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cokou · 8 months ago

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𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 × 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. an unknown substance had hit your face causing you distress, Law helped you rid of it. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. sex pollen. office sex. rough sex. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. I love this trope and was kinda hoping to write it one day, which is this day!! Hope you guys enjoy :3 // do not translate or transfer to any other platforms, this is my only account, will not be crossposted anywhere. POLL DECISION.<33

As soon as the submarine resurfaced, you couldn't help but explore the newly discovered Island that was infront of your very eyes. Getting off the ship then walking to explore the forest like Island, you left trail remembrance of ribbons in each tree branches. While on your walk, you acknowledge all plant types that you come across of, such as tree's with various sizes, or various patterns of green, even small bushes that grew kinds of small red berries.

Walking around and distinguishing which berries or fruits are edible and poisonous, you come across a vine with a strange leaf and flower pattern, the flower being bigger than the vines itself, causing the vines to slowly give up on it. The flowers color hue was different, it was shaded a blackish red that faded into a greyish pink towards the middle. The vines were deep green colored and it grew thorns on it.

Curiousity took over you as you recalled all vines that you had studied on a book you had recently bought, most types of growable plants were there, but you certainly haven't come across this one. As you leaned your face closer to examine it, it's scent took over, the scent was flowery, sweet, and it reeked the smell of freshly cut grass.

Leaning your fingers through the vines, you touched the flower. As you tried picking it up, it squirted a pollen into your face, latching itself into your eye, causing you to scream at the sudden pain. As the others scream your name behind you, asking if you were okay. You had told them that something had just gotten into your eyes and that it wasn't such a big of a deal.

As the sun sets and the sky turns darker, you all had decided to call it a day and head back into the submarine before anything bad happens outside. Walking back behind several crewmates, you felt a burning sensation across your whole body, your mouth turned watery as heat pools between your legs. You had thought that you were just tired, or maybe even hungry and shrugged off the sudden feeling.

But as you make your way to your room, you felt the heat through your body again, rethinking about the way pollen had gotten into your eyes from the flower earlier, making you a tad bit concerned. You backed away from your room and proceeded to find your captains whereabouts to let him know what had happen. By the time you had catched him inside his office, you couldn't help but feel irresistibly horny.

—

"So you're telling me that a powdery substance got into your face, and that now you feel like you're burning?" Law makes sure that he had heard you correctly as you identify all the details of what had happened earlier.

"y-yeah, and I'm telling you— it's getting worser." As you finished the sentence, your cheeks had grown an even more pinkish hue.

"..That isn't likely to happen, what type of flower- or vine was it?" Even more confused, Law had no idea of what vine nor flower you talking about, talk about bad day.

"Well, it had a blackish red color and a bit greyish by the middle, and— the vines were dark green.." You were such sweaty mess right now, it's taking such a huge toll on your personality, causing you to slighty hump the chairs edge as you urge yourself to masturbate under the table while consulting Law, or just fuck it and take Law right here in his office.

"Hmm, well you do have a book th—"

"Fuck it Law! Please, take me right here right now!" As you ball your fist onto your thighs, having your thoughts win, you felt a pang of embarrassment wash over you.

Law looked towards you shockingly, examining how your face was bright red, and how you were 'burning'. He finally understood what you were trying to ring up on his mind. It wasn't any type of regular pollen that had brushed through you, it had some sort of aphrodisiac on it, causing your behavior to be distressed.

"Come here." He gestured you towards his lap. You obeyed him and made your way infront of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his thighs.

You felt his hands hold your hips, wasting no time, he lowered your bottoms all the way towards your ankles. Unzipping his pants, he lowers it to his knees together with his boxers, freeing his semi-hard cock, giging it a few pumps to harden its current state. He positions your legs onto his arms, and slowly lifting you up.

He latches you towards his cock, your wetness being enough to lube both of you up.

"Are you sure?" Taking a moment to reassure that you'll be fine with this.

"y-yeah, please." You reassured him.

Satisfied with your answer, he decides to slowly move you on his cock, making you bite a moan out of your lips. He continued thrusting you onto him slowly, making sure that you'll be just fine on his hands.

"No— don't hold back, please!" You held his hands, which were holding onto your legs.

Law hesitates with your order, but gives in as he knows that with your situation right now, you'd probably need it. Without a warning, his grip tightens and he continues thrusting you onto his cock faster.

The harder you contain yourself from biting back your moans, you eventually give up, your lips swollen from your teeth biting against it, causing blood to form on it. You released a low moan, enough to be heard by Law, followed with a much louder one, as you get used to letting out noises for him to hear.

Law jolts as you released a stream of moans from your mouth, causing his dick to twitch inside you. Feeling his dick grow inside you, your moans increase volume enough for the whole room to hear. Law hugs your figure whilst still holding your knees and thrusted harder and faster inside you.

You felt heat rushing through you as you about to hit your edge, you warned him with your upcoming release and he nods in response. A bit later, you felt climax jolt onto you as you released on his cock, embarrassment pangs through you as you realized what you just did.

Law slows his pace and continues thrusting inside you, making you release shaky breaths and panting. Law didn't stop even when you had reached your climax, now you felt a second one coming through. His pace once again picked up, being faster than earlier.

"L-Law— i'm, c-coming again—" warning him with your upcoming orgasm again, his pace picks up once again— this time it felt like volts of light colliding, your skins producing noises that you sworn could be heard miles away, your moans being louder and clearer, it was obvious that he was close.

"m'close— (name).."

"i-inside me— please!" As his pace slows down, you felt his release deep inside you, it was warm, warm enough to feed the coldness of his office.

He removes you from him, his release dripping off your entrance.

"Better?" He was panting and out of breath.

"Yes, thank you—" You stood up while holding onto the table for dear life.

"We should get you cleaned up, especially your face, you wouldn't want that happening again do you?" He leads you into the bathroom and hands you a towel.

If it meant by Law fucking you like that, maybe you shouldve preserved that little flower that gave you trouble, right? Definitely.

©Cokou 2024,all works belong to me. DO NOT TRANSLATE OR TRANSFER!

#one piece #op #cokou #law x reader #trafalgar law #law smut #one piece x reader #one piece law #one piece smut #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #i love law

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soleilapproves · 3 months ago

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catalyst - chapter 3

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex. (sukuna x reader)

Note: fem!reader

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

“And after you get your cast removed, you’re gonna go meet your therapist. You’re due for a session.” Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to listen to Uraume’s rambling. Not when you walked around in his apartment in those shorts that made you look so enticing. Those shorts wouldn’t have lasted a minute in his sight two years ago. Your body moved swiftly behind Uraume’s frame, which was slightly below face-level with him.

As you cleaned his living room, his eyes followed your figure, putting away misplaced books and flash drives containing important fight compilations. You looked less exhausted now compared to when you first started working for him. It’s crazy what two weeks' worth of difference could do. Your figure looked a little fuller than before because of all the food you were eating with him, and the dark circles beneath your eyes were slowly disappearing. You also began replying to him with two sentences instead of one.

He desperately needed to know what you had been up to. Most of your icing sessions with him were silent if you didn’t account for the loud sexual tension that was always there with how close you’d be next to him- smelling like his most ardent daydream.

“Did you get all that?” Sukuna looked down to see Uraume with their eyebrow raised.

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” Uraume asked.

Sukuna nodded. “Yeah, yeah, eat my vegetables, do my exercises.”

His manager sighed and turned to see you bent over the couch, trying to pick up a pillow that fell behind it. “You’re such a dog.” The shorter individual grimaced before placing a binder full of information about shoulder exercises on the kitchen counter. “Do these every night. Make sure you ask her for help.” He said as he gestured towards your oblivious figure, still cleaning around the couch in a compromising position.

“Uhuh,” Sukuna said with eyes trained on your bottom. He noticed that you were gaining some volume after eating meals similar to his. It worked out well for you because your shorts showed off your shape well.

“Gross.” They pinched the bridge of their nose.

“She’s gonna drop you off at the therapist’s office, by the way.”

“Wha- why?” Sukuna’s eyes squinted. It was embarrassing enough for him to have his ex be hired to pick his life up; having her escort him to his appointments was another thing. “Someone has to make sure you actually walk through that door and not escape with an Uber. Besides, I have a hair appointment right after your cast removal. This bob doesn’t stay sharp on its own,” Uraume said while adjusting their hair.

Short grey wire-like strands starkly stood out on your scalp. They looked like tiny plant stems sprouting from sod. You had always complained about being stressed from school, but Sukuna wasn’t expecting the effects to be this apparent. He wondered if your body was on its last thread before you moved in with him.

He knew your dreams were important, but you had this knack for ignoring everything else and focusing on your goal. His hands itched to grab you by your shoulders and yell, ‘This isn’t you!’

You looked up at him after tying his shoes. “Shall we go?”

Burning red irises stared back into yours. There was so much to say, yet so little came out of his mouth. “Yeah, let’s get this damn thing off.”

He smiled inwardly at the bunny loop laces on his trainers as he watched you pack your bag.

Everything was unsettling. The clock ticking, the familiar smell of artificial vanilla wafting through the room, the blinds covering exactly three-seventh of the window (Sukuna knows too much about ratios because of all his training), the propriety of the entire office (who even has coasters for different types of cups?), and worst of all, his therapist’s impassive face.

Sukuna’s knees bounced as he watched the blond man in front of him write down his notes. The sound of his ball pen scratching against the paper created an uncomfortable ambiance. “You gonna prescribe me something? Don’t bother if weight loss is one of the symptoms.”

“No, I was just doing my crossword puzzle. You’re well enough to avoid therapeutic drugs.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Look, Nanami, reverse psychology won’t work on me. I know you’re prescribing me some shit.”

Nanami turns his notepad around to show Sukuna the latest New York Times crossword puzzle. “I’m much too educated to use reverse psychology.” And he was right. The PhD certificate displayed on his office wall and numerous awards in a small glass cabinet in the corner indicated that the man was good at his job. He was the only therapist who could approach Sukuna’s concerns without making him feel small.

Sukuna hated that. He hated when he felt like he was being poked and prodded at by doctors. He did not cope well with having moments of weakness, hence avoiding treatment. Everyone treated him like a broken doll.

Which he wasn’t- he was a skilled fighter who just couldn’t push himself any further.

“You’ve been skipping your last few sessions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for paid lounging, but I’m also curious. Why’d you come now?” Nanami asked, still not looking up from his engaging activity.

“I want to get better. I-” he took a deep breath. “-have someone I have to get better for.” He couldn’t look Nanami in the eye while saying that. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious before a man for a very long time (except for Coach Yaga). It’s part of the reason why he avoids visiting Nanami.

“Is it-”

“Yeah, it’s her. So just tell me what I have to do.”

Nanami put his notepad down and crossed his legs, iron-pressed tan slacks refusing to crease. “I’m not a relationship counselor. I’m only here to help you.” The pro boxer could only stare out the window, where the car you dropped him with was parked. If he squinted, he would probably be able to see your sleeping face.

There was a hollowing void in his life after the breakup. It seemed he had lost his reason to live, even though Yuuji was there for him- someone willing to support him even after the big incident. With a wistful heart, he yearned to be someone significant in your life again.

“I want to be with her again, but I’m scared of what she’ll think of me.”

“Is it because of what happened in the past?” Nanami asked, calculatingly to the athlete on the couch across from him.

“Yeah.”

“There’s no right way to tell her. You can’t run away from what’s inevitable. How about we talk about the incident from two years ago? It might help you gather your thoughts and decide how to come clean to her.” Sukuna indolently nodded at his therapist’s suggestion.

“But first, I must ask you something important- what’s a five-letter synonym for abdominal pain?”

“Can’t believe I’m paying you three hundred an hour for this shit.”

Sukuna had been staring at you since you both returned from the therapist’s office. It wasn’t like his usual scrutinizing stare, where it felt like he was examining every inch of your skin. It was more like his head was in another universe; you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He was going to do it. Today was the day he’d tell you why he really broke up with you.

