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wttcsms · 1 year

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these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

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pinkriaji · 1 year

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✨️Reminder✨️

Accept that you are everything you need

Todays post i hope is able to reach alot of people, because i want everyone in this community to know, just how powerful we are all are.

I believe that we all are the creators of our own realities, but rn, I don't want you to think of my reality, your friends reality, your parents reality. I want you to fully think about your reality.

As long as you are conscious, you are in control of your reality. What you believe, is going to be reflected.

I'm not only talking about the magical things, but I'm also talking about the things that happen in your everyday routine, the most common ones that are just normal for you.

I hope I'm explaining what I'm trying to say.

Insecurities, anxiety, fear, feeling desperate, confused and disoriented are not "bad, negative emotions" or "low vibrations" they are EMOTIONS, that come with other emotions in the package that we agreed on when we were born. Your emotions are important, they are needed, and naturally you have to express them in a healthy way.

Let's not villanize emotions, they have no power in a manifesting pov, but they are powerful in the sense of feeling them, don't be scared of them, use them, let them guide you and uncover they way you feel and why you feel that way.

I'm tired of people shaming emotions, they are important because we are living.

If you are new in the community, start by realizing that you are God and limitless, I can assure you that when you accept this, truthfully in your heart, the rest will follow. You have everything you need because you have the key of limitless creation.

So many people in this community, sort of craft this idea in beginners, that they need certains creators, methods, courses, challenges to FINALLY get what they want and tbh I find that heartbreaking, because I was once, one of those beginners, who felt dumb, stupid, desperate and poor for not being able to get coaching or special prizes, and I can say alot of us, are met with people belittling us, bully us, and damn even denigrating us for having a hard time changing our past beliefs.

⚠️I'm not hating any other creator who have started their own small business in this community, we all have the right to do that, but my problem lies in the fact, that some people ask for this really big amount of money, and then they just say what has been said a thousand times in manifestation books, posts and conferences.

I am sorry, if you were made to belive you need anything else.

I assure you, you only need yourself, read posts, talk to creators, watch videos, but not to get what you want, but to expand your knowledge, so you can then start to pick and choose your beliefs.

You got this!!

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gabzlovesu · 1 year

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"𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄"

╰ ft. takami keigo/hawks !

warnings: fem!reader, breeding kink & rut — BABY FEVER, creampie (reader gets double-stuffed like a fucking oero), overstim maybe?...

author's note: this was supposed to be a submission for a breeding collab i joined before my hiatus but that account is no longer active so yeah... enjoy this fic was collecting dust in my docs :)

Was this round three or four? Or maybe it was the fifth… You couldn’t tell and the feathers flying everywhere were just as disorienting as Keigo pounding into you from behind. All you knew was that one moment you were walking down the hall of the bustling house, and the next you were pressed against the door of the upstairs bathroom.

Today your family had a little summer cookout, but you could tell something was off with Keigo. His wings would ruffle up at random moments, followed by him looking flushed and antsy. Not to mention the crazed look on his face when you held your baby cousin, bouncing the little boy on your hip and doing the stupid baby talk that most people hated — but he adored it. And whenever you finally escaped the death hugs of your family, you would waltz right back to your boyfriend’s side only to see him stuff his hands deep into his pockets and stiffen at your touch.

Then he disappeared.

You searched almost every inch of the house for an hour until he found you, pulling you into the small bathroom of your parent’s house.

As soon as your back met the white door, your lilac sundress was hiked above your hips and Keigo was muttering about how the mother look suited you and he wanted to give you a child of your own.

The entire thing caught you off guard, especially when his rut was last month because you vividly remember taking an entire week off from work so that he could wreck your insides for hours on end.

But even now as you look at him through the mirror, it’s clear that he was in another rut and you were the cause. The animalistic nature, avian pupils constructed as he focused solely on the feeling of your pussy, and his nails felt like talons as they dug into the plush of your hips…all of the signs were there.

Everything was hot and going numb. The sensation of his fingers circling your clit — using his own release that leaked out of you as lube — was faint and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to feel anything soon if he kept this up. When you finally crash from yet another orgasm, you release the breath you subconsciously had been holding and grip the sink tightly to support yourself.

Keigo was close. So so soooo close. His aching dick twitches deep inside of you and his breaths became ragged and shallow like his thrusts.

“Just one more… One more, please.” A bit of desperation tangles with the lust that spews from his lips. He promised the same thing in the beginning when he fucked you against the door, then when he had you sitting on the sink, and now he’s saying it again as he props one of your legs up on the sink to plunge deeper into your sloppy cunt.

All it takes is a few more taps against your spongey sweet spot that has him emptying another load into you. Too bad that you’re completely stuffed to the brim so the sticky cream dribbles down your leg to the growing pool on the floor. The sight of his seed being wasted drives him insane and only encourages him to keep bucking his hips, to keep pushing it back in so that he could finally give you a baby.

TAGLIST FORM

tags: @hungrynessforfics @rinhoes@indiecursor @protectpancakes @fight-me-bitch @nneedynymph @po3ticb3auty @haitani-plague @festive @apollostears @thenerdyrebel @4ngrysgf @daichisbunnybaby @urwifey2 @picayunne @kookieflvr @woahhajime @syomi @chrolloderulo @kutosznn @takemichiluvr @sweeneyblue1 @tyga-lily @jeanslove @getoswhore @thicksimpx @sakurashell @38riku @hyeque @wiserebelpartypie @sleepy3 @yuujilove @imperatorkhaleesi @sukunas-left-nut-sack @lawscorazon @sailewhoremoon @chaoticevilbakugo @xxrwzy @wh0reforlevi @nekoriots @yeagerfushiguro @chaotic-fangirl-blog @sftbunny-blog @dukina @momoewn @thithesandofferings @justdevine @hyeque @chittakii @breyspage

#hawks x reader #hawks x black!reader #hawks x you #keigo takami x reader #hawks smut #keigo takami #my hero academia #bnha

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fushigurro · 8 months

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𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / daddy kink / slight somnophilia?? but like not entirely / reader is mildly physically ill / m!masturbation / thigh fucking / pet names (baby + babygirl + good girl)

toji wakes up with a hard cock and he tries to let it go because he’s been holding you in his arms; you’re feverish and sleeping restlessly unless he’s got a good hold on you, so that’s how he stays. but still, his body betrays him.

he can’t ignore the ache, not when you’re looking so cute even in your state of illness, so he palms himself through his sweats and it only gets worse; thinks he might be able to quietly rub one out while you’re still asleep, but the movement and lack of contact from him wakes you up.

“fuck baby, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up.” maybe he should’ve gotten up, but he didn’t want to leave your side, so now your eyelids are fluttering open to the sight of toji on his back behind you, slowly jerking his cock and cursing himself for disturbing you.

even though you feel rough, there’s something about it that makes you wanna help, to be included somehow. “you can use me… to help,” you mumble sleepily, and he shakes his head.

“nah, don’t worry about it baby. just try to go back to sleep, okay?” he rubs your arm a little roughly but affectionately, and unfortunately touching you only makes him harder.

it’s your turn to shake your head this time. “just do it. want you to.” your voice is feeble, but still his favorite sound. toji leans in to press a kiss to the back of your neck and contemplate for a moment what he should do. you’re sick and he’s throbbing, and fuck you’re still just offering yourself up to him like such a perfect little thing. he can’t fight the temptation.

toji rolls back onto his side and presses his chest to your back, holding you close once again and breathing against your neck. “gonna let daddy use you a little?” he asks, brushing your hair away and placing kisses against your skin, holding your leg up a bit, and then slipping his cock between your thighs.

eyes closed again, you nod and scoot back against him. you don’t need to say anything else.

“yeah, that’s a good girl.” he presses one last kiss up against your temple and starts to rock his hips, dragging his length back and forth between your thighs with a satisfied groan. once he sets a rhythm, he drops your leg back down and lets the pressure around him increase.

you’re a little too disoriented and wanting to drift back to sleep to do much other than just lay there, but you do manage to gently hold onto the arm he now has wrapped around your waist as he fucks your thighs.

toji’s speed starts to increase and he does his best to handle you with care, to not lose himself and go too crazy on your poor body, but the motion does jostle you enough to have you furrowing your brows a bit. he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing, but you look so fucking adorable either way.

“i know, babygirl, i know. daddy’s almost done,” he breathes in your ear and goes a little faster, still gritting his teeth and trying to keep himself in check until he eventually spills across your leg and onto the sheets, pumping out his orgasm with a few final stuttered thrusts.

toji breathes and kisses the back of your neck in appreciation. you’re already being pulled back into sleep and he uses a couple of tissues from the box next to the bed to clean up the mess in the meantime, not wanting to disturb you further. he feels just a little fucked up over it all, but you seem perfectly content to snuggle back into him and soak in all the extra heat as you fall asleep.

#idk if it’s the prednisone or just pure magic but i simply had to write this down while lying in bed LOL #i will probably regret this tomorrow #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #re: toji fushiguro #my writing.#cw daddy kink #ss: toji

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justanotherwriter140 · 2 months

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Kung Fu Panda 4 - The Movie

The last really, really long discussion post (for now).

Major spoilers ahead!

This review is full of spoilers, so please refrain from reading through it until you've watched KFP4. I would highly suggest doing so, as I want everyone to form their own opinions without my influence. The movie has its flaws (some of which admittedly being a bit distracting), but it's a fun film that has things to offer.

Kung Fu Panda 4 is a fun movie (take that as you will) that takes its audience on an action-packed, surprisingly funny, yet relatively contained adventure on which Po doesn't really do much. It's an inconsequential, safe sequel that doesn't really hurt the franchise but adds close to nothing.

I had a good time watching the movie. It was obviously produced with its theater experience in mind and the action scenes especially reflected that priority. The humor was actually funny sometimes and I enjoyed Po and Zhen's dynamic. During the film, I was able to put most (most!) of my grievances aside and take the movie for what it is. I've discovered that the best way to watch KFP4 is with low expectations and an open mind.

I have a lot of things to say about KFP4, both complaints and compliments (though the former might be taking the forefront in this review), and I hope this review can help those of you who have seen the movie organize your thoughts. I've been having a lot of trouble with that specific aspect of things myself. Those who get it get it.

With that said, let's get into my full review of KFP4! I've been waiting for nearly 2 years to write this and I'm so excited to share every single thought.

I'm going to follow the format of my first discussion post and curate a bulleted list of my thoughts, followed by an analysis of each of these points. Keep in mind that everything I say is IMO and this is more of a rant post than anything else.

Here are my main points:

The Furious Five's role is comically minuscule in the context of the film. Their actions are inconsequential and add nothing to the plot (a confirmed last-minute add), and they have 30~ seconds of screen time. Shifu is also largely irrelevant.

Mr. Ping and Li's presence has little to no effect on the movie (though I won't complain too much because they were pretty fun to watch and this movie has bigger problems). In almost any scenario, I am adamantly against having characters present that don't add anything to the narrative; however, Mr. Ping is an exception. I love Mr. Ping. James Hong is a gem.

Zhen's screen time is not utilized well and her character is underdeveloped. She definitely wasn't annoying, but I didn't find her either compelling or funny enough to warrant the screen time she was given, especially considering it wasn't used to establish a backstory/strong motives. This makes me feel bad for the character because the movie kind of screwed her out of any substantial development.

The Chameleon, while complimented greatly by Viola Davis, is an underwhelming villain. Viola Davis is amazing in this film and I would suggest watching it for her performance if for nothing else, but the Chameleon is underwhelming considering the super cool concept behind the character.

The film feels very rushed. Apologies to those who disagree, but I think the pacing is atrocious and the final fight is anticlimactic. The movie felt like a word-vomit with no discernible intermissions that stops abruptly when the film ends.

I felt as though Po didn't change/grow as a person and the audience never had a chance to either bond with or relate to his character. His internal struggle is kept to a minimum and we don't spend a moment alone with him as an audience, which is disorienting and distracting. Watching the film felt like running into an old friend at the store who's too in a rush to have a real conversation.

The action scenes were strong with few exceptions. Creative art direction was utilized and I thought the martial arts choreography was entertaining and dynamic. I love the color palette of the film and many scenes were very impressive visually.

With my main points established, I do believe it's ranting time. Strap in, folks.

Let's start strong with the Furious Five: I'm gutted. Chagrined, despondent, crestfallen, etc.

The lack of the Furious Five negatively affects KFP4 so much, because not only does their absence hurt the atmospheric integrity of KFP as a franchise, it also forces KFP4 to bring in a slew of different characters—all while still noncommittally including the FF at the very end because I believe the marketing team required it—that clog up the cast a bit. It all goes to show how important strong, established side characters are.

The Furious Five are side characters, but the role of "side character" does not equate to being irrelevant, expendable, or exchangeable. I recognize that the Furious Five aren't super developed as characters beyond a handful of lines that allude to traits sprinkled sparingly among the members; however, I believe that the tiny bits of development we have been given have proved impactful in the past. Tigress's development in KFP2 is a prime example of how much narratively conscious changes (however small they may be) can positively affect these movies.

Because of limited runtimes, the Furious Five often operate as more of a singular unit than five individuals. Even so, I don't think discarding them is valid. They're so important to the KFP universe (to Po's universe!) and not having them with him feels so wrong. The Furious Five are fully integral to the heart of Kung Fu Panda, which is why I believe a lot of those who have seen the new movie have expressed something feeling "off" or something being missing.

I agree with this sentiment. To me, KFP4 didn't feel like a KFP movie. I don't need a Furious Five spin-off movie and I can be fully content with a KFP5 centered around Po's journey as an individual as was intended from the beginning, but he can't carry an entire movie on his back. As strong as he is in every sense of the word, he is only one character. He's the centerpiece of the franchise, but a centerpiece can only go so far without the rest of the design, so to speak.

