve,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening.

“You think you can handle being me? My power?”

You lift your chin defiantly.

“I could handle you just fine.”

He smirks, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist.

“Careful what you wish for, little one.”

And before you can process what’s happening, his lips crash against yours -possessive, demanding, and full of the power you tried so hard to imitate. It leaves you breathless, melting into him before you can stop yourself.

When he pulls away, he chuckles, eyes gleaming.

“Happy Halloween, imposter.”

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p0ckykiss · 21 hours ago

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prank gone wrong - nishimura riki

summary -> ni-ki's silly april fool's prank sends you to the hospital

-> established relationship

the prank had gone too far.

in retrospect, niki should probably have checked everything before messing around with the food.

as a result, you had to be taken to the hospital due to food poisoning and niki feels horrible now. it turns out that some of the ingredients niki used were past their due date for months and, although they smelled just fine, they were not supposed to be eaten at all.

and you, being you, didn’t check and just wolfed down what was given to you. niki’s plan for his april fool’s prank was just mixing up something that tasted bad but looked like it was good. he didn’t try it though and you ate the whole thing, saying it was not bad at all, have you been practicing? with a smile on your lips.

the result was disastrous. your friend had taken you to the hospital himself - and has just now asked niki to stay and keep you company.

as it seems, you had fallen asleep due to the nausea medicine you were given, and the doctor said you could leave as soon as you wake up since you’re all good now but it’s taking longer than expected.

“i’ll just get a taxi to the company,” he says to niki and gives him the car keys. “you drive back safely and let me know when you make it there.”

he only nods and hope the face he’s making is a thankful one because he had panicked when you suddenly stood up from the couch and ran to the bathroom ten minutes after eating the “food” he made and your friend had to step in and take the reins.

“thanks,” niki finally mumbles something but he is already gone.

niki is sitting down on a bench that’s not so far from the room you are sleeping in right now. he would’ve gone in, but he sent your friend instead. it was a shared room and only one visitor per patient was allowed, niki didn’t want to face you yet.

now he’s the one in charge and, although he wants to stall their reunion, niki stands up and takes slow steps until he’s standing in front of the door.

the nurses are taking care of the patient on the end of the room and you are still sound asleep, chest heaving up and down calmly and niki sighs in relief.

no one pays him attention and he shyly sits down on the stool placed right by your bed.

niki stares at the hand sliding down the mattress and is about to reach out when you pull it back under the bedsheets.

niki looks up to glance at your peaceful sleeping face but is met with a glare.

“were you trying to kill me?” you ask, eyes still trained on niki’s face.

“why would I try to kill you?” he stutters back at you, nervously rubbing his hands together. “i’d never do that.”

you huff.

“you were eagerly offering me what you made,” you explain and niki sighs at least twice before covering his face with both hands. “i thought you were trying to get rid of me.”

“it was supposed to be a harmless prank,” niki whispers and doesn’t dare look you in the eye. “i didn’t know the food was not good anymore and it was not aimed at you. my plan was giving it to the first person who showed up in the kitchen, it just happened to be you.”

“so it was not a targeted attack on me?” you whisper and niki looks up when he hears soft laughter. “i won’t hold it against you then.”

“i’m really sorry,” niki pouts and jumps up when he sees you are sitting up. he tries to help you up and gets his hands slapped away.

you glare at him.

“it was just food poisoning”

you leave the bed and fold the bedsheets, niki watches in silence. “it’s not like you ran over me with a car. i can walk and do things by myself just fine. i’m fine now but you’re lucky i’m not too mad right now.”

oh god, if you were bedridden because of that, niki would not hear the end of it.

in amidst his thinking, you leave niki for a second to ask something to a nurse who’s in the room and come back quickly.

“she said we can leave and that I’m dismissed,” you say solemnly, gathering your belongings that were on the small table by the bed and urging niki out of the room. “i just need to hand this clipboard at the front desk before we exit the hospital.”

you wave said clipboard in front of niki’s eyes and takes large steps out of the room and towards the front desk. you were on the ground floor, so everything was done fast, with niki only watching as you do all the talking with the staff.

“how are we going back to the apartment?” you ask as soon as you both are out of the hospital. the wind that hits your faces is cold and niki is reminded that although winter has ended, the chilly weather still remains and he shivers, buttoning his overcoat up. he turns to look at you and feels terrible because you only have a thin sweater on since you left the dorms in a rush, there was no time or space to think about grabbing a jacket for you.

without thinking, niki unbuttons his overcoat and hands it to you and earns himself a funny look from you.

“what are you doing?” you ask, brow raised, and lips pressed together in a straight line.

“trying to be a nice boyfriend after almost killing you,” niki mutters, shoving the overcoat in your hands. “your friend left us with the car but it’s parked a little far,” he starts walking in the direction he remembers it is.

they walk in silence and niki smiles to himself when he sees you have decided to wear his warm overcoat, the sky blue one he loves the most.

the car is parked five blocks from where they were and niki is rubbing his hands against his arms when they finally reach it, teeth clattering and shivering with his whole body.

“you’re an idiot,” you say before entering the vehicle, claiming the passenger’s seat.

“i’m an idiot,” niki confirms once he’s inside the car as well, sighing in relief at the lack of the cold wind but still trying to warm himself up. “are you hungry?”

you hum and put a hand under your chin.

“are you going to cook for me again? because if so, then i don’t think i’m hungry,” you say and laugh at your own words.

niki is sure his ears are red now, he feels them burning hot, but he can’t blame you for joking like that. “but if you’re going to buy something on our way to the apartment and if you’re paying, then I am hungry.”

niki sighs for the nth time and you stifle a laugh.

“are you paying or not?” you say, reaching out to hold niki’s hand that’s frozen on the steering wheel. “do you need me to drive or something?”

“you don’t even have a driver’s license,” niki replies alarmed and turns to give you a look.

“that was a trick question to make sure you’re here with me and not somewhere in your own head,” you tell niki and squeeze his hand with a smile on your lips. the smile comforts niki who was still tense, thinking about the whole incident with regret. “i hope you’re not feeling too bad about what happened.”

“i am feeling bad but,” niki laughs and finally starts the car, turning the heating on maximum and already thinking of where he can stop by for food. “i’m also feeling scared and a little threatened. please don’t get back at me for attempting to prank you.”

you burst out laughing and niki turns to look at you, a shiver runs down his spine. you have a mischievous glint in your eyes, something is brewing in that ingenious brain of yours and all niki knows is that he’s screwed.

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anyydidi · 2 days ago

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I can see what you’re saying, but in my opinion, it is a bit of a narrowed view of thinking.

Ford is (was) a selfish, self-centered person. I would argue that a lot of it was ingrained into him by the people around him, but it’s not the point of what I’m trying to say.

I don’t think he was like that in his childhood, but he grew into it by time. Not only that, but the isolation from other people (in the friends department, since people avoided him because of his hands) got to him and he began to feel stiffled and suffocated, especially with Stanley breathing down his neck. Now, why I mentioned him being selfish? He only considered that HE felt stiffled and suffocated and wanted to run away as far as possible, without considering how it would make Stanley feel.

I’m not really trying to excuse his ignorance, but to better understand his character, you have to take into account that he was only a teenager with not an ideal childhood. His enviroment sent him mixed signals of rejection and high expectaion and grew a hero complex in him. Just because he was ignorant doesn’t mean that he did not care about Stanley. He only made the mistake of letting his view of his brother get stained by bitterness and a grudge, that only festered as time went on.

In the time of Stan getting kicked out, he was in this strong belief that Stanley deliberately ruined his future, that he sabotaged him for his own gain. He thought that everything that came to Stanley after was just the consequences of his own actions and that he deserved being kicked out. You’re right that he should have done something, shouldn’t have let his 17 year old brother get kicked out (well, he probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it either way. Filbrick is Filbrick. If we only looked at it that way, we could say that Caryn also didn’t give a crap about Stanley, because she didn’t do anything and we know that’s not true. But he could have shown at least a bit of worry.). But I still wouldn’t say that he didn’t care, just that he was blinded by anger and their father’s view of Stanley, that very clearly made an impact on Stanford.

We might be entering headcannon territory, but I’m pretty sure that Journal #3 backs this claim up. Stanford never stopped caring for Stanley and missing him, at least during the ten years period. He makes notes in his journal, he keeps old tapes and memoribilia with his brother in his house, he keeps an old photo that obviously means a lot to him on his person for 40 years. But the perfect example of how Stanford felt for all that time is a little quote from J3:

Reminds me of camping with my brother. I wonder what he’s up to…

The reason why I’m talking about this quote specifically is because it’s crossed out. Stanford obviously misses Stanley and wonders about his wellbeing in a moment of sentimentality, but then refuses those feelings by crossing it out. I simply think that Stanford desperately tried to be the person everyone writes him up to be: not caring and hateful towards Stanley, having a horrible view of who his brother is. But, as much as he tried, deep down he could never bring himself to actually be that way.

(This might be a bit janky, I’m tired and not feeling well, but I hope I got my point across).

WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE I'M SO SICK OF PEOPLE MISCHARACTERIZING FORD!!!!!!!!!

Before we begin, everyone is entitled to their opinion. If you really think Ford wouldn't truly care, you do you.

That being said, I feel like people who claim that Ford wouldn't do a single thing to bring Stan back if their places were switched do not understand his character at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he would open the portal. At least not right away. The one thing I agree with is that Ford wouldn't put the life of his brother above the whole planet like Stan did. He realizes the threat of the portal and Bill too much to do that.

But have people forgotten that Ford also loves his brother? Yeah, he was angry, bitter and resentful, but he wouldn't have just let Stan die in the multiverse. Especially since that would be entirely his fault he got stuck there in the first place.

For people thinking, "But Ford was too blinded by rage! He didn't care for Stan until after Weirdmaggedon!", have you seen the show? Have you read the journal? Through everything that happened, Ford kept a photo (tattered and worn, obviously taken out a lot) of him and his brother in his left, inner breast pocket which is the one closest to the heart. If that wasn't enough, for those who haven't read the journal, Ford kept reminiscing about and mentioning his brother before the portal incident. Even though those lines were often crossed out, it was obvious that at least unconsiously he had Stan in mind a lot. And at the end of the journal, it is written that he worked day and night, to the point of passing out, to bring Stan's memories (and essencially Stan himself) back. (Oh and have we forgotten about the absolutely shattered expression he had when he erased Stan's memories? You don't look like that for a person you don't deeply care about).

Still not enough to believe that Ford cared about Stan before Stan's sacrifice?

Let's talk about the fact that when Ford was at his lowest, that being paranoid, sleep deprived, tortured by Bill, drowned in guilt, and completely alone, he reached out to Stan? He says it himself, "I needed help, someone I could trust." After everything, he still trusted Stan to an extent and believed him to be his last hope. You don't give trust like that to people you truly hate.

Ford was self-absorbed and egocentric, but also hurt and betrayed. That feeling came from a misconception, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It is understandable that he acted towards Stan the way he did, with venom and bitterness. But we can be angry at people we love and still care for their well-being.