He didn’t visit Nanami for nothing. He just needed to ease you into having a proper conversation with him.

You were massaging his shoulders after his routine shoulder exercise, and you were glad to be standing behind his head while seated. At least you wouldn’t have his intense gaze on you. He was shirtless again, and you were finding it challenging to keep your eyes on his shoulder rather than the expanse of his broad back. On the other hand, kneading your fingers through his firm muscles was quite relaxing after staying at the edge of your seat with him all the time. “You gotta massage near my collarbones now.”

And your relaxation period ended.

Without missing a beat, he pulled your arm and made you stand between his legs. His firm grasp then placed your hand where you needed to massage him. You wanted to reprimand him for moving you around as if you didn’t know what to do next, but you kept to yourself to avoid pointless arguments.

Your skin felt hot, massaging around the socket of his joint. Your heart couldn’t help but waver with how his shoulders’ muscles rippled with every little movement. The tattoos made him hotter. You didn’t want to find him hot. There were better things to focus on.

Like his thick neck with veins popping out of them whenever you’d accidentally press too hard while massaging. Or his strong jaw. His sharp, bold jawline. Up to his beautiful cheekbones, to his beautiful nose, down to his perfect plush lips.

You bit the inside of your cheek to bring yourself back to reality. You should not be thirsting over your boss (you weren’t sure if you would call him that, but without Uraume around, he was the closest to one).

“...so why this?”

“Huh?” You were so distracted by his beauty that you didn’t even realize he had asked you a question.

“You told me you were gonna go to medical school after graduating, so why are you working?” It wasn’t hot in Sukuna’s room, but you could feel yourself break into a sweat. It felt humiliating to announce your goals to the world just to fail at achieving them.

“Oh, I thought Uraume would’ve told you by now. But I, uh- I got rejected.” There, it was like ripping off a bandaid.

“They didn’t mention anything about it. Also, all five of them rejected you?” You ignored how your heart jumped over the fact that he still remembered your dream schools. “Yeah, all five.” You had to look away from his bewildered face to hold on to some of your already deteriorating pride.

“But that’s crazy. You worked so hard for it since the beginning.”

“Well, it wasn’t hard enough.”

“Bullshit, they were blind.” Sukuna’s breathing started to become shallow, and Uraume instructed you not to get him worked up during his resting period. “Sukuna, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re done with the massage.”

“But-”

“Kuna, please.”

You said it. You said his nickname. He would have been elated in a different context, but right now, it just felt like you were trying to shut him up. So he let you escape. He let you go back to your room. He knew he couldn’t pressure you into talking to him, but he was ready to be patient.

—

I can’t wait for you guys to read what I have in store for the next chapter 😼

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife @missthatgirl @iluv-ace @emoedgylord

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romanteacism · 3 months ago

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A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: Genuine kindness is rare in the Red Keep, and when Prince Aemond had a taste of it, he wouldn’t think it possible for him to ever bestow cruelty on the one who had shown that to him. Word Count: 5,704 Warnings: Realizations, Lady Elinora and Prince Aemond (somewhat) Getting Along, Concerned Elinora, Daeron Playing Match Maker

It’s impossible! The probability of it was slim to none, yet Aemond was kept up all night entertaining the possibility of him having any emotion other than loathing for Lady Elinora. He was greatly upset with himself as he even thought as such. Why was he even thinking as such? Of course, he held no attraction for the girl. And if he did, he surely would come to know immediately, yes?

However, as Aemond thought of attraction, he had no words to describe it. Had he ever felt attraction before? He tossed in his bed as he thought about such questions. Surely, attraction was not the same as lust— what he felt at the moment was not of urges or bodily whims. If not lust, what then? He refused to believe that it was a fondness he felt, it could not be. He could not definitely say it was affection because he had no idea what that felt like, leading the prince to grow restless the entire night.

Aemond looked upon the ceiling with a deep scowl, the first sun rays of the day began to shine upon his room. He only rests for a few hours, and to have the limited time of his respite be taken and consumed by a girl, he convinced himself he felt indifferent. He sat up and wore his eye patch, the deep scowl between his brows never disappearing as he readied himself for the day.

As per his custom, Aemond began his day by walking along the keep. Simply inspecting his home, seeing if the servants did their duties and if everything was in order. But in truth, he is simply killing time as Ser Cole is still to wake so they can begin their sparring session. Aemond passed the godswood, the amber leaves alight with a golden hue, and naught a soul was to be accounted in the area. He then went on to the great hall, maids bustling around as they dusted and swept the room to tidy it from last night’s feast. “Good morrow, Your Highness,” he would hear the servants greet as he passed, and not once did he spare them a second glance.

Aemond then ventured towards the library, the only time it was somewhat busy was in the morning when maesters searched for specific books needed for their study. The prince then walked past the guest wing, lord and ladies soundly asleep in their chambers. He was almost nearing the end of his routine when he turned to his left and saw the hall leading to the royal wing. Where the chamber of the girl who had haunted his mind lodged.

Aemond paused in the halls for a moment. A voice in him was telling him to go about the wing, but his stubbornness told him to walk onward. But before the prince could decide for himself, he watched as a door slowly opened, and the girl he had been thinking about sneaking out of her chambers. Making quiet yet hastened steps to the staircase that was situated at the end of the royal wing. Aemond raised a brow, intrigued. Surely, she was up to no good. Aemond had naught a choice but to trail her. He followed the girl, hiding himself behind pillars and walls so she would not suspect that she was being trailed.

Aemond was led to the gardens, no surprise to him, however, Elinora would usually venture to the gardens at a later time of the day, a fact that the prince was surprised to realize that he knew. Aemond would think she would go to the flowers, just as her usual custom, but the girl continued to walk onward towards the pond where she mourned the fallen butterfly. Aemond had hidden himself behind a bush as he watched the girl crouch at the edge of the pond and take a pouch from her pocket.

Aemond decided to trail closer to see what Elinora was doing. When he was a few yards away from the girl, he realized that swans and ducks that inhabited the pond began to swim near her as if they already knew Elinora. The prince then realized what the girl was doing, she woke at first light and sneaked her way through the keep just to feed the ducks! Ridiculous. Or… endearing? Aemond scowled at himself at the thought.

The prince quietly walked his way to the girl’s side, “What are you doing?” He asked the obvious. His voice and the sudden appearance of his reflection upon the water that the girl stared upon shocked Elinora. The girl let out a startled scream and almost fell into the water due to her shock, luckily, the prince was quick to act as he bent down and took hold of her waist to steady her. “By gods! Would you be quiet? The castle is still asleep,” He chastised as Elinora stood, but he never removed his hold on her. Quite odd since Aemond had never been fond of touching or being touched by another.

“I’m sorry… you frigh— you caught me by surprise,” Elinora explained as she caught her breath. Quickly changing one word to another, she feared that if she said ‘frightened,’ it might offend the prince, however true the statement may be. Aemond pursed his lips as Elinora finally raised her gaze, and her jade eyes were met with his. “What were you doing?” The prince asked once more, unable to think of another point of conversation with the girl. Aemond frowned at himself at the thought. Before, he relished in the silence. However, now, why could he not control himself from speaking to a girl he convinced himself he felt indifferent towards?

“Feeding them,” Elinora said, her eyes glancing towards the creatures that expectedly waited for her to return to her custom, but the prince hindered him from doing so. That is when Elinora realized that the prince still had a hold on her waist. “Uh… if you would excuse me, my prince, I think they’re quite hungry,” She said and tried to pry away the prince’s hands from her waist. Letting their skin touch and feeling the coldness of Prince Aemond’s hands.

“They could feed themselves,” Aemond spoke, his hands savoring the touch of warmth that Elinora presented. “I know,” Elinora answered as a swan paddled itself closer to her hand where crumbs of bread were placed. “Why then do you do it?” Aemond asked as he, too, squatted next to Elinora, who attracted all the creatures. “Well, it’s quite peaceful here most days,” She began as she turned to the prince with the pouch of bread crumbs and implored him to feed the birds as well.

Aemond’s first instinct was to frown and roll his eye at the girl, which is why it was surprising as he did as she silently said without question or mean reactions. “And I noticed the other days that they would fight each other for just a morsel of food,” Elinora finished her thought as Aemond threw the crumbs into the pond, a bread crust hitting a duckling. “Oh,” the girl said as she witnessed the scene, and the duckling quickly swam its way to her as if protecting herself from the prince. “Best not to harm them as you feed them, my prince,” Elinora said as she leaned forward and brushed the duckling’s head with her finger, smoothing its feathers.

Aemond let out a quiet scoff, but he still did what the girl said—gently sprinkled the bread crumbs onto the water. “That is simply nature, my lady; it’s natural selection. The weaker will yield, and the strong will be triumphant,” Aemond remarked and turned to the girl, her small smile as she tended towards the creatures lessening as she registered his words. “Even so, it could be avoided for now.” She answered.

“You’re coddling them. Each day you do this, you make them dependent instead of them learning how to fend for themselves. Why would they search for food now when they know a lady would come and feed them and turn them fat?” Elinora frowned at the prince’s words, a pout coming to her lips as what she thought was a kind gesture was being criticized by the prince.

Aemond heard no reply from the girl, only watched as she fiddled with a lock of her hair as she processed his words. No noise was to be heard except for the distinct chirp of birds and the silent slosh of water. Aemond sighed, perhaps that was not the right thing to say, he thought. He never second-guessed what he uttered before. He called it as he saw it.

The prince tried to reach towards the pouch of bread crumbs again, but their fingers brushed as she took the pouch in her hands and abruptly stood, surprising Aemond. “Good day, your Highness,” Elinora muttered and quickly curtsied before hastily walking away from his presence. Aemond stayed there, comprehending what had happened and how quick she was to depart.

He recalled what he said and sighed, the swans and ducks looking at him expectantly as if asking if Elinora would return. Aemond shook his head and dusted off his hands, walking off as the day was still fresh, yet he had already offended the girl.

Elinora wandered about the castle, face flushed in annoyance and embarrassment. She was inside her head as she tried to erase all the prince had said, but it seemed to quickly etch itself in her head. The girl was not paying attention to where she walked and managed to collide with another. “Elinora? Why are you already awake?” Ser Gwayne questioned as he held the girl by her arms to steady herself. Elinora was brought out of her reprieve as she was met with the knight’s blue-green eyes. “I…I—” She stuttered, fearing if she told Ser Gwayne where she came from, he too would frown at her actions just as his nephew had done.

Gwayne passed his gaze at the girl, a velvet pouch in her hands with a few specs of crumbs and a part of her dress damp and muddied. “You were feeding ducks, weren’t you?” Gwayne smiled, but it was not a cruel smile. “Yes,” She said quietly, making the knight smile fondly. “Well, I’m glad to learn that your stay in the capitol had not disrupted your customs back home,” the knight smiled.

Aemond had managed to follow the girl again, a few meters away, as he eavesdropped upon her and his uncle’s conversation.

“I’m certain you have entrusted the ducks and swan’s feeding to the groundskeeper?” Ser Gwayned questioned as he linked his arm with the girl’s. “I have. And Gerald had just written to inform me that the baby ducklings hatched!” She said, her mind now forgetting about her encounter with Prince Aemond. “Though it’s a shame I wasn’t able to witness them hatching,” She muttered as her shadow followed her.

“You miss home, don’t you?” Ser Gwayne observed, seeing melancholy in her eyes. “I do,” she said. That little pond and the gardens in the Red Keep were the only speck of Highgarden she could cling to.

Aemond felt an odd twisting in his stomach as he realized why the girl was feeding the ducks and swans. She only wished to recreate a version of Highgarden in the Red Keep, but the prince was too calloused to realize it and only shamed her for her actions.

