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#'if youre poor the least you could do is not making it worse by doing art'
fangirl-dot-com · 2 days
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🪡The Obvious String
*part of the reverse trope series*
Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?
*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*
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Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 
Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 
Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 
So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 
And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)
His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 
“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 
Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 
Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 
The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 
Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 
Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 
The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 
“We?” 
Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 
When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 
His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 
Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 
Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 
The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 
“And why are the two of you here?” 
Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 
“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 
“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”
Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 
“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 
Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 
“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 
“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”
A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 
Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 
The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 
The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 
All he got was a glare back. 
“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 
Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 
“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 
It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 
“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 
“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 
The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 
Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 
The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 
“But George.” 
Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 
“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 
The group of four winced at the memory. 
Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 
Lewis looked a bit pale. 
“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 
Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 
Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  
Lando ran a hand down his face. 
“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 
George cocked his head. 
“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 
Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 
George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 
Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 
A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 
When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 
“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”
Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 
Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 
“Yes! Do you?” 
The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 
“No.” 
The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 
“Why would you do that!” 
Now Lewis was the one whining. 
“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 
The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 
“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 
“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 
All eyes landed on Oscar. 
The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 
Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  
An audible gulp was heard. 
Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”
Everyone looked a little lost. 
“Aha!” 
The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 
“What!” 
He held his phone up with a contact showing. 
“We call Seb.” 
“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 
For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 
“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 
A sigh was heard through the speaker. 
“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 
Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 
“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 
Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 
Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 
Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 
“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 
Their silence had answered for them. 
Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 
“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 
“Hey!” 
It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 
“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 
“What!” Pierre yelled. 
“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 
“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 
“Ask them what?” 
The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 
“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 
Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 
He took a sip of his Red Bull. 
Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 
“Hey!” 
Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 
“Thank you Charles.” 
The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 
“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 
The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 
Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 
“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 
The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 
Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 
“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 
Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 
“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 
Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 
“Thank you schatje.” 
This time, a whine came from you. 
“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 
Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 
“WHAT?” 
You turned back to the group. 
“Are you all fine?” 
Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 
The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 
Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”
Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 
Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 
Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 
“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 
It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 
A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 
Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 
“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 
You nodded. “Yes.” 
Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 
The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 
“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 
Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”
A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 
“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 
Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 
Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 
The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 
“You won’t tell anyone right?” 
Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 
Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 
Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 
Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 
Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 
Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 
“Then . . . who knows?” 
Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 
“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 
You pulled out his fingers and counted.  
“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 
Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 
Max smirked. 
“Oh, and Seb.” 
There was silence amongst the group. 
“Oh he is so dead.” 
“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 
“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 
“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 
“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 
“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 
“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 
You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 
You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 
Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 
“Nah.” 
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aeomianamoure · 23 hours
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Headcanon/smut emo txt, emo txt x Coquette reader, soft.
recently I have been watching slaughtering movies and while I was watching it I imagined emo txt being so yandere... Like Slaughtering every person who gets near their friend, just to make her feel distant towards every person she talks to except for them.. Reassuring it was fine.. Then.. For like after days of hanging out.. Emo txt teaches reader how to drink and listen to PTV, So after like making the reader drunk emo txt fcks the reader's brains out ackk I know this is too much but trust me this scenerio is making me feral, I wanted to writ but I can't explain it..
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— emo slasher txt!