How I said earlier, I don't think Ford would really open the portal. He wouldn't risk the entire world for Stanley. But I do think he would do anything in his power to be able to bring Stan back safely. You cannot be telling me that he'd be able to live with the guilt and not do anything about it if he could. After all, in his head, it would be his fault. He got tricked by Bill, he built the portal, he made Stan come to him and showed him the portal and he wasn't able to let go of the journal and fought Stan for it. I'm convinced he'd still throw some blame at Stan for some of the fight to make himself feel better at first, but after some time he would just blame himself completely (the same way I think Stan did with the science fair incident). The guilt for all of that would eat him alive.

Let's not forget, Stanley worked for 30 years, basically half his life to bring Stanford home and I believe Ford would be willing to do the same. He would just go about it differently. He would either try to get rid of the threat of Bill and then be willing to upgrade the portal and turn it on again, or maybe try to find a completely different way to get Stan back from the multiverse, or in the end something entirely different, I'm not fully sure.

What I am sure of is that Ford wouldn't just let Stan be stranded in the multiverse without doing absolutely nothing. Maybe he wouldn't succeed, maybe Stan would actually have to find his own way back home because Stanford wouldn't be able to find a solution without risking their entire universe. But Ford would at least try, give it his all, because despite everything, he still loves his brother. Differently than Stan loves him, because Ford is a different person than Stan, but he still does.

So I beg you, people. Stop taking Ford's complex character from him. He can be a selfish, self-centered asshole, but he's not heartless.

#gravity falls #gf #stanford pines #ford pines #stanley pines #stan pines #gravity falls stanley #gravity falls ford #gravity falls stanford #gavity falls stan

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stunies · 11 hours ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 29 — DUBCON. dabi x f!hero!reader ﾉ nsfw + dark content warning ﾉ return to masterlist & view tag list

what happens when your curiosity takes you to the league of villains’ hideout? luckily enough, there’s only one of them there to greet you— and the world seems kind enough to let you off with a sweet deal. fuck him just once to guarantee his silence, or so you thought.

contains ﾉ tw dark content: dubcon- very heavy dubcon to be safe, mentions of murder, brief mention of being his pet, fear play, reader has a support quirk that is not fit for fighting alone, forced orgasm, temperature play- kind of, hints of manipulation ﾉ corruption

The day you held your hero ID in your hands for the very first time also happened to be your first instance of being told to stay far away from the League of Villains.

You only vaguely remember the reasoning being that they were too dangerous for a support like yourself (especially one with zero experience under their belt) along with another thing that went in one ear and straight out the other.

A part of you has always wondered why the heroes you worked under had gone through so much trouble to ensure you stay back. Keep you hidden from the spotlight, perhaps- because how could you improve if you were always being protected? It was frustrating to see everyone besides yourself on the news.

Ironically, it’s the same reason why you’ve never been faced with the realization of how weak you really are until your head is being pressed into a table, arms easily held tight behind your back- and an infamous villain right behind you. A real one.

Not a simulation today- not one monitor in sight.

“Shigaraki would have loved to meet you,” his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel danger- a concept someone like you is entirely unfamiliar with. “He’s always had a thing for types like you.”

He pushes back inside- this time slowly, as if trying to brand the moment deep into your mind, and you only manage to weakly whimper when his hands tighten around your wrists, the heat emitting from his body acting as a cruel reminder that he has the power to kill- and you don’t.

“N-no,” the desperation in your voice is painfully obvious, “not him, okay? That wasn’t part of the deal..!” You can feel your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of meeting this man’s leader, breathing short and labored as different images flash across your mind as to what being ‘his type’ would imply.

You feel him throb inside you, and a whimper slips out.

“Ah, of course,” his hands land on your hips before he holds you still, letting himself push deeper inside you until you’re stuffed to brim- full of him. “I just wonder about what would happen to that fragile body of yours.”

“Just think about it…”

You think your body definitely shouldn’t be reacting like this. Underneath the trembling and shivering- your cunt flutters around him. Eagerly and hungrily, as if it’s been waiting for someone like him for years.

“Or… actually, how about this, hero?” He grunts- rougher now, pace picking up enough to make you gasp and lock up underneath him. “Forget the deal. Pay me a visit every week, and the League will never hear about you. How about it?”

“B-but—” You halt as soon as you feel his palms heat up against your skin.

“We both know that muscle-head would have a field day with you.” You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your temples, clammy hands struggling to keep your grip on the table. Your whole body feels numb- disobedient, but he feels good.

Too good for you to register exactly why your core suddenly feels so tight at the suggestion. “And if I remember, Compress likes types like you too. That guy’s got a mean streak,” Dabi leans to press his chest against yours- cold staples making you gasp, and he whispers against your neck, “he’d break you, you know.”

Your eyes widen- knees locking up, and your heartbeat rises to pound in your ears. “P-please— please slow down—”

He ignores you, only giving you a laugh in response. “What a pitiful state you’d be in. Think about it. I’ve been pretty nice, haven’t I?”

“W-wait!” You’re desperate now, reaching back to push at his hips and rising onto your toes to escape him. “I feel— feel weird—”

Something inside him seems to snap at this. You’re yelping as soon as your head is back on the table the next second- big hand roughly pushing you down and you sob. “What a hero you are,” he’s laughing loudly now, “cumming and crying on some League dick. Where are those pathetic bodyguards of yours now?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he moves to clamp his palm over it- roughly pulling you back in one swift motion until you’re flush against his chest. “Those ones drooling over you? How about I just kill them so you don’t have anywhere left to go? I’ll take you in as my pet,” you feel him smile against your neck- sick and twisted, and your cunt only clenches in response. “Be a good little hero and cum if you agree.”

Your eyes shoot open the same time he slams against a deep part inside you, body betraying every single shred of morality you have left when you cum, hard. It takes you by force, leaving no chance for it to go unnoticed by him when you’re clenching, shaking, and dripping underneath him like this. He has the heart to let go of you, let your weak body collapse onto the table beneath you as your chest heaves up and down for air, tears brimming your eyes and he only throbs inside you once more, hungry for more.

“Then it’s a deal.” His hands run up your sides, content with the way you shiver and lean into his touch. “A good choice, hero.”

dividers by @adornedwithlight

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niceonejames7 · 3 days ago

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it's a pathetic feeling.

sirius black x reader

words: 1.1k

content: sirius and you both attempt pottery, and ofc he's better at it. not that you're complaining.

genre: fluff, pining(?)

cw: swearing(?), metaphorical self depreciation, if that makes sense. other than that, nothing

a/n: in honor of my baby's birthday<33

this is a repost, so if you've seen this pls forgive me, idk what happened to my old acc.

song mentioned: blue suede shoes by elvis presley

15 minutes ago, Sirius saw your hands mold the lump of clay that sits there now as he absentmindedly spins the wheel. He's thinking about how soft your hands were when he put them around yours, telling you cup your palm to create a bend, or when both his and your thumbs made shape into a bowl. He's thinking about how you offered your hands after finishing it, to scrape off clay, and he had taken his sweet time getting off the extra mud. He's wondering if you noticed, or if you thought he was obvious, or desperate. This train of thoughts pulled into a halt when you came in, shaking your hands to dry them.

Sirius isn't used to feeling shy, or vulnerable, or even desperate. If he wants something, he gets it. He feels pathetic when he wakes up early to make you coffee, so he can hear your voice first. Or when he brushes his teeth so you don't have to smell the cigarette on him. When your hands cup his face, every other time as a way of thanking him. It's his favourite form of thank you.

It's a sickening feeling, like someone is pulling down his heart further and further deep, twisting it like a wet towel. His dirty hands give him excuses to keep busy, they're always trying to look for you. They always want to touch your arm, ruffle your hair, to hold your face, to have his thumbs run across your cheek.

“What do you think?" You ask him, and he looks at the lumpy bowl in front of him. It's not his best, far from it, but he didn't let her change it. You made this, with him, that was enough to make it special. The strange tugging feeling hits him again, and he tells himself it's because it's your first attempt. “Stupid”, he mutters to himself.

“It's great, my love.”

Your head tilts in amusement, a smile across your face, “This is useless Sirius, I'm gonna make another one.”

You roll your eyes and reach to take the bowl, to mush it together when his hands stop you. “Don't you even dare.” He takes a thread to get it off the wheel, and carefully picks it up.

“I will cherish this bowl you call useless forever,” he clutches the thing closer to his chest like a baby, but very gently, “Get away, you heathen.” Sirius says, all in his dramatic ways, as he flips his hair to walk off and set the bowl.

A strange sensation erupts in your body, it's warm, and cozy, even though it's cold out, and your hands are wet, slightly covered in mud. You panic a little, this comforting feeling is too familiar, too easy to skip into. Too addictive.

You look at your muddied hands now, which you had cleaned just seconds ago.

“I just washed my hands, dickhead.”

“Shouldn't have tried to ruin my masterpiece then.” He mutters quietly, but enough to let you hear.

You shake your head and find another piece of clay, and lay it down on the wheel. You spin the wheel, wet your hands and slowly start to mold the clay. Sirius comes back and sits down beside you, but as his hands reach yours you swat them away, “I'm doing this one by myself.”

Here goes his excuse. He doesn't protest, just sits there waiting, knowing you will ask for help.

As a shape starts to build, a crack forms down the side of the half crooked vase and a huff of annoyance escapes your lips. Sirius smiles and covers your hands and this time you let him.

It feels as if he's too aware of everything. The way your fingers fumble around his, or that your hair is too near his face, maybe you can hear his heartbeat. A faint feel of hot breath is evident on your neck and your shoulders, his usual scent more prominent because it's not covered by the cigarette smoke. Your breath is shallow as his arms are wrapped around yours.

The music Sirius had put on had now slipped into something light, and slow. All you wanted to do was squirm out of his grip, it was too much. You took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. You leaned back and relaxed against his chest. Your faces were touching now, lips so close and Sirius wanted to scream. Your hair was done up, your neck exposed and so close to his lips, it was driving him insane.

“There you go.” Silent words come out his mouth like a whisper, as he detaches his hand from yours, eager to get as far as he can, this want in his chest was too much for him to bear.

The anticipation hanging in the air is too much, too intense. “Thanks.”

And the one word answers aren't helping either.

Sirius' eyes lock in with yours, and for just a few seconds it's silence. But then the music bursts out, “WELL, it's one for the money, two for the show,” and you both jump in your seats.

This time the second you and Sirius look at each other again, you're laughing your ass off.

As the laughter slowly goes down, a new wave of it hits me an Sirius looks at me incredulously, followed shortly by his own amusement, and asks,

“What the hell?”

In fits of laughter you manage to get out,

“Did you hear Peter tried to make a move on Marlene?” You say, clutching your stomach,

“WHAT? No he did not.” His voice raises in incredulity, half laughing, half shocked,

“Yes, he did.”

You cannot speak anymore because it's hurting your stomach now, the situation being so funny as well as pitiful. The aprons you both wore were now dirtier than while you were actually doing pottery.

“Poor lad, he doesn't have a chance.”

Both of you pant to catch your breath, when the doorbell rings.

“I'll go get it.” Sirius says, jogging towards the bathroom to wash his hands. You take the vase and carefully take it off and place it beside the lumpy bowl.