He trailed Elinora and his uncle further. Watching how effortlessly it was for his uncle to converse with the girl. Why couldn’t he hold a conversation without offending her? Or anyone, for that matter? Aemond froze as he locked eyes with his uncle, a curious look on his face as he glanced at his nephew. Ser Gwayne did not miss the peck of white upon the prince’s black trousers, bread crumbs clinging to the fabric, and the speck of mud on his knee. Aemond gritted his jaw as he was assessed and forced himself to cease trailing the two and finally return to his custom.

“You’re frustrated,” Ser Criston remarked as the prince grunted when he missed to hit the knight. “I am not,” Aemond gritted as he once again returned to his attack position, but the knight shook his head, manner lax. “You clearly are— now tell me why or not, just as long as you do better in combat.” The knight suggested as he wielded his weapon in his hands. Aemond charged once more, but his technique was sloppy, and the knight was quick to dodge any of his attacks.

“Ready to talk now?” The knight teased as Aemond had fallen onto the gravel-covered ground, causing a bloodied bruise to form on his chin; he simply ignored it. “I had told you it is nothing!” Aemond insisted and wiped away the blood on his chin with his sleeve, but Ser Criston only shook his head. “That shall suffice for now. You may leave and only return when you are truly ready to fight,” The knight dismissed his pupil, and Aemond no longer argued as he, too, had grown tired of being bested.

Aemond walked about the keep again, trying to calm down his frustrations that he could not precisely articulate the cause of. He would like to blame Lady Elinora, but even he knew the girl was not to blame for his state. It was an internal struggle that he inflicted upon himself.

Aemond passed the pond once more, seeing as Elinora sneaked her way to the edge of the pond to feed the ducklings once again. Aemond sighed, trying to go onward, but as always, his feet carried him toward the girl’s direction. Aemond once again announced his presence by making his reflection known, and just like hours before, the girl screamed, startled. Aemond sighed as he took hold of Elinora again, preventing her from falling into the water.

“Would you please stop doing that!” She cried as she clutched her chest, never loving being startled. Her brother often did that to her when they were growing up. Waiting for her by the halls or her room, hiding and making his presence known with a loud, bellowing scream just to frighten her. Before Aemond could speak, Elinora removed his hold. “I know! I’m feeding the ducks again, and quite frankly, my prince, I do not care if I am making them dependent and… and fat, as you say. It is cruel to let them attack one another just for food when I can simply give them what they need!” Elinora burst out, her face and neck growing a bit red at the end of her outburst, and Aemond bit his tongue as he found a speck of amusement as it would seem he had agitated the girl.

Aemond let out a quiet, amused breath as he parted his lips to speak once more, but Elinora spoke first. “You’re bleeding,” She said, eyes widening in concern, which Aemond was taken back. “It is just a cut. It’s no—“ Aemond ceased speaking as the girl quickly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and stood to her toes to gently place it on his wound. “You’ll need gauze, Your Highness— it must be disinfected,” Elinora fretted as she had always tended to her wounds as well as her brother’s because if her parents came to know of it, they surely would be chastised.

“It’s just a scrape, my lady,” Aemond explained, but Elinora ignored his words as she was quick to take hold of his arm and drag him inside the castle. The small cut on the prince’s wound seemed to make Elinora forget all the frustrations she had harbored for him the past few weeks. “I am fine, Elinora; it is just a scrap— you are overreacting.” The prince grunted as his eye glanced toward the girl’s hand that was firmly clasped around his arm, which he then removed and switched her hold to his hand.

“It may be just a scrap, my prince, but it could still get infected! Believe me, you would not want that.” She muttered as she led him to the maester’s tower. Aemond frowned as he noticed that the maesters that usually littered the tower were nowhere to be seen. Aemond felt the girl let go of his hand and made him sit on a chair. Aemond looked around the room, not entirely certain what was happening. Just a brief moment ago, Elinora was frustrated with him, and now she was searching cupboards and cabinets to find the necessary items to tend to his wound. He truly did not understand her.

“The gauze is there,” Aemond pointed up to the cupboard, and Elinora was quick to retrieve the gauze needed along with vinegar to disinfect the wound and honey to soothe it. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” the prince observed as he lowered his hand, which was clutching the girl’s handkerchief to his wound. “My brother often gets into scrapes whilst he trains… or when he ventures into town,” Elinora explained. As she was locked inside the castle walls, Edward was permitted to go galivanting around the town, even at the darkest point of the night. Something that Elinora was completely jealous of, but as he explained to her, the only reason he was allowed to do such a thing was because he was a man; a bit unfair in Elinora’s eyes.

“What had caused your wound, if I may ask, my prince?” Elinora inquired as she dabbed honey upon it, her nose in a scrunch as she never grew accustomed to seeing a wound up close. She hated blood and violence. Aemond blinked, quickly thinking up a story that would not disparage him. “I…I was training, and it would seem my sparing partner had grown frustrated at me and aimed to strike me while my back was turned— luckily, I was agile enough to act and only leave with just a small scrape.” Aemond lied, but he was relieved as the girl quickly believed his words.

“That’s quite… cowardly,” She muttered as she cut to size the gauze. “Yes, quite,” Aemond agreed and stilled as he felt her touch on his chin, moving his head to look up as she positioned the gauze. Aemond met her eyes, the same warmness he felt the night before spreading in his chest. She was closer than she had been before, her scent now more pronounced, and Aemond could see a few specks of gold in her jade eyes. The prince was overwhelmed and quickly turned away.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Elinora fretted as the prince bucked away from her. Aemond gulped, “Yes, best be careful,” He said, forcing his voice to be stoic. “I apologize, my prince… but I’m almost finished,” Elinora said, quickly bandaging his wound. When she had, she stepped away, wary about the proximity they had. With her situated between the parted legs of the prince as she tended to his wound.

“I’ll advise you to change the gauze before you go to bed, my prince, and perhaps dab honey upon it so it would heal faster,” Elinora suggested, and Aemond could not return his gaze to the girl as he felt the warming in his chest odd. His hand fisted the handkerchief she gave him, and the prince forced himself to nod.

Elinora chewed on her lips and let out a breath, “Good day, my prince,” she curtsied and left, no longer waiting for his thanks, for it was ridiculous for her to expect such gratitude from the prince. Aemond finally raised his gaze just to witness the girl practically float out of the room.

Aemond rested his back on the chair. A bit dazed at what had happened. How could she be so kind? Tend to his wound so much gentleness and attention even though he had scorned her just earlier that day. Aemond turned his gaze to the handkerchief that was still in his hands. The soft white cloth with the delicate embroidery of her first name’s initial and a blue butterfly now stained with specks of his blood. Aemond’s hand slowly brought it closer to his face, smelling her scent once more. He wanted to take another whiff, but as he realized what he was doing, how he was savoring her scent, his eyes widened, and he quickly tucked the cloth in his pocket to prevent him from doing such a thing again.

“The duck’s eggs in grandmother’s lake have hatched,” Elinora remarked as there was silence in their familial supper. She hoped that the small information that was written to her by their ground’s keeper that had brought her joy would at least remove the tenseness in the air of their supper. “That’s nice,” Her father remarked with a small smile, and Elinora beamed upon him, hoping it would remove the edge that all the members of her family harbored.

“Is… Is anything the matter?” She dared to ask, trying to capture the gaze of her brother, who had been staring at the peas for the majority of the hour. She watched as her family exchanged glances. “Your brother had seen you with Prince Aemond, alone, unescorted.” Her mother informed, making her brows raise as her brother bestowed upon her a stony expression.

“Oh,” She said, as it would seem her brother had shared his concern with their parents. “I was feeding the ducks and swans in the keep’s pond, and the prince suddenly came. It’s not as if I invited him to join me there,” She explained as her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair in nervousness. “I saw you two running down the halls, hand in hand!” Elinora’s brother then burst out, shocking her with his accusatory tone. “Calm down, Edward, your sister is not on trial,” Their father warned. Elinora felt tears coming into her eyes as she was surprised that her brother would grow cross with her. Never once had Edward raised his voice when addressing Elinora, and now that he did, she felt a pit in her stomach.

“I… I just had noticed that— that the prince was bleeding. I had just urged him to have it disinfected because he had no care… but it might get infected. I meant no harm, brother… I just thought it was the right thing to do,” Elinora muttered as her father held her hand from whom she sat next to. “See, Edward, nothing like you were insinuating was afoot, my son.” Their mother remarked. “Elinora knows what is wrong and right, do you not, my darling? We must trust her.”

“I do trust her! It is these men! We do not know their true nature— they might take advantage of her!” Edward insisted and watched as their parents changed looks once more and as his sister only stared upon her lap, willing her tears not to shed. “You have a point, Edward… but you cannot accuse these men of something that has not yet happened.”

“So you will wait until it does?!” Edward bellowed, but he was quickly challenged by Lord Tyrell. “Enough! We appreciate your concern for your sister, but you shall not raise your voice against us! Elinora will be fine, and she would tell us if any of the lords or princes, as you insist, would act untoward upon her!” Edward huffed and stomped away as he realized their once over-protective parents could no longer see reason.

“I apologize for your brother, my darling,” Her father sighed and petted her hair. “I truly did not mean to upset him… and I did try to do as he told and avoid the men of court but—but the prince was bleeding and—“ Her mother hushed her as she stood from her chair and cupped her daughter’s cheeks. “We know, Elinora… and we do trust you. We know that you know what is wrong and right. You are cautious and calculated, that is all we could ask for,” Your mother said softly. “Now, go on, finish your meal so you can rest for the night.”

Edward walked the keep halls, trying to be absolved of his ire. He held no ill will for his sister but rather the serpents surrounding her. “Good evening, Lord Edward,” Prince Aemond then appeared as he passed through the guest halls on his way to his own chambers. Edward gritted his jaw and saw the wound of the prince, carefully bandaged by his sister. “My prince,” He greeted bitterly. And Aemond frowned to himself at the tone of the lord but carried on to his way to the royal wing.

Just as he stepped foot in the royal wing’s hall, he caught sight of Elinora on her way to her chambers. They locked eyes, and Aemond moved to speak with her, but she scurried her way into her chambers, leaving the prince alone in the halls.

Something was off that evening, the prince thought. The usually cheery and well-mannered children of House Tyrell seemed to be sullen and dismissive. “Hello, brother,” Aemond suddenly at Daeron’s voice, the prince having been preoccupied the whole day as he went hunting in the woods with their eldest brother. “Where’s Aegon?” Aemond asked, glancing towards where the girl once stood before fully turning to meet the eye of his brother.

“Well… I think you would know where,” Daeron said sheepishly. “Hm,” Aemond hummed in disapproval. “You have a wound,” Daeorn remarked as he stepped closer to his brother to inspect the bandage, but Ameond backed away, not used to having anyone in his personal space. “Did Elinora bandage that?” Daeron asked, his brother quickly frowning at his question. How would he know?

“What?” Aemond bit as Daeron tried to inspect his bandages once more, but Aemond shielded it away from his gaze. “Did Elinora bandage your wound?” Daeron asked once more. “She always has a distinct cut when she bandages— there's somewhat of a heart shape in the gauze,” Daeron muttered as he followed wherever his brother turned his head. “Best dab that with honey, it’ll heal faster— or better yet, ask her for that honey with tea tree oil. It healed a nasty wound of mine in less than a fortnight.” Daeron informed, and Aemond frowned as his brother walked onward. “Well, come on now, lest you want that wound to fester,” Daeron remarked, and Aemond followed him as he knocked upon Elinora’s door.

“I am fine; it’ll be gone by the next day.” Aemond gritted as they waited for the girl. “Nonsense, brother, I heard from Ser Cole how you… what do they say now? Ate dust in the tiltyard.” Daeron smiled, and before Aemond could reply, the door opened and revealed Elinora in her robe, her hair already undone. “Good evening, my princes,” She uttered in surprise. “Good evening, Eli,” Daeron smiled. Eli? The prince frowned at the way his brother addressed her.