For me, the Furious Five's absence is one of this film's biggest faults. It's huge and glaring. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, either, because the friends with whom I saw the film refused to talk about any other aspect of the movie after seeing it. Seeing them at the end was better than nothing, of course, but it was a disappointing culmination after eight years of waiting.

That all is to say I feel robbed. Despite all of this, though, I understand that there were reasons why the Furious Five weren't included in the movie. I don't believe the production team would exclude the Furious Five unless they weren't given a choice.

Shifu and Po's dynamic continues to be thoroughly delightful but their interactions are short and simplified. I would have loved to see more of them in this film, especially considering the extreme relevance of teacher-student relationships in KFP4. I (somewhat) digress, though, because the idea of Shifu having to live at the Jade Palace with only Po for an extended period of time is hilarious enough on its own. Maybe that's what the short film is about!

The comedy is odd but has some jokes that stand out. Po maintains a healthy relationship with his inner sass, which I think makes him more fun to watch and kind of eradicates the man-child verdict. Some jokes don't land, of course, but I genuinely thought KFP4 had some funny moments. Mr. Ping was consistently awesome and Po had some good lines sprinkled throughout the film.

As for Mr. Ping, he and Li Shan are the subjects of the film's B-plot as they follow Po to Juniper City out of shared concern for their son's safety. In my mind, they don't add anything to the story that couldn't have been brought about by other characters, but they had their moments of being entertaining. I enjoyed their silliness and thought they had a cute dynamic if nothing else.

Speaking of other characters, I want to discuss KFP4's deuteragonist and why I genuinely feel bad about the way her character was treated.

I want to let it be known that I'm still not on board with Po passing the Dragon Warrior torch to another character. While I agree that his arc is now calling for him to have a student, I disagree with the notion of him retiring from his DW role.

As I stated in my first discussion post:

Didn’t the initial significance and nuance of the title come from the fact that there is only one person who can be the Dragon Warrior, because the concept of the “Dragon Warrior” isn’t so much a title as it is Po himself? The universe (Oogway) must choose the Dragon Warrior because they are a singular being of legend. It is one person, and that person is Po. Wasn’t the point of the first film that the title ultimately doesn’t really matter because there is no “secret ingredient,” so to speak? The title doesn’t actually give Po anything. “It’s just you,” Po says, and that was the resolution.

When it comes to Zhen as a character, contrary to what I predicted I would think of her, I thought she was okay. While I was still a bit distracted by how out-of-place her design looks, I wasn't truly annoyed by her at any point and she and Po had some cute moments. Even so, I think their relationship could have been a bit more refined and developed.

While it's evident that Po and Zhen are meant to have a teacher-student/mentor-apprentice dynamic, I think their relationship feels half-baked. There were parallels that contradicted one another and ended up being confusing come the film's conclusion, and the nature of their relationship seems to vacillate depending on the scene. Additionally, the strength of their bond goes from zero to one hundred within thirty-ish minutes and left me with a bit of whiplash.

We're shown that Po and Zhen care about one another, but we're never shown why. They have a brief conversation during which they bond over being orphans, and Zhen says at one point, "You're actually a good guy," but that's it. This obvious lack of development is a bit disorienting because we're later led to believe that Zhen and Po care very deeply for one another when there's almost nothing to back it up.

A scene that sticks out to me when discussing this is when Zhen attack-hugs Po in a way that explicitly mirrors Tigress's hug from KFP2. This happens around the beginning of the third act, and while it had the potential to be an endearing moment, I think it fell flat.

The impact of Tigress's hug was brought on by her character's hardcore nature and reputation of being heartless, further strengthened with the knowledge that she was hugging Po (which was obviously way outside her comfort zone) as a show of companionship and fundamental understanding. Tigress hugged Po because he needed someone to recognize his strive for closure.

Zhen's hug had little to no impact because she had no reason to do it and it didn't indicate growth. She hugs Po because she's sorry for betraying him and doesn't want him to be killed by the Chameleon, but neither of these things are newly-established via this hug; we have already gathered by now that Zhen regrets betraying Po and doesn't want him to get hurt.

The hug is far from the movie's weakest point, but I think it's unnecessary given the context. I'm big on hugs in movies (an underutilized form of platonic affection, in my opinion), but it didn't fit here. I don't hate it, and I see it as an honest effort to bring emotionality to Po and Zhen's relationship, but it seems arbitrary.

Zhen and Po's relationship has a lot of potential and I'd be open to seeing more of them in the future, but I think some more thoughtful development needs to occur before I can humor it further. Even so, I can see myself featuring Zhen in some future post-KFP4 one-shots—sparingly, of course, because we have a lot of Furious Five content to compensate for.

Overall, they had a cute dynamic and some sweet moments but I'm not attached. I'm on board with Po having a student but I think their relationship needs a lot more development, something that this film unfortunately didn't give them time to either accomplish or earn.

Now, onto the Chameleon!

The concept of the Chameleon's character is admittedly super interesting. She's the deuteragonist's fastidious mother figure who feels that Zhen owes her a debt and as a result holds her to an impossible standard. That dynamic had the potential to be so interesting but I didn't think it was explored at all. There is no indication of Zhen having any internal conflict about fighting the Chameleon, no emotional complexity between them at all; it's disappointing because I think it would've added a bit of earnestness to the film.

Additionally, the idea of a shape-shifting villain is versatile. A shape-shifting villain gives those telling the story a lot of room to experiment with the protagonist and different ways in which the main character can be challenged and tested. It's yet another good idea utilized poorly. Just one idea: the Chameleon could have disguised herself as one (or several) of Po's family, friends, etc. and brought to fruition a new arc with his character (seeing as he arguably doesn't have one in this film), but she only disguises herself as Zhen very briefly in the movie.

Furthermore, the Chameleon completely relies on the powers of previous villains to pose any sort of threat to the main characters. She summons Po's former nemeses from the Spirit Realm (despite there being little logic in doing so considering Kai's literal evisceration) and takes their kung fu abilities for herself.

An excerpt from my first KFP4 discussion post that I think is relevant to the point I'm trying to make:

I don’t think it would be in the best interest of anyone if the past villains were to come back in any way that’s not a flashback (even then, I’m not sure I’d see the point). In all honesty, I thought that the whole point of the villains was that they died and stayed dead. They were defeated by Po once and for all as a testament to the idea of establishing Po's character growth and journey as a person through the bad things he’s able to overcome. It’d be highly contradictory to the messages of the other films if these villains were to suddenly come back.

While there was an honest effort made to portray the Chameleon as intimidating, I never felt as though any of the characters were endangered by either her or her army of lizard henchman. She's a visually appealing character (aside from her eyes, which I thought more resembled those of a gecko than a chameleon) and I greatly enjoyed Davis's performance, but overall I don't see the Chameleon as a notable villain.

The return of Tai Lung (had he been on his own) had the makings to be an excellent story, especially considering the importance of teacher-student dynamics in KFP4. To see him interacting with Shifu would have been incredible and could have led to further closure on Tai Lung's end (because I think that's kind of what the team was going for anyway), but it didn't happen.

It was nice to see Ian McShane reprise his role, but I wish Tai Lung's characterization had been more reminiscent of the way he was in the first film and more complimentary of his overall character arc. Tai Lung isn't a one-dimensional villain with a singular goal and motivation, and I couldn't help but feel as though the complexity of his character was simplified for the sake of KFP4's narrative.

Tai Lung's presence in KFP4 may be odd, but Shen and Kai's appearances are even more so. Kai, if I remember correctly, was fully obliterated by Po, reduced to literal particles on screen (which is kind of wild now that I think about it). Shen being in the Spirit Realm makes sense all things considered; however, Po and Li had no visible reaction to his presence, which seemed a bit unlikely considering Shen's deeds. This plot hole can likely be attributed to the fact that Shen and Kai's cameos (to my knowledge) were last-minute additions to the movie.

I have to talk about the pacing. I have to. I'm sorry, bear with me.

To me, the film's pacing is erratic and disconcerting. While I can appreciate a quick-moving narrative that doesn't dawdle on storylines that aren't interesting/important, KFP4 kind of flings itself too far in the opposite direction and ends up being frighteningly fast-paced. Once the credits began, I felt like I had been holding my breath for the entire movie.

KFP4 is confusing because while the runtime is standard for a KFP movie, it feels incredibly short. At the same time, the film's story moves at a breakneck speed and leaves little time for heart and development. These things culminate into a barreling boulder of a movie that simply doesn't have time to let its characters, story, or audience take a breath.

A fast pace is not inherently negative, but I don't think it worked in the favor of KFP4. The KFP franchise has always been very emotionally grounded (and just very grounded in general), so to see a film in which emotion/heart takes an aggressive backseat in comparison to action and comedy is jarring. While I think it's unreasonable for fans to expect the same emotional integrity as the original films to be present in the current and upcoming ones, I still think there's room for Po to grow and I felt as though the notion of him developing further was brushed aside in this film.

As for Po's growth, I felt it was nearly nonexistent. The previous trilogy wrapped up his character's journey beautifully and I know that KFP4 was bound to struggle with this particular aspect of making another KFP film; however, just because the strongest pillars of Po's character are established doesn't serve as a valid excuse to reverse his development and repeat what he learned in KFP3.

In KFP3, Po learned firsthand that he is capable of spreading wisdom and teaching kung fu. He also learns that he is constantly growing and that change is inevitable; there is always something more to learn.

"If you only do what you can do, you will never be more than you are now."

"I don't want to be anything more, I like who I am!"

In KFP4, Po pushes against this narrative despite fully accepting it in KFP3, actively reversing crucial parts of his character development achieved in the latter. KFP3 was non-ambiguously about learning to cope with change and responsibility, and I can't help but feel like KFP4 is simply copying this message while not adding anything to it.

Additionally, I felt that KFP4's Po generally felt less personal than he has in the past. In every KFP movie up to the franchise's most recent addition, I felt very connected to Po as an audience member. I felt like I was truly seeing the world of KFP through his eyes. I consider this to be one of the franchise's most impressive feats; it's incredibly difficult to build a universe around a character without making the audience feel limited to one perspective and one part of the world.

With KFP4, I felt both limited and disconnected. The world didn't feel as vast and all-encompassing as it has in the past and Po didn't seem fully like himself. This could be me nitpicking (as I'm prone to do), but I can't recall a single moment in the movie in which Po was alone on screen. Scenes like these are crucial for me because I see them as a meet-cute between the character and the audience, a moment for us to cross the bridge into their world in a way that's silent and intuitive. These little bonding moments are absolutely integral to feeling connected to a character.

Po's dream sequence in the first KFP movie is one of the best examples of this. It presents his aspirations, alludes to his way of life up to the point of the movie, and showcases his personality. During Po's dream sequence, the audience is quite literally inside Po's mind; we're there with him, seeing what he sees, subsequently feeling what he feels. Po is a dreamer at heart and makes the audience feel like dreamers, too.

In KFP4, I felt like I little to no point of reference when it comes to how Po was feeling. I didn't feel immersed in him and his world.

I know I've been very "doom and gloom" throughout this post, which is an exhausting mindset for everyone involved. I want to end my critique with something positive because I think some praise is deserved. Let's just say the movie could have been a lot worse, the details of which I'm sure you're all well aware.

The color palette of the movie is beautiful and somewhat reminiscent of the first film. While the animation style of KFP4 is far more simplistic than its predecessors, I was very impressed with its use of shadow and light. Po's many faces were also hysterical, props to those who helped make him as expressive as he is.

Additionally, the movie's action sequences were clearly thought out and discussed in great detail. The experimentation with camera angles was really fun to watch and I enjoyed the majority of the film's fight scenes. They were fun, bouncy, and entertaining, and quite likely reinstated audiences's love of watching a cuddly panda kick butt.

Congratulations, you've reached the end! Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to read this unnecessarily long and detailed review. As long as I help someone translate their conflicted feelings into coherent thoughts, I'll call it a win.

I want to reiterate that I don't hate Kung Fu Panda 4 and I had fun while watching the film. It has its flaws and there are a lot of aspects that I dislike, but the effort of the crew is obvious and I greatly admire and respect the hard work put into the film by those who worked on it. This does not at all excuse my issues with the movie, but it's worth saying.

As for the future of the series, I only hope that the next installment is more considerate of the franchise's origins and why Po's story is being told in the first place. I fully believe that another sequel could be good given a strong, passionate crew with a great understanding of the characters and world (and I wouldn't be averse to some previous directors returning, just to put it out there).

Thanks again to those who took the time to read this crazy excuse for a movie review. Feel free to either disagree with me or add things in the replies/reblogs, I'm always looking for more thoughts to think.

Until next time!

#kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda #dreamworks animation #kfp #kfp 4 #movie review #i'll add the actual picture of the furious five's cameo when i can get ahold of one of decent quality #my time has come #it wasn't THAT bad #i didn't love it #but it is what it is #it's a tentative 6/10 all things considered #free the five #perhaps i treated kfp3 too harshly #don't get me wrong the movie had good qualities and i can tell a lot of work went into it #a lot of missed potential imo #a lot of characters done dirty #i didn't even mention the score but i thought it was just okay #i wasn't wowed #i know close to nothing about composing though so i should probably just not even go there #credits were the best part both cinematically and musically #i feel mean but i'm not going to be dishonest #bc obviously you all simply must know how i feel about the silly panda movie #a more detailed version of the grievances i have w the dragon warrior plot can be found in my og discussion post if anyone's interested #as well as my thoughts on bringing back old villains #might make some edits to this in the future but this is all i have to say for now

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katboykirby · 6 months

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how do you think satan would react to a very princely mc? i hc that he's just a giant romantic dork that dreams about being a fairytale prince to his s/o, but when they're the one acting all princely he's like "OH THIS IS HOW IT FEELS OH IM IN LOVE WITH THEM EVEN MORE"

Oh, Satan wouldn't even know what to do with himself at first.