An odd thought appears in your brain, where you compare it to Sirius and I. He's the vase and I'm the lumpy bowl, you think. The vase is clean, beautiful, perfect and smooth, and the bowl is everything opposite. It's a thought you cannot share with him, he will shut it down, and yell at you, all out of love, of course. You smile looking at your works and go wash your hands.

Sirius takes the food they ordered, pays the bill and sets it down on the kitchen table. Beside it, near the window, he sees their works.

His eyes are fixed on the bowl. He decides he will paint it, and put it as a showpiece. “Maybe with green, that's her favourite color,” he thinks. The vase is fine, but the bowl is much too special for him.

...........................

english isn't my first language so pls forgive any mistakes lmao

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #marauders #harry potter #hp marauders #marauders era #padfoot

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vroom--vrooming · 1 day ago

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Fernando Alonso x driver!Reader

Platonic. Mentor-mentee. Reader drives for McLaren

Your journey to Formula 1 was nothing short of a dream. As a kid, you had posters of Fernando Alonso on your wall, watched his every race, studied his every move. He was your hero, the driver who could make even the toughest battles on track look like art. Years later, that same hero had become your mentor, guiding you through the ups and downs of your journey in F2 and beyond.

You remember when he first noticed you, back in your F2 days. You’d just finished a race, pulling a stunning overtake in the last lap to clinch a podium. As you climbed out of your car, sweaty and exhausted, someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned, and there he was—Fernando Alonso, congratulating you with that knowing smile. “You remind me of myself,” he’d said, and from that moment on, everything changed.

Fernando took you under his wing, giving you tips, advice, and encouragement. He was tough, but he was always fair. “Learn to protect your tires,” he’d tell you, “and don’t give up an inch if you don’t have to.” With him guiding you, you pushed harder, improved faster. Even after you made it to Formula 1, with McLaren, he was always there, just a message or a call away, ready to offer advice before every race.

Everyone knew Fernando was your mentor, and he made it clear he was proud of you. In interviews, he’d praise your progress, your determination, and whenever you crossed paths in the paddock, he’d make sure to check in. His support meant the world to you, and it kept you grounded, knowing that the man you’d looked up to all these years believed in you.

Now, driving for McLaren with Lando Norris as your teammate, you’d had an incredible season so far, and the dream of your first win felt so close. But last race, that dream had been shattered. You were leading, just a few laps away from victory, when the radio crackled with a team order that sent a chill through you.

“Let Lando through,” they’d said. “It’s for the championship.”

Your heart had sunk. You were faster, you knew it, but McLaren wanted you to move aside, to help Lando secure points. You didn’t argue, though every fiber of you had wanted to fight. Following the order, you watched as Lando overtook, stealing away the win that should have been yours.

After the race, the frustration boiled inside you. All the hard work, the sacrifices—it felt like it had been taken away in an instant. Away from the cameras, you found a quiet corner in the paddock, trying to calm yourself, but nothing helped.

That’s when you saw Fernando. He approached quietly, and from the look on his face, you knew he understood exactly how you felt. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice calm. “Letting go of something that should have been yours.”

You nodded, struggling to keep your emotions in check. “It just feels… unfair. I had the win, Fernando. I could have done it.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I know. And so do you. Listen, this is part of racing. Sometimes, teams will make decisions that go against everything we feel. But here’s what I want you to remember.” His voice softened, but there was a strength in his words. “Next time, don’t let anyone hold you back. Do what you do best. Race, as fast as you can. If Lando can’t beat you on his own, then he’s not ready to be champion yet.”

You felt a spark of determination reignite inside you, the frustration giving way to a quiet resolve. Fernando’s words had always had a way of grounding you, of reminding you why you loved this sport in the first place. His confidence in you was something you couldn’t shake.

With renewed focus, you entered the next race with one thing on your mind: to race without holding back. From the start, you pushed your McLaren to its limits, the car responding beautifully as you took each corner, each straight with the precision Fernando had drilled into you over the years. Every lap, you felt stronger, more in control, the distance between you and the others growing.

Then, the team radio came alive. “We need you to let Lando pass.”

This time, you didn’t hesitate. “If he’s fast enough,” you replied, your voice steady, “he can try to catch me.”

The minutes ticked by, and Lando tried—he pushed hard, but he couldn’t close the gap. You held your line, focused on nothing but the track ahead, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline and pride with every lap. You were racing for yourself, for the win you deserved, and nothing was going to stop you this time.

The checkered flag waved, and you crossed the line in first place. Your first win in Formula 1. The realization hit you all at once, an overwhelming mix of joy, relief, and disbelief. You’d done it. You’d won.

As you climbed out of the car, the cheers from the crowd washed over you, and you felt the weight of every challenge, every sacrifice, lift from your shoulders. The team gathered around, clapping and congratulating you, but one face stood out in the crowd—Fernando.

He made his way over, his smile wide, his eyes filled with pride. Without a word, he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, the noise and excitement faded away.

“I knew you could do it,” he said quietly, his voice warm and full of pride. “This win was all yours.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the victory celebration. “Thank you, Fernando. For everything.”

He nodded, his hand still on your shoulder. “This is just the beginning. Keep racing like that, and no one will be able to stop you.”

As you stood there beside the man who’d guided you every step of the way, you knew he was right. This was only the start of what you could achieve.

#fernando alonso #Fernando Alonso x reader #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 one shot #formula1 #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris

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soldearestsoulmate · 21 hours ago

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Something small that doesn't strongly relate to the update/spoilers for now? (really had the urge write for Sol again. So here we go. lol)

Sol x GN!Reader

Sol lightly fidgeted and squirmed in his seat. He was trying to stay calm but it was hard to. Especially with you sitting across from him, looking at him, staring at him...Your attention completely on him, as you worked to try to draw him.

"Sol...Relax? We've done this many times now." You chuckled as you lightly added some strands of hair on his portrait. Really enjoying drawing his hair...But then went to work on the eyes more. Which already had enough work done as is. But it could never compare to the real thing. His eyes were just...perfect to you.

"I know...I just...You're so beautiful it's overwhelming in times." Sol turned away as he muttered that last bit. Making you raise a brow, then leaned over close to him to gently grab his chin, to make him turn his head back to you. As you gazed deeply into his eyes, just to examine them again for the drawing.

Sol felt his heart race rapidly now, as his face turned a deep shade of red but didn't move from your touch. If anything, he leaned more into it, his eyes lowering, half lidded, clearly enchanted by you now as he gazed back at you.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might drop this drawing just to kiss you now, you know?" Sol only hummed in response to your words. As he grabbed your hand now, freeing himself from your grasp. To then gently kiss your hand, sighing out softly in content.

Now it was your turn to blush hard and feel your heart race.

"That wouldn't be so bad...Your hand need a break anyway, pumpkin~." He smirked as he kept your hand close to his face now, taking in your warmth...and scent.

"I've only been drawing for a few minutes?" You bit your bottom lip lightly, trying to hold back a smile but failed terribly.

"A few minutes far too long to me..." Sol didn't waste anymore time as he cupped your face into his hands, pressing his lips against yours softly. Then waited to see if you'd return the kiss before proceeding, then smiled when you did.

You broke the kiss for a moment, but Sol tried to chase you. Whining from the loss of contact. "Fine...Just...a small break. Then back to drawing you. Understood?"

Sol response to that was to kiss you again, only more deeper this time. It surprised you, enough to earn a moan from you, which Sol got excited from as he kissed you more. Then pulled you in to make you sit on top of him and straddle him, practically closing off any distance between you two now.

"S-Sol?!" He chuckled at your reaction to this, kissing your neck now and nibbling at your any exposed skin he could find. Then proceed to give you more stronger bites, to leave his mark on you, causing you to whimper.

"Mine~...All mine~..." His hands gripped onto the sides of your waist, pulling you in closer as he lightly started to grind against you now. Making your body heat up from the action and friction. All while you tried your hardest to stay quiet from this all, but it was to no avail.

His grinding, on top of him continuing his kisses and bites on your neck, shoulders, anywhere now honestly. Made you putty in his hands now, as you soon enough were a whimpering moaning mess before him. Which was music to his ears~... 💚

#;literature 🖋️#imma write something soft. *few minutes later* so anyway y'all are gonna fu--#adding in tags for a bit.#tkatb vn #the kid at the back vn #sol x mc #sol x reader

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jiraisupportgroup · 2 days ago

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˗ˋˏ ♡ Jirai Kei Survey Results ♡ ˎˊ˗

(NOTE!! I re-opened it because I saw some people saying they were sad they didn’t respond!! It’s open again! You can take it here)

Hi hi!!! First of all, I'm so sorry that this took me like an entire month to make, and second of all thank you to everyone who participated in the survey I posted a while ago! It got 89 total responses which is awesome!! So many more than I was expecting, you guys are awesome ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I've got a spreadsheet of all the answers given in October 2024 here if you want to go view them for yourself ^-^ (I have redacted pronouns and location for privacy sake)

I also went through and read everyone's answers and pulled some of the main points / focuses people had to make into little graphics for simplification and comparison's sake (This is a huge part of why it took so long because I didn't want to misrepresent anyone's points so I went person by person and considered all of their answers and overall vibe before pulling the main points just to make sure I wasn't accidentally changing or misunderstanding their points).

Please keep in mind: 89 people is NOT a large enough sample size to extrapolate this to the entirety of the Jirai Kei community - this is really just an exploration of the people who answered the survey - it does not represent the feelings of the community as a whole. This survey is derived from the western community as the survey is in English and was posted in primarily English-speaking areas.

Also just as a note I messed up when making the selections for the ages and put 18-21 and then 21-25 so people of the age of 21 could have picked either - this isn't ideal but since I messed it up in the original choice options I'm keeping it listed as that because I think changing 21-25 to 22-25 would be disingenuous.

I'm going to go question by question and kind of break it down if you're interested! I'm also going to try and remain mostly neutral and not really put my personal opinions in here. My main goal is to kind of break down what was said in the survey.

Demographics:

It's a pretty good mix of people. Also, hi!!! So many of you are from so far away!!!! That was really exciting to see. To be honest, it was super cool to see how this community encompasses people from all over the world!!! (Also, as a note here, there was one person who answered the survey who was over 40. I included their answers in the 26-30 range just for simplicity sake.)

I also did not make a graphic for the pronouns: primarily she / her, followed by they / them or any / all, followed by he / him or he / they pronouns just in case you were curious. I also took the pronouns out of the original answers document since I know quite a few people use neo-pronouns which are quite unique and I didn't want anyone to see those and connect that person to their answers, I wanted it to remain as anonymous as possible. I redacted the locations for the same reason.

I did not make a graphic for the languages either but those are included in the original answers spreadsheet that I have linked above. Many people speak Japanese, Russian, German, Spanish, and French. Those were the main answers besides English.

I don't have too much to say about the social medias to be honest. Discord, Youtube, and Twitch are likely under-represented in this since they were write-ins and not part of the general selection.

How did you first hear about Jirai Kei?

I don't have a graphic for this one either. It looks like most people learned about it because they already had an interest in j-fashion. A decent number of people mentioned Needy Streamer Overload. Lots of people came from Pinterest, Instagram, TikTok, and Tumblr. Many people also said they were into Menhera and came from there.