“Might I help you with something?” She asked, quickly glancing at Prince Aemond, who had a scowl on his face. “Yes, well… I see you had tended to my brother’s wound— very kind of you, but would you please give him that tea-tree-infused honey you have? We would be most grateful… wouldn’t we, brother?” Daeron said and nudged Aemond’s side. “Yes, quite so,” He gritted out, and Elinora was surprised as the prince actually agreed.

“Well, of course,” Elinora said and expected the princes to wait by the hall as she retrieved what they asked for, but just as old habits began to shine through, Daeron welcomed himself in the girl’s chambers. Aemond tried to take hold of his brother’s collar, but Daeron quickly moved away from his brother’s hold. “You certainly bestowed your touch upon this chamber,” Daeron remarked as he looked about the room while Elinora looked through her vanity for a particular crystal jar.

Aemond ran his gaze through the room, the once bleak spear chambers now had a warmness in them as Elinora lodged within them. “Oh, you brought Catherine the Caterpillar!” Daeron exclaimed as he took hold of a pillow in the girl’s feathered bed. It was just a regular decorative pillow, but it was tattered and had black beads sown into it to mimic eyes as well as two antennas. “Remember when your brother convinced you he could turn this into a butterfly if you gave him your desserts,” Daeron mussed, Aemond turning to Elinora to witness red creep to her cheeks through the mirror.

“I did not eat sweets for two moons,” She remarked and finally turned with a crystal jar in her hands. “Here you are, my prince,” She smiled and handed the jar to Aemond, who swallowed thickly as their fingers brushed once more. He had never seen her with her hair down. Her dark, auburn locks were always neatly braided, and now a few locks perfectly framed her face, the curls now looser and a bit disheveled.

Elinora chewed on her cheeks as the prince only stared at her, feeling warmness further in her cheeks as she felt him stare at her state. Her hair was yet to be brushed, and the only thing between her and her shift was a robe. “What do we say when one helps us, brother?” Daeron then interjected as his brother only remained silent. Aemond turned to his brother, a glare in his eye. “Thank you,” he gritted out, but his eye was pointed at Daeron, a warning in his tone.

“That’s correct! But do not thank me, brother, I am not the one who bandaged you.” Daeron grinned as Aemond’s hold on the jar tightened to a point he thought it might crack. “You’re welcome, my prince,” Elinora quickly said, saving Aemond from further doing something he did not wish. As the words left her lips, two silver princes turned to her. “But if you would… I must be getting to bed,” She smiled, and Aemond quickly took hold of his brother so they could exit the girl’s chambers.

“Good night, your highnesses,” Elinora curtsied, and Daeron bid her ‘good night,’ and Prince Aemond gave a nod.

When the door closed, Aemond turned to his brother, who still had a teasing grin on his lips. “What are you doing!? You do not barge into and welcome yourself inside a lady’s chambers!” Aemond scolded, “Calm down, it’s only Elinora. I often do that in Highgarden; no one seems to mind,” Daeron laughed as his brother’s stoic facade was broken. “Even so! You offer her to scandal!”

“Scandal? Nonsense! Everyone knows how virtuous Elinora is… and besides, however pretty she is, she is just simply not my kind of woman— do not get me wrong, I love her, but it’s the love of a brother rather than a man,” Aemond grew confused at his brother’s words, until now, he was certain that Daeron harbored some attraction for the girl.

“So you mean to tell me that you are not attracted to her… at all?” Aemond questioned, and Daeron nodded. “Gods, no! I see her as a sibling— and not the way our houses sees siblings.” Daeron clarified, and Aemond nodded in understanding. “You, however… I do nothing think you could say the same.” Daeron grinned, watching as his brother paused in the halls, taken aback by his words. “What do you mean by that?” Aemond gritted out, ready to deny whatever his brother would utter.

Daeron sighed and smiled, “Brother, I grew up with Elinora— had to fend off men who vied for attention, and all of them always had the same look in their eyes when they looked upon her… and another look when she would smile upon them— you have the same look, Aemond. Hide it and repress it as you would; I can see it plainly. You like her.”

“I do not! I…I— What you speak of is ridiculous! How da—“ Daeron was left amused as his brother ranted out his defense. “Your reaction is only proving me right, Aemond.” Daeron shook his head; Aemond stared at his brother, his eye twitching in irritation. “Do not fret, brother… you may have the same reactions as the others, but I have never seen Elinora interact with you as she had with the others,” Daeron consoled, and as if immediately, the rage on Aemond’s face turned to curiosity. “What?”

Daeron laughed at how quickly his brother’s mood turned. “Though men had always been vying for her attention, she never gave them a sparing glance— would not even converse with them with small talk unless she was quite literally forced to. But with you… I do not think I can say the same. Which is why I forced you two to dance the other night— Elinora never dances with anyone but me, Edward, or uncle, yet she still danced with you without being forced.”

“What are you saying, Daeron, say it plainly.” Aemond urged, but his brother only let out an amused breath. “But where’s the fun in that? And I think you already know what I’m saying… come now, brother— they say you are the scholar of us siblings, surely you can figure out what is plain to our eyes.” Aemond only stared at his brother, the words resting on the tip of his tongue, but he refused to utter them.

Daeron sighed, “You like her.” He stated. “And do not hold me to it, but I’m pretty certain that she likes you too, at least to some degree— you know what, I’m not actually certain. You have been a point of irritation for her.” Daeron laughed. “But on a more positive note, no one has actually irritated Elinora in the way you have, so… congratulations, brother.” Daeron smiled and finally left his brother in the halls with Aemond standing alone as another confirmed what he suspected and quite frankly feared.

He liked Elinora… a girl whose hand was already promised to another. And Elinora liked him, they think. No one was actually certain, but the first revelation was enough to confound the ever-certain and stoic One-Eyed Prince.

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie

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ccwpidsblog · 8 months ago

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untitled — a.artlet

content warning: incel!armin artlet, male masterbation, slightt mommy kink, panty thief!minie, slut shaming, lmk if i missed anything i lit suck at tagging

cwpids notes: if this looks familiar it's from my old Wattpad account, this was originally a shiggy fanfiction but im not into mha anymore and wattpad deleted that book SAURRR just enjoy 😁🏹

armin artlet hated you with a passion. you came into his house and bothered him with your dumb staring and weak attempts to seduce him. his discord server and online friend knew everything about women like you. you'd try to take everything from him knowing his family was wealthy. that's exactly why you bothered him just like every other woman that approached him did. they didn't see armin they saw his money. he hated your stupid face when you batted your more than likely fake lashes at him and smiled at him with your fake smile, he hated the way your smell lingers when you leave a room, he hated the outfits you wore it was like you were begging for attention, he hated everything that has to do with you

his shirt was in between his teeth, left hand rubbing the soft cotton of your panties onto his cock,, his right was gripped onto the wall steadying himself. "fuck, y/n..." armin bit down onto his shirt harder, throwing his head back closing his eyes.

he was hot and bothered often, masterbating was something he did daily; he even had his fair share of toys. but this was his first time ever taking someone's underwear. he just couldn't help himself. sneaking into the guest bedroom while you were busy decorating the house for some shitty party his sister was throwing. he'd took the first pair he saw from the hamper. he felt gross not in the way he usually did while he stroked one out but in the best way. this didn't mean he did not hate you anymore; it was more of a lust thing he told himself.

he just lusted you.

"ah, faster..." he demanded of himself, his hands obeying his orders. the pace gradually picked up, using the same hand that gripped your panties tightly wrapping around his cock, while the other slowly smoothed up the skin of his stomach, feeling himself in ways he wished you could . armins hips bucked upwards into his hand, his quiet moans now turning into grunts of rapture with every thrust.

he imagined you on your knees in front of him allowing him to thrust himself into your mouth. begging for him to touch you in ways no one could "gonna cum, gonna fucking cum...ohh my god, more."

armin whined as he tightened his fist around his fat length, vigorously jerking himself off. his eyes flutter open to look down at how red and swollen his mushroom tip was, and how your panties were covered in his pre-cum, roughly biting down on his chapped bottom lip as he kept fucking into your panties, veins protruding with his grip tightening even further. "so tight, so tight."

"oh fuck, fuck mommy!" he cried out, voice breaking into a sob when his orgasm gushed out of him in hot spurts. placing his forehead on the cool tile he breathed heavily gaining his composure again. washing his hands and cleaning himself off his stuffed spoiled into his pocket. opening the door he came face to face with you.

his stomach twisted into knots as he stared down at you. your face scrunched and eyes watery like your were on the verge of crying, the braids you originally had in a bun were now down your back, it was your outfit that ticked him off. all these people here and you're walking around in a skimpy bathing suit. he didn't want to be mean or make you cry but it couldn't help himself.

"prancing around like an attention whore. not surprised since it's you."

#anime x black!reader #aot x black reader #armin x black reader #black reader #anime x chubby reader #anime x reader #eren x reader #armin x reader #armin arlert #x black reader

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bouncybongfairy · 8 months ago

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Pathetic

Dabi x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Dabi finds the fact that he doesn't even have to use his words to get your forgiveness after an argument quite piteous.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You jumped hearing the door slam; judging by how the apartment shook you knew it was Dabi. Almost dropping the book you were reading into the soapy water. Spilling your wine glass you’d poured vodka into on the ground. Now causing you to scramble about the bathroom. Looking for your clothes as soap suds and water trailed down your skin. The door swung open and you almost slipped on the tile floor. Catching yourself on the towel rack. You were immediately taken back, he looked run ragged. Like he was jumped or something, walking over to the sink and hovering. Letting a mixture of blood and saliva drip onto the porcelain. Using the water to rinse his mouth before turning his attention back to you.

“Get the fuck out!” you screamed.

The two of you had gotten into a blowout argument two weeks ago and haven’t spoken since. Involuntary tears burned your eyes the more you stared. He let his hair go white and it was more messy than usual; like he’d just woken up or something. A mix of the alcohol spilled onto the floor and his presence made a scowl paint over your face. He stepped over the broken glass, it crunched loudly underneath his boots. You tried your hardest to maintain your physical dominance, not leaning back when he approached. Keeping your arms folded across your chest, a little too tipsy to bother covering up. He tilted his head arrogantly to the side as he stared down at you. He noticed your breathing quicken, grabbing your arms and gently pulling them down to your sides. Purposely letting his thumbs rub down the sides of your torso. You hold your breath and tighten your core, trying to prove that it wasn’t affecting you. However your dilated pupils and the deep red flush across your cheeks suggested otherwise.

He wiped the tears off your face, now letting his body fully press against yours. He was lanky which only added to his intimidation while hovering over you. Breathing heavy against your face, looking down on you with wild eyes. Like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you. Although still angry and bitter from the argument; it was comforting to have him so close. Being able to smell him and feel his embrace against your skin. Taking in all the little details about him as this would be the last encounter. You brought your arms up and wrapped them around his neck. He moved his hands off your face and started to unbuckle his belt. The sound of metal clanking together made your knees shake a little. Letting his pants and boxers fall to the wet floor. He picked your legs up and pressed your back against the drywall. The back of your knees were being supported by his elbows. He lined himself up and slowly started pushing himself inside you.

He let his forehead drop against your shoulder. For the past two weeks all he could think about was being engulfed in your heat. Feeling how your moaning matched up with the tightening of your walls around him was intoxicating to him. Groans flooding out of his mouth while trying to catch his breath without stopping. Slowly pulling fully out, biting down on your shoulder as the cold air hits his length. Fucking back into you letting his body weight nearly crush you. He was trying his hardest to be fully buried inside you. He couldn’t figure out what made you different in the way he couldn’t get enough of you. No matter how frustrated or fed up he got with the relationship he always came back. Like a moth to flame or Rue Bennet to a xanny. Pounding himself into you at a merciless rate while you whimpered and moaned into his ear. Your juices were leaking down his thighs which only added to how desperate his thrusts were becoming. Running your fingers through his hair, feeling how hot and sweaty he was. You used his hair to tilt his head to the side, allowing you to suck hickies onto his skin. Screaming into his salty skin, biting down as his tip hit your cervix.