This is his thing, you see. This is the role that he always plays (whether he likes it or not) and suddenly finding himself on the receiving end for once - especially when it's coming from you - is incredibly, frustratingly disorienting.

He's not used to somebody else going to the effort or taking extra steps to be the one charming him. He's always utilised the "princely persona" for himself, usually as a means to an end. When it comes from you, though, he can tell that it's entirely genuine. And if anything, that just flusters him even more. The fact that he knows you aren't faking it makes his heart skip a beat.

He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, the way you hold his hand so delicately in your own - like he's the fragile, delicate, precious thing worth protecting. As if you were the strong one, the one who would keep him safe.

Satan almost can't handle it whenever you hold a door open for him, or pull out his chair for him at the table, or when you help him get dressed by tying his bowtie and buttoning the jacket of his RAD uniform. He doesn't need you to do all these things, of course - but despite the way his heart always races, he can't deny the fact that he loves being treated this way.

Because he has always been the one having to perform and charm others. He was used to being the one upholding the respectable "princely" persona, even if it was just another one of his many masks. He was used to being the giver, the planner, the one accomodating everybody else. He was used to putting others before himself. He wasn't used to being treated like this. He wasn't used to feeling special.

You made him feel small, and soft, but in a good way. You didn't make him feel useless or weak, you made him feel like he was worth taking care of. Like he was worth protecting. Like he was worth keeping safe. Satan hadn't ever felt that way about himself before.

And he likes it. He likes feeling secure with you, because he knows that your feelings are genuine. He likes how you treat him with care, how you spoil him, how you always put him first.

He likes this reversal of roles that he's found himself in. Sometimes he can't quite believe that there's someone out there who wants to love him the way that you love him, but he couldn't be happier. He feels like the heroines from all of those whimsical romance novels, and he's so happy that his very own prince charming was able to find him all the way down here in the Devildom.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #omswd #satan #satan x reader #obey me satan x reader #x reader #obey me x reader

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httpskuzuu · 7 months

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Softer Pt.2

I like October, it's my birthday month, and I finally finished the second part of Softer :p

Anyway, I think you can tell that I like the word need, necesitar, in Spanish or English sounds good :D and this is my favorite part, I think, I really like how they both turned out

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (but the part 2 >:p) Pt.1

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, explicit self-harms, blood, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, self-blame, suicidal thoughts, mention of death (no one dies), blood loss, manipulation, trauma, mention of god, Fyodor is a fucking tw

It was three phases from your confession and your punishment.

Everything was perfect and nice for the first two weeks, until your cuts became scars. He seemed to go out of his way to make you feel good and loved by him, and you were very grateful. Now, you feel ungrateful to be complaining about his change.

After six weeks, your ribs healed and he began to distance you. When you noticed that, you panicked, you cried whole nights and days in your room because of this fact, how was it possible that something like this had affected you so much? You don't even know yourself, you just know that you wanted to pull out every hair on your body to forget about the emotional pain you were carrying.

And now, well, you can't be so horrible and say that Fyodor is back to his usual self, it's more like a strange mix, that comforts you. That this Fyodor is a mix of the previous ones makes you think he's trying to be gentle, but he's having a difficult time. You like to opine that that's the right reason for not sinking you further.

You wish you could say you hate normal Fyodor, but you can't hate any part of Fyodor and that worries you. What's been happening to you? Why are you behaving this way? Always looking for the terrorist's cold touch like an abandoned dog. Always waiting for him like a dog, loving him like one, messy, intense and ready to die for your owner.

Your mind was broken, atrophied and without any hope of repair. That scares you. You don't want this! You want your mind back! You miss being able to think about something else that isn't related to Fyodor. It's like being an intruder in your own mind, you no longer belong in that place full of happy memories, now blurred.

Sometimes you love your useless mind, you love believing in him the way you do, and you love how that seems to satisfy him. Maybe that's all your mind is looking for: to satisfy him.

Speaking of satisfying: he no longer seems to enjoy punishing you, which completely disorients you. All your life you were assuming that the only way to satisfy Fyodor was to let him mistreat you, but now? Now he was only touching you to give you light caresses. You don't want to be an idiot, you love that now your body doesn't suffer, but that doesn't take away from the fact that a small part of your skin is missing the pain. It's as if you were created to be hurt.

You convince yourself that you are ungrateful. Fyodor has changed for you, and you play the victim, saying that everything is so weird, poor you. You can't think about anything else besides yourself because you are a bad person, because you don't deserve the change Fyodor made for you.

It's not like before, everything is so much more comfortable in his presence, even if afterward he disappears for hours and makes your mind a prison of horrible thoughts, thoughts of firmly believing that it's your fault he's gone.

Physical contact has also changed, it is somewhat more common than with normal Fyodor, but it is nothing compared to gentle Fyodor. It really hurts you inside every time he is in front of you, and he isn't touching you or talking to you. Something is broken, and you don't quite know why. How needy of attention have you become in this time?

What did Fyodor do with your mind? You don't know. The horror of what he did to you is still in you, lurking like a shadow. It won't go away.

Sometimes there's a little voice deep in the back of your head, the only sane part left in you. It shows up on dark nights, when you're alone, makes you realize all the shit Fyodor put you through and how much he fucked up your mental health. You like having that little voice, it feels like getting over Fyodor somehow, it's a shame it disappears the next morning along with the first bite of breakfast.

Even though you listen to it, you never mind it, and that can be noticed by the need to not be able to bear it anymore, you need Fyodor so badly. You miss him every time he's gone. You miss the person who hurt you.

Maybe you really are going crazy.

You think about the fact that Fyodor took care of you after the punishment, when you were moribund and almost unable to move from the pain, and that his kind behavior ended after all your damages were healed.

You were about to do something crazy, you were aware of it, but you would give anything to feel that angelic temperature change again.

You have a sharp knife in your hand, you squeeze it so hard that your fist turns white. Fyodor never hides sharp objects, only pills, he knows you wouldn't be able to kill yourself with them out of fear.

Something tells you to kill yourself, to teach Fyodor a lesson.

Again your ungrateful thoughts come back, he already told you, you are just a brat. A fucking brat, and what you were doing now proves it.

But can you really blame yourself for this? You just need his attention, you need that love in his hands, you need him to care so much about you that he locks every drawer in the house.

That's why you're here now, in the bathroom, with your elbows resting on the sink and the knife almost brushing against your clean arm. About to kill a part of you to keep his gentleness alive.

You think about whether it's possible that he might be angry with you for this, for staining your skin with wounds without his permission. You think if he gets angry and punishes you it will also be worth it because there is a chance he will take care of you after that like the first time.

Maybe all you need to do is talk it over with him, maybe you need his naked body against yours to keep control, or maybe a simple kiss would be better. Maybe you should relax, maybe you should ask him for a hug, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe….

A cut and the blood starts to spread. You feel an immense urge to vomit, and you regret everything that led you to this moment.

You drop the knife limply and cover the wound with your now free hand. You watch the scene you've made for yourself with wide, shocked eyes. Why did you do all this? Just for Fyodor's attention? How pathetic of you.

You're like a child, crying and screaming, having a tantrum to get what you want.

You don't even heed your thoughts, and your gaze returns to the knife lying in the sink. The fright has dissipated and only silence remains. You need to cut more, how will you make Fyodor care about you with just one cut? You need more, you need to tear your arm if you have to, take your skin off, anything.

It's just a cut.

You move your hand away from the wound, blood is still coming out, but you don't care. You grab the knife, careful not to let it slip through the red fluid, and keep cutting.

It's just a cut, a few cuts, many cuts.

You stop when you get dizzy and lose your balance, drop the knife on the floor and miraculously you don't fall with it. You lean against the wall behind you and watch as the floor fills with your dripping blood. It's too much, too much, oh God, now you're going to die, aren't you? Is that what's going to happen?

You deserve to die, or at least you convince yourself of it, you're just a useless entity in Fyodor's house, what other function do you do here besides pursuing him? It would be like a punishment for being so selfish, for loving Fyodor so much.

Sometimes it surprises you how much you hate yourself just because you are you. Would you hate Fyodor the same way if he were like you? You don't even need to think about it, you already know the answer.

You hear footsteps outside the bathroom. Of course, you made some noise when you dropped the knife and almost fell yourself in the process. Fyodor had to notice, wait, that meant that Fyodor was paying attention to you and the noises you were making. He could just stay absorbed in his work, but no, he's here now.

Three soft knocks on the door are enough to make you tremble.

"Everything okay?"

You cry the instant you hear his voice, yes, there's the soft Fyodor. You recognize hints of tenderness and concern in his voice., you can recognize it.

You shouldn't have cut yourself off, now you change your mind and you don't want Fyodor to see you this way, weak and unbearable. If he realizes that you can't live without him by your side, you're sure he'll leave you, that you'll be too annoying for him and he'll go back to being his old self, this time forever, or until he gets rid of you, until he finds someone better than you. That would be easy.

If there is a God up there, you beg him to let you die. There is no answer. You're left to face your actions alone.

"I've done a stupid thing…"

You still have time to think better of it, you can still barricade yourself in the bathroom and die there. But these are your actions, your consequences.

You shakily open the door.

The look on Fyodor's face is one you've never seen, that keeps you from lowering your head with shame. You've never seen so many emotions in him, all at once, like a whirlpool.

Have you been able to generate that? You don't know whether to consider it a good or bad thing, but a flow of pride runs through your veins.

Fyodor whispers your name, breathless, his accent thickening even more. A part of you actually believed that what you did to yourself would not affect him in any way, how foolish, of course it would affect him. He is human, you are human, but still something tells you that Fyodor is anything but human. His eyes now show you otherwise.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot! I didn't mean to bother you."

Fyodor takes only a few seconds to drag you back into the bathroom. He turns on the sink faucet and guides your arm down the stream of water. It hurts like hell, but complaining doesn't even cross your mind, after all, Fyodor probably stopped doing something important just to cure your mess, you can't give him any more trouble.

Your mind would like to escape your body, but you don't let it because without it you wouldn't be able to feel Fyodor behind you, pressing his chest against your scarred back.

As he runs a soaked towel against your cuts, you decide to lean against him, he doesn't push you away, and you take it as a small victory.

Your brain won't let you enjoy of the moment, giving you reminders of everything the Russian had done to you: the scars on your back, all over your body, the agonizing nightmares, the silent and devastating nights. All a fucking reminder, and yet here you are, against his body.

Your thoughts linger in that confined space until your arm is tight between messy bandages. His hand reaches for yours and your fingers intertwine.

You fear his potential annoyance, his potential punishment. He provokes unique feelings in you, and you love him, but he is terrible, he is just terrible.

Fyodor lets out a sigh, and you know instantly that you are selfish. He is tired, he has better things to do besides taking care of a brat, but still he is still with you. Fyodor is such a merciful being when it came to you, he wouldn't be this way with anyone else, only you. You feel your chest tighten with warmth.

"Fyodor…" You don't want to speak too loudly or break the silence in the room. You try to keep your thoughts in the same rhythm as your voice, quiet and low. You need to be okay, for Fyodor's sake.

"Why?" He squeezes your hand. There is no emotion in his voice, and you feel guilty of your disappointment at that. "Why did you do it?"

"I-" The words decided not to come out of your mouth and closed your throat in a knot, a very painful knot.

What were you supposed to say? Wouldn't admitting your need for attention make you sound like a spoiled child? A brat?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." You say hastily, trying to find words to make Fyodor happy, so he won't hate you for your reckless actions.

"You don't bother me." Bullshit, Fyodor is an almost pathological liar, you should know that, it should be burned into your memory. You'd like to believe him. "Is this why you did all this? Because you think you're bothering me?"

You wish the answer was as easy as that. You shake your head.

"Then why?"

"I needed you." It's not a good explanation, there are a lot of loose questions left, but how else can you tell him? Every time you speak, it's like scratching your throat.

"Needed me? You mean my attention?" You nod, feeling a humiliation run down your throat. "I was with you all these days, what more attention do you want from me?"

It's like a stabbing, like the cuts he gave you on your back. It showed, from afar, you were just a pet that can't be away from its owner or it would break into pieces. You shouldn't be crying either, you have no good reason to.

"Hey, no, stop." He turns your body without effort. All you do is keep your head down, full of shame, though it doesn't last long, as his free hand lifts it up and lands against your cheek. You don't deserve it, you can't even stop crying. "What did I say? Why are you crying this time?"

"I'm a spoiled brat." You lean against his cold hand, you needed his touch so badly.

"You're not, you just wanted me to give you attention, that's not a bad thing."

"It is! I'm being selfish." The sobs interrupt you, and you close your eyes, you don't want to look at Fyodor. How can you ask for love and attention from Fyodor when you yourself don't know how to love properly?

"Selfish? Why?" Your reason that the only reason for his question is to make you humiliate yourself, to make you admit that you are a nuisance.

"B-Because you were probably busy, I'm just bothering you trying to get your attention…"

"I want you to pay close attention to me right now, can you do that?" Even if you couldn't do it, you would anyway. You're not lying when you nod in response. He's all you can think about and fixate on, everything else is ephemeral and useless, nothing else is needed for you.

"Good... You don't bother me, I understand you want more attention from me, I made your mind that way anyway. Stop feeling bad about doing things you're programmed to do." Hearing him admit that, is like a war in your head, you should care that Fyodor played with your mind like a stuffed animal, but what you should is not the same as what you do. It feels like a relief to know that it is Fyodor is causing it all, and it's nicer than you ever imagined.

Your mind will never go back to normal after this. You will never be the same after this. That's okay, you can live with it as long as you have Fyodor by your side.