warnings <3: !death, yandere txt! , reader is a sweetheart but very brain washed , !smut , !slasher txt , kinda mean txt (sorry.. at least they think ur pretty :D ) , txt r obsessive in this fic like hiding under your air vents to watch you obsessive (im sorry) , established relationship between reader nd txt !! (txt x reader as bestfriends through memories) ,, !smut , alcohol drinking ,, ddlg if u squint ,, daddy kink !! ,, reader is codependent on txt ,, dark n toxic txt who is good at gaslighting ): ,, !crybaby reader who’s sensitive
a/n <3: i promise what you’re requesting isn’t too much!! i just hope i did my best and you enjoyed this fic ):
“crying already babydoll?” you hear your boyfriends rough voice whispering in your ear as you try your best not to cry out loud at how aggressive your boyfriend was rutting inside of you
although you were quiet; you still couldn’t help yourself from letting tears fall down our hooded eyes feeling yourself grow more tipsy and tipsy as time went by
you let out a soft gasp as you felt your boyfriend above you dig his fingertips harshly into the cheeks of your face before leaning in so close to your face you feel his minty breath fanning over your nose; “you know you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry you know that right?” he laughs sickly lightly slapping your face giggling like some type of maniac when you flinch and cry more
“my pretty little girl takin’ it so good and you’re not even fighting back” your boyfriends tone was filled with fake sympathy as he sped up his already harsh thrusts on your poor pussy
you could barely speak, the alcohol and sex making you feel so far gone but still you were able to keep track of what’s going on and where your surroundings were
“bet chaewon can’t make you feel this good huh baby? she can’t make your cunnie feel this good like i do can’t she?” your boyfriend begins to rub your sweet pussy as he can feel you close up on him signaling you were close to cumming
you felt your blood run cold at the mention of your now dead friend; “w-what?” you reply shakily “you heard me baby can chaewon make you feel this good like daddy does? i bet she can’t she doesn’t even know how to make you cum like i do” your boyfriends tone grows more sicker and sicker as you begin to panic at the idea of him having to do with your friends death.
but you didn’t wanna question him about that right now, you just knew that you were on the verge of cumming and after a nod in approval from your boyfriend you finally did
that following night you lay weakly in your boyfriends big strong arms, watching him through doe wide eyes as he lazily takes a puff out of blunt building up the courage to ask what the hell was that question he asked you while fucking your brains out
but you gulped back your question; scared of his answer and scared of his harsh reaction if you questioned him
your suspicions grew worse and worse the more your friends were randomly disappearing although your boyfriend hasn’t bought anyone of them up since that night you were still scared
eventually though due to your boyfriend distracting you; you have forgotten all about your friends deaths. only thinking about one thing and one thing only your boyfriend
you thought about what to wear to make him compliment you, what to say and how to act to make him wanna take care of you since all you ever wanted was to be taken care of by him
“you don’t need your friends baby you have me and that’s enough for you right?” your boyfriend would grip on your chin as you’d tell him you missed your old friends but with wide glimmering eyes you’d nod at his words eager to please him making grin like the cheshire cat
you tried to remember how life was before you become so dependent on your boyfriend; and maybe tried looking for the warnings signs and clues that maybe just maybe he had something to do with murders going around town but you wanted to make sure first
you huff looking back down on memory lane; sure your boyfriend was a red flag but he was no killer sure he put you on drugs and alcohol but that’s what normal bestfriends do right? and even so he’d make it up to you by gifting you his favorite pierce the veil cds so it’s all good right? plus he said he would never harm you!
you decided to finally give it a rest; being so brainwashed where you couldn’t even tell what your boyfriends warning signs were so you gave up maybe you’ll never know why you felt so distant from everybody
that was until you were awaken with the feeling of blood drip down to your stomach; opening your eyes gently to let out the biggest scream as you awaken in a bed in a unfamiliar basement with your friend chaewon’s already decaying dead body tied upside down from the ceiling
your boyfriend smiling in delight when you cried out for his help; even though the signs were there your boyfriend really was the mass murdered running around town even obvious signs like a pair of butterfly knives you’ve gifted him for christmas which again you didn’t think was that serious was splattered with fresh blood that didn’t belong to you just below your feet <3
a/n <3: i hope i brought ur vision to life anon i tried :(
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thesublemon · 1 day
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best picture
For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:
Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.
Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.
Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.
Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2  or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.
American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie. 
The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say. 
Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.
Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.
The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.
Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.
*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)
Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.
In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.
Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like. 
And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.
[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.) 