Without pulling out, he walks the two of you over to the bed. Letting his body fall on top of yours and continuously pounded into you. Grabbing two fist fulls of your hair and pinning your head to the mattress. The only thing he liked more than fucking you was watching your face while he did. Eyes rolling back with your mouth wide open, rendered completely cockdrunk and braindead. Breasts bouncing every time his length disappeared inside you. He could tell you were getting close, your legs were shaking; feeling your walls quiver and pulsate around him. He planned on holding out for longer but couldn’t take it anymore. Letting go of your hair and wrapping his arms around your neck. Keeping his cock deep inside you while pumping your belly full of cum.

Moving himself in and out just enough for his load to start leaking out of you. He pulled out of you and moved his face down to your core and immediately started attacking your clit with his tongue. Holding your legs up as he buried his face between your lips, tasting himself while eating you out. You nearly ripped his hair out as you came; bucking and jerking your hips up. Ears ringing and holding your breath while waves of pleasure wash over your body. He tried continuing to flick and suck but you were too overstimulated. You closed your legs and took a few moments to catch your breath. He got up and took his tee-shirt off. Walking to the bathroom sink and wetting it with warm water. He came back to the bed and spread your legs, wiping and cleaning you down. You grabbed his arm and used the little energy left to cuddle next to him. He chuckled and pulled you into his arms, pressing kisses on the top of your head before both of you passed out.

#bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you smut #dabi x y/n smut #dabi x fem!reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x fem!reader smut #bnha smut

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llendrinall · 1 month ago

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Smoke and mirrors. On a predator’s social manipulation

I have been following Neil Gaiman’s case from a distance these past few months while also thinking a lot about manipulation of public’s perception. You can read my thoughts about smear campaigns in this post.

I see people going back over his published works looking for “clues” of his abhorrent behavior, but considering that Gaiman preyed on fans, I think it’s more useful to think about his public engagement with fans. Gaiman crafted a kind and compassionate public persona that allowed him to get closer to his victims and to enjoy an aura of credibility as an advocate and ally. Let’s see how he did it. .

1.) False advertising

I first followed Gaiman’s tumblr account because it meant having access to a professional writer and I like reading and writing. For intellectual property reasons, writers can’t engage too much with fans about future projects, but they can talk about their craft: how to revise a manuscript, how to decide on a title, etc.

But that’s not what you get following his blog. It dawned on me when the first allegations came and he stopped updating the blog. I didn’t notice his absence; I didn’t miss the content... because I was skipping over it.

I distinctly remember him giving writing advice and encouragement at some point. But slowly, over the las few years, he pivoted on to giving life advice. He had the perfect excuse, too. He received many asks, so many that he couldn't and didn’t sort through them and we know that tumblr works in clunky ways. If the posts about writing and creating dried up and were substituted by “Please, Papa Gaiman, tell me everything will be all right” posts… Well, that wasn’t on him, was it? It was the fans who massively sent those asks.

The last few years people have been in desperate need of reassurance, so it’s likely that he didn’t have to go out of his way to choose the asks that allowed him to build his compassionate persona. Still, it’s interesting in retrospect how he was less of a writer/creator and more of an online therapist.

2.) Oh, but I come from a long line of plucky little heroes.

Have you heard the story of Neil Gaiman’s Jewish grand cousin Helen? The Jewish woman who survived the Warsaw ghetto? The plucky Jewish young woman who would read books aloud to her fellow persecuted Jewish folk? It’s a great story, masterfully told.

Gaiman has openly stated that he is not a practicing Jew. I think he may have even said he does not consider himself Jewish, something like “Judaism is my family’s religion”. He would often talk about his heritage, though, about the persecution Jewish people have faced, about discrimination. Now, this is perfectly all right and understandable. Talking about your ancestors while not belonging 100 % to that group is fine. Nothing to see here. Each one deals with their family’s history as they see fit.

But it turns into a completely different color when you learn that the Gaiman family (parents, sisters and first wive) all belong to the Church of Scientology.

The relatively frequent mentions of the heroic Jewish cousin against the almost zero mention of his active-in-a-cult close family does arise the suspicion that he was commodifying his family history. By being and not being Jewish, Gaiman belonged to a persecuted group when convenient. He could inspire and request sympathy and he could position himself as someone who naturally understands discrimination, something that specially resonates with a LGTBI fanbase.

I want to make this very clear, talking about your family history and finding pride in your roots is not a red flag. It’s the contrast, it's reaching far back in the famlity tree and bringign to the light small pieces while keeping in the dark something very big.

3.) A prince among the common folk

This is about class division. The rich and famous sit at the top and us common folk crawl at the bottom, with little to no contact among the groups. Common folk look up in admiration and privileged folk look down and occasionally wave.

But not Gaiman. Remember the memes during the last Tumblr Sell? “This is the cringe website, the autistic website, the weirdo website. Oh, there is also Neil Gaiman, don’t mind him, he lives here”. Gaiman jumped the class barrier and hung out in the common folk spaces, like one of us.

However, his posts are designed to remind us that he is not, in fact, one of us. Like a royal boon, he bestowed attention and interaction (that he could sever at any moment if the fans displeased him. The control was always firmly clutched in his fist). He relied on the starstruck effect for his predation, which meant his presence had to be extraordinary, special; his engagement laden with worth. he had to keep his privileged status while also playing coy.

He did this through name dropping. Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adam, Salman Rushdie, Michael Sheen, David Tennant, (especially Tennant because he is more popular than Sheen), Tori Amos.

One way or another, we would know he had access to these famous people, that he got to see them in a different, private, light and that he chose to interact with us instead of with them.

I can’t think of a better way to make someone feel special.

4.) Others

There are other little clues that point at dishonesty and deliberate misdirection:

His assertion that he wrote 50 % of Good Omens and that it’s impossible to tell who wrote what, when anyone familiar with both his and Pratchett’s writing can tell that 80% of the book is Terry Pratchett’s work.

His general insistence that the TV show, especially the second season, was his way of completing T. Pratchett’s unfinished business. Good Omens was published in 1990 and Prachett’s last book came out in 2015. I think if Sir Terry had wanted a sequel of Good Omens out, he would have got it out.

Declaring himself autistic only to use it as an excuse for his behavior just a few months later. What a great way to casually prop a shield in advance.

Conclusion

Neil Gaiman’s public behavior and interactions built the image of a very sympathetic character with multiple built-in defenses against allegations (he is so nice, of course you attack the Jewish man, all these famous people vouch of him, he is just autistic!). This strategy also helped him encourage and exploit parasocial relationships by positioning himself as a special companion.

Hoepfully, seeing this laid out can help us be more aware of manipulation tactics from regular and famous people both.

Note: I am including cscreenshots rather than links because I want to anonymize the fans. Also, in case his tumblr is deleted.

#neil gaiman #manipulation #grooming #communication #jewishness #neil gaiman allegations

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quiet-saint · 7 months ago

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"𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞"

Pairing: Vergil/fem!reader, android!vergil/reader

Cw: nsfw/+18, spanking, some light degradation, a little angst, comfort at the end. Reader is a bit touch-starved, didn’t have a good childhood. I think that's it?

Summary: You were assigned an android by your father against your will. Vergil wants to make the situation better for you both but you don’t make it easy.

A/n: Y’all this is pure self-indulgence again. Idk I kinda don't like the way it turned out but i’m throwing it into the void anyway bc i spent way too much time on it. Not really proofread.

ִ ࣪𖤐

It's been a little over a month since your father–whom you haven't had contact with in years—assigned an android of his own creation to you. A combat android, built for protection and fit for bodyguard work. Part of the Sparda line, of which there have only been four created before the entire project was scrapped. Deviancy seemed inevitable.

Vergil doesn't talk much about his brothers and refuses to tell you about Sparda, the first android of their type. Whatever. You don't much care. You don't care much for anything these days, really.

Prior to Vergil's arrival, you lived alone. Apathetic in a shitty apartment on the outskirts of Red Grave City, away from your father's technological empire. You tried for years to get in touch with him but he left you to be raised by tutors and nannies that came and went. As you got older, you didn't want anything to do with him or his advancements in technology. So much so when you turned eighteen you never touched the money your father put into your bank account. Changed your last name and moved away. Thought that was the end of it. Didn't think you'd have anything to do with him ever again.

But here you are, living in a luxury apartment with the android your father assigned to you without your permission. Vergil's very presence dredges up years of resentment and abandonment you thought you buried so deep within you they ceased to exist.

It's no wonder then, why you begin to backtrack to your room as soon as you catch sight of Vergil seated on the couch in the dark living room. You turn on your heel, biting your tongue. You only spent time around him if you had to and even then you tolerated him.

You take a step back toward your room, being as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw the android's attention.

"Come here." Vergil says and you still, inwardly cursing. Of course he heard you. Android hearing and all that. You're certain he knows what your heart rate is right now, your temperature. You take a deep breath and turn back to face the living room, glaring at the back of Vergil's head as he flips a page in his book, continuing to read. Unaffected by the lack of light. Casual and relaxed.

"What?" You say sharply, crossing your arms over your chest in frustration, unable to resist the slight rocking back and forth on your feet.

"I want to talk. Come here." He repeats, with that same low, gentle tone he uses to get you to eat. The windows of the highrise apartment are blacked out, blocking out any potential prying eyes yet giving you a clear, if less bright, look at the large buildings of the city.

"I won't tell you a third time." You drop your arms to your sides and fight the urge to stomp over like a child throwing a tantrum. Slowly you patter over, hallway carpet giving way to smooth wood flooring. You come to stand in front of Vergil. He closes his book with a faint thump, sets it down on the armrest of the blue velvet chesterfield sofa. He then pats the space beside him. "Sit." Spoken like an order. You bite the inside of your cheek but comply, keeping some space between you two. The little lamp on the side stand comes on and you know it's Vergil's doing. You blink a little as your eyes adjust to the change in lighting.

"Okay. Talk." You mumble, glancing over at him. Unfair how he can look so impeccable. He's dressed in a white button up shirt and black slacks. The top two buttons are undone to reveal a bit of his pale throat and clavicle. His silvery-white hair is slicked back in his preferred style.

Vergil's shifts to face you, his knee a hair's breadth from bumping your thigh. He has an elbow resting on the back of the sofa, two fingers along his temple. "Oh? Two words this time. I didn't know you were capable." He says with a teasing lilt.

Your nails dig crescent moons into your right palm. "Did you ask me to sit here just to torment me?"

Vergil chuckles, the sound low, incredibly human and unexpectedly pleasant. "No. I... want to make things easier for you and I." That catches you off guard, your eyebrows pulling together slightly in a mix of confusion and surprise. Vergil is being nice, and you hate it. Hate the way he uses that gentle, patient tone. Hate the way it makes you want to give in and drop your carefully crafted detached demeanor. Hate the way hearing that tone makes you crave his approval. Your knee begins to bounce as you cross your arms over your chest. You huff in frustration as you turn your head to look at him. "Like anything will make it easier to be babysat by a fucking machine?" You snap.

In a flash Vergil grips your jaw, thumb along one cheek and his fingers pressing into your other, forcing your mouth into a pout. "Careful." He whispers leaning in, artificial breath warm as it fans lightly over your face. You can't speak clearly with the way your lips are pressed into an unwilling pout. Your eyes narrow as you catch the faint upturned corners of his mouth, anger flaring at the sight. His grip on your jaw lingers a moment longer before releasing.