You collapse against him, hugging him with no intention of letting go. He accepts you in his arms. Now everything is warm again like it was that time, you needed it so badly after everything that had happened.

"It's just that you've been acting more distant and I thought-" Do you really want to keep talking and sobbing nonsense? You have no intended trajectory with your words.

You just hope Fyodor understands you, it's the only thing that will give you calm.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, no need to cry anymore, моя крошка." His hands on your back undeniably comfort you. His touch feels like fire, but it doesn't burn, it just leaves a trail of warmth and desire everywhere it passes.

You are a sensitive, desperate mess, and no one knows how to love you but Fyodor. He is the God you have always pleaded to, now you understand why he never granted your wish to die.

"This is strange for me. I've never cared for anyone before, and I really don't want to hurt you unintentionally." And there's your long-awaited why. It's warmer than you could have ever thought, your heart is silently grateful. He's trying, that's good enough for you.

Maybe you can't go back to that first day of care after punishment, maybe you can't go back to that new and gentle Fyodor, but those are things that happen and that's okay.

You nod, oblivious to your own reality, everything feels correct. "I get it, it's okay, yeah. You don't have to worry, I'm fine now."

But you keep crying.

You don't know or need to know how long you stood there, holding each other as if both of your lives depended on it. In total silence until Fyodor's voice broke it. No doubt that's your favorite tune.

"моя любовь, I never responded properly to your confession, did I?" He never did, but he never denied it. There was always a glimmer of hope that you took as the word yes, as total acceptance of your feelings.

You look at him with enlightened eyes, you wished that what your mind was imagining was real.

"I love you too."

Fyodor's love is paralyzing. You notice it now.

my favorite part is the dog part, idk, I like how it turned out

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #fyodor #yandere fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd x y/n #yandere bsd #yandere

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icycoldninja · 22 days

Note

Headcanons for the Sparda boys and V with a s/o that got turned into a demon? (As for how: My best guess is something like the Ascension ceremony from DMC4.)

Reader shows up to the Devil May Cry one day after healing from a cooking related injury (burned hand, knife slipped and cut them, whatever), because they were kinda hoping the people at Devil May Cry could help. They'd probably be hesitant to tell anyone they're a demon right out- if that's even what they are, because they're not really sure themselves- but the lads could probably piece it together. Or just sense/smell the other demon nearby. Reader probably just thinks the shop and the shop employees stink, but if trying to be polite about it.

Not sure if humans/human blood would smell tasty to a new demon, but maybe? If so, that's another horrifying change they'd have to deal with and ask for help on.

Very interesting concept, hope I did it justice. Enjoy!

Sparda boys + V X Demon!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Your transformation was relatively recent, but terrifying. You'd managed to keep it a secret from everyone since the day you discovered your sudden change, but coping on your own was hard.

-You were constantly anxious about hurting the others unexpectedly, as demons are known to do, and couldn't concentrate on most of your tasks.

-You ended up burning your hand on the stove one night while trying to heat up some dinner, and in your panic, decided to head to Devil May Cry to see if someone could help you.

-At the same time, you hoped someone would notice your situation and help you out, though how could they? You had no physical changes, just internal ones.

-When you set foot into Devil May Cry, your heightened sense of smell caught the scent of something oddly appealing. You had no idea what it was, or why it smelled so good, but it did, and following the scent led you to the staff.

-The girls didn't think anything of it and assumed you were just disoriented because of your burn, but the boys--Dante specifically, noticed your behavior and thought it was weird that you were behaving the same way as demons did when they were tracking their prey.

-After your burn was dressed, he pulled you aside to ask you if anything was wrong. The concern in his eyes as well as the unusually grim timbre of his voice proved that he knew something was wrong. There was no other choice than to come clean.

-And so you revealed your secret, explaining how you'd been forced to take part in some sort of dark ritual whose side effects manifested days later. You broke down in tears, sobbing over your changed state, expressing your worries that you'd never be able to turn back.

-Dante took your hands and pulled you into his chest, pressing kisses to your head as he assured you everything would be fine. He'd help you find a cure, no matter what it took.

-He told you that no matter what you turned into, he'd still love you, and he'd be more than happy to offer up some of his blood if you need to feed, as some species of demons do.

■ Vergil ■

-The day you noticed your transformation, which came in the form of scales breaking out all over your body, as well as sharp fangs that replaced several of your teeth.

-You tried to hide it, but Vergil was a very observant man. He knew something was wrong, but chose not to say anything because he wanted you to come to him on his own. Also, there was a chance it was just you being moody, in which case, he didn't want to get involved.

-Your scales soon spread to your hands, making it hard for you to feel things with your palms and fingers. This made chopping food with knives very difficult because you couldn't feel the knife or the food in your hands.

-At one point the knife slipped, cutting the back of your hand. Swearing like a sailor, you bundled your hand up in a rag and stumbled off to Devil May Cry for someone to heal the injury.

-The moment you got there, you smelled something awful. It was worse than rotting food; it was beyond putrid. Just what was that smell?!

-Then you walked into the kitchen, where everyone was gathered at the time, and the smell got worse. It quickly became apparent that the smell was coming from the staff.

-While the girls helped fix up your wound, you did your best to keep your disgust from being expressed upon your face. Despite your best efforts, Vergil noticed that something was definitely wrong with you.

-He approached you, hoping to inquire about your strange behavior, but the proximity between the two of you resulted in the horrible smell getting worse, untill it was too much to bear.

-You started coughing and gagging, your hands flying up to clutch your throat. When Vergil saw the scales on your hands, he instantly realized what was wrong with you.

-He immediately stepped back into the next room and spoke to you from afar. You confessed, begrudgingly, that you'd been turned into a demon somehow and that you were able to smell human blood, which was disgusting. You expressed your fear and discomfort, to which Vergil assured you he would find a cure.

-In the meantime, your task would be figuring out how to grow accustomed to your demonic sense of smell--and the stinkiness of human blood.

□ Nero □

-Nero was actually present when you turned during the ceremony, and therefore was more involved when the aftershocks began to surface.

-You grew a tail, your eyes changed color, and your pupils dilated to slits. You also became noticeably more hungry for raw meat.

-Nero started to freak out over your erratic behavior and was very reluctant to leave you alone, but you insisted, and so he complied.

-Unfortunately, Nero's fears became more justified after he learned you tried to grab a steak off a steaming hot frying pan, burning your whole hand in the process.

-When you reached Devil May Cry to ask him to patch up your burnt hand, you smelled the unmistakable, extremely appetizing scent of human blood.

-Had Nero not been physically holding you back, you might have leaped forward and tried to devour everyone in the shop.

-After tying you down to a chair and dressing your burns, Nero made a vow to search for a cure for you as soon as possible--before the transformation got any worse and turned you into a full on, bloodthirsty demon.

-He would be gone for a long, long time, leading you to lock yourself inside your own home and give Nero the only key so you couldn't break out and wreak havoc while he was away.

-The next few months, or maybe years, would be trying times, but the both of you were strong--you'd get through this, no doubt about it.

● V ●

-When you noticed your transformation, it was already too late. You suffered from violent muscle spasms, headaches, and pain in your joints as a result of the dramatic changes your body was undergoing.

-You never reached out to anyone, especially V, because you had no idea what was happening to you.

-You were afraid, and feared dragging anyone else, including your beloved, into your problems.

-Sadly, your body had other plans. It decided to force you to undergo a seizure in the middle of your kitchen, during which you temporarily sprouted an extra limb. All the flailing and trashing you were doing caused you to bash several of your body parts against the counteracts, hard.

-By the time the seizure was over, you were throughly and entirely bruised.

-Casting aside your pride, you dragged yourself to Devil May Cry to reluctantly ask someone to bandage your aching limbs.

-It was there where you ran into V, who noticed your bruises and exhausted appearance, which made him worry. He pulled you aside, pressed ice packs to your aching bones, and gently requested you tell him what was wrong.

-It took a lot of convincing, but V managed to get you to confess your issues. You explained how something was making your body change, and with teary eyes, described the pain you went through because of it.

-V had no idea why this was happening to you, but he was sure you two would figure things out together. The first step was to deduce what was afflicting you, then, to find the cure.

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800milesisadrive · 2 months

Text

Meet Cute

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at playing around with AI co-authoring, with maybe 75% either being my own work or a heavy rewrite of the suggestions. It's a very crude and ugly little bit smut, but felt good enough to share it. Any stories I do share in the future that use AI for more than editing and brainstorming will be noted as such!

Sarah was so deeply focused on her homework, she didn't notice the man sitting across from her until he started talking.

"You know, girls as cute as you shouldn't need to study so hard," his voice cracked as he wheezed out the words.

Sarah could feel her whole body tense up. This guy had been bugging her all week, pestering her with inane chatter about anime and hentai. She just wanted to be left alone. She looked up at him, glaring at the overweight and unbathed lump sitting at seat on the other side of the table. Her almond eyes narrowing into slits, barely able to keep herself from screaming at him.

"I suggest you focus on your own life, buddy," she snapped back, her tone sharper than a knife.

The weeb recoiled slightly, but only for a pause. After a moment of stuttering, he seemed to regain his undeserved confidence. With a slightly unhinged smile, he launched into another speech about some obscure anime series.

"Like in Duko-Duko Magica?" he continued, completely ignoring Sarah's protest. "The One-Chan; doesn't have to worry about school, her master just puts a replica of her in class so no one suspects she's off having adventures!"

His tone was that of a father trying to explain a storybook to a toddler. This man wasn't talking to Sarah, but down to her. Even without his hunched posture, Sarah suspected she'd still be taller than this dork.

Was he wearing the same, sweat-stained anime t-shirt from yesterday, when he first tried to corner her in the library? Sarah was nearly sure of it, but wouldn't put it past this loser to have multiple outfits that were plastered with girls making faces with their tongues out...

"It's an 'Ahegao' pattern," the man said leaning forward. Sarah had unexpectedly zoned out, staring at him. " Though you know that already, being Japanese! It's actually the 'Mind-Break Ahegao' edition," he continued pointing at his chest. "Limited drop!"

Sarah felt lightheaded and frustrated. She couldn't believe how persistent and presumptive this guy was. While her family was from Japan, she'd never been herself and had never watched anime.

"Listen, I don't want to talk about this anymore," Sarah finally said, her voice trembling with impatience. "Can you just leave me alone?"

The man's face contorted into a mask of disbelief. "But we're having such a fun conversation!" he whined.

Sarah was done with this loser and his racist shit. She started to collect her things, packing them up to escape this annoying prick.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed the man shifting in his chair, looking around nervously. His nerves coming back.

"It's not supposed to take this long..." he muttered to himself. "'Instant changes' is what the site said..."

Sarah paused, confused and oddly concerned by his change in demeanor. She hated this guy from the moment she set eyes on him, yet now she felt some irrational empathy.

He seemed like a pathetic loner, desperate for human connection that he would cling onto anything within reach. That desperation reminded her of her own loneliness, amplified by being a minority in an overwhelmingly white campus.

As he mumbled under his breath, she found herself glancing at his shirt again. The lewd drawings were unsettling, especially since they appeared to be moving - pulsing faintly with each heartbeat. Suddenly, a wave of vertigo washed over her. She struggled to sit upright, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Was it the late hour? Or perhaps something in the air?

Maybe it was too close to the radiator and there was something wrong with the heating system, because she suddenly felt incredibly warm and light-headed. Her hands, which moments ago held tightly onto her books, loosened their grip. She stared blankly at the book covers sprawled before her on the table. In that hazy state, she realized that they depicted scenes from Japanese folklore, images that once alien to her were now strangely familiar. It was like she remembered childhood memories of hearing these stories told by her grandmother during bedtime.

Sarah closed her eyes with surprise at the vivid imagery she saw in her mind.

"Hey, are you ok?" The man leaned toward her, concern etched into his previously obnoxious expression. "Maybe you should get some rest."

"No, I'm fine," Sarah assured him, opening her eyes wide. "Just tired, I guess."

The man nodded sympathetically. "You've been working too hard. Exchange students have it the toughest."

"I'm not..." Sarah began to protest and stopped herself. She wasn't an exchange student, was she?

Sarah thought to herself, her grip tightening around her textbooks. But then why do I feel this strange sense of familiarity? She wondered if she had simply forgotten her heritage due to spending her entire life in America. Maybe her mother spoke tales of Japanese myths during her childhood, stories that somehow lodged themselves deep enough inside her brain to surface now.

"Are you sure you're doing alright?" He asked, peering at her intently. Sarah was taken aback by her sudden attraction to his soft brown eyes. They were full of genuine concern, a stark contrast to his previous arrogant attitude.

For a brief moment, Sarah considered sharing her confusion with him. Yet, she hesitated, fearing that he might exploit her vulnerability. Instead, she simply replied, "Yeah, I'm good. Just need to take a break." She stood up abruptly, hoping to end the conversation. However, as she did, a sharp pain coursed through her legs, causing her to stumble. Mark caught her quickly, his firm grip steadying her. Sarah blinked, surprised by his unexpected gentleness.

"Maybe you should sit down. You look exhausted," he suggested softly.

Sarah looked up at him. Just a few moments ago she'd assumed he was about her height but now he towered over her, looking almost manly in spite of his flabby shape.

Something was happening to her. Sarah didn't fully understand it, but if felt like gravity itself had shifted. The whole world seemed a bit taller, and this man's touch felt like a life preserver she needed to cling to.

"This is... This is all wrong." Sarah breathed out, trying to keep from fainting.

A hungry smirk crawled over the man's face, once that filled Sarah with strong revulsion. She yanked herself back.

"What... what are you doing to me?" she stumbled, catching herself on the table. Sarah felt a strange sensation in her head, this was beyond exhaustion. Sarah managed to ask, her voice trembling.