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prapuna · 11 months
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#WHY AM I ONLY THINKING OF THIS ONCE THE SEMESTER HAS ENDED#so the final essay assignment was about culture (esp pop) and all that n i wrote about the impact of technology in local pop culture spaces#BUT. i could've written about the prominent classism issue ive always been mad about#classism exists everywhere and its sucha fucking pain to encounter it in fandom spaces#couldve been a beautiful paper#the scope is very narrow but i think it wouldve been great#as with pop culture a lot of people are in on the bandwagon and the practice is mass & the stream is v fast#and the more successful ppl are almost always the ones who had more money beforehand#low budget creatives are looked down upon especially if their works aren't at the very least groundbreaking#'good' is simply not enough. paying for services is not enough. making your own equipments instead of buying expensive brands is not enough#and man am i fed up with the fucking arguments because ppl are missing the point of like#'if you cant afford to be a creative in local spaces then maybe there are things you should prioritize first' and this alone pains me bcs#yes there are things to prioritize because god forbid ppl like me make art without worrying about tomorrow's meal#and while i believe being a creative shouldnt be this expensive i do understand what they mean. i get it first hand#but this simple of a point still goes over people's head who took it as 'dont create art if you're poor'#'when you've paid a lot on something and some low budget artist comes in with their work getting more attention'#'if youre poor the least you could do is not making it worse by doing art'#ARE THEY HEARING THEMSELVES.#do they not realize what they're essentially saying they dont think poor people should make art#I LIVE IN A SOCIETY WHEREIN MY PURPOSE IS TO SCRAPE BY AND BE AN EXAMPLE OF THE COUNTRY'S ECONOMY#got a little heated there sorry tehee give me $500#krispeaks#idk if you noticed from my ramblings but it does get tiring to enter fandom spaces full with rich kids whose only problems are fandom drama
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ozzgin · 3 months
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)
In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.
Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
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"Damn it!"
The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.
"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."
You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.
"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"
"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"
"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 
"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.
"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.
"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 
You swallow. 
Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 
"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 
"No." 
That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.
Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.
Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?
You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 
Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 
"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."
"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"
You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 
"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"
"H-huh? What for?"
You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 
"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."
You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.
"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.
"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"
"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 
The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 
The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.
Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 
"Wakasugi has been taken."
A chaotic murmur ensues. 
"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."
Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 
If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 
"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 
"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 
"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.
"What did you say?" 
Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.
"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."
"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.
There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.
"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 
He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.
"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.
"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."
The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 
"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."
Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.
"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 
Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.
"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.
"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."
No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.
He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 
He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 
"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.
If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.
"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."
The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 
Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 
The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 
"Where's everyone?"
"They ran away."
"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.
"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."
He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.
"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.
"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"
"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."
He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.
"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"
Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 
"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"
"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 
But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 
You grimace a little at the mental image. 
The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.
You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 
"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.
"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."
He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.
"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.
So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.
"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."
"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  
Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie
(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)
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astrronomemes · 10 months
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HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS
a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings for when your muse needs a little TLC. change & alter as needed.
THE HURT:
“Nah, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.”
“I don’t think I can walk that far... or at all.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
“Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
“I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.”
“I don’t need a break. I’m okay.”
“It was my fault. It was all my fault.”
“I think I need help.”
“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but... I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.”
“Is the room spinning right now, or is that just me?”
“No, I’m okay, I just... I hit my head. Really hard. I’ll be okay, just give me a second.”
“I’m not sick! I’m fine!”
“No, I don’t think any of my bones are broken, or anything like that. Just bad bruises.”
“Yeah, but you should see the other guy.”
“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.”
“Please tell me I don’t look as bad as I feel.”
“I think I’m running a fever.”
“So, what’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?”
“Stop fussing over me! I’m not a baby!”
“Can I stay with you tonight? I just... really don’t want to be alone right now.”
“No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
“I... can’t actually remember the last time I had something to eat.”
“You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get sick, too.”
THE COMFORT:
“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I think you’d better take a break.”
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You did everything you could.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Don’t ever let yourself believe that there is.”
“You really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you?”
“If you’re not going to take care of yourself, at least let me do it for you!”
“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”
“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”
“Let’s get you some food.”
“You’re dead on your feet, poor thing. Come on, you need some sleep.”
“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
“Tell me where it hurts.”
“How many times have I told you to be more careful?!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.”
“Oh, honey, you’re safe now. I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Go ahead and take a shower. I’ll fix you something to eat.”
“What happened to you, baby?”
“I’ll kill that bastard. I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”
“You look like shit, man.”
“Whoa, whoa, take it easy! You got pretty banged up back there, and you don’t want to go making yourself worse.”
“I’m not trying to baby you. It’s called taking care of my friends.”