"I don't need a hunk of plastic to—" You're cut off by Vergil's right hand fisting the collar of your shirt, exposing the warm soft skin of your tummy. You gasp in surprise. Vergil wastes no time in using his hold on your shirt to haul you over his lap, draping you over his thighs with ease. The action knocking a bit of air from your lungs. Your hands press flat along the rough area rug of the living room, your socked feet slip a little as you attempt to push yourself up and off his lap.

"I was wondering when you'd break." A warm hand comes down to press at your lower spine, resting just above the waistband of your jeans, the tip of a pinky slipping teasingly below the denim. The small skin to skin contact makes you dizzy, causing you to still, heart stuttering in your chest as your breathing becomes shallow. "W-what the hell are you doing?" You ask, craning your neck and pushing up on your hands to try and look at him, hair getting in your face.

Vergil's free hand reaches down to wrap delicately around your throat, not applying any pressure. No squeezing. His touch is soft, near feather light. Grounding, even. Vergil removes it in favor of giving your hair a brief stroke as if you're some pet in his lap and not a grown adult. He leans down a little.

"You," he begins voice quiet and a little rough in the low light of the living room. "Are going to say Yamato if you feel unsafe. Or if this gets to be too much."

Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach immediately even as your brain is slow to piece this all together. "W-what?" You ask in disbelief but there's heat low in your tummy and Vergil's hand on that bit of exposed skin above your waistband. Comforting, teasing, and intoxicating all at once. "I want you to say it now." Vergil's voice is a coaxing purr. You swallow, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Y-yamato." You stammer, face hot as you hang your head.

"Good." Is all you get before Vergil's hands go to your jeans, fingers hooking in the waistband and pulling the denim halfway down your thighs. Swift and rough. You gasp, fingers digging a little into the area rug below you. Vergil runs a hand up the back of your right thigh, thumb brushing along the crease where your ass meets it, just below the edge of your underwear. You begin to squirm.

"I've been wanting to correct your behavior for a while now." He says and you huff in indignation. "M-my behavior is fine."

Vergil scoffs and pinches your ass cheek harshly. You jolt, a squeak tumbling forth. "Excluding the rude insults from a moment ago, you're rather... polite most of the time, yes." Vergil replies, running his palm over the area he pinched soothingly before giving a light squeeze. You moan softly. Embarrassment and molten want swirl in your stomach, your senses in overdrive. Vergil snickers. "But even I get tired of one word answers and sulking. I think I might have more of a personality than you." He says dryly as he grips the waistband of your underwear, bunching it up and pulling the cloth taught against your slit and you can feel how slick you've become. You press up a little on your toes, gasping as he pulls the fabric tighter, nearly wedging the fabric in your middle.

"Ah, wet already." Vergil all but purrs as he ghosts his thumb over the damp spot with his free hand. Your breath catches in your throat, heart beating wildly against your ribcage. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. "I've hardly done anything, dear. A few touches and a pinch really get you that worked up?" You whimper in humiliation as Vergil tugs the material down to rest under the curve of your ass.

Without warning Vergil's palm connects with the soft skin of your right cheek, stinging and sharp and aching. You cry out in surprise. "H-hey!"

"I want an apology." Vergil states coolly, rubbing and gently squeezing the reddening flesh of your rear. Your mouth struggles to form words, head full of want. Vergil scoffs and smacks harshly against your left cheek this time. Once, twice, three times before doing the same to your right. He hits sharp and hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. You've never been spanked before, haven't received any real physical discipline growing up. Your nannies and even your father in your early years opted for isolation. You wonder if you'll bruise. The thought shouldn't make you ache and leak but it does, hole clenching around nothing. "I-I'm sorry!" You squeal, panting as your arms tremble from holding a bit of your weight up at the awkward angle. He could have laid you over his lap on the sofa but you suspect Vergil wanted the position to be a little uncomfortable.

"Oh you can do better than that."

You swallow and collect yourself as best you can. "I'm sorry for calling you a hunk of plastic and a machine." You mumble, slumping a little, head hanging once more, hair hiding your face. Humiliated and turned on, out of your element and overwhelmed. The word yamato rests in your throat at the ready but you don't want to say it. You don't feel as if you need to.

Vergil hums as if in thought. "And? What of your behavior?" He asks, soothing his palm over the pink heated skin of your ass. You nod in understanding. "I'm... sorry for that, too. I-I'll stop... sulking." You stammer, the words awkward on your tongue. When was the last time you had to apologize for anything? When was the last you actually had anyone to apologize to?

"Better." Vergil murmurs, pulling the fabric of your underwear back up to cover you and you whine, aching and needy. Vergil hushes you as he pulls your jeans up to your rear. He taps your hip and helps you stand. His pale fingers tug at your belt loops, pulling you close to stand between his spread legs. Your hands go to his shoulders for support as your knees feel a tad weak.

Vergil looks up at you from his spot on the sofa, maintaining eye contact as he pulls up your pants the rest of the way. An unnameable intensity in his pale blue gaze. He smooths out your shirt, however the collar of it is stretched from Vergil using it to haul you over his lap.

"Sit with me." A soft command. He leans back against the blue velvet sofa, draping an arm along the back of it. The ache between your thighs begins to fade. You've never been in this sort of situation before. Fuck. You've hardly had a meaningful conversation with Vergil and you certainly haven't been spanked until tonight. Although it wasn't much. A million questions flood your head but you don't have the energy to ask them or word them properly.

Overwhelmed you fall back on simply listening. You settle onto the cushion beside him, ass aching. Vergil moves his arm from the back of the sofa to pull you further into his side. He tucks some of your hair behind your right ear.

"Are you alright?" Vergil asks and you nod as you stare at your lap. He sighs and his free hand comes up to gently grab your chin so you're forced to look at him. His brows are knit together, mouth set in a slight frown as he looks you over. "Come here." He says, not really waiting for an answer before reaching and pulling you into his lap, his arm moving from your shoulder to wrap around your lower back. Your left side grows warm as it's pressed to his front and his right hand rubs over your hip in a soothing manner. Unsure of how to respond to Vergil's affectionate physical contact you stiffen momentarily. You haven't been hugged since... when? You can't remember.

Gradually, you will yourself to relax, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. You'd expect an android to smell like plastic but Vergil smells good. Like sandalwood and vanilla with the faintest hint of something metallic. Does he wear cologne? You wonder. Vergil's hand not on your hip goes to your hair, stroking softly, palm sometimes grazing your cheek. It feels good to be held. It's warm here. Safe. Secure.

A lump forms in your throat. Heat creeps into your cheeks as your vision blurs. A soft, broken sound leaves your throat as your lashes grow damp and spikey from tears that slide down your cheeks to trail down your chin. Vergil sighs again and you sniffle. A small strained "'m sorry" leaving your lips. Vergil shakes his head, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears under an eye. "Don't be. I was prepared for this sort of outcome." You huff a quiet laugh against his shoulder that's more air than anything. "H-how did you know I'd cry?" You ask, sniffling as you blink back more tears. Vergil resumes stroking your hair. "Going off your behavior and your history, there was a high probability you would react this way."

"You can... calculate that?" You whisper.

Vergil hums. "Not accurately." He answers but doesn't bother to elaborate further.

Tired but not as overwhelmed, the gentle stroking of your hair and the warm hand on your hip has your limbs growing heavy.

"It's alright." Vergil murmurs, lips near your forehead. "You can sleep. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow."

As much as you try to fight sleep in an attempt to drag this moment out, to stay here, held and warm and wanted, it's impossible. Your body grows lax and your eyes fall shut.

"Sleep well." Vergil says, low and whisper soft against your hair.

ִ ࣪𖤐

Y'all idek...

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil/reader #vergil sparda/reader #vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #my writing #lwk don't fw this 😔

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itscoucouharry · 2 months ago

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Behind The Curtains- Zayn Malik x Plus size Reader oneshot

I miss zayn:,)but basically y/n is studying to be a nurse but a plus-size stripper on the weekends.

My Masterlist

Your body ached, but you didn’t have time to wallow. Rent was due in a few days, and your bank account was barely hanging on. Between tuition, books, and the cost of living in the city, the money from your weekday shifts at the hospital just wasn’t enough.

That’s why you had the other job.

The lights in the club were dim, a haze of red and gold washing over the stage as music thumped through the speakers. This place was nothing like the hospital—here, you weren’t “just the intern” or the “plus-size nurse who couldn’t keep up.” Here, you were adored. Admired.

The club catered specifically to plus-size women, a niche you were grateful for. It gave you the freedom to embrace your body and confidence in a way you hadn’t before.

You adjusted the straps of your black sequined bodysuit, staring at yourself in the mirror backstage. You were nervous tonight—not about performing, but about who might be in the audience. You’d heard whispers about a VIP who’d rented out a table for himself and his friends.

You weren’t prepared for it to be Zayn Malik.

You’d met him once or twice through mutual connections, though you’d never spoken much. He was quiet, brooding, always giving the impression that he saw more than he let on. And now, he was here, sitting casually in the shadows of the VIP section, a drink in hand as he watched the performances with a sharp, assessing gaze.

When your name was called, the applause was louder than usual. You were one of the club’s most requested performers, known for your sultry moves and the way you owned every inch of the stage.

As the music started, you pushed all thoughts of Zayn out of your mind, focusing instead on the routine. You swayed to the beat, running your hands down your body as the crowd cheered. But despite your best efforts, your eyes kept drifting to him.

He was watching you, his expression unreadable. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, as though he didn’t want to miss a single second.

It threw you off balance, and for the first time in months, you felt self-conscious on stage. Did he recognize you? Did he know about your struggles, your double life?

You finished your routine with a flourish, exiting the stage to thunderous applause. Backstage, you tried to catch your breath, your heart pounding from more than just the exertion.

“Hey.”

The voice made you freeze. Turning slowly, you found Zayn standing just inside the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black hoodie.

“What are you doing back here?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shrugged, his eyes scanning your face. “Wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About why you’re here,” he said simply.

You frowned, your defenses immediately rising. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, leaning casually against the wall. “But it doesn’t add up. You’re training to be a nurse, aren’t you? Saw you at the hospital a few months back.”

Your stomach sank. So he did recognize you.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said, your tone clipped.

He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “It’s relevant because I know how hard that job is. And this?” He gestured vaguely to the club. “This doesn’t seem like something you’d do unless you didn’t have a choice.”

You bristled, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “So what? You’re here to judge me? To make me feel bad for doing what I have to do to survive?”

“I’m not judging you,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “I just want to understand.”

You hesitated, unsure of whether to believe him. But the sincerity in his eyes made something in you crack.

“Rent’s due,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “And my hospital pay doesn’t cover it. Tuition, bills, groceries—it’s all too much. So I come here on weekends to make ends meet.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Your laugh was bitter. “Yeah, well, welcome to the real world, Zayn. No one’s lining up to help a broke, plus-size nurse-in-training.”

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t back down. “You’re worth more than this,” he said firmly. “And if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask.”

You stared at him, your emotions a whirlwind of anger, gratitude, and something you couldn’t quite name. “Why do you care?”

“Because I see you,” he said softly. “I see how hard you work, how much you give. And I hate that you think you have to do this to prove your worth.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you break. “I don’t need saving, Zayn.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” he said, his voice steady. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this.”

You looked away, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words settled over you, both comforting and suffocating.

“Thanks for the concern,” you said finally, your voice flat. “But I’ve got it handled.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the dim light of the backstage.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Because no matter how sincere he seemed, you knew better than to rely on anyone but yourself.

#zayn malik #Zayn oneshot #Zayn Malik oneshot #one direction #harry styles x plus size reader #plus size reader #fanfiction #1d oneshot #harry styles one shot #niall horan imagine #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader

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dreamingofshiloh · 17 days ago

Text

Welcome to..

𐔌 . ⋮ dreamingofshiloh™ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟏 ۶ৎ

𝐈’𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 ….