Mark maintained a deceptively calm composure, though beneath his outwardly collected exterior, he felt ecstatic. He had finally found someone who understood his passion for anime and accepted him.

"Nothing much," Mark responded nonchalantly. "Just trying to help you relax, that's all." "Relax?" Sarah scoffed incredulously.

" Relax? What kind of sick game are you playing with me?"

His face fell, his eyes widening innocently. "Sick game? No way, Sarah. You know me, I'm Mark. We bonded over our love for anime..."

"Oh yeah?" Sarah retorted sarcastically. "And what makes you think I'd enjoy something so... so ridiculous?"

Mark faltered for a moment, looking hurt. "Well, you seem pretty stressed out..." Mark trailed off quietly, swallowing the last of his words.

Anger boiled up inside Sarah, threatening to overwhelm her resolve. "Stressed?" she spat, unable to contain her fury. "How dare you insinuate that you can read my mind? That you can even begin to comprehend my feelings?"

Her voice shook with anger, and she took a step backward, away from him. Mark's gaze followed her every movement, his eyes flickering between sadness and determination.

"I-I'm serious..." she couldn't focus on his face. As much as she wanted to scream, looking at him seemed to diffuse the anger. She didn't want to hurt him, she wanted him to be happy. It was her place to make him happy... "You're just becoming more _you_" he comforted her, and Sarah couldn't help but nod in agreement. This tall, sweet man was just trying to help a confused exchange student. How could she ever have been so rude to him?

Sarah felt ashamed and guilty, wishing she could turn back time and apologize. Instead, she stood frozen on the spot, her heart pounding against her chest. "Mark, please forgive me," she whispered, her voice cracking in despair. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. I'm just scared and confused right now..."

Mark gazed at her with tender compassion, silently acknowledging her apology. "Don't worry about it, Sarah," he reassured her gently. "I understand that you're going through a lot right now..." Mark spoke in a soothing voice, reaching out to lightly touch

Sarah's arm. Sarah felt a shockwave of pleasure ripple through her body. "But I promise you, everything will be okay. We'll find a way to make things better."

Sarah swallowed hard, her throat parched and dry. "I just don't... I don't feel like myself anymore," she confessed, her voice breaking. "I feel like I'm losing control. My thoughts are jumbled, and I can't remember..." Sarah said weakly, feeling increasingly vulnerable.

"You're just remembering who you truly are, deep down," Mark murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her arm. "You're not just a diligent student, Sari-chan."

Sarah tried to resist, but his gentle touch felt too inviting. "What are you talking about?" she whispered hoarsely. "I'm Sarah. I-I don't know you at all. You're doing something to me. You drugged me or something..."

Sarah winced thinking of what he said. "Sari-chan", the nickname feeling alien and foreign on her tongue. Still, she couldn't deny the strange sense of comfort it brought her. It made her want to lean closer to Mark, basking in his warmth and safety.

"Let's just sit here for a moment, shall we?" Mark coaxed, leading Sarah to sit with him on the cold stone floor. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, offering her a comforting embrace.

"Mark-san." Sarah said, her voice seeming oddly light and girly. "What did you do to me?"

Mark's arm wrapped around her, slyly cupping her breast as he comforted her.

"You're just remembering who you truly are, deep down," he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her arm.

Sarah gasped, her body jolting involuntarily. "What are you doing?" she cried out, instinctively attempting to push his hand away.

"Shh, Sari-chan," Mark hushed her, tightening his grasp around her waist. "There's nothing to be afraid of." Mark whispered into Sarah's ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down her spine. "I'm only trying to help you. To bring back your true self."

"My true self?" Sarah repeated, feeling a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement welling up inside her. "Who am I really, Mark?"

With a soft chuckle, Mark pulled Sarah closer, pressing her body against his. "You're Sari-Chan. You're the beautiful Japanese girl who's too in love with me to ever say anything." Mark said, his voice sounding confident and dominant.

Sarah felt a surge of arousal course through her veins. The idea of being a submissive Asian woman enthralled her. She'd spent years suppressing her true desires—the longing for a powerful, protective man to guide her every move. Now, it was like the floodgates had opened, uncovering buried fantasies she'd never allowed herself to explore.

"Why...? Why you want girl like Sari-chan?" Sarah asked, her voice quivering uncontrollably. "Mark-san is big and handsome American..."

Sarah's own brain betrayed her, her memories of home being replaced with fuzzy memories of cherry blossoms and Japanese villages. Images that weren't hers but now seemed to be part of her deepest self swam in her mind.

"Sari-chan, you're ready to show yourself to everyone, aren't you?" Mark whispered seductively, his hot breath tickling Sarah's neck.

"Oh yes, Mark-san," Sarah whimpered, feeling an odd sense of liberation. "I'm ready to be yours forever."

Mark smiled triumphantly, stroking Sarah's silky hair. "That's my girl," he murmured approvingly.

"I knew you could do it. I could see it in your eyes."

#asian bimbo #reality change #f2f transformation #mind control #my content #asian stereotypes #asian girl #corruption

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swordcreature · 5 months

Note

How do you think our tiefling boys would react to our world if they somehow ended up here?

i always find these so cute, but in my head i'm thinking "they would be terrified and ready to stab someone because they are in a strange world where they can't understand anyone" lol

so to make things easier and cuter let's pretend that

1. there are no language barriers

2. no one is trying to kill them/no one's freaking out because they look like devils

3. they're somewhat aware enough of what's happening to not be scared shitless or severely confused

4. they know they're going back home at some point (i would be acting SO different if i thought i was gonna live in a different world forever vs just visiting lmao)

ty for the request you're the best!

Dammon, Rolan, & Zevlor - A Part of Our World

How the tiefling boys react to coming to our world

Dammon:

He’s amazed by the advancements we’ve made, slack-jawed at how we’ve managed to bend metal to form buildings that climb so high he can’t see the top, at how we’ve made metal fly without so much as a single spell, at how we’re able to make metal into machines so big they can move the earth itself.

It’s overwhelming at first and he has so many questions. How does this work? What type of metal is that? What does this do? It never stops.

But every answer is met with true awe. Dammon loves smithing, loves infernal machinery, and he’s been suddenly transported to a world built around his craft, of course he is inspired.

He’s the most open-minded of the tieflings when it comes to a new experience. And just like the Hells, even though this place is foreign, unfamiliar, frightening, he’s eager to learn something from it.

Dammon takes notes on everything he possibly can, sketching out little pictures of the world around him to bring back home.

I could see him being a bit of a terror just because he breaks everything around him trying to figure out how it works, what makes it tick, so to speak. I mean, how could he truly understand the inner workings of, say, a car without taking it apart piece by piece until he has it down to its bare bones.

Overall, I think he comes back home with so many good stories to tell of all the fantastical things he’s seen, all of the new ideas he has, and a renewed purpose in his work.

Rolan:

Rolan absolutely hates our world. It’s just not made for a guy like him.

I mean, first off: no magic. His life revolves around magic, it’s an integral part of him. Without it he feels empty and strange, so this world feels very wrong to him. Imagine being connected to the Weave for years and then suddenly having it stripped away. Completely gone. I would think it would feel disorienting at best.

He finds some interest in speaking to people of this world who practice magic, but it is so entirely different than his own that they're practically talking about two different things. He expected a more tangible magic like the Weave and is disappointed when he learns it’s so vastly incomparable.

Second: the people. There are so many people here. Pretty much anywhere he goes, the population would be bigger and denser than anything he’s used to. And it’s not like he’s a people person. Not to mention the way humans tend to treat outsiders.

Despite his absolute discomfort in our world, Rolan is determined to write down everything he can of his experience. Not many mortals from his world get to experience traveling the universes, so cataloging his journey is a must.

He’ll write a book once he’s home, and it’ll make a big splash in the academic community, he just knows it!

When he does leave our world for his own, he’s relieved. In his book he makes it sound like this magical wonderland of things beyond most people’s comprehension, but to those close to him he tells them the truth. He was not a fan.

Zevlor:

Zevlor is apprehensive at first. This world is strange – he does not know the customs at all. But he's eager to learn.

He spends his time amongst the people more so than the other two. He is so curious about the traditions of the land, the history of the world, and hearing it from the mouths of the locals is better than getting his hands on any book.

He immerses himself in the cultures he comes across as much as possible; he eats our food and sings our songs and actually has a really good time with it.

I think he finds special interest in the history of combat, how our conflicts have changed throughout time. How did we go from swinging swords and shooting arrows to battling wars from across the world?

Zevlor also tries to teach people of our world about where he comes from. He tells stories from his days as a Hellrider to anyone who will listen and even tries to cook some traditional Elturian food, but it’s hard to do so without the same ingredients.

Overall, he’s more interested in the shared knowledge of culture and information between our world and his. It brings him comfort finding similarities between such different worlds.

When he finally can go back home, he shares his stories with the children first, spinning them tales of the people he met and the things he did. How even in such a foreign place there were still nice people willing to help and to share and to be a friend.

Zevlor is the one who wishes to come back the most.

#bg3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 rolan #bg3 zevlor #dammon #rolan #zevlor #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #requests/suggestions #dragomermacorn #HCs

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lunaviee · 10 months

Text

04. JEALOUSY…?

(with some writing below)

rin states at your instagram post. annoyed.

it’s a weird feeling, he thinks. he doesn’t even know you, so why is he so annoyed at isagi for getting so close? all he knows is that your favorite pen to use is a pale blue one that’s running out of ink soon. and how you get annoyed when that one strand of hair gets in your face. and that you take off your bracelets when you write because they’re uncomfortable. and that he catches you glancing at him sometimes.

oh. okay, maybe he does know a bit about you..but that’s no reason to be so jealous, right? whatever, he doesn’t need this right now. he should focus on school no matter how many times you catch his eye.

————————————————————————

you walk into class and see a worker standing around the area where you would normally sit. you look at your teacher and he holds up a finger, indicating you to wait a moment. so you do.

soon, the worker (which you find out is a remodeler) calls your teacher over and you and your classmates are left conversing with each other.

“what do you think they’re doing?” a voice asks you, trying to start conversation.

you turn around, still keeping your eyes on the two men near your seat “i’m not sure…my guess is-” you freeze. you finally look at who you’re talking to and it’s rin. you’ve only heard him speak once and you were a bit too flustered to remember what he sounded like. he was quiet in class and didn’t even know he existed up until a few weeks ago.

his voice is smooth and low, which makes you just a tad bit nervous…

“uh huh? you were saying?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you. “oh right. uh my guess is they’re fixing the charging plug next to my desk. it doesn’t work” you finally look into his eyes to answer. his eyes are pretty..icy irises surrounded by long eyelashes.

“hm.” he hums back in response. before either of you could say anything else (if you even wanted to), your teacher makes an announcement.

“alright, all students seated in columns 8-12 are moving desks. everyone else, go to your seat please.”

you turn back to rin and your eyes meet again. you were sat in column 12 and rin was in 10.

“uh do you wanna-” you start.

“yeah sure” rin walks past you and towards 2 empty desks.

even though there were only 36 people in your class, the size of your classroom was able to fit just under 50 students, so finding an empty seat was easy. (you really aren’t sure why your teacher had assigned seats in the first place…)

when you sit down, you take out your notebook and pencil case. well, it seems like you didn’t properly close your pencil case all the way when you last used it, and one of your pens had dropped. you lean over to get it, your head being dangerously close to the desk…

rin sees this and his hand slides over to the edge of the desk while you’re grabbing your pen, making sure you don’t accidentally hit your head.

once you sit back up, rin’s hand is back to its original spot before you can notice it had ever even left. your teacher walks back up to the front of the classroom and assigns a worksheet for the rest of the class period.

“work with a partner if you need to, i’ll be dealing with the remodeling situation.”

the word “partner” makes you glance at rin out of the corner of your eye. unfortunately, his eyes are set on his own paper.

though, his eyes do flicker to your desk as he watches you shake your favorite pen in hopes of using it again before it’s completely out of ink.

PREV | NEXT | MAIN EVENT

oh my god i’m SO sorry i didn’t upload for so long and this chapter SUCKS😭i’ve been so busy recently and writers block definitely doesn’t help

TAGLIST — @jaeheekangslover @disoriented-fish @itzsora @tamimemo @punkhazardlaw @bxddiebloss @userwithlotsoftime @anurst @vvasant @l0v3do11 @reiners-milkbiddies @ilytrinsworld @hyeenct @yunxbin @raidenshogunmommy @livelaughloveisagiyoichi

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #blue lock fluff #rin itoshi smau #itoshi rin smau #infrunami smau

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skinnypaleangryperson · 6 months

Text

This scene is so intense-I can really feel the tension with what Prime is saying, the emotional climax of the devastation of the fact that this is all that Rick can do, and it's basically everything that has ever been between the both of them and their beliefs coming together. On the surface, it looks like Rick is finally winning, and he's getting what he wants, and Prime is the one that is getting himself ended because of what he did and what he believed.

But I think Prime is going down with this shit eating smile on his face because he knows that Rick can literally never get what he wanted and he's in profound psychological torment possibly for the rest of his life. What Rick was ended up with, not just after he kills Prime, but all these years before, is inherently a sign of that Rick lost and that Prime won, at least in terms of his spite that he has to Rick that he didn't choose power over family.