How would you describe Jirai Kei to someone who hasn't heard of it before?

Again, no graphic for this one - highly reccommend to go read some of the answers on the linked sheet above. It was pretty split between people talking about the aesthetics & fashion vs people talking about the mental health community. A lot of people mentioned that if they were talking to someone they didn't know very well or who didn't have any knowledge of j-fashion they would say it's a style and move on, while if they were talking to a friend or someone who did know a little more about j-fashion they would talk more about the mental health aspects and history of the subculture.

A few quotes (I'm trying to get a good mixture of opinions in here, please note these are mostly smaller parts of larger answers - this goes for all the quotes added in this post): ♡ "Usually it's easier for me to just send the wikipedia link to people though honestly" ♡ "a subculture of mostly young women with mental illness who share certain interests in jfashion etc..." ♡ "...a lot of ppl often tell me it just sounds like the jp version of emo." ♡ "A subculture for mentally ill people who can’t, won’t, or don’t want to recover" ♡ "depending on my knowledge on their opinions on mental health, i'd either go with a basic explanation of the fashion if they dont seem like the type to be sympathetic of ppl with mental health issues, but if they seem like the sympathetic type, i'd go more into detail of the origins and lifestyle associated with the subculture." ♡ "Being cute despite your mental illness! Also a bit of consumerism and idol worship..." ♡ "It's mainly a stereotype" ♡ "I would recommend watching cybr.grls video on jirai kei " ♡ "It’s an alternative japanese fashion style with frilly, lacey, and dark garments! The main colors it will be are very muted pinks, blacks, grays, whites, or even reds or purples (albeit rare)" ♡ "Jirai Kei is the term used to describe the fashion style related to Jirais / Landmines , which was a derogatory term used to describe mentally ill girls who had an “explosive” personality , wearing cute clothing to distract / hide men from their personality. It usually consists of frills , ribbons and lace , blouses and skirts , with a colour palette of black and muted colour varients like pink and blue , and white. "

To your understanding where does Jirai Kei come from? What's it's history?

Again, no graphic for this one (T-T these are just too complex for me to comfortably break down into bite-size pieces). Most people talked about the Toyoko kids, a bit less talked about host / hostess clubs, and quite a few vague nods to Kabukicho in general. About a fifth of the people just talked about overall mental health in Japan. Interesting mixture of answers - different people seem to latch on to different parts of the origins, which is likely based on what they relate with the most. I was surprised that only a few people mentioned the "Jirai Kei" makeup trend of 2019/2020 - I honestly thought that would be talked about a little bit more ngl. Interesting read for sure.

A few quotes: ♡ "jirai kei became seen as clothes worn by dangerous or unstable women, hence the trend " ♡ "the history between jirai kei && the toyoko kids sometimes get mixed together because of their resemblances , but it's important to note the two are different . jirai kei define an instable person who will explode at some point like a bomb , but you don't know when ( landmine ) . initially , it was mostly used to refer to girls who threaten their boyfriend to kill him or themselves if the boy left them . since jirais are disordered or mentally ill , they often engage in unhealthy behaviours . the toyoko kids on the other hand are teens who ran away from home to live in the streets instead . most of them suffered from abuse && causally have disorders or illnesses . this is where the two subcultures came together to form one : the jirai kei we know now..." ♡ " The clothing style that is most typically seen on social media stems from the fact that these clothes where cute but cheap to come by. " ♡ "Jirai kei as a term originated from misogynistic men calling mentally ill women “explosive.” The style came from poor (unfortunately, often sex workers) youth in Japan. It how we’ve became popularized and somewhat mainstream there after a while." ♡ "then in 2020 people started dressing up in stereotypical "toyoko kid/jirai woman style" to make fun of them before brands saw how popular this trend became and decided to start selling clothes based off this idea. the original style is known as dark girly kei which uses elements from both dark girly and girly kei the latter being a style that was popular with 2010s gyaru and evolved to incorporate french girly and dark girly motifs making it what it is today. other styles such as subcul and suna kei are also extremely popular with jirai to the point of being synonymous with the style." ♡ "...Thus, the fashion style was associate with "Jirai Onna" and became "Jirai Kei". The fashion style extended beyond Kabukicho and many girls and women wear the style in Japan due to the kawaii look and the popularity of the style within many fashion brands. Another demographic that has popularised Jirai Kei is idol fangirls who wore girly kei and jirai kei fashion. The style was also given the term "ryousangata" meaning "mass produced" an insult basically calling the girls who wear the style "basic"."

What do you think differentiates Jirai Kei from other subcultures?

Okay since this is the first type of this graphic we're seeing let me explain what you're looking at. I took key points or words and quantified how many people mentioned it as a larger part of their explanation. There were a LOT of other things mentioned these were just the ones that came up repeatedly.

Many people were confused by this question and said there are too many differences to even describe, which is completely fair. There were two main types of answers to this question. The first is that fashion is what makes it different because it's a fashion-based subculture or if not fashion-based, fashion is a big part of it. The other is that it's a community based around mental health primarily unlike other subcultures which are based on fashion or music. A lot of people who mentioned this went on to say that the thing that differentiates it from Menhera specifically (because menhera is also based in mental and physical health) was the idea that Menhera is very recovery, resource, and awareness focused, while Jirai Kei isn't focused on those things at all and is more so just people looking for a sense of community.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "menhera is art and advocacy focused, jirai is community focused. menhera also is more recovery focused often, whereas jirai places no emphasis on that at all" ‪♡ "Dawg idk how to tell you this… there’s too many examples and they’re all so different" ♡ "For starters, its background story, the clothing doesn't look the same either.... Jirai culture is not really focused on getting better mentally, much on the contrary... being mentally ill is praised, spending an insane amount of money on clothes you don't exactly need is praised...." ‪♡ "I’ve seen jp jirais say that jirai kei is whatever a jirai girl chooses to wear, it can literally be anything. However, at the moment it visually is a combination of menhera and dark girly kei. Because it’s new though, it’s already having subsets form and change that." ♡ "i think jirai is unique in its rejection of the “just get better” culture a lot of places have. Most people think of inability or unwillingness to improve a moral failing. " ‪♡ "Jirai Kei has a distinct history and recognisable style" ♡ "menhera is about finding a community that wishes to accept you and want to encourage you to get better jirai kei is not about wanting to get better thats a very important distinction" ♡ " - idk how to explain??? It’s like asking what differenciates gyaru and goth lol" ♡ "the subcul is definitely viewed in an extremely negative way compared to other subculs, even menhera. I also think that other subculs like Emo, Anime, and Idol culture revolve a lot around the fashion aspect. While jirai is best known for the Dark Girly fashion, i think that jirai in itself, as mentioned before, is more about the lifestyle that we life, our mental health, and the struggles we go through either on purpose or not" ‪♡ "for many i'd say the fashion is what differenciates them. while they can overlap with common traits under the other subcultures, it's still quite different." ♡ "i do believe that the associated fashions (again, not just dark girly, but also tenshi kaiwai, subcul, etc.) are necessary to set a landmine apart from these cultures. the fashions is a huge part of the subculture and sets it apart from these other mental-health based subcultures. that is why i personally believe that a landmine must at least wear the associated fashions OCCASIONALLY to be considered part of the subculture."

What kind of Jirai Kei content do you engage with the most?

This one again, no graphic. Top answer was outfit / coord posts (82%), second most common was vent posts (67.4%), third was dark humour (58.2%)

Are you interested in the fashions associated with Jirai Kei? Which ones?

Again, not too much to say overall about this.

One thing to note is that some of these answers could technically be lumped in with other ones, like "all of them" could be counted towards Dark Girly Kei, Girly Kei, Tenshi Kaiwai, etc but I kept it separate. Same with "Jirai IS the fashion" which could be lumped into Dark Girly Kei but again I kept it separate unless they mentioned it in their answer.

The one that isn't like that is "No Interest" because if someone was of the mind that the fashion is called Jirai Kei and said they weren't interested in the other fashions they're in the "Jirai IS the fashion" count, while the people in the "No Interest" count were of the idea that the name of the fashion is not Jirai Kei and is rather Dark Girly Kei so they have their own count.

What role do you think the asssociated fashions play in Jirai Kei? Do you need to wear them to be considered "Jirai" or part of the community?

Again, this has been vastly simplified but I tried really hard not to misunderstand or misrepresent anyone's points. The categories names are a bit strange so let me explain what I mean by them:

‪♡ "No, it's a lifestyle" - This person believes that you do not have to wear the associated fashions to be part of the Jirai Kei community because it is first and foremost a subculture based around mental health and finding people who relate to you that you can talk to about these things. They also tend to believe "Jirai Kei" is the not proper name for the fashion, and that to be part of the Jirai Kei community you must be either mentally ill or at least open and understanding about mental illness. ‪♡ "No, it's both a lifestyle and a fashion" - This person believes that you do not have to wear the associated fashions to be part of the Jirai Kei community. They tend to believe that Jirai Kei is both a lifestyle and a fashion, and you can participate in either the overarching mental health community based around Jirai Kei or the fashion side of things and be accepted either way. This kind of answer tended to imply that both the people looking for a mental health-related safe space and people who just like the fashion are welcome. ‪♡ "Yes, it's both a lifestyle and a fashion" - This person believes you do have to wear the associated fashions to be part of the Jirai Kei community. They tend to believe that Jirai Kei is the proper title for both the mental health subculture and the overarching fashion and you have to participate in both to be considered part of the Jirai Kei community. ‪♡ "Yes, it's a fashion" - This person believes Jirai Kei is a fashion style, if you wear it, you are welcome in the Jirai Kei community.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "the fashion has almost taken over the community, and overshadows its origins." ‪♡ "I don‘t think the Fashion is the central aspect, but it brings people in. It’s historically speaking a part of Jirai Kei, but not the most inportant thing. You can be Jirai and not dress like it." ‪♡ "Yes to be considered Jirai one should wear the clothing of the subculture they are trying to claim. I don’t think you have to branch out into any jirai substyles though if it’s not your vibe." ‪♡ "No if you're a lifestyle jirai, yes if you're a fashion jirai. If you're a lifestyle jirai I think just wanting to be jirai is enough" ‪♡ "i definitely do think that people who dont wear the fashion can be considered jirai, as thats how the word originally got its meaning, though nowadays its definitely more recognized as a fashion style." ‪♡ "It's just a part of the stereotype because a lot of us happen to wear it not because we need to." ‪♡ "it’s such an enormous part of the subculture that leaving out the fashion aspect makes your “landmineness” indistinguishable from a thousand other subcultures." ‪♡ "i think the fashion gave way to helping people who are mentally unwell or don’t feel good find and outlet to feel better, wether it be makeup, or the clothes for me it makes me feel pretty and distracts from the fact i’m depressed. i think just wearing “jirai” as a fashion or style doesn’t necessarily mean you are unwell though, you can participate and be okay in the head lmao, and ofc be in the community. i think the problem lies within the title of jirai. " ‪♡ "i don't think you necessarily NEED to wear them to be jirai, but i think that an interest in them is pretty important because the fashion and aesthetics are closely intertwined with the subculture " ‪♡ "I actually think the biggest thing to a Jirai look is Jirai makeup. I think as long as you have that, then you are Jirai enough. " ‪♡ "While I don't think you have to wear the fashion to be jirai, the fashion does play a big part in the subculture and people need to acknowledge that. " ‪♡ "to an extent, yes you do, but it's more important just to have an interest in them. nobody needs to wear them 24/7 and if you can't afford clothes then it is what it is, but you can't really call yourself jirai if you have no interest in one of the main aspects of the subculture (the aesthetics)" ‪♡ "nah, as long as u wear alternative fashion and know ur shit and participate in the culture ur fine."