“Sweetheart, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?”
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nymphany · 9 months
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COD X PUPPY HYBRID! READER
Masterlist
MINORS DNI
WARNING:CONTAINS SEMI DARK THEMES DO NOT READ IF YOURE NOT INTRESTED
Fic contains: taboo / dark content please read this warning if you are triggered by any of this material
Reader info:
Referred with: she/her/girl/you
British! Pan! Short! Afab! Feminine! Reader
Coming soon: cat, bunny, mouse, deer, bear, cow, lamb and bird version
♡ callsign: cadaver!
♡ oh where to start with this little ball of energy!!!
♡ shes so dumb </3 but she's good at her job so that's all that matters
♡ it was a surprise to 141 to be presented with the least intimidating hybrid as their newest addition to the team
♡ this bubbly little thing who was practically shaking in excitement, her tail wagging so hard it looked like it was about to fly off
♡ naturally the men were disappointed that they're newest member wasnt some unbeatable tank but instead a tiny thing who was fueled by praise and treats
♡ speaking of praises and treats gaz cant help but spoil you!! Price tells him not to
"she wont listen if you give her so many treats"
"shes a good girl she always listens"
• hes right you do always listen, you're very obedient maybe too obedient
♡ despite his denial of your treats, your favourite man is obviously price <3 something about puppies and grumpy old men is a match made in heaven !!
♡ you like his ear scratches the best especially when you're in his office with your head on his lap
♡ he says he only likes you for your work but everyone knows that's a lie especially when he pays extra attention to you during lunch. Hes just making sure you eat all your food so you're big and strong
♡ you know how some dads pet their dogs my giving their back a good smack and rub? that's what hed do to you <3
♡ he has a wide selection of beef jerky in his office but you only eat it when someone feeds it to you <3 they're not allowed to hand it to you or place it infront of you they must feed it to you directly!! Makes you happy (you try your best not to nip at their fingers when they feed you but you just get so happy you cant help it)
♡ ghost can never be sarcastic around you your dumb brain cant handle it :( "go count every grain of rice in the kitchens if you're so bothered 'bout the numbers" and you do!!! he feels horrible because he knows you suck at counting :(( it must of took you ages to even get to 50
♡ its okay because it gives soap and gaz an excuse to pamper you!! You dont exactly understand why you're being pampered (must be because you're such a good girl for counting all that rice) but you accept it. It does make ghost feel so much worse for making you do things he didnt mean </3
"You're such a good puppy! You're so good at listening and you're so pretty!"
"Gaz that's enough I already said sorry"
"Aw come on Lt you made the poor thing count every grain of rice cant expect us to not rub it in can ya"
♡ ghost does make it up to you eventually, he takes you on walks around the base and points out secrets and tells you their stories
"Oi pup Do you see that dent in the wall?"
"Yes!"
"Johnny came back after a night out and rammed himself into it thinking his shadow was an intruder"
♡ they always have atleast one of your chew toys on them at all times after they noticed you chewing the inside of your mouth, your fingers, their sleeves or just anything you could fit in your mouth
♡ SCENTING!!!!
♡ your team must smell like you all the time, always, forever !!!! Whenever you get them alone youre immediately licking them!! Sometimes you bite but you're working on it <3
♡ if they come back from somewhere you have to smell them, what if they smell like another hybrid hmm?!?! >:((
♡ which is why you hate baths.