He satisfied, because he knows that he stowed Rick permanently away in a disorienting, devastating confusion of an incredibly unwanted compromise that someone less enduring of spirit would not be able to live with especially daily- away in the absolute worst position that he could be with his heart and what he wanted in life, which was literally just to be a husband and to be with his original family. Prime has an incredibly devastating hook over Rick; which is basically that Rick has no option but to take Prime's family, the version of himself that he absolutely detests the most, and has to pretend like it's a decent life to replace the one that he would have had with his original family. It's inherently devastating and insulting beyond belief for him to have to settle for the family of the man that he can't stand, that took away everything from his own self, almost like being forced to take whatever crumbs that he can get that's left over from Prime's maliciousness that didn't care about his family because he had his own taken away. it must be such a harrowing, empty feeling, to know that Rick does love the family that he settled for but also have this knowing in the back of his head and that he is under Prime's foot for the rest of his life, even long after Prime is dead, and that is the permanent power that he has over him, for as long as Rick wants anything that even remotely resembles a family life.

I think the worst part about the fact is that Rick knows this, or he seems to certainly at least feel it, and no amount of technical physical power is going to change that battle that he has to win inside himself, if they're even is any way to win a grief like that.

By the time he gets back to his family, I feel like it's this harrowing and devastatingly confusing combination of emotion that is his own personal hell. It's a confusing degree between wanting to love this family that he's already built an entire life of out of the past couple of years, maybe a decade at this point, knowing that to some degree that he does love them and he does care about them with this sickly version of what should have been the profound and sweet version and of the simple version that he would have given his own family-while at the have the same time having this profoundly lonely secret devastation that he has to carry around that he can't express anywhere that everything that Prime said was correct; that this isn't his family, that he has to learn how to live with that every minute of every day, that he still doesn't have his wife, his original family, and there's probably some infuriating disorienting devastation and anger, but more than that, depression, towards the family that he is with and that is muddled with the fondness that he's forced himself to find with them because even that would be better than the other contrast of having no family at all, which he was forced to be left with initially.

So he eats, he plays, he sits, he has conversations, but it fucking hurts every day, and it might never not hurt again.

#I only take media this seriously for men that I'm in love with #rick and morty #lol #rick sanchez #I also think that he's an astoundingly good portrayal of depression #I don't know why #just something about the way that he is

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

Note

how would main 6 react if mc were a mermaid???

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a merfolk MC

~ thanks so much anon, this is a prompt I never would have thought of on my own and I'm loving how fun it is! enjoy ~

While it certainly influences how you function, being merfolk isn't the biggest deal to you. Vesuvians live in a bustling port city, with the world's most unusual people setting up shop on their doorsteps. They don't bat an eyelash at people of other species.

At first you refrained from mentioning it because you didn't have any memories and weren't ready to open that can of worms while you were still relearning to walk. By the time your shop had two mysterious visitors in one night, the people around you didn't know because you had no reason to go swimming with anyone and you never brought it up. You could change back and forth at will pretty easily, so you never associated anything unpleasant with it, besides how messy bath time could get if you felt the need to polish your scales.

Julian

It was your turn to clean the house, and you thought you'd take advantage of the dirty bathroom floor and do some tail maintenance

You avoided doing this when it was his turn because it really did make a big mess and you felt bad having him clean it up

So you're really getting in there (it's been over a month), removing dull and chipped scales, scraping out the gunk that's built up, scrubbing and polishing and making chaos

And then you hear his loud "I'm hooooome!" as the front door slams closed, and you respond with "in the bathroom!", and it's not until you're making eye contact with a gaping doctor that you realize

You forgot to tell him

And also the bathroom looks like a sea debris tornado hit it

He's got a million questions running through his mind, since when were you merfolk, why didn't he know this about you, was he not paying close enough attention, were you shy about it for some reason, whoah that's cool anatomy, why are there scales everywhere, if you're not wearing anything on your tail does that mean it's naked

He only manages a small squeak

You laugh and apologize for not telling him sooner, it just slipped your mind

He spends the next hour watching you groom, the doctor in him asking so many questions (with your permission) about how it works

It will hit him later that he's a pirate in love with a merfolk and the dramatic appeal of it will make him insufferable for weeks

Asra

They already knew, they've been one of your closest friends for years

The crazy part was when you woke up without any memories after he brought you back, and that meant that you didn't know

It's been its own challenge to take care of you this first week, you're disoriented and dysfunctional, and they're so relieved to have you back, but they don't have any experience with caring for someone in your state

So yeah, it was a week before he decided to try giving you a proper bath

It's going smoothly, you were surprisingly chill when they lowered you into the water

But for the first time you are feeling yourself submerged, and you're suddenly aware of the sensation of wanting to stretch out your legs after being curled up, so you do

Now Asra's turning around from grabbing the soap to see you thrashing wildly, tail out and very startled by what your body is doing

He's able to calm you down and help you figure out how to switch back and forth, but he's also noticing the state your tail is in

You had spent all your time before the plague caring for others, and it's been sitting dormant since you woke up, it needs the same rehab that the rest of your body does

But what breaks their heart the most is how your scales are all dull, some of them cracked or chipped or peeling, and they don't know the first thing about tail care, and clearly neither do you at the moment

Which is why every merfolk trader in Vesuvia knows his name now

They spent countless afternoons in the markets asking questions, taking notes, and collecting the right products

He doesn't mind the mess, which is why he never thinks to help you clean it up

Nadia

She has been wanting to take you to her childhood haunts since she met you, and now it's finally happening!

It's been months since she suggested it, you've both been very busy rebuilding Vesuvia, and she likes planning things out so they'll be perfect

But now you're taking a week at her summer palace getaway by the sea, and you literally don't have any memories of the last time you were able to swim somewhere like this

As soon as she's ready to go down to the water with you you're diving in

To say you're ecstatic is an understatement

You're very happy living as a human, but right now you're really getting to experience your roots and it's incredible

Nadia's surprised, to say the least

You never mentioned it, she never noticed any signs of it, is this why you eat so much seafood?

Should she instruct the palace chefs to expand your food options? Should she facilitate more moments like this where you can swim? Does your tail need regular exercise? Why didn't she see this when you used her bath?

Now you're circling back to the sand to invite her in with you, and realizing that you didn't give her any warning that you'd take off like that

She approaches you with a list of questions, but they die in her throat when she sees you in your element

You're glowing from the exercise, your face is shining with excitement and happiness, and your form in the water is the most breathtaking thing she's ever seen

She'll take your hand and let you pull her through the water

She makes multiple adjustments when you get back to the palace to make sure you're well provided for

Muriel

He lives off of the land, nobody is more comfortable with non-human species than he is

Though he doesn't interact with many water affiliated species, he's a trees and rocks kinda guy

He could sense that you weren't fully human from the time he met you, but he never thought it was worth bringing it up

You are you, whatever that is, just the fact that you run a shop and talk to people all day long is way more remarkable to him

But he does notice after a while of living together that you begin to get antsy, you keep stretching out your legs and taking weirdly big breaths

You end up suggesting to him that the two of you go down to the shore a little ways away from the city to camp over night

He's happy to do that, if that's what's been bothering you

Really, you just want full access to a body of water. Muriel doesn't have a tub anywhere in the hut and the forest is all streams, you haven't been able to swim or clean up properly in weeks

You'd been planning to help him set up camp when you arrived, but just the sight of the sun glinting off of the waves has you sprinting to the shoreline

As soon as he sees the way you dive in and shift, it clicks for him

Now the restlessness makes sense, why didn't you say anything earlier?

He's very happy to get everything organized by himself, you do come back and offer to help but he sends you back to the water with a shy request for eel, if you can find it

You do find it, and you have a delicious dinner together

He builds you a bath outside where the water can flow through it

He goes with you to the shore every time you need to take care of your tail now to watch you swim (and help you carry back the eels)

Portia

She had her suspicions before you two even got together

She grew up on the coast and spent years on a pirate ship, she's plenty familiar with what merfolk are like

She just noticed all the little clues, exactly like a detective from one of her favorite books

The unusually fluid way your chest moved when you inhaled, your preference for fresh seafood, the way you always folded your legs together when you were resting, your uncanny sense of smell

She was a little surprised that you never talked about it, but she figured maybe living as a human was your personal preference or perhaps you had bad memories associated with it

So she never brought it up, and you never thought to tell her

One afternoon the two of you are strolling through the marketplace together, picking up groceries and odds and ends to have around the cottage

She's keeping an eye out for new toys for Pepi, and then she hears you casually mention that oh yeah, you're running low on polish

What silver polish, there's tubs of it at home

Oh, scale polish, that makes sense - wait - you're talking about your tail, this is new, Arcana help her how does she respond

You see her fumbling and realize you never mentioned it before, and now you're both frantically explaining yourselves to each other in the middle of the marketplace

As soon as she realizes you're comfortable being open about it, she's all in

She clears her schedule for "tail day" every few weeks and will sit on the bathroom floor with you, hair tied up and sleeves rolled back, helping you reach all the tricky spots and telling you stories so you don't get bored

Lucio

He didn't really find out in the best moment

He doesn't know something unless you spell it out for him, so the concept of you being anything besides human never came close to touching his brain

So to say he was blindsided is an understatement

The two of you were on one of your more intense jobs, cornering and freeing a villager who'd accepted a deal with a demon and subsequently gone crazy

The sheepish look he gave you when you first got the details of the assignment will make you smile for years

Anyways, you two are perfectly suited for the job

He's in charge of tracking and trapping your target, and then while they're distracted, you'll leap in and break their chains

At least that's how it was supposed to go

The target noticed you too early and cast a spell to revert you to your true form, since they could sense you were using some kind of magic to appear as you did and assumed they were calling a bluff

You can still use magic in mer form, it's just awkward to do so sprawled across a leafy forest floor

You free the villager easily since they're so caught off guard, but the spell's effects linger for another hour

Lucio has to carry you back with an apologetic villager trailing behind you

At first he's a little hurt, why were you hiding such a pretty thing from him?

But once you tell him it slipped your mind to mention it, he's all over it

Now he regularly begs you to shift for him anytime it's remotely convenient, so he can admire and play with your tail some more

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #portia the arcana #muriel the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana shitpost #the arcana game #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #lucio morgasson

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randomluck-ofthe-universe · 6 months

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Yes, I’m looking at his face and I’m really confused, or better said “disoriented” (insert sarcastic laugh)

I still can’t believe how seeing these new photos didn’t make me feel anything, or worse- i didn’t want to look at them for too long like I used before.

He has the huge privilege to be born with this face - beautiful, innocent, forever young-ish, etc. And exactly like you said - no one knows what’s behind this face, what his life is.

Everything you imagine him to be is dictated by his appearance and you all assume exactly that - that he is an innocent, sincere, smart and selfless boy, not capable of anything bad and malicious. And it never occurs to you that what you constantly repeat - that no one knows what he really is, what he wants and how he lives - is absolutely true, but with the opposite sign. That it is possible that he is completely different from the boy that his appearance fools you into being.

Please don’t be mad at me, I’m actually devastated that I don’t love him (like a fan) the way I used to 💔

But like is said - no one can kill your love faster and more completely than the object of your love itself 💔

Why would I be mad at you? you came here telling me your thoughts, how you feel about Tim right now, how this hurts you, and you did it honestly without being rude or offensive, and for all this I respect you and I'm glad you are here. believe me, I understand how you're experiencing this moment even though I don't share the way you see him now.

so I'll be honest with you about what I think of Tim just like you have been with me.

I've never said or thought that he's innocent and perfect because none of us is so and Timothée Chalamet is no exception. he's not an untouchable god, he's a human being with his flaws, a person who makes mistakes like the rest of us, who sometimes does shit and can make decisions because of which he'll pay the consequences. who of us hasn't done it more than once in their lives?

but I also think his life is not so easy and going all downhill as it might seem, almost like a kind of perfect life made only of things, moments and positive situations.

I think we can't keep pretending that his life was the same as it was seven years ago and that we want at all costs that he's the exact same 20-year-old boy. this is something unreal and absurd, the same way none of us remains totally the same but it's life itself, every experience you have and some situations you live that pass above you forging and making small changes.

and yes, I repeat once again that I know nothing of his personal life, I don't know why I see him making choices or making decisions about which I don't understand and I can be perplexed, they may even hurt me, but that's precisely the reason why I'm not able to judge him or erase him or stop loving him.. it's his life, not mine, and if I don't know his reasons, rightly because it's none of my business, how can I make him guilty of what I feel?

but if there's one thing I'll never believe, it's that Tim is a fake person, a hypocrite who all these years has been pretending to be someone he never was.

if ever he had a fault it was always to be too transparent, too open to show what he feels at that exact moment, totally unable to pretend and mask his mood.

too vulnerability.

and over the years you learn to protect yourself, you've to do it. you've to do it for yourself and above all to protect some aspects of your personal life, the "real private life" and not the one that "for work" you've to show.

And you can see what's behind his face, it's one of the things he's still not able to keep "private" because you look at him and immediately see if he's happy, if he's relaxed, if he's angry or he's uncomfortable, if he feels bad.

you may not know anything about his life, but his face tells you about him and how he's in that moment.. the way how he feels about the person that is with him, how he's experiencing that situation.

I think dealing with many professional experiences and personal situations, growing up and becoming a man have definitely made changes to him but they haven't changed who he really is inside.

I'm truly sorry that you feel so devastated.. if you want, you can also contact me privately and feel sure that our conversation will remain absolutely private.

Anyway, I’m here. ❤️

#timothée chalamet #my anons

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chezzywezzy · 2 years

Text

Yandere Love Drabble (1st Place Prize)

Word count ; 6.1k

*Edited.

*Dedicated to @neverano! This one is pretty angsty. I hope you enjoy!

“…What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?”

Y/n abashed her gaze from the woman in front of her. She clutched her purse to her chest, not able to maintain eye contact. If she did, she knew she’d call it a joke or that it was nothing and she said it accidentally.

Love was a good person. But sometimes - no, oftentimes - her flaws shone through. She was incredibly possessive and clingy. She met every friend of mine with a scrutinizing glare. She often fantasized about our future as though it were set in stone, even though we’d only been together a few months. She made me so stressed. Whenever Y/n was around her, she was either tolerating her presence or dreading it.