Can non-Japanese people be "Jirai"? Why or why not?

Most people said yes (which is kind of to be expected since this is in English and most of the people who answered are not Japanese so I will note this is biased), but a lot of people brought up different points.

Some of the "yes" pool are people who believe Jirai Kei is just a fashion and brought that up as their point. Some of the "yes" pool are people who are more into the mental health side of things and talked about how people in different countries still experience mental struggles and that's something everyone can relate to in their own way.

The "Yes but it's different" pool is mostly comprised of people talking about the mental health aspects of the community and mentioning that although foreigners can be part of the Jirai Kei community, it is important to understand that the things that many Japanese "Jirai"s go through are things that we will not experience due to the differences in our mental health care resources / infrastructure and the infrastructure of the Japanese sex-work industry. Essentially, we can go through really similar things but the overall cultures make it quite different.

Some Quotes: ‪♡ "yes, especially when a trend originally comes from sex work in which non-japanese people living in japan are overrepresented." ‪♡ "Yes, I’ve seen from the pov’s of Japanese landmines and they are open to it because we’re all supposed to be there for each other because nobody else is" ♡ ‪"Yeah, I think they can be, BUT they shouldn't go around acting like they are the template for what a landmine is, or demanding changes to the culture, just because they wear the fashion and/or are mentally ill. It's roots lie in Japan, so the "originals" are still Japanese Jirais" ‪♡ "of course they can ! never did the term refer to exclusively japanese people . even when the initial term " merged " with the toyoko kids , it didn't make it an exclusively japanese term . as long as you fit the " criterias " , you can be a jirai if you choose to label yourself as one ! ♡" ‪♡ "Nowadays I'd like to consider it a fashion style and fashion styles travel all around the world as long as u don't claim to be japanese cause you are wearing jirai you are good. You should also respect and learn the story of the style before u decide to wear it since it's more troubling than other styles." ‪♡ "Very unlikely. There are many factors that would eliminate most people to be "true Jirai kei" ie. experiencing homelessness as well as involved with sex work and host club addiction. Emily from the suburbs who lives with her family and has depression could not be Jirai kei but can partake in the cool fashion. Calling themselves Jirai would not be up to par with the real meaning of it." ‪♡ "Yes. The Japanese jirais don’t seem to disagree so I’m not sure why I would." ‪♡ "yes of course, its important to say that non japanese people often have different issues as japanese people but that doesnt make them less valid meaning they can still use the style as representation of their own issues" ‪♡ "yes and no. if you disregard the fashion and makeup or frame jirai kei as a "menhera" community when its not then you dont really deserve to call yourself a jirai onna. acknowledging that your generally live a better life because of your privilege of being outside of japan. though i can understand calling yourself a jirai onna if you suffer extremely similar problems to that of toyoko kids especially if you suffer from BPD." ‪♡ "Ofc it's clothes" ‪♡ "Yes, of course! Jirai kei is for anyone and I don't see a reason why people can't participate/ want to gatekeep it. I just think it's important to learn about the history and not be a jerk to those who participate in only the lifestyle or only the fashion part."

What does "Jirai Kei" mean to you personally? Why do you associate with the subculture?

I chose to make a word map for this to kind of point towards some of the most repeated words throughout the answers. A lot of these answers are very sad to read (just a heads up before you start going through them), but that is kind of to be expected. Most people mention mental illness and personal struggles with things like EDs, SH, alcoholism, other unhealthy coping mechanisms, or relationship issues. The thing that really stood out to me was that a majority of the people who are of the idea that "Jirai Kei" is the name of the fashion still brought up how the community feels comforting to them because they struggle with mental illnesses and relationship issues. Very few people just said "I like the clothes", most people also mentioned mental struggles in their answers.

I think that's an important thing to note. It really highlights the fact that you never know what someone is going through behind the screen. You only know what they choose to post, and many people choose to post cute outfit photos and things of that nature, but they still can be hurting behind all of that.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "it’s comforting to identify as one and feel like there’s a subculture out there of people who feel similarly to me. everyone connects with the label in different ways" "I like being able to relate with people and have somewhere to post my vents and get things off my chest without judgment" ‪♡ " i was paranoid for not being mentally ill enough for the community, i was absolutely terrified of making jirais mad at me and being rejected. to this day i am terrified of the day when they decide i did not suffer enough to be a jirai. but such a thought is twisted in and of itself, right?" ‪♡ " I love dressing up as fashion is a major coping mechanism for me and I feel delighted at being able to express myself through clothes: it is an art form. Dressing in the subculture's fashions has allowed me to express myself and come to terms with my experiences and who they made me today." ‪♡ "Funny enough my mom calls me a jirai girl (in a derogatory way since she has a typical older japanese person mindset) but i don't mind saying that i am one without shame. especially because i don't believe that my mental illness is something that should be stigmatized and judged. calling myself jirai feels liberating in a way..." ‪♡ "I feel like because I cannot wear the style (not enough money + sizing is difficult) I cannot call myself Jirai kei but I notice others who don’t wear the style call themselves Jirai, which is comforting. I’ve always struggled with mental health for most of my life and I’ve always loved Jfashion subcultures, so obviously I was drawn to Jirai." ‪♡ " i do think people who just wear dark girly kei should be careful when using the term jirai kei if they aren't in the subculture though. i see people say they're jirai and then mock the mentally ill people like?? you aren't jirai you WEAR jirai kei 💀💀 there is a difference!!" ‪♡ "i am also transgender - my girlhood is very important and nostalgic to me but it is also inseparable from dysphoria and sickness, and i think dark girly/jirai fashion helps me to express that." ‪♡ "I found I appreciated the relaxed attitude towards mental health struggles, nightlife activities and a visual indicator that someone might be a little “dangerous” or someone that likes to party." ‪♡ "when I first started, "I want to become cute!" was a big theme I was seeing. I can be cute even though I'm ugly and have bad mental health and it's ok. the style of the clothes is the biggest appeal." ‪♡ "I honeslty really only associate myself with the fashion aspect of it, since it’s something I really love. So instead of calling myself “Jirai”, I like to say I “dress in Jirai” instead." ‪♡ "To me, it's just the clothes. I don't call myself Jirai by itself because it's insulting"

What would you say the pre-requisites to being part of the Jirai Kei community are?

40% of people mentioned mental illness or struggles as a main part of the subculture. There were different approaches to the way that they mentioned it though. Some people were saying "you should be mentally ill since 'Jirai' is an insult used against mentally ill people and the explosive nature is part of the subculture" and others were saying "If you are mentally healthy you should stay away from Jirai Kei to protect yourself because you're going to see triggering things".

Many people said you don't have to be mentally ill to be part of the community, but you should understand that you are going to be interacting with people who are mentally ill and not bully people for venting. Some people said you have to be mentally ill and not wanting or willing to recover to be part of the community (although this was only 3% of people).

On the other hand, about 16% of people said that the only thing you need to do to be part of the community is wear the clothing.

People who mentioned both mental illness and clothing in their answers were divided into 4 different categories: ‪♡ "Mental illness" - they mention the fashion but state is it not a requirement for the community ‪♡ "Wear the fashion" - they may or may not mention mental illness, but do not think it is a requirement for the community ‪♡ "Wear the clothes AND be mentally ill" - they mention both and think both are required for the community ‪♡ "Wear the clothes OR be mentally ill" - they mention both and think you can either participate in the fashion side of things or the mental health side of things, but you don't have to participate in both.

Many people also mentioned doing the makeup as a big part of it. Some of the people who mentioned makeup as a requirement said that even if you don't wear the clothes as long as you do the makeup you're good.

A lot of people also said if you like the clothes or the community or whatever you're all good, so long as you don't bully anyone. Their general vibe was that anyone is welcome to hang out so long as they aren't mean to others. (Many people counted in the "don't be mean to 'fashion' onlys are also counted in the "don't be mean to 'lifestyle' onlys category as well. And as a note a lot of them didn't use those terms specifically I just used them to shorten "people who only wear the clothing" and "people who only participate in the mental health community" because those are looooooooong titles)

There isn't an overarching general consensus. It is very split and debated. (Which we all know). A lot of people were very passionate about their definitions though, which is to be expected. Mental health is a very touchy and personal topic for a lot of people, so people on both sides have really passionate emotions about it.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "i think people who are mentally healthy should stay away from the community; both so they don’t judge those whose thoughts they don’t understand but also for their own protection and comfort. the topics talked about in jirai spaces are triggering and disturbing. i don’t blame, nor judge jirais forthe abusive behavior neurotypicals could accuse them of — it is often not their fault and a mentally healthy person could easily harm a jirai as well. i think such interactions would end up with mutual suffering on each side." ‪�� " to call yourself a jirai you need to wear the makeup, the clothes, and suffer from some sort of mental illness especially if your livelihood is often threatened by the fact you have these conditions. and its OKAY to not cal yourself a jirai its NOT A GOOD THING to want to be a jirai mentally ill people who call themselves jirai onna are mentally ill and just find comfort in some form by the title." ‪♡ ". i do feel like these are two separate communities with some overlap, especially with the recent western discourse. i don't like these terms as i feel they are a bit harsh but there is a difference between "fashion only jirai" and "lifestyle jirai". of course anyone can appreciate cool clothes but the landmine side of the community deserves a safe space to talk about their issues and relate to each ‪other without uneducated jirai kei wearers bashing them" ‪♡ "i wouldnt say you necessarily have to be struggling mentally to be considered jirai kei, but i dont personally like the way some fashion only jirais negatively talk about the more lifestyle jirais at times. i also however dont think lifestyle jirais should be actively trying to call people out for being a fashion only jirai. it could end up being quite harmful, as you never really know what people are going through." ‪♡ "You may have a mental illness such as BPD which directly links to the “Explosive Landmine” personality. Otherwise it’s fine to just call yourself a Fashion Landmine and only wear Jirai Kei without “being Jirai”." ‪♡ "It really depends on if someone likes the fashion only, identifies as a jirai (landmine person), or both. Someone who likes the fashion may just say they dress in jirai kei clothes. Also, just because someone identifies themselves as a stereotypical jirai and calls themselves just landmine doesn't always mean they wear the fashion either; although it's more common for someone to do both and straight-up call themselves jirai." ‪♡ "being mentally ill (and i mean... cmon a little more than just depression and anxiety because like all of gen z struggles with that((this isn't the mental illness olympics but this is meant to be a safe space for people struggling with more severe illnesses))) and owning like a few coords that isn't that one DML coord that everyone has and wearing the damn makeup" ‪♡ "I think just respecting the community. You don't have to be "mentally ill enough" to join but you do need to respect people no matter their problems and coping mechanisms." ‪♡ "Hot take but if you’re not a Jirai in Japan you’re not a true Jirai and I don’t mean the fashion I’m talking about life choices . You can wear the fashion without having to call yourself a landmine" ‪♡ "there's no requirement, anyone can wear the fashion. it's just clothes."