♡ they wipe away all your hard work I mean come on it's not easy to get the scent of your four favourite men nor is it easy to scent them!!! They're constantly around other people >:(((((
♡ luckily you arent the smartest so it's easy to trap and lure you in with kisses <3
♡ some one HAS to be in the bath/shower/ room with you
1. you cant be trusted not to eat the soap (smell nice ≠ taste nice)
2. Its scary in there
3. You get distracted and forget to even get in the bath/shower
♡ they treat you so well though !!! your ears and tail are always so soft when you let gaz wash them, he takes such good care of the soft fur and he never ever let's the bubbles  stay in your ears and he spends a good long time near your tail but you have no idea why <3
♡ soap likes washing your body! He loves watching you relax as he takes his time to make sure you're clean, he loves letting you lean against him as he washes your back and loves watching the suds run down your body. hes so sweet that he makes sure to pay extra attention to your sensitive areas <3
♡ price is the one tasked to dry you off, you seem to only listen to him anyway (of course you do, your dumb doggy brain has to listen to the leader of your pack)
♡ he pulls you against him using your towel as leverage, he so graciously put it in the dryer to warm up so you're all toasty and warm. You sit in his lap while he rubs your body dry whispering praises about your "bravery" to even go into the bath/shower
♡ Which leaves ghost in charge of your skin care!! This big scary man lathering your body in lotions and creams so you're all soft and smooth. He loves the moans and whimpers when he presses down on your weak spots <3
"Oi mutt stop licking the moisturiser"
"No no nooo :((( Say the thing :((("
"....Simons says stop licking the moisturiser"
♡ you never wear clothes after your bath/shower, they're lucky to get underwear on you, you need to be as open to they're scents as possible!! Maybe you'll wear their clothes but only maybe
♡ our puppy wasn't meant to meet Alejandro and Rudy until the mission was over but she said her nose could be put to good use and laswell couldnt help but agree (puppy definitely didn't bribe her or anything puppy hugs do wonders)
♡ at first alejandro didnt even see the girl behind the mountain sized men, assuming it's only ghost and soap coming along
"This is cadaver, our k9 unit she'll be coming along with us"
"Hello!"
"Ah un perro! you'll be very useful"
♡ it was a tight squeeze in the backseat, two military men left little room but it's okay you enjoy sitting on their laps so it's not much different
"So they call you cadaver?"
"Yes sir!"
"You good at hunting corpses?"
"Uh huh! very good! The best!"
"Good because we're looking for a dead man walking"
":00?? A zombie :((("
♡ overall you got on very well with alejandro and Rudy <3 whenever they passed you they always gave a light scratch to your ear
♡ you dont understand the language but you like the attention and that's all that matters, they're so nice and help you cool off in the sun,  you just need to get naked so they can help cool you off just let them help dont even worry about it
♡ you liked graves when you met him he got so hyped up on missions the energy traveled to you
♡ although he definitely tries to make you loyal to him and him only (mmm yummy dark! Graves <3<3) hes always been a fan of hybrids especially the vulnerable ones. Hes best at love bombing you, filling you with treats, pets and roaming hands. Hes a sucker for puppy girls
♡ valeria made you cry when you met her :(( well it was actually rudy but he didnt mean to he felt awful :(((
"Perro estúpido, solo eres una perra reproductora, ¿no? no hay pensamientos en esa linda cabeza tuya"
"Thank you :D"
"Dont thank her shes insulting you"
":(((("
• he gave you so many hugs, treats and kisses after he apologized profusely he forgot how sensitive you are he just didnt want you to thank her for insulting you :((
♡ mommy valeria tho so shes easily forgiven with a few fake compliments.
"You must think twice as hard with that brain of yours"
"Oh no! I dont even think once! :D"
♡ you entertain her, although she does wonder how it would feel to live in your head for a day
"Even the dogs in Las almas know not to bark at me"
"Oh no silly! We're in a shipping container"
"Yes in Las almas"
"Since when"
♡ thinking about how puppy got to keep valeria company while the big strong men go fight, guard dog duties !! Dont ask her how she got naked... and why valerias fingers are pruned... that's not important and you should mind your business
♡ cadaver has a muzzle and harness <3 !!! If you've ever been checked for harness safety you'll understand the feeling of being tugged around and how easy it is to want to jump someones bones
♡ ZOOMIES!!!
♡ always at odd hours too but you cant help it !! you have a lot of energy and you're too dumb to put that energy to good use :(( so it's only natural you jump on everyone and everything <3
♡ nesting with all of their clothes and belongings and they cant stop you or they'll get viciously attacked (you will cry)
♡ sticker collection (scented ones are the best) + mask decorating with ghost !!!!!