The relationship was unhealthy. But she was also scared of Love. Each time she brought up their relationship problems or said she was leaving, Love would cry and beg and yell and do anything humanly possible to prevent her from going through with the break up and criticism.

But, as Y/n finally met her angry, desperate glare, she knew the answer. She gulped as Love took a step closer, backing the woman up to her small kitchen counter within her L.A. apartment.

“I mean it, Love. You’re a wonderful person, b - but —“

“But what?” Love suddenly wailed, her entire composure different. Y/n had set off the ticking time bomb, but this time, she couldn’t falter. “I love you, Y/n. Whatever your friends are telling you is wrong. We’re in love!”

“That’s just the problem, Love!” Y/n shouted back, her voice croaking in fright. “My friends haven’t said anything. Y - you’re too jealous and clingy. You’ve driven me away. You scare everyone around you, including me! You… you’re too erratic.”

She froze, having caged her against the counter. Love’s eyes were blank. It always scared Y/n how quickly her mood could change. Sometimes, she was so very sweet and her sobs seemed genuine. Other times, she was angry. A complete fireball. But whenever emotion was vacant from her passionate age, I knew I was screwed.

Love’s nails dug into the wood, scratching. Her nose twitched and a sneer threatened to appear. Y/n pressed herself against the counter as much as humanly possible, a few tears escaping. She truly tried not to yell at her. She knew how she hated being yelled at. But when she was such a stubborn person, it was hard.

“Too… erratic,” she parroted, her voice deadly calm and collected. “Too erratic. Too jealous, too clingy, too scary… Y/n, I wanted you to be different from everyone else. I thought you were. I thought you loved me the way I was. So why are you leaving… me?”

Her voice croaked, betraying her true feelings. All at once, her eyes clouded over with tears. Y/n felt so numb to it, though. She often cried and broke down in front of her. But Peach, Y/n’s online best friend, told her how it was manipulative. That she was too good for her. Too self-sacrificing.

And, as badly as she wanted to hug her close and comfort her, she couldn’t. Love would just take the inch and go a mile, and whenever that happened, Y/n didn’t end up leaving. She ended up in the bed. Because, no matter how difficult Love’s passion and erratic behavior could be, it could also be just that convincing and sweet in the bedroom.

“We’re not good for each other, Love,” she spoke gently. “This is a toxic relationship. Normal people aren’t this way —“

“What if we’re not normal people, Y/n? What about then? Because I’m in love with you and if ou truly didn’t love me, you would’ve left a long time ago —“

“No, Love! I don’t love you. I’m scared of you —“

“Why are you scared of me?” she suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs. Tears slid down her cheeks and she stumbled away, as though completely disoriented. She pressed herself up against the sink, hyperventilating. “Y - you’re not supposed to be scared of me, Y/n. I love you! And I’m not letting you go. We can work on this —“

“I’m moving, Love.”

Y/n had spoken quietly, slowly shaking her head. Tears shimmered but didn’t break free. She couldn’t meet her intense stare. Everything fell silent and neither of them moved. She had heard the woman. That much was obvious. And yet, when she glanced up, concerned about how heavy her breathing was, Y/n realized she interpreted her words incorrectly.

Instead of anger or sadness or hatred, hope glinted in her eyes. A smile spread to her cheeks. She was beaming and all of the tenseness rolled off of her. She started giggling, but that was even more terrifying. And then, she was looking directly at her.

“You should’ve said so sooner, Y/n!” she chirped happily. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Don’t worry. We don’t have to break up just because you’re moving. But I will need some time to… to prepare for the move. Oh! And I’ll have to take a loan out to start a business a new bakery. And Forty will probably come —“

“No, Love,” Y/n croaked sadly. “You’re not hearing me. I’m leaving because of you. This… thing we have going on… I can’t take it anymore. You’re dangerous, Love. I’m leaving you.”

Her face fell. She was so terribly angry, expression darkened with venom and fury. Shivers rolled down her spine. And yet, Love didn’t scream. She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. She glared at the woman, a frown burned into her lips. She was waiting for her to move even slightly.

And then, she did. Y/n snatched her purse up from the counter beside her, heart thumping loudly in her chest. A seething screech escaped her lips and she swerved toward the counter behind her. She reached desperately toward the knife block, and fear dawned on Y/n. Never had Love been violent. And it seemed the dam had finally burst.

A scream escaped Y/n’s lips. She swerved into the corner, away from the counter, just as Love turned back to her. Her knife descended into the spot she once was, hatred burning in her retinas. She was out of control, pulling at the knife. It was lodged in the wood.

Another screech escaped Y/n as she dashed across the small living room. Love was still trying at the knife, nothing but fury in her expression. Y/n went to the front door and tried at it, but it was shut. Both the chain and the twisting lock was secured, and she gasped.

She peered over her shoulder as her other hand went to the chain and bolt. Her vision was blurry from the tears and panic, but she quickly recognized that Love was no longer focusing on the knife, eyes boring into her. She reached above her, where her pots and pans were hanging.

And, her eyes not leaving Y/n’s, she lifted it off the hook. It was a thick iron-steel pan, bumpy with wear. And yet, if she reached her, Y/n knew with certainty she would die. Love had enough of Y/n just as much as she had enough of her. And she was going to kill her.

As hard as it was to turn away from the raging woman, Y/n felt the chain fall free. She focused my attention on the lock, turning it until she heard a satisfying click. She heard Love’s footsteps thundering toward her, so very close behind. Love was muttering incoherently under her breath.

On instinct, Y/n ducked. Her knees buckled, and it was right that she did that. Because, just then, the pot slammed into the door above where Y/n’s head once was. Love lowered it in realization, aiming to - at the bare minimum - knock the woman out.

However, Y/n knew better. She threw her body to the side. Love accidentally released the pan, dropping it on the ground. She’d expected it to hit the woman, but, instead, it dropped onto her ankle.

Another scream escaped Y/n, but this tie, it was of pure pain. She was certain it had been twisted at the bare minimum. Tears poked from her sockets and dribbled down her cheeks, but she pulled her legs free. Love’s gaze remained glued to her ex-girlfriend, seething.

“How dare you!” Love howled, frozen in place. “I love you, Y/n! Please…”

Y/n also paused. Both of the women were panting profusely. Her belongings from her purse was scattered around the room, and she wished so desperately to grasp her phone, to run, to do literally anything. And yet, she was stuck in place, knowing that if she moved even an inch, Love would kill her.

All of the anger dissipated. Suddenly, Love crumbled to her knees. Her back almost gave out, too, but she used her arms to prop herself up. Y/n watched warily, balling her fists up. She even tried to mute her breaths, thinking that maybe Love was insane enough to forget she was even there if she didn’t move.

Love’s hair fell in her face. She broke out into sobs, one hand reaching out to her calf. She grasped it desperately. Y/n knew that Love needed help. She was batshit crazy and was a danger to those around her. And yet, it wasn’t her damn business. Y/n just needed to escape with her life and she’d be safe.

Peach had already packed up the moving truck. She’d flown down to help, unbeknownst to Love. Y/n had distracted her to the best of her abilities and Love fell for it. Perhaps it was why the umpteenth break-up came to her as a surprise. And, the moment Y/n left, she’d call a taxi to her house, and her and Peach would go on a road trip.

Peach was nice. She was a gossip girl and had her depressive moments, but Y/n never would’ve had to strength or ability to leave Love without something to fall back to.

Peach was kind. “Seriously, you don’t have to get a job. You can live with me in New York for a while until you get back on your feet.”

Peach was attentive and calm. “Love isn’t treating you right. Can’t you see that? She treats your friends poorly. Why else would your friend have left that party?”

Peach was the reason Y/n was breaking up with Love. “I know you’re in a committed relationship. But I could treat you so much better. I’m not toxic or manipulative like she is, Y/n. I’m all that you would need. Not Love.”

It made Y/n feel bad. Because, in their current standing, she tried to convince herself that it was justified to be all over Peach the moment she flew in a few days ago. In technical definitions, it was cheating. And Y/n knew that. But, to her, Love and her never should’ve been together in the first place. She’d tried far too often to break up, and yet, even now, Love was scaring her into possibly taking her back.

Y/n didn’t want to die.

“Y/n, please, if you love me, even a little bit… I will treat you perfectly.”

She opened her mouth, so very tempted to accept just to put the present torture to an end. And yet, as her phone buzzed with a text message, she shook her head. Love couldn’t see it, just like she couldn’t see that she had slowly been packing up her purse.

Y/n knew she should’ve broken up over text. And yet, the guilt of her cheating made her believe Love deserved more than being ghosted. Because it was a toxic relationship, and not just because of Love. Y/n felt terrible. How had things gone so terribly wrong?

“I… I’ll think about it, Love. But… I just need some space,” she managed.

Love looked up, eyes brimming with hope. She gasped quietly, her grip on her leg tightening in excitement. She looked so innocent and pure, as though she hadn’t just attempted to kill the woman she claimed to love. Tears still fell, but she was clearly grasping at straws for any variation of yes.

“Space? I - I can do that,” she tittered. “If only for you, Y/n… Just… please don’t leave me, okay? And I’m sorry for attacking you and scaring you… I didn’t mean it! What w - we have going on is good. Perfect. A - and I’ll work on my flaws. I’ll be the perfect woman for you.”

Y/n couldn’t make her suspicious. Love was delusional, but she wasn’t stupid. She was cunning and manipulative and observant. She was sure that Love hired someone from her rich family connections to follow her around and monitor her. But she’d never mentioned anything.

And she would never need to because she was going to escape.

“D - do you promise, Love?”

The woman nodded eagerly, grinning energetically. “Y - yes! Anything for you, Y/n. Just please, don’t leave me! We’re in love aren’t we, Y/n?”

“…Yeah, Love. We are.”

Y/n slid her leg out of Love’s grasp, going to stand. However, it was as she dreaded. Her leg gave out. The pan had did a number on her. And, as quickly as Y/n wanted to see Peach, to cry and hold the woman in her arms, to be comforted, she knew she had be calm and collected. She used the wall for support.

In concern, while apologizing profusely, Love helped her, grasping at her arm and back. She noticed how Y/n’s phone buzzed, but she couldn’t fuck everything up again. Y/n was an angel from the heavens above, giving her another chance. She couldn’t ruin it.

“A - are you sure you need to leave?” Love inquired carefully, hand lingering against the small of her back.

Y/n strained a smile wiping at her right eye. “The boss wants to give me one last night shift since tomorrow is the end of my two-week’s notice. I need to… hop on that. I’m sorry.”

Love’s eyes widened and she waved her hands dismissively. “N - no! It’s okay, it’s fine! Just… promise me that when you get home, you’ll text me where you’re moving to? I - I know you need space, but… even a city away is just too much.”

I nodded curtly. Love opened the door, the pan sliding against the carpet along with it. Love moved it further with her foot, opening the door just enough for Y/n to limp through. Love felt horrible about what happened. She knew her emotions were out of control, but to think that Y/n wanted to leave her…

She could never allow it. Not after what happened to her husband.

Only with the woman now gone, did Love notice how her phone buzzed profusely on the counter. She walked over in curiosity, and as she lifted it up, any remorse she felt turned into a burning, fiery anger.