Do you feel like there is a difference between "Jirai Kei" and "Landmine Kei"?

Most people said no, which is the kind of idea that I had but I wanted to ask because I have seen people use them in different ways. Most of the people who said yes said that in English-speaking circles Landmine is used more to talk about the mental health aspects of things while Jirai is used more when talking about the fashion or overall community. Which I think is interesting. It seems to me that separating Landmine and Jirai is another way that people try to separate the clothing from the mental health community like the distinction people make between Jirai Kei and Dark Girly Kei fashions. (Anything else I have to say here would go into my own opinions so I'm going to leave it at that - it's an interesting thing to think about).

A few quotes: ♡ "i believe there is a difference between simply wearing jirai kei and being a landmine. people in the english speaking community generally use landmine kei to describe the mentally ill side of the community even though jirai literally means landmine. i only see landmine kei used in context of like the fashion mine vs lifestyle mine debate." ♡ "From my experience, I have seen many English speakers misinterpret the term 'Jirai Kei' and water it down to fashion but, of course, that shouldn't represent all of the English-speakers partaking in the discussion." ♡ "Anywho considering Jirai is a direct translation to Landmine, I don’t see how they could be any different." ♡ "I think Landmine Kei is more dressing up as the stereotype and Jirai Kei is the lifestyle that predates the stereotype." ♡ "I feel like calling it landmine kei does alert people more to the mental health side of the subculture"

What is your favourite part of the Jirai Kei Subculture?

This was a combined question "What is your favourite and least-favourite part of the subculture" and most people skipped the favourites part and started just talking about what they hate which did make me a little bit sad. I really liked reading about what people liked in the community.

Most people said the fashion was their favourite part. Both people who said that Jirai Kei is a mental health-based community and people who said Jirai Kei is a fashion-based community brought up fashion as a favourite part of theirs.

"Community" is a very vague thing - in this context, it mostly means they were talking about how they share a lot in common with people in the community whether that be fashion, idols, music, aesthetics, mental health, etc. However, most of the people who mentioned mental health as a main part of why they love the community are counted in "Safe Space" instead.

A few quotes: ♡ "I have dealt with a ton of ableism and med shaming before irl and in other places online, but never in the jirai community. So it makes me happy that I can vent without people treating me like I'm "crazy" or trying to force dramatic changes onto me." ♡ "I love the clothes so much of course so the aesthetic of the fashion is my favorite." ♡ "The clothes of course, I really loved visiting the clothes shops in Japan. People in Japan are really nice about my clothing and often compliment me when I wear Jirai Kei, plus all of the shopgirls are really kind." ♡ "my fav part is the super cute clothes and how u can meet so many other ppl who not only have the same fashion style, but also similiar/same issues/experiences as you, so you can share pretty much anything with no judging at all!!! ^_^" ♡ "I like having a place where I can be open about the reality of my mental illnesses without being bombarded with “solutions”." ♡ "i love wearing cute outfits, seeing other people's codes and seeing other landmines experiences ." ♡ "the fact that people actually understand how i think / feel most of the time , and that i won't get weird looks / i won't be judged for things" ♡ "Most favourite: people identifying each other and bonding over shared experiences (and of course, the fashion)" ♡ "I love the community as a space for people on all lines of recovery to come together and exist without judgement" ♡ "My favorite part of the subculture is blogs, the fact that the people in the community get to share their thoughts & be related to & validated makes me really happy" ♡ "I love how empowering Jirai Kei makes me feel."

What is your least favourite part of the Jirai Kei subculture?

NOTE BECAUSE SOME OF THEM GOT CUT OFF: ‪♡ "People who say you have to be..." is "People who say you have to be mentally ill" ‪♡ "People who use mental illness as an..." is "people who use mental illness as an excuse to be mean" ‪♡ "People who say you have to buy" is "people who say you have to buy certain brands"

The top answer was fashion Jirais. This is a combination of people who specifically said the term "Fashion Jirai" and people who said things like "people who only wear the clothes" or "people who think the community is just cute clothes and ignore the mental illness aspect of it". I combined those into the same count.

"Anti-recovery" as a category is more than just people talking about how recovery isn't front and centre like Menhera, or people talking about venting - it is specifically people who talked about people who say you cannot be in recovery if you are part of the Jirai Kei community.

"Glamorization of Sh/Ed" also is more than just people talking about posts that talk about those things, it is people who specifically said it is over-romanticized / glamourized. And as a note this is different from "lifestyle Jirais" since that category includes people that are just talking about vent posts or mention "lifestyle jirai"s by name.

"Lifestyle Jirais" and "People who don't wear the clothes" are also two different categories, lifestyle jirais is either people who said that by name or were talking about people who vent or think the community is mental-health based, and "people who don't wear the clothes" is just that, it's the people who specifically called that out.

I don't have too much to add here since I can't really add anything here without stating my personal opinions which isn't what I'm trying to do right now. I did find it comforting that most other people are sick of the discourse, and it's both people who think Jirai Kei is fashion-based and people who think Jirai Kei is mental health-based that were saying this.

A few quotes: ♡ "But there are legit people on here who act like you're 'fake' if you aren't attempting suicide every hour or something lmao" ♡ "i'm sick of sharing my safe space with people who think it's just a pink blouse and some short skirts and a bow." ♡ "putting a label on jirai that you have to act a certain way seems wrong. some rules and bashing on other girls wanting to wear the fashion is very wrong too." ♡ "i’m simply utterly terrified of rejection." ♡ "My least favorite would probably have to be those who promote self harm or say you have to engage in some sort of dangerous stuff to be a part of the subculture. While many of us do struggle with these things, it's super unnecessary to push people (mostly the fashion only jirai keis) to harm themselves." ♡ "least fav is that there are a lot of gatekeepers who want you to prove that you're actually mentally ill or they turn it into a competition of who's suffering the most. I also don't like how many jirai are anti recovery if someone chooses to recover (not forced, but their own choice). and I don't like that there are some really young kids in the community, like 13 and under" ♡ "I hate the people who slap a random pink shirt on and a black mini skirt and call it jirai because it’s not. Jirai is so much more than pink and black." ♡ "least fav is probably the fact how some ppl will say the most vile shit ever and use the fact that theyre a jirai as an excuse (it can always be a reason for said behavior, but never an excuse!! 😭😭)" ♡ "fashion "jirais". i don't like discourse at all , but i really wish people would understand the whole point of jirai kei before calling themselves a landmine :(" ♡ "the least, however, are the people who say you "dont need to be mentally ill to call yourself jirai" which is just ridiculous" ♡ "I don't like the narrative that we have to buy from the original designer or it's not Jirai, that's just buying into what the fashion industry wants you to think. A fashion is a style, not a designer brand. Quite frankly I just don't like being limited to certain brands." ♡ "Constant discourse (assuming that people can't resonate with the subcul just because they're not as vocal about their experiences as the others PLUS the bullying of actual people who struggle for venting when that is the core of this subcul)" ♡ "i wish it was more mature because many jirai people are in their early teens (12-14) and i feel the need to act as a role model in spaces that include minors, rather than speaking freely as i would normally among people closer to my age" ♡ "least favourite: weird gatekeeping (eg. "you can't wear jirai kei because you're not mentally ill""), shaming peoples looks and fatshaming in general" ♡ "My least favorite is the ones who say you have to be anti-recovery to be jirai. It's okay to be tired of hurting." ♡ "i detest the infighting, and the way that it's rapidly growing is kind of pissing me off because im more comfortable in smaller communities" ♡ "As for least favourite, glorification of ED and SH (I must note, glorification, not just the fact people discuss/have it in the community) as well as the fatphobia and such"

Overall very interesting read and very mixed responses, but also not actually as mixed as I thought they would be. Most people landed somewhere in the middle where they considered both fashion and mental health to be parts of the subculture and just had different levels of importance for those two things. Most people also did mention mental health being part of their reasoning for being here, whether they engage more in the fashion side of things or the mental health side of things.

If there are any clarifying questions about what the titles of things in these graphs really mean or why I chose to break things down in the way that I did I am more than happy to provide clarification to that! I'll try to respond to any comments like that as soon as I can. I won't be engaging in discourse or defending any points or anything (at least not here) - this is more about the answers to the survey and not my personal opinions so pls understand T-T.

If you read all that mess thank you! Took me a while to actually get all of this compiled. If you didn't thank you regardless! Especially if you responded in the survey to begin with ♡

Also if anyone is uncomfortable with their answer being posted in the answers document please contact me either on Tumblr @jiraisupportgroup or on Reddit @ Mara-melody (DMs should be open on both) with the details about which response was yours and I will delete it from the publicly available document! Thank you!!

#jirai kei #jiraiblr #poll #poll results #i don't know how to tag this to be honest #mara is yapping??? but its not really *MY* yappings #I'll tag it anyway #mara is yapping #Jirai talk

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httpvomitello · 2 days ago

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Heart Squad *⁠.⁠✧

request: The girl reader has a heart-shaped birthmark on her stomach. And they find out about it when everyone is swimming in the pool. I would like with turtles from 2018?

You'd never seen the turtles so excited. It had been ages since they'd had the chance to just chill without training or fighting some mutant, and when Mikey suggested going to the pool for a day, everyone jumped at the chance. Leo found a place far out enough in the woods that no one would be around, and everyone piled into the Shellraiser, laughter and excitement bouncing around the van the whole way there.

Finally, you reached the pool, and it was perfect. Hidden away, surrounded by trees, and the sun glinting off the water like it was begging everyone to jump in.

Without hesitation, everyone tossed their stuff down, and the turtles immediately cannonballed into the pool, barely waiting for you to even kick off your shoes.

Mikey, of course, was the first to surface, grinning as he shook water from his head. "Yo, (Y/N)! You gotta show us your best splash!"

"Yeah, don’t keep us waiting!" Leo added, wading over and slicking back his wet mask.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Alright, alright, I’m coming in!" Taking a few steps back, you ran up to the edge and jumped in, hugging your knees as you hit the water.

It was a decent splash—not nearly as impressive as Raph’s cannonball, but good enough to get a cheer from Mikey. When you resurfaced, you couldn’t help but laugh, wiping the water out of your eyes as Donnie swam over.

He adjusted his goggles, looking at you. "You do know there's a more scientific way to perfect your splash, right? It's all about surface area and entry angle."

"Let her have her moment, Donnie," Raph said, shoving him lightly.

Leo, leaning back against the pool's edge, let out a low chuckle. "Honestly, didn’t think you’d even get in. You’re usually the one sittin’ on the side all cool and collected."

"Yeah, yeah, Leo, gotta keep you guys on your toes sometimes." You smirked, splashing him just to prove the point. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

And then Mikey, ever the observant one, squinted at you with a mischievous grin. “Whoa, hold up! Is that—do you have a heart-shaped birthmark on your stomach?”

You blinked, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone turned to look. You’d almost forgotten it was there, but now, with all their eyes on you, it felt impossible to ignore.

“Oh, that?” you laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just a little mark I was born with.”

Mikey, grinning wider than ever, looked at the others. “Guys, that’s gotta be the cutest birthmark ever, right?”

“Didn’t expect that, but yeah,” Raph said, tilting his head thoughtfully. You could tell he was trying to be polite, but there was a small smile there, like he found it kind of cool.

Donnie seemed fascinated in his own way. “Actually, birthmarks of that shape are pretty rare. It’s almost like it’s, I don’t know… destiny?”

Leo, on the other hand, gave you an amused smirk, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the edge. “What, you got your own little love mark? Hope that doesn’t mean you’re all soft and sappy on the inside.”

You rolled your eyes, splashing him again. “And what if I am? Just gives me more ammo to take down tough guys like you.”

Leo snorted, though you could see the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Fair enough, fair enough. I just didn’t see ya as the heart-on-your-sleeve type.”

Raph nudged Leo with his elbow, shaking his head. “Leo, it’s just a birthmark, man. Let it go.”

Mikey, however, was still hyped up. “It’s totally rad! It’s like your superhero insignia, dude! It’s a sign that you’re part of the team! Just, like, the cool, heart-shaped version.”

“Please, Mikey, let’s not turn it into a whole emblem,” you laughed, but you could feel the warmth spreading through your chest. Despite the attention, it was kind of sweet that they saw it as something unique and cool.

Mikey wasn’t done, though. He started swimming around you in circles, chanting, “Heart Squad, Heart Squad!”

You groaned, splashing him to get him to stop. “Alright, alright, I get it. It’s a heart birthmark. Now can we move on?”

Donnie, who’d been watching with a thoughtful expression, finally chimed in, “You know, having a birthmark like that isn’t just rare—it’s pretty special. I mean, statistically speaking, you’re one in a million.”

You gave him a grateful smile, his words warming your heart more than you expected. "Thanks, Donnie."

“Hey, if it makes you any better,” Raph said, “we’ve all got some kind of mark, right? Shell patterns, mask colors… just makes us who we are. So your heart mark? Just means you’re one of us.” He gave you a reassuring smile, and for a moment, you forgot you were even embarrassed.

“Aw, Raph, when’d you get so sentimental?” Leo teased, splashing him. But even he looked genuinely touched, and as they started to argue and splash each other, you couldn’t help but laugh. They’d turned a tiny mark on your stomach into something so much more meaningful than you’d ever imagined.

By the end of the day, everyone was back to their usual antics, the whole birthmark thing mostly forgotten as they competed in cannonballs and races across the pool.

And when you were all packing up to leave, Mikey leaned in, grinning as he whispered, “So, honorary Heart Squad member, same time next week?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you shoved him lightly. “Only if you bring the pizza.”

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #f!reader #tmnt x platonic!reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader

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avonne-writes · 2 days ago

Note

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

#21 for Gale? Pretty please? 🥹🙏🏻

Again, sorry that I took so long! I'm trying to fill all the pending prompts in my inbox now. Thank you for sending this one! 🩷 I wrote a quick drabble tonight, I hope it's okay.

21. Fear poison/gas

A fist swings towards Crank's face, but it ends up colliding with the arm he raises in defence. Buck groans in pain as Hambone and Jefferson jump in to intervene and tackle him to the floor of their crowded room in the stalag. The three of them start wrestling on the floor accompanied by curses, grunts and Buck's panicked wheezing.

"What the fuck did they give him?" Hambone yells as one of the chairs is knocked over by Buck's legs kicking out.

"No idea." Crank replies, deep lines on his forehead. He throws himself down to trap Buck's shins and keep him from breaking someone's ribs with his feet. "Buck, calm down! It's just us!"

"Let me go!" Buck cries out. His pupils are blown wide, and his gaze darts around the room like a trapped, feral animal's. Cold sweat peppers his sallow, sickly face.

The Krauts took him away this morning and only just brought him back a few minutes ago. No explanation, nothing. They just dumped him on one of the beds unconscious, then left without a word. Brady ran out to get Bucky, but in the meantime, Gale woke up, and the first thing he did was attack anyone who touched him. They're all going to sport bruises tomorrow, no doubt. The familiarity of their voices doesn't seem to register in his mind, and the wide-eyed terror on his face suggests he doesn’t recognize their faces either.

Even with three men holding him down, Buck doesn’t stop trashing to get free, but the noises he’s making take an increasingly desperate edge. Crank doesn’t know how to help him when he's in this state of mind. You can’t reason with him.

Thankfully, the door swings open, and Bucky rushes inside, kicking the toppled over chair out of the way to get to Buck's side.

"Gale!" Bucky drops to his knees and cradles Buck's face with his large hands. Crank raises an eyebrow at the name, but he doesn’t say anything. "What happened? What did they do to him?"

Fear-stricken blue eyes go abnormally wide before Buck redoubles his efforts to escape their hold. More footsteps approach from the doorway, Brady and one of the camp surgeons. The sight eases the tight worry in Crank's chest just enough that he can breathe again. Bucky nudges Hambone aside to take over holding Buck's right arm himself and to give the doc space to examine Buck.

The man takes a good look at Buck's pupils, then measures his pulse at the juncture of his neck before reaching into his coat for a small box of pills. Despite Buck's ferocious protests, the four of them somehow manage to hold him still enough for the doc to pry open his jaw and force him to swallow a pill. Immediately after, tears start falling from Buck's eyes.

Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t seem to have the same struggle. As the fight goes out of Buck's body, his limbs go limp in their hold. Bucky moves Buck's arm from the floor to press it to his chest and reaches for Buck's face again. Gently, he starts wiping the wetness there even as more continues to fall. The tears glisten on Buck's freckled cheek.

It's a shock. Crank has never seen Buck Cleven cry. Through the loss of friends, through pain, cold and hunger, even on the bleakest days they’ve had as POWs so far, Buck's composure hardly ever wavered. He remained the pillar of their strength and hope through everything. It makes Crank feel guilty and selfish, but his first feeling upon seeing the fat teardrops rolling down Buck's scarred cheeks is despair, not compassion. His natural instinct of self-preservation makes it difficult for a moment to see past the crumbling Major and see the person instead. Because if the Krauts can break Buck Cleven like this, they can break anyone. They're all puppets to their cruel whim. Crank doesn’t know what to do anymore.

"Fear gas." The doc says, making a disgusted face. "Bastards are testing it on us. My guess is they picked him for his reputation."

The doc clears his throat awkwardly and moves to stand. "Gave him a sedative. We don’t have much left, but... We need the Major back on his feet, I figure."

That makes Crank feel even worse. He watches numbly as Buck opens his eyes again and blinks up at Bucky slowly. The stream of his tears starts drying out. When Bucky gives him a small, forced smile of reassurance, Buck turns his face into Bucky’s palm. As if it was the only safe spot in his world. Crank averts his eyes, and he sees Hambone and Brady do the same.

None of them wants to see. They've never asked. They don’t want to know.

Only Jefferson stares, likely not used to it yet, still trying to figure it out.

After a reassuring squeeze, Bucky lays Buck's arm back on the floor and stands up to offer his hand for the doc to shake. The doc starts talking about side effects he has seen in other men who received this so-called fear gas, but after a moment, Crank turns away from them and back to Buck again.

"Give me a hand, boys." He glances at Brady and Hambone. "We gotta move him."

No one talks. They all feel Bucky's helpless fury, but there’s nothing they can do. Crank rights the chair, sits on it and starts sanding the small wooden B-17 he’s been working on. He keeps his focus on his work and tries not to listen in when Bucky starts whispering to Buck. He knows it's not for his ears.

Together, they lift Buck's barely conscious body and put him on a bed. It doesn't matter whose. They can switch for one night. Buck doesn’t fight it anymore, dazed by the sedative. When the doc leaves, Bucky's back by his side in an instant. He sits on the edge of the bunk and puts a hand on Buck's chest to feel it rise and fall. His other hand curls into a fist on his thigh. Buck watches him with half-lidded eyes.

Tomorrow, he hopes Buck will be back on his feet. Then, they can go back to pretending that everything will be okay.

#mota #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #clegan #anon #my writing #prompt fill

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dira333 · 3 days ago

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A series of meet-cutes - Kita Shinsuke x Reader

Brother's best friend, for @stellar-headquarters for the Milestone Event Week 1

The train jolts to the left and you go with it, your arms reaching out helplessly to stabilize yourself only to find a shoulder.

“Are you okay?” A warm voice asks and you look up into warm greyish-brown eyes full of concern.

“Err, yes, I think.”

“You can hold onto my arm if you need to,” the guy attached to those pretty eyes tells you. He’s gripped one of the handles above you, too far up to reach for you.

You want to decline, too awkward to keep holding onto his bicep for at least another twenty minutes but the train jolts again, making you skip forward again.

The guy grabs you by the arm, his hold firm and safe.

“Easy there,” he smiles. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. And I don’t see any free seats. If you don’t feel comfortable holding onto me, you can hold onto my gym bag, if you want?”

“No, it’s- it’s fine.” You hesitate but curl your hand around his bicep nonetheless, relax a little when his stance continues to be firm and reassuring.

“My stop is at the sports center,” he tells you. “I’m Kita, by the way.”

“Oh, yes, mine too.” You tell him your name a little awkwardly, well aware that he’s much too cute to be talking to you like that. “My brother is playing a match today.”

“Really? You must be proud. Is he playing the Volleyball Nationals?”

“Yes,” you smile. “I haven’t been able to watch any of his games in this school before, so I’m excited. I heard he was doing really well. Are you going to watch?”

“Mostly,” he nods before asking you some more. His questions aren’t pressing, or overtly curious. Kita seems to geniuinely want to get to know you.

“This was fun,” you tell him as you make your way up to the sports center. “I’m supposed to meet my brother at the food stalls before the games. I might see you around?”

“Yes,” he bows politely. “And good luck to your brother.”

Sadly, he doesn’t ask for your number.

“One Tofu Hamburger, please,” you order, surprised to hear a male voice repeat those words right next to you.

You turn, even more surprised when you come face to face with Kita.

“Oh,” you blink. “Are you-”

“Hi,” he smiles. “I was told to get something to eat first.”

“And you-”

“Tofu Hamburger is my favorite food,” his smile turns a little sheepish. “I don’t eat it often, but I figured I might as well today.”

“What a coincidence,” you blabber about, suddenly nervous at his proximity. “Did you watch the first game?”

“I did,” he nods. “It was remarkable. Shiratorizawa sure is a powerhouse school. What did you think of it? Oh, has your brother played already?”

“He has,” you smile. “He was amazing. I don’t know if you know his school, but-”

“Two Tofu Hamburgers,” you’re interrupted, the food appearing right in front of you.

“Ah,” your smile turns awkward. “I guess… Bon appetit?”

Kita smiles warmly. “This isn’t for me. I’m supposed to bring this over to our Coach. But if you want, I can keep you company while you eat. I’m sure he won’t mind waiting a moment longer for his food.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“We’ll just say there was a long line…” He packs the burger away to keep it warm and winks at you. “You were saying about your brother?”

“Oh, he’s from Ina-”

“There you are!” A large hand comes down to mess up your hair. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Oh, Kita, do you guys know each other already?”

You look up to your brother in surprise before turning to Kita. “You two know each other?”

Aran laughs behind you. “Know? Kita’s my best friend. I told you about him, didn’t I?”

Embarrassment floods you like a tidal wave. “You know I’m not good with names, Aran!”

The day ends with a victory on Inarizaki’s side.

Aran leads you outside, no signs of fatigue even after playing two games while you try to stifle your yawn. The early morning is catching up on you.

“Tired already?” He asks, leading you to the train station. “Oh, Kita, traveling with us?”

“Yes,” Kita smiles. You blink at him through heavy eyes before you lean into your brother again, listening half-mindedly to their conversation.

The train halts with the usual sounds, the doors open with a huff and people pour out who push against your shoulders on their way past until you can barely see Aran anymore. His jacket, however, stands out, so you follow it closely, falling into the seat next to it with your eyes almost closed and your head heavy.

A shoulder, warm and steady, pushes into yours and you let your head sink onto it with a sigh.

“Tired?”

“Yes.” You sigh again. “Do you think Kita likes me, Aran?”

“Yes. Do you like me too?”

Your eyes flutter open at the question a little too late, turning to find a small smile on Kita’s lips as he peers down at you.

You raise your hands to your mouth, unsure what you’re supposed to do, laugh, or disappear into the floor.

“There you are,” another voice pipes up on your other side and you turn to find Aran looming over you, his concern turning swiftly into amusement at your sight.

“Should have known,” he sighs, turning away again. “I’ll see you when we get off.”

#my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #kita shinsuke #kita fluff #kita x reader #kita

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valkyyriia · 2 days ago

Text

Day 11: Reflections in the Waves (of Pleasure)

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 1947 CW: Mirror Sex, PiV, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Long-Suffering Sebastian, Voyeurism Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader Prompt(s): Mirror Sex | Oral

Notes: The urge to have Sebastian call himself ‘one hell of a butler’ was strong but I did resist. Not enough to keep it out of the notes, though…

NEW: Want to be tagged when I post new fics? Submit the form here!

“The mirror you requested has finally arrived, Monsieur le Comte,” Sebastian said when he entered the room, delivering the day’s mail to the vampire noble as he normally did. “Masters Napoleon and Leonardo helped me bring it upstairs to le Mademoiselle’s room.”

Comte smiled, pleased. “Thank you, as always, Sebastian,” he replied. “I always appreciate your hard work. I’m sure it was heavy.”

Sebastian bowed and left the room, promising to bring up tea shortly. “There’s no need,” Comte said, standing up and shrugging on his long overcoat. “I’ve a few things to do before she gets home, so I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

For the first time this month, you were actually doing your job. You had left with Isaac earlier this morning to do the shopping. Conveniently, the mirror had come in not long after you left, so it was still a surprise.

Comte immediately made his way to your room, pushing open the door to inspect the craftmanship. Normally he’d show a bit more decorum; Comte was a gentleman, truly, and would not deign to enter a woman’s room without knocking first. However, he needed to make sure the piece was up to his lofty standards before you got home to see it.

A few weeks ago, you had made an offhand comment to le Comte about not having a mirror quite long enough to be able to see your shoes with your dress unless you were standing far away, and even then you could barely see due to the distance. Comte’s eyes widened incredulously. How had he not considered that would be an issue? This was a travesty!

Thus, in true Comte de Saint-Germain fashion, he had immediately contacted a metalsmith and commissioned a large, gilded mirror. The thing was truly a work of art; it was nearly large enough to cover an entire wall, and richly decorated in golden filigree and gemstones. The metalsmiths had outdone themselves. The mirror was so grand in its design, it frankly wouldn’t be out of place amongst the treasures of Versailles.

He hoped you would be pleased when you saw it.

Smiling to himself, Comte went to call a carriage. He would meet you in town, treat you to a nice lunch, and bring you home to show you the gift he had gotten you. Maybe he would buy you a few new dresses, too. He had an excuse this time, after all; you needed to try out your new mirror.

Oh, he simply couldn’t wait.

You and Isaac had just finished up the grocery shopping when you heard a familiar tenor call your name from behind.

“Comte?” You asked, turning around, startled. Your eyes were wide, but the smile that broke out across your face was wider when you saw him.

“I thought I would surprise my lovely partner by meeting her in town,” Comte said, walking over to you and kissing your hand in greeting. “It’s good to see you as well, Isaac,” Comte added, turning his smile to the other vampire. “I was going to ask if you’d like to join us for lunch?”

Isaac, true to himself, blushed something fierce. “I thank you, for the offer, but I’ll bring the shopping home. You two have fun.” Before you could so much as protest, the physicist had taken your bags and flagged down a carriage.

You watched him go, feeling somewhat guilty. The guilt was replaced with giddy happiness when Comte tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Allow me to treat you today, ma chérie.”

You finally returned to the mansion a few hours later as the sun was just beginning to set over the woodline. You were somewhat proud of yourself; you had managed to talk Comte down to just four new dresses instead of the ten he had wanted to buy. You had a sneaking suspicion that the vampire had gone ahead and purchased the other six anyway, to be delivered later on, but you would take the small victories when they came.

Comte, ever the gentleman, refused to let you carry a single thing. “What kind of partner would I be if I made you carry the gifts I purchased for you? I’ll not hear a word of it, chérie.”

The guilt you felt before resurfaced when you entered the mansion’s foyer and saw Sebastian dusting the wall sconces.

“Welcome home, Monsieur le Comte, Madame le Comte,” Sebas greeted, adding emphasis to your own name. Your cheeks flushed in a mixture of embarrassment and indignation, the guilt replaced with irritation. Comte chuckled at your side and moved a hand to the small of your back to guide you up the stairs.

“Thank you, Sebas,” Comte said over his shoulder. “We’ll be down for dinner later this evening.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Sebas muttered under his breath. If le Comte heard him, he made no indication of it.

When you had made it to the residential hallway and stopped in front of your door, you knew something was up. Usually, you would join le Comte in his own chambers for the evening since his suite was far more spacious. The only true downside was the way Leonardo would sometimes barge in, though the Italian polymath had taken to knocking before entering as of late.

You briefly wondered why.

Before you could go further down that line of thought, you shook your head. “Abel,” you addressed your partner. “What did you do?”

Le Comte smiled elusively. “Whatever do you mean, ‘what did I do’? I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific, chérie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You met me in town. Took me to lunch. Bought me more dresses. Let me win an argument over how many dresses you were allowed to buy me.” You raised an eyebrow. “And now we’re back at my room. You never bring me back to my own room unless you’ve plotted something.”

“Don’t I?” Comte asked innocently. “Can’t I spoil my darling partner with a spontaneous date just because I felt like it?”

“You can,” You conceded. “But you don’t.”

Comte just laughed, gesturing to your door. You eyed him suspiciously but obeyed him anyway, opening the door. Immediately, your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. “You didn’t,” you accused, turning back to him. “Really?” You asked.

Comte followed you inside and shut the door behind him, locking it. “You said you couldn’t see your shoes in the other one. That, mon amour, was inexcusable.”

You just shook your head. Two of Comte’s favorite things were spoiling you and fashion. He particularly enjoyed spoiling you with fashion. You supposed you weren’t really surprised that this was something he viewed necessary. You sighed and conceded.

“Thank you, Abel,” you smiled. “It’s beautiful. I suppose this is why you insisted on the dresses?”

“And also why I agreed to only four,” Comte added, pulling you to him for a peck on the lips. “I feared ten would have been far too obvious.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and leaned in for another kiss, which Comte was all too happy to give. The kisses quickly grew hotter and heavier. You parted your lips and Comte eagerly teased your tongue with his, his hands moving to your hips and pulling you closer. He squeezed your ass and you gasped into his mouth.

Your eyes lazily drifted open and you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You flushed and pulled away from Comte, your palms flat on his chest. He looked down at you curiously.

You cleared your throat awkwardly before whispering, “the mirror.”

Comte raised an eyebrow.

“I can see us,” you grumbled. He chuckled lowly, sending heat pooling in your belly.

“I hadn’t purchased this mirror with quite that intention in mind, but,” he smiled deviously. “That’s another good use for it.”

Ten minutes later found Comte seated in your desk chair, his front to your back, buried to the hilt inside of you. He had his arms under your knees and was lifting you up and down on his cock. He had spread your legs wide, leaving your cunt on full display in the wall-sized mirror. You bit your lip as he moved you, his length gliding smoothly in and out of your body.

“Look at yourself, chérie. See how beautiful you are when you’re taking my cock?”

Your original hesitance was long gone; instead, your eyes were fixated on the lewd sight of him disappearing within your entrance. Comte’s cock glistened in the candlelight, your slick coating him thoroughly as he sunk deep inside you with each movement.

Your eyes briefly flickered up to the reflection of his face. Comte smiled coyly at you as you did so; the vampire was far more interested in watching your face as you took him, your eyes glazed over in lust and your mouth falling open in pleasure.

His lips drifted to the sensitive flesh underneath your ear and he kissed there. You shuddered, your legs involuntarily falling wider as he did so. Comte chuckled, his breath ghosting over the lobe of your ear. He took the lobe between his blunted teeth, careful to avoid breaking the skin with his fangs. Comte nibbled there before dragging his lips down the side of your neck, his fangs barely grazing the flesh.

You cried out in pleasure as the vampire latched onto your skin, sucking harshly on the flesh there without piercing it. An orgasm ripped through your body like the incoming tide as he slammed you harshly down on his cock. Your eyes focused on where your bodies were joined as he too met his climax, his groan resonating against your skin. You watched as your cunt pulsated, drawing twitch after twitch from Comte’s length. Each pulse of his cock resulted in a flood of warmth deep inside you. He drove himself somehow deeper with a grunt, his sweaty forehead falling against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

After what felt like an eternity, Comte pressed a kiss to your shoulder and slipped from within you. What followed was a trickle of fluid, a mixture of his own come and your slick, dripping out of you and onto his softening cock. You inhaled sharply.

Comte laughed breathlessly, slowly lowering your legs. “I think we found something new you like, non, ma chérie?”

“Fermez-la,” you snapped at him petulantly.

His laugh just grew louder.

Sebastian knew better. He truly did.

Rather than prepare a full meal, the butler resigned himself to his fate. Steeling himself, he prepared a few cold cut sandwiches and placed them alongside a bottle of Rouge on a silver serving tray. Carrying them upstairs, he repeated his mantra in his head.

All he had to do was leave it outside the door. He didn’t have to see them. He didn’t have to hear them.

He hoped.

He breathed in deeply. He can do this.

He was a fantastic butler. So what if his employer was sleeping with his coworker? He can maintain decorum and -

“Look at yourself, chérie. See how beautiful you are when you’re taking my cock?” Comte’s voice drifted through the crack of the door.

Sebastian swallowed thickly.

Luck was not on his side today.

Sebastian didn’t fancy himself much of a voyeur, but-

He shook his head. No. He was not getting into those thoughts.

He quickly, but neatly, placed the tray outside the door. Standing up and straightening his bowtie, Sebastian retreated back to the safety of the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the tightness in his pants.

So what if he later purchased a smaller, floor-length standing mirror for his own personal use?

Dividers by @/natimiles

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