♡ konig is a scary big giant man whose just a silly guy at heart but jesus christ he needs to shrink
♡ the first time you met him you actually didnt see him, assuming the sun had exploded and the solid black mass that obscured your vision was the end of the world only to be corrected by an apology from the wall itself
"ah I'm so sorry I didnt see you there"
"Me neither :D"
♡ so big and scary but so warm and protective!! Ghost doesn't like you near konig he doesnt like sharing his toys with kortac
♡ you still hang out with him whenever you get the chance!! <3 friendship bracelets for all!! You did however underestimate how big these mens wrists were and cried when they wouldnt fit
༺*:゚・✧・:*:゚・♡ NSFW ♡・゚:*:・✧・゚:*༻
♡ oral fixation all the way !!
♡ mouth cockwarming!!!! Below prices desk? Yes!! Feeling sleepy and need to suck on something?? Soap is your guy!! Want to learn about the human anatomy? Rudy is there to help
♡ sweaty balls in my mouf
♡ slobbering on them until they scrunch up like raisins, suck the man juice out of them
♡ our puppy has a leash and collar so it's only natural they use it on you, held back by the neck as one of them is pounding into you
♡ puppy likes scent and prefers sex before
and after a work out
♡ listen... piss kink
♡ I just feel like they'd be in a meeting and she tries so so sooo hard to tell someone she needs to pee but they keep telling her to hold it (graves) but she just cant price made sure to keep her hydrated during lunch :(( it's too much and her bladder isnt big enough
♡ whimpers fill the air the sound of dripping water accompanying it their heads turning to face her as sobs bubble out of her mouth along with apologise while she so desperately cover her face to avoid the embarrassment. Her thighs clenched desperately to stop the stream but her attempts were In vain
♡ the first to realise what had happened was soap the fact that he was sitting next to her and had perfect view access to her entire body
"Aw pet don' cry its jus' an accident, happens to the best of us"
♡ :(((( shes so upset but our boys dont mind shes usually so well behaved and she obviously didn't mean to do it on purpose
"Oh puppy you tried so hard to tell us and we completely ignored you didnt we?"
"Uh huh"
"Yeah? And we didnt listen when you said you couldnt hold it did we"
"No i- but I- I did try to hold I really tried hard b-but I couldnt an- and now I've made a mess"
♡ they cant ignore the arousal they get from seeing her soaked and sobbing <3 they know it's wrong, shes upset and embarrassed but they just cant help it
♡ graves is a gross man who looks like fix it felix but dont let that fool you he 100% loves the control he gets from a piss kink especially for our puppy, he likes making you hold it and then mocks you in a high pitched voice but your dumb little brain thinks hes comforting you
♡ I think simon is more one for fucking you until you pee, he usually does it in the shower so he can wash off but he doesnt mind getting dirty, he likes the feeling of your cunt squeezing and gushing around him especially if you try to tell him to stop. Youre gonna pee? Yeah? Do it
♡ gaz is someone who likes to watch you pee he loves the view <3 the fluttering of your cunt draws him in road trip side of road
♡ Johnny, similar to his L.T, is someone who teases you until you pee. Rubbing your clit until its puffy and sore and you cant hold yourself up right let alone your bladder
♡ alejandro and Rudy like watching you wiggle they'll purposefully fill you with liquid and press on your tummy just to watch you squirm, they have bets on who can make you loose it first
♡ price pees in you
♡ theres a reason hes your favourite
♡ you know how I talked about scenting??... I hate to break it to you but she has definitely peed on them/their stuff at some point
♡ you mostly pee on price
♡ "what are you doing"
"Nothin"
"Where are you pants"
"I dont know"
"You're not gonna pee on the floor are you"
"No"
"That's right you're not because that would be bad"
"bad"
"Thats right bad"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...."
"Just a little"
"No-"
♡ heats are always a pain for you :(( so horny and so wet desperate for someone to fill you with the pups you need. You drive the team crazy with your whimpers and cries but they know you cant help it, you're just achey :(((
♡ bullet vibrators are your best bet as they obviously cant fuck you 24/7 so that small buzzing of pleasure keeps you satiated until they can get their hands on you, the first time you had your heat you couldnt get the small thing out :(( your fingers were too small and it was so slippery you couldnt grasp it :((( you're so lucky your captain is kind enough to help you <3 dont think about his fingers wiggling inside you hes just trying extra hard to get it out that's why hes pumping them in and out of you
♡ sometimes they have to keep you in a cage because you wont stop begging to be stuffed, they dont want a rookie to think that they're allowed to overstep their place just because your in heat
♡ you hump everything!!!! Nothing is safe they take their shirt off for one second and it's on a pillow being jumped by no other than you!! You absolute fiend!!!