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒. જ⁀➴

# ۶ৎ ABOUT ME

— I’m SHILOH, and you can call me that or any nickname variant; eg. Shi, Lio, Lo, and etc ! I’m a pretty basic shifter with too many drs, an even more insane amount of special interests, and far too many soulmates. (yet I have none in this reality.. odd.)

— my favorite color is red and I’m insanely addicted to dr pepper. I also love reading, especially random gay romances and murder mysteries. I’m thirteen, turning fourteen in July, and I've been a part of the shifting community since I was eleven. I grew up Atheist, but recently converted to Christianity in hopes of finding a faith to live for. †

— One Direction is my entire world and I WILL destroy anyone who dares to diss 1D. They literally raised me and then saved my life. LLLP ❤️🕊️

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° (pssst.. I’m a lover of women.)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

— there is nothing I want more than a decent sized, old-style 3-4 bedroom house somewhere in the midwest or canada for my future significant other and I, possibly our children. Plus an infinite supply of Dr. Pepper…

I can have it, I will have it, and you can have it too. Shifting is crazy, innit?

# ۶ৎ HOW DID I GET HERE?

— about a year or so ago, one of my best friends, who you could find as “@/satoritodoroki1” on tiktok, introduced me to shifting. At first, I thought it was weird and it made no sense to me whatsoever. After looking into it more, I realized I actually really like the idea of it. To this day, I’ve still been too afraid to shift, but I feel I've grown a lot throughout the past year and after I start posting on this account, I’ll slowly lose fear of shifting and gain motivation to try again until I get it. </3

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 …. ✫彡

⋆. ࿐࿔ One Direction DR … summers soaked in neon light and stadium echoes, watching the boys you adore become legends. sneaking backstage with your heart pounding, laughter mingling with the crackle of microphone checks. Road trips that blur together in hazy, sunlit polaroids and playlists that never get old. Dancing in hotel rooms until dawn, their cologne lingering on your hoodie, stolen kisses behind closed doors. tabloid chaos by day, secret moments by night, friendships as strong as the chords they play. In the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: love. the fame, the madness, the sold-out arenas. It all serves that one thing.

⋆. ࿐࿔ Hogwarts DR … candlelit corridors humming with ancient secrets, parchment scattered across wooden tables, the scent of ink and old books lingering in the air. Casting spells under the glow of the enchanted ceiling, whispering forbidden dreams in hidden corners of the castle. The thrill of duels, the warmth of butterbeer by the fire, the quiet power of a well-placed charm. Summers spent in sprawling manors and enchanted gardens, tangled in silk and scandal, dancing until dawn with whispers of rebellion on our lips. In the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: legacy. The magic, the ambition, the bonds we forge in shadow and light—it all serves that one thing.

⋆. ࿐࿔ Percy Jackson DR … Golden afternoons spent training in the sun, swords clashing and the scent of pine hanging in the air. Cabins alive with laughter, campfires crackling with stories of gods and monsters. Racing across the strawberry fields, the sound of Pegasus wings beating in the distance. Sneaking out past curfew, your heart pounding like a war drum, chasing adventure in moonlit forests. Forging friendships stronger than celestial bronze, the thrill of quests that could make or break you, and finding your place among legends. In the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: survival. The courage, the loyalty, the endless battles—it all serves that one thing.

⋆. ࿐࿔ Twilight DR … Misty mornings in a sleepy, rain-drenched town, the scent of pine and earth filling the air. Wandering through shadowed forests where sunlight breaks through the trees in shards of gold. Stolen glances across crowded cafeterias, the unshakable feeling that something dangerous and beautiful lurks beneath the surface. Nights spent under star-scattered skies, the chill of the air offset by whispered promises and secrets too big to keep. The electric thrill of chasing the unknown, of love that burns brighter than the sun. In the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: eternity. The mystery, the longing, the unbreakable bonds—it all serves that one thing.

⋆. ࿐࿔ Royalty DR … Sunlight streaming through grand stained-glass windows, the soft rustle of silk gowns and the gleam of polished crowns. Stolen moments in sprawling palace gardens, laughter echoing through marble halls. Nights alive with the glow of chandeliers, the clinking of crystal glasses, and whispered alliances behind gilded doors. The weight of a kingdom on your shoulders, secrets buried beneath layers of gold and velvet. Love found in forbidden places, power gained and lost in the blink of an eye. In the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: legacy. The opulence, the intrigue, the endless pursuit of the throne—it all serves that one thing.

⋆. ࿐࿔ YouTuber DR … Bright studio lights casting shadows over your desk, the click of a camera, and the buzz of editing software. Hours spent crafting the perfect shot, words carefully chosen for a story only you can tell. The thrill of a new video going live, the flood of comments, and the unspoken bond with thousands of strangers who feel like friends. Late nights editing, tired eyes glued to the screen, chasing perfection in every frame. Behind the scenes, moments of doubt, yet always driven by the love for creating. In the end, it’s all about sharing your world, one video at a time.

⋆. ࿐࿔ 1st Fame DR … The flashing lights, the never-ending buzz of attention, and the weight of expectations that follow you everywhere. Red carpets, private jets, and the constant hum of cameras capturing your every move. Behind the glitz, there’s a quiet loneliness, a yearning for privacy amid the chaos. Fans screaming your name, but no one truly knows you. The endless cycle of events, interviews, and self-promotion, each moment feeding the beast that is your public image. In the end, fame is a fleeting thing, but the person you are beyond it is what truly endures.

⋆. ࿐࿔ Author DR … The soft rustle of pages, the hum of a quiet room filled with the scent of ink and paper. Fingers dancing across the keyboard, weaving stories that escape into the world. Endless drafts, plot twists that surprise even you, characters who feel as real as old friends. Late nights fueled by coffee and imagination, the thrill of a perfect sentence, the agony of finding just the right word. But through the doubts and edits, it’s always about one thing: creating a world that lives beyond the page. The plot, the characters, the ink—it all comes together to tell a story.

⋆. ࿐࿔ Parent DR … Early mornings filled with the chaos of getting everyone ready, the hum of routine mixed with the warmth of home. The endless juggling of responsibilities, balancing love and discipline, laughter and lessons. Watching them grow, each milestone a bittersweet reminder of time slipping by. Quiet moments at the end of the day, holding onto their little hands, knowing you’ve given them all of you. Through the challenges, the exhaustion, and the triumphs, it all comes down to one thing: love. The sacrifices, the guidance, the endless care—it all leads back to the heart of family.

— lowk there’s more drs, but I don’t feel like adding the rest.

— yes, @rorysshiftingdiary and I are the same person. I’m genderfluid and have separate drs where I’m a boy/girl based on how I’m feeling. On here, pls call me Shiloh and use masculine prnns for me. Thank you :)

Anyways, I’ll probably add more to this later.

Happy shifting!! ‹𝟹

#shifting community #shifters #shifting blog #shifting antis dni #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting motivation #shifting diary #shifting consciousness #shiftingrealities #shifting script #shifted story #shift blog

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renalord · 2 years ago

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✰ pairing: jing yuan x gn!reader

✰ synopsis: jing yuan and reader relax under a tree.

✰ warnings: none. fluff, and the two of them kiss.

✰ authors note: first real post on this account, treat it well. requests are open (navigation). not proofread. can you guys tell im in love with jing yuan

you were sure there was nothing better than being able to rest in the cool breeze, your lover’s head resting on your legs. his silver hair was soft against your skin, untied and spread out over your body onto the grass around. his face was covered from your sight by the book you held in your hands, eyes scanning across the lines of words on each page. it was colored a darker red than jing yuan’s hair tie, something that you used as a bookmark whenever he didn’t have his hair up. although you couldn’t see his expression, you were almost certain that it was one of content, eyes closed and a tranquil smile set on his lips. his lion, which was an unusual color of white, slept beside you, one gigantic paw resting on your already numb thighs. ouch. you had tried to move it prior to reading, but were met with a grunt from the big cat and decided to leave it alone. eventually your thoughts wandered, and you became too lost to notice the hand reaching up to slowly push down your book. jing yuan blinked at you, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

“hi.” his voice was quiet, soft. your hands let go of the book slowly, instead moving to press a few fingers to his face. your mouth curved into a smile, hair flowing towards your eyes as the wind began traveling in your direction.

“hi.” you replied, imitating his calm tone. he liked that about you, your demeanor was peaceful, one he could indulge in without worrying about himself. he also knew you were a hard worker, someone who could fight for themself and protect others at the same time, so moments like these were rare but special. honestly, it’s a miracle that you get to have these kinds of moments at all.

“i miss you.” jing yuan was definitely a man of few words.

“then maybe you should stop sleeping.” you rolled your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. seriously, how does he NOT have any knots at all? the general gave a huff of laughter, lifting himself off of your legs. one of his hands rested on the mane of his lion (which somehow hasn’t killed him yet), the other reaching up to touch your cheek.

“these are the moments where i can truly rest. i should be able to do so.” his tone wasn’t rude, you knew he was joking, still you couldn’t help but make a comment about his choice of words.

“don’t you take a nap everyday?” he deadpanned and you smiled. the wind picked up slightly, brushing leaves off the tree that gave the lovers shade.

“well.. they’re not always with you.” jing yuan replied back, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. it was only for a brief moment, but you caught it. curse you and your superhuman ability to observe everything around you. thus, without a second of hesitation, you leaned forward to meet your soft lips with his. his usually pale skin turned red on the cheeks, pressing his hands under your jawline. green leaves continued to fall, blown away by the push of air from jing’s lion as it woke.

there was truly no better person for you than him.

#✰ renas woes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #hsr #honkai #honkai star rail #hsr imagines #hsr scenarios #honkai x reader #honkai x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #oneshot #anime #hoyoverse

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thebelugawhalefriend · 1 year ago

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The Men Before The Rose - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART ONE

CW: RELIGIOUS THEMES, EXECUTION MENTIONS, Homophobia

Note: This is a sequel to the first story! An expansion into Rose's heritage and how the world works for them. As someone pointed out, it's rather sudden how the homophobia shows itself and comes off as unartful. So! This will mostly dive into the division about same sex couples.

Months passed before you could consider yourself okay again. The isolation from your family and friends was something you slowly had to overcome the pain of. It still stings like an arrow to the heart, but living on was the least you could do for yourself.

In the meantime, you decide to busy yourself with finding the history of the royals. Rose isn't too excited to share in his own history, only providing you one book. Even given the sparse information Rose would provide, his family's long time rule was no mere feat to scoff at. What draws your attention most is his direct father, Aquila. Upon seeing his name on one of the pages, you turn to read the chapter dedicated to his reign.

Before our red haired king had assumed the throne, Aquila Florian sat upon the gilded seat of power. Hair as golden as the rays of sun, eyes a similar shade. No man nor woman could even compare to his mere size- Murals along the castle walls could only paint his figure from the top of his chest if they wished to paint his face!

By his side was his appointed wife that he named Tyto. Her previous first name has been erased from our records, but his command ruled that her name be changed to fit his rigid structure. In fact, much of his rule came from...

The book quickly proved itself to be a rather boring account of events. But, there is perhaps another way to experience the story. You close the leather book in your hands and set it onto the dresser, lifting up and wandering out of the bedroom.

"My Lady, to where shall I accompany you?" You're well aware of the guard outside of the room, and yet he never ceases to surprise you when you step out. "I told you before, you can call me (Y/N)..."

"Not when you've been wed to the king. I've been ordered to call you Lady and nothing more."

"Then... Alright, I don't wish to cause you trouble. Do you think you could guide me to Rose's study?"

The iron clad guard pauses for a moment, "His... His study is more than private, Your Grace. I wouldn't be allowed to lead you there- much less fulfill my duty to your care."

You shake your head a little. It's always been this excuse time and time again, "Is it a sin to want to know more about the man I married? About the family I am part of now?"

"With all due respect, not even Queen Florian has ventured within the study. I cannot let you violate the trust of the king- nay, your husband..."