Because, on her phone screen, was a folder of photos with Y/n’s body splayed out on the bed with a complete stranger beside her.

~~~

“Wow,” Y/n gasped in awe as the moving truck finally pulled up to a large wooden mansion in the middle of the Connecticut woods.

It was so secluded and beautiful. And yet, when Y/n checked her phone - which was now void of any texts from her blocked ex-girlfriend -, the service was of impeccable quality. She almost felt as though she was taking advantage of her friend and soon-to-be-lover, because Peach was so dead-set on spoiling her with gifts and delectables and treats that was truly undeserved.

“This is it. It’s my parents’ summer vacation house, so we have it all to ourselves,” Peach announced proudly. “Just take in what you need for now. You’re probably, like, super tired.”

Y/n nodded. She took her small suitcase and backpack from the backseat of the moving van. She was in awe as Peach began explaining the history of the house and that it had always been in the Salinger family. She unlocked the front door quickly and held it open for Y/n.

The inside was even more grandiose as the outside. There was a large greeting hall with two opposing winding steps up to the second floor. To the right was a game room, and deeper inside was a living room with several instruments as decoration. Next to that was a hallway that led into the more private are of the household.

“Let me take your suitcase up to our room,” Peach giggled.

Y/n’s cheeks reddened in surprise. “Our room?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

She shook her head instantly, trying to ignore the almost accusatory tone Peach held. “Not at all. It just caught me off guard.”

“It really shouldn’t. Why wouldn’t I want to sleep in the same bed as my partner?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Peach.”

“Whatever. Come on. I want to get started on the drinks. You can decompress in the tub if you want.”

And, a few minutes later, that was exactly what Y/n was doing. Peach had left the bathroom door open, and across from that, the bedroom door was, too. It was just as richly decorated as the rest of the house, seeing as it was the master bedroom. Peach hadn’t lingered. She seemed rather stressed from the drive and Y/n knew how much alcohol helped her relax.

Y/n dropped the towel to the ground. The tub was finally full. On the bathtub shelf was an expensive glass of Chardonnay. Accompanying it was many bath bubbles, soaps, and high-quality shampoos. The warm water burned and nipped at her skin, and she released a content sigh.

She immediately sunk into the water, taking a sip from the wine glass before letting her head use the back of the tub as a pillow. Along the sides was a very fluffy rim, clearly made for what Y/n was using it for. The woman was dead tired and set on getting some shut-eye. She’d been up all day and all night for the three-day move because she was just that terrified of Love. Peach had insisted, almost irritatedly so, that Love was out of the picture and on the other side of the country.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel shivers roll up the back of her spine, though as her shut and her body became still. She was still so very on edge, as though there were eyes glued to her every move. But she was just being paranoid. That was all.

Unknowingly to her, though, she wasn’t. Hidden underneath the bed, eyes glued in anger and amazement, was Love. She’d followed Y/n. No, she arrived ahead of time thanks to her family’s private jet and a private detective who anticipated Y/n’s next move.

Love was seething. Furious. Y/n had been lying. She never loved her, even though they were perfect to each other. And yet, as she looked through hacked screenshots between the two, Love realized.

She’d never done anything wrong. Peach Salinger was the root of the problem. Love was great the way she was, and yet, Y/n fell for the woman’s keep manipulation.

Sure, it stung to think that Y/n cheated. But Love knew that without a doubt she was coerced into it, just like with everything else. Y/n never wanted to break up with Love. Peach told her to. Y/n never stopped loving Love. Peach told her to. Y/n never wanted to cheat and lie and leave her.

Peach told her to.

And Peach was going to pay.

But, as Love’s gaze was glued to the woman’s sleeping body, her heart skipped a beat. It hurt to know that Love wasn’t the only one to see her perfect body so casually, but Y/n still belonged to her and vice versa. Y/n ha been on edge the entire time, not because she fear Love, but because she knew what she was doing was wrong.

Love was convinced that Y/n missed her.

Y/n emitted a content sigh. She was so very close to being lulled into a deep sleep. But then, she heard something. It sounded like a mixture of a creak and a quiet breath. Her eyes shot open, going around the bathroom and what she could see of the bedroom. She wondered if there was free space underneath the bed.

No. She was just being paranoid.

Y/n sunk back into the water, trying once again to get some shut-eye. But then, in the distance, she heard Peach’s soft footsteps. It was easy to identify because nobody else was in the house.

Peach came into sight, having already downed half of her alcoholic beverage. A smirk stretched across her gorgeous face. They smiled at one another, and Y/n took the glass that was offered. Y/n felt abashed from how Peach’s gaze trailed over her form, cascaded by the layer bubbles.

“You look so beautiful,” Peach mused.

Y/n’s eyes, consumed with a sultry glint, eyed Peach up and down. Peach grinned even further when she noticed. Both woman took a sip of their drinks. However, Y/n was quick to set it next to the wine. She hoisted herself out of the tub, doing so with a slight struggle because of her ankle wound. However, Peach handed her a large fluffy towel, drinking in her appearance.

Y/n wrapped it around her chest before stepping out. She was dripping with water and Peach weaved around to drain the tub slowly. Y/n wrapped her arms around Peach’s midsection, giggling as her shirt rode up her waist. Peach turned to her, and greedily they met in a passionate kiss.

From underneath the bed, Love was fuming. It was so hard to excuse Y/n’s behavior. She was totally and utterly brainwashed. It took so much effort not to shoot that damned woman who was pawing at her girlfriend in that moment, a gun clutched in her right hand. Love’s knuckles grew pale with seething hatred, her form hardly noticeable to the two women.

“I want you,” Y/n mewled, departing from the kiss for but a moment.

She was cut off by Peach’s lips once more. The woman began pulling Y/n to the bed. Giggles and moans erupted in the kiss. They grasped at each other desperately, and amidst the heat, Y/n’s towel slid right off her body.

Peach pushed her onto the mattress. Y/n gasped, falling flat on her back. Love was trembling with rage underneath, trying so very hard to control herself. It wasn’t time yet. It wasn’t time yet. She had to keep reminding herself, even if she was on her final straw.

Y/n drank in Peach’s appearance, perching herself up on her elbows. Peach was taking her sweet time, shaking herself out of her light blue denim jeans. Y/n couldn’t help but breathlessly comment,” Beautiful.”

Peach fell on top of her. Their lips connected once more. Underneath the bed, Love’s heart shattered. It was so very hard to excuse Y/n’s behavior when she made it seem like she truly didn’t love her. Love knew it was true, though. Y/n loved her. Y/n missed her. Y/n only thought she was beautiful.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Y/n spoke gently, pressing a kiss to Love’s lips. “It’s okay if you aren’t. You’re worth the wait.”

Love swooned, so glad to be in such a loving, gentle relationship. She trusted Y/n with her life. She wanted Y/n with every fibre of her being. So, Love nodded, a lovesick smile tugging to her lips. She felt so cared for. So understood. She wanted nothing other than the woman before her.

Y/n had a few extra notches on her belt. But Love knew that what they had was real. They were endgame. Soulmates. Madly in love with one another.

“Okay. Just tell me if there’s nothing that you like. I’ll make you feel good, okay?” Y/n purred, stroking her cheek.

“You are the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen,” Love cooed, melting from the woman’s hold.

“You’re beautiful, Love. Absolutely stunning.”

Love was awoken from her trance from the sound of a quiet gasp from atop the mattress. All of the soft care she held for Y/n dissipated, and the anger she felt consumed her. She grit her teeth. She had to at now, because otherwise, that damned she-devil would trap Y/n in her grasp forever.

Y/n wasn’t going to leave Love.

Love flicked off the safety for the gun. Slowly, she slunk to the side. It would be awkward and she’d have to move fast so that they didn’t escape. Peach and left the bedroom door open. Love had tried to understand the layout of the house to the best of her abilities, but it was too large and there was too little time.

She slid free. Just then, the floorboards creaked, and both women fell silent in confusion. It was a sturdy house, and only a human being could cause such a loud sound.

Peach was sure it was nothing, wanting only to continue what they were doing. But Y/n pushed at her, perching up on her elbows. She peered off the side of the bed, eyes wide in confusion.

“Jesus, Y/n, everything is fine —“

A scream interrupted her. Y/n cried out in terror, startling Peach. Both women realized that, having slid out from underneath the bed, was Love. Her expression was wrought with anger and sorrow and loathing. She grasped at the bedsheets, attempting to stand up straight.

However, Peach clawed at her hand. Love yelped and fell back to the floor. A gunshot echoed in the air, leaving the couple paralyzed for a moment. The bullet had lodged into the wall above them. Y/n pushed Peach off of her and rolled onto the floor, grasping desperately for the phone on the bedside table. She tried so very hard to focus, but she was absolutely terrified.

Peach stumbled to her feet. She used Y/n for a shield trying to pull her toward the door. And yet, Love stumbled to her feet, red in the face and a small bruise developing on her chin from miscellaneous causes. She was panting, raising the gun toward Y/n. She was about to shoot, but then she registered the scene.

Peach was hiding behind Y/n like a coward. Peach didn’t love Y/n like she did. Peach wouldn’t protect Y/n with every fibre of her being like she would.

“Move, Y/n,” Love seethed, clenching her fist until her knuckles grew pale in comparison to the rest of her. “Move. Now.”

Y/n was sobbing and Peach was somehow more composed than the woman would ever be. She hid behind Y/n, gripping her shoulders tightly. “You’re L - Love. Listen, you’re not mentally stable —“

“How dare you!” Love shrieked. “You stole Y/n away from me. You’re the reason she broke up with me. I’m going to kill you for taking her from me! Move, Y/n, before I make you!”

Y/n, trying to compose her trembling body the best she could, tilted her head. Eyes still glued to Love’s erratic, violent form, she whispered to Peach,” Run.”

The woman needed nothing else to be said. Peach, making use of the human shield, backed up a few steps before running to the bedroom door. Love shrieked at the top of her lungs once more, attempting to shoot. She shot. Again, and again, and again. All she could see was red.

But then, as she aimed to pursue the vile she-devil, she zoned back in. She gasped, all anger dissipating into pure regret. Collapsing onto the floor, one hand gripping onto the bedside table, was Y/n. She was groaning in pain, resting her head against the rim. Blood spewed from her right arm, and as Love’s gaze trailed lower, there was also maroon dripping from her hip.

“Y/n…!” Love gasped, in total disbelief that she missed. “Oh my god - we need to call a hospital —“

Y/n’s fingers twitched as she latched onto her cell phone. She was sobbing profusely, barely conscious at all from the pain. Peach had completely abandoned her, and Y/n wasn’t sure whether to be glad she listened or sad she did it so easily. She pawed at the phone, her entire body twitching.

“Siri, call nine-one-one.”

Love’s mind blanked. She rounded the bed and realized that Y/n was scared, and in her delirium, made Love out to be the bad guy. She collapsed on her knees beside her, still holding the gun tightly. She pulled Y/n away, even though the woman cried and wished to paw at the phone.

Love reached past her. She hung up, even when the police immediately picked up, asked what was wrong. The police would track the call. Love didn’t have much time. And it was because of Peach. Love wanted to chase after her, but she had to prioritize her injured soulmate.

She cooed lovingly, swiping the gun across her hair. At the same time, she crushed the cell phone in her hand, giggling lovingly. The bits and pieces crumpled to the floor, and Y/n dreaded what was to come. Love was muttering so quietly and incoherently that Y/n didn’t even try to make sense of it. She wanted to fight herself free, but she was losing blood quickly and wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be awake.

Or even alive.

Reflecting then and there, Y/n wondered if things would be different if she’d just subject herself to Love’s obsessiveness. If she’d been a sheep who listened to every word. If she never fell out of love with Love and in love with Peach.

If she had subjected herself to a lifetime of unhappiness in hell than paradise for but a brief moment of her quick life.

Love shook her, suddenly realizing the circumstances. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut and Love burst into tears. “Y/n? Y/n, wake up! It’s just a little blood. I - I didn’t mean to. I never wanted to hurt you, just that bitch. Why did you have to get in the way? Wake up, Y/n, wake up!”

Her shrieks echoed in the room. Y/n was still breathing, but it was labored. The guilt came crashing down on her as she stared at the cell phone’s remains. She should’ve let Y/n called the police. Love could’ve escaped and come back for her. But, instead, Love was selfish. And Y/n might have to pay the price.

No. None of this was Love’s fault. It was Peach’s. Peach was the perpetrator, not the victim. She deserved to die, not her lover. She dropped the gun and lifted Y/n off the ground with surprising ease, the adrenaline gifting her with strength. She then used the blankets to cover up Y/n’s wounds to the best of her ability. But then, glancing over her one last time, she grabbed the gun and turned to the doorway.

She exited to the hall. She paused, trying to hear for any sounds. But it was deadly silent. Love could barely focus. She wanted Peach to die so badly, to feel the blood of her mortal enemy on her hands. Peach was to blame for everything. She was the devil reincarnate, and Love knew this with certainty.

She dashed down the staircase. The front door was untouched. Love hardly made it a mission to be stealthy and silent, instead vying to find the woman as quickly as possible. She passed a home phone on the table, only glancing at it in regret as she passed it by and entered into the living room.

The living room was empty, too. And then, she arrived at the kitchen.

Love noticed that Peach’s purse was on the floor. Love paused momentarily to click in open, realizing that, at the bare minimum, a cell phone was missing. Love couldn’t care less if Peach called the police. All she wanted was to end the woman’s life.

And Love was the one with a gun in hand.

She explored further into the storage and cleaning area. It grew darker, but Love’s eyes quickly adjusted to her surroundings. She was biting her lips so harshly. That blood dripped and there was a numbing pain against her bottom lip, but she didn’t care.

She suddenly heard a door slam. And Love knew that it couldn’t have been Y/n, because it sounded from right down the hallway. She stormed that way, loathing being the only emotion swirling in her orbs. Her entire outfit was array, and her hair was a mess. Her clothes were stained in her lover’s blood.

She then came across a door to the backyard. She threw it open, a screech escaping her lips. Of course Peach was a coward. Of course she had ran instead of helping Y/n Of course —

A gunshot rang out. Everything fell still for a moment, and Love was frozen in place. Pain was slowly developing in her back. All of a sudden, there was another one. But this time, it was aimed at her knee. Love’s legs buckled beneath her and she fell. She fell against the wall, dropping the gun to her side.

It was difficult to breathe because it was like her lungs had stopped functioning. It was hard to hear because blood was rushing through her ears. It was hard to speak because liquid bubbled and foamed, dripping from all open wounds and her mouth. She clutched at her chest, and although the wound was in her back, she could feel her heart slowing.

Love’s eyes flitted around desperately. Emerging from a corner, breaths labored and terrified, was Peach. She had a gun too. And Love realized she’d greatly underestimated the petite woman. And, in her enlightened state Love realized.

Love was as awful as Peach was.

She grit her teeth, free hand pawing at the gun that had skidded across the ground. Peach was gritting her teeth angrily, seething,” How dare you impose on us. You’re so pitiful, really, sauntering in to kill me like you own the place. Like you own her.”

She crouched down in front of the woman in amusement. A smirk grew on her lips. Love had lost feeling from the waist down. She still tried to reach for the gun, but her fingers were twitching. Love blinked, fighting the oncoming drowsiness. If she died, she was glad Y/n would be brought with her. Because, at least then, Peach wouldn’t have won. She never could have won.

“You know,” Peach hummed sadistically,” I almost feel bad for you. You honestly believed Y/n loved you. But she didn’t. We’ve been friends for a long time, you know. And even when she started telling me about you, I knew things wouldn’t work. So, I told her about how attracted I was, and in a heartbeat, she was more than happy to reciprocate. You fell in love with a cheater. You could’ve never satiated her. Not like I can.”

Love’s heart shattered. And, even with how deeply she hated Peach, she’d always known it to be true. How Y/n took day trips to inner Los Angelos to pick up a friend - Peach - from the airport. How she had receipts from the most expensive of hotels. How she… cheated.

And even then, Love wanted nothing but her. Because Love was addicted to everything about her.

She felt the gun in her fingers. Peach was so concentrated on watching the girl bleed out. She raised the gun just enough, tilting it to her head.

And Love shot, even though hall that followed was darkness.

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