♡ you follow them around everywhere you love being around you favourite men!!!
♡ when 141 go on a mission you're left with Rudy and alejandro who always give in to you whines and begs <3 they treat you so well always stuffing you full when you need it, letting you have as much cum as you please, it makes the 141 so jealous that they have to fuck you as soon as they get back!
♡ graves probably pimps out puppy to his shadows there I said it
♡ konig isnt to slick with his touches either, he may think hes going undetected but that's only by our dumb mutt the other men are fuming with him. He let's you sit in his lap, his bear like hands inbetween your thighs rubbing along your most intimate areas you dont exactly connect what hes doing and hes completely okay with that just grind yourself back on him.
♡ he probably asks horangi to help him out, probably stretching you to prepare for the brute of the man
♡ definitely think gangbangs are a big part of your heat, vibrators, plugs, rope and muzzles are all items your familiar with. I like to think they just come and go when fucking you it's almost like a brothel
♡ they definitely finger fuck you while doing mindless tasks, brushing their teeth? You're bent over the sink pushing yourself back onto them, doing paperwork? Being cockwarmed by your snug lil cunt, lifting weights? You're bouncing on their cock weighing them down
3K notes · View notes
sunarc · 5 months
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Sending them a nude in public
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Characters: Choso, Gojo, Sukuna
CW: public masturbation, anal, teasing, reader get called a pet, gojo
A/N: Thinking about this and laughing cause what lmaooo
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Choso
Blushes Like a slut
Poor baby gets so hard it almost hurts
He’s looking around embarrassed praying noone can see the growing bulge in his pants
He’ll sned a text letting you know how gorgeous you look, showering you in compliments and telling you about all the things he cant wait to do to you when he gets home. 
Choso would go to the bathroom breathing heavy trying to calm himself. He remembers being told it’s polite to send one back so you don’t feel embarrassed.He’s such a sweet baby. He’d pull his cock out hissing at the smallest touch. You make him so hard with just the simplest things. He’ll send a picture showing you how precum drools from the tip of his cock. Just a few strokes and I should be good. He thinks to himself. Boy is he wrong next thing he knows he’s pumping his cock to your picture whimpering your name. You don’t understand the things you do to this boy. By the time he gets home he’s all over you fucking you like it’s his last time. You can only pray you’ll be able to walk by the time he’s done with you.
Gojo
This horny freaky fuck
Teasing Gojo is the wrong move because he’ll tease you back way worse
His pupils practically turn into hearts when he sees what you’ve sent
He’ll send a jumble of words too excited to send a clear sentence
Gojo loves playing this game with you. He doesn't care if he’s in public if you want to do this he’s down. His cock grows so hard when he sees you naked in your glory. He has to return the favor. He’ll slip in the nearest private room and pull out his cock. You send a picture okay, he’ll send a video showing you just how excited you got him. He’ll record himself stroking his cock and of course it’s at an angle to show off his abs. He’ll say the dirtiest things in the video, whispering about how needy your making him or how he can’t wait to sink his cock into you. You can’t think making him this horny in public is just going to slide, you know him better than that. Be ready on all four, ass in the air he has to teach you what happens when you tease him like that
Sukuna
Dear God WHY
This man sees it and just chuckles, you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into
He’ll actually pity you because did you really think you could tease him and just get away with it. How silly of you
He won’t do too much because he wants to keep his composure while he’s out but oh when he sees you
He’s livid actually. You have the nerve to try and tease him while he’s in public do you know who you’re dealing with. When he gets home he’s a demon. He’ll have you fuck yourself on your fingers until he’s satisfied with how many times you’ve came for him but you wont get his cock. Do you really think you deserve the King of curses cock after being so naughty. No you don’t deserve it not yet at least. He’ll stroke his cock in front of you knowing how you desperately want to touch him. You want to tease him? Fine he’ll be an even bigger tease. He