"He's violated my own trust the day he commanded I stay within these walls and never see anyone I care for again. I'm not just asking as a..." You struggle to utter the mere words, "As a royal, but as a confused human being... Please, I must see the study."

The walk to Rose's study was short, but the tension made it seem like hours. Charles is anything but a hard hearted man. A tender gentleman just above your own height. While he was commanded to keep watch by the threat of death, he couldn't bear to see another moment pass with you longing for more.

"Thank you... Thank you so so-"

"Please make it swift, My Lady. Rose will return in a few hours."

You nod, easily slipping into the unlocked study.

Creeeaaaakkk....

The oakwood door moans as it reveals the room to you. It took your eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, but there's no mistaking what you're seeing. The eerily large room holds plenty of large murals that paint the elongated walls. Moonlight mixed with dim flames of the torches just barely illuminates the inside from behind you, but God almighty you want to see more.

"I'll need light..."

Closing the door carefully, you snatch yourself a candle from one of the nearby side tables and hold it to a lit torch. After all, no noble could leave their castle barren of a lighting system. It takes you little time to slip right back in and start to walk along the hall of artwork. Strangely enough, this didn't feel like a study. No, this felt like a room dedicated to telling the tale of their rule. You can animate in your head just what each painting told...

Men upon horses trample over others of their own kind. White stallions proudly sported iron clad warriors upon their backs, while at their hooves were unarmored and weaponless men. Swords glowed a beaming sun yellow to declare a holy victory to claim the land they fought for.

A man with white hair stands over a crowd of adoring people and dogs. What's strange is that the dogs stand on hind legs and praise him as if they themselves are human. Horses behind the crowd also cheer for him, but all four hooves stay connected to the ground.

A single long line connects a chain of kings, each one holding a link within a golden chain. Most sport blonde hair and blue eyes, but the last king stands as an outlier. He holds golden eyes and curled red locks. Under them each is a name, but most of the older ones were too faded to read. 'Raven Florian/Lady Mourn - Aquila Florian/Lady Tyto - Rose Florian/Lady Azalea/Lady (Y/N)'.

Even if the third one isn't the last, you take a long pause to look upon the names. Your new marriage has quite literally been set in stone. Painted with your name under the striking red haired man. Yet, you keep going. You must know more about them! What stops you is the hall widening into a rather quaint room. Now this looks a lot more like a study, with a large red chair sat in the midst of bookshelves and a messy desk of papers and a journal. It's the desk you're drawn to first, picking up the most worn out journal upon it.

"Blank?" You look on the cover. The only thing even describing what could be inside were the initials AF written on the leather cover's corner. "What could you be hiding?" You set your candle close and sit down, starting to read the pages inside.

Day of 30th, December, 1201

Today has transpired like any other. My breakfast was rather lean, but I can't complain when dinner is to be grand.

You laugh softly at such an inconspicuous entry. Maybe this would be a silly little journal of thoughts. Most follow such an idea, but some entries catch your attention more than others.

Day of 14th, April, 1202

Joanne of Jonstown has been captured.

Your eyebrows knot in confusion, turning to the page behind it.

Date of 12th, April, 1202

A grand disturbance has taken place at Noble Stewart's wedding. A strange rogue appeared and objected to the union, disgracing the ceremony to declare a disgusting lust for his wife. Any sane man would have wrung her neck on the spot, but the rat got away before he could catch her. It's no matter to him now. I have hired Jasper and his men to bring her to justice. With any luck, he could receive his own spot here by my side...

Date of 15th, April, 1202

Her execution has been dated for three days from now. I suggested we string and quarter her for her sins, but my royal advisor suggested I treat her not as a mere criminal. Rather, we could give her the same treatment as we do for suspected dark arts users. Not only will this serve as a painful death one like her deserves, but will also set the further precedent for what is to come of unlawful relations. If one is to partake in disturbing the union of a man and a woman for their own desires, they are to be burned at the stake. I have no quarrel with what the royal advisor pointed me to, and have let him write the law. It's on her execution day that I shall decree this law and set it into swift motion.

With an uneasy hand, you turn it to one of the final pages.

Date of 18th, April, 1202

The law has been set, and all was well. Not a single soul objected to the law while the spectacle took place. The

"Have you no respect for my personal space?" You immediately shift your eyes from the book to see those familiar golden eyes looking upon you with scorn. Dim candle light in his hand flickering and lighting up the underside of his displeased face. His figure draws closer as you retreat into yourself.

"I-I'm sorry, Rose! I wanted to know more- I-"

"My father's words are about as much history as murderers are innocent!" He practically roars, snatching the journal away and towering over your frame. "I gave you the resource you wanted... I gave you all you could ever want to know. This?" He holds up the book, "These are the ravings of a madman that no person should EVER learn from!"

"Learn from?" You start to rise from your position, a little offended by his assumption, "I wanted to learn ABOUT your family! Is it not my right to know what my children will be born into? What I tie myself to?"

"My father's words and thoughts have died with him. There is no need to continue learning from his example."

Standing up from your position, you place a finger to his chest and start walking him backwards. "You can't hide what your family has done to innocent people! Your father was a horrible-"

"I KNOW!"

His right hand drops the journal, latching onto your shoulder to allow his anger to set deep within. The glow from his candle dims to let the dark features of his anger settle in.

"I know he was a horrible man. He ordered the execution of many people who did not deserve it. If he knew of what I have now... He would surely kill me." Rose sighs, letting you go and setting down his fading candle. "I come from a line of men who claim to know their faith. Who hoped that persecuting the innocent would cure them of their own sins. You want to know what I think?" He looks to the book on the desk with a wicked snarl. "I think they're all burning in hell for the rest of their days. My father, his father, and the ones who came before. The men he hired that still work in the castle? They too will burn for being so stuck in their ways..."

You place a hand under his chin, bringing him to look at you. "It's no use to hide the history of your lineage. You are the result of those men, whether you like it or not." He tries to butt in, but you're quick to pause his interruption. "But what they've done doesn't make you a horrible man. It's what you do now that truly matters, does it not? You wouldn't have executed them. You let my mothers live in peace despite the law your father put into place..."

With a hefty sigh, he cups your face and finally draws out a smile upon his own. "You still violated my trust, dearest. I didn't want you to wander..."

"You assume I'd be content staying in one room for the rest of my years." Your teasing is bold, but his laugh was moreso. "I suppose you're right. Come then, I guess I owe you a proper tour of our home." As you both approach the doorway, you pause for a moment in thought.

"What is to become of Charles?"

"Ah... Him. He can't go unpunished for disobeying my order, my dear."

Your blood runs ice cold, but Rose is quick to try and soothe your tense worry, "Calm yourself! He's not going to be executed- Lord almighty, did you forget my whole point of not being my father? He'll spend some time thinking over his betrayal and punished as severely as the crime calls for. Which... Isn't too cruel."

"Will he continue to serve for us?"

"That remains to be seen. Come! I'll show you to the bottom floor!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #x reader #yandere crush #imagines #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling

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fishsticksloser · 1 year ago

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If RoTTMNT requests are open, can I request a fluff Future Leo x Male Reader? Getting one for my bestie teehee, he is a simp :³

Fine Wine

F!Leo x male!reader

Warnings: playful banter, kissing, flirting, swearing, a tiny bit suggestive...

A/N: I had... Maybe a bit too much fun with this. To be fair, you left it open so don't judge me! 🫵 I hope your friend enjoys this. I don't blame him for being a simp... Have you seen my posts (or even my reblog account?)

You walk into Leo's room, he's sitting on his bed. His back against the wall, a book in his hand. "What're you doing?" Leo asks, setting his book on the table nearby.

"Ah. Just checking the fermentation that's going on in here." You tease, leaning against the doorframe. You smile brightly at Leo as he seems to get more comfortable. "You aging more like a fine wine or sauerkraut?"

Leo raised an eyebrow at your comment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I see how it is. Comparing me to sauerkraut now, huh? Well, I'll have you know, I age like a fine wine, sweetheart. Full-bodied and just a little rough around the edges." He chuckled, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "But hey, if you're into that tangy, fermented goodness, who am I to judge?"

You step into his room, standing next to his side of the bed. "Mmm..." You hum softly, gently cupping his cheek. "I'd say a very fine wine." Leo's eyes widened slightly at your touch, his smirk fading into a more genuine smile. He leaned into your hand, enjoying the warmth of your touch.

"Well, well, aren't you full of compliments tonight," he responded, his voice softer now. "Guess I must be doing something right if I've earned your praise." He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. "You know, I could use a taste tester. Care to join me in sampling this 'fine wine'?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

"How could I possibly say no?" You laugh softly, feeling Leo pull you closer. "Think I'm drunk already..." You whisper as your faces get closer. Leo's expression turned more serious as he pulled you closer, his gaze locked with yours.

His voice dropped to a low, husky tone. "Drunk on what, sweetheart? The taste of adventure? The thrill of danger? Or maybe... just maybe... the intoxicating presence of a certain red eared slider?" His lips brushed against yours in a teasing manner, his tone laced with a hint of mischief. "Either way, I'm more than happy to be your drink of choice tonight."

"Oh? Are you dangerous?" You ask, smiling as your lips brush his. Your other hand cups his other cheek, noses bumping. Leo's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire as he felt your hand cup his other cheek. His lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Dangerous? Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "I've battled countless enemies, faced down the Kraang, and survived against all odds. But the most dangerous thing about me?" His voice lowered to a seductive murmur. "It's the way I make your heart race, the way I make you crave more." His lips claimed yours in a deep, passionate kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist.

You kiss him back slowly, cupping the base of his skull. Your lips meld and mold against his. Leo's chest rose and fell with a mixture of desire and frustration as he pulled away from the kiss, his eyes locked with yours. "Damn... You'd make a pretty fine wine..." You mumble breathlessly.

He chuckled softly, his voice husky. "Well, sweetheart, I could say the same about you. Fine wine or not, you've got me craving another taste." He leaned in once more, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing manner before he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But let's take it slow, shall we? We've got all night to savor the flavor."

Leo's lips lingered against yours, a hunger evident in his eyes. He chuckled softly, it's low and gravelly. His missing arm reaching out to you, but he leaned in once more, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. Leo's arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you onto his lap as your lips melded together. He lost himself in the taste and feel of you, his body responding instinctively to the closeness. His tongue teased against yours, exploring and savoring the taste of you, his body pressing against yours with a raw, desperate desire. His hand slid up your back, his touch firm yet gentle as he deepened the kiss, your tongues dancing in a passionate rhythm. In this moment, there was no past, no regrets, only the intoxicating connection between two souls. The world outside ceased to exist as he focused solely on savoring every touch, every breath, and every moment of blissful escape.

You slowly move your kisses to his jaw and neck, wanting him to feel loved and wanted. You gently bite his neck, humming softly. Leo's breath hitched as your lips and teeth grazed his jaw and neck, a shiver coursing through his body. "Good year..." You tease lightly, still keeping up the playful banter.

He chuckled softly, his voice laced with desire. "Oh, a connoisseur of fine wines, are we? Well, I must say, this year is particularly exceptional." He tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access to his neck, a low growl escaping his throat as you gently bit down. "But I must warn you, sweetheart, once you've tasted the best, there's no going back." His tone was filled with both amusement and longing, his body responding eagerly to your touch.

"Don't I know it... But I wouldn't have it any other way..." You whisper, biting his bottom lip and tugging it slightly. "Can't get enough..." Leo's eyes darkened with desire as he felt your teeth graze his bottom lip. He let out a low growl of pleasure, his body responding to your touch.

"You know, I've always been one to indulge in the things I can't get enough of. Believe me, sweetheart, the feeling is mutual," he murmured, his voice husky. "It seems I've found something truly irresistible." His hand trailed up your back, fingers grazing along your spine, as he deepened the kiss once more. The taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his, ignited a fire within him. He couldn't get enough of you, craving the intoxicating passion that flowed between you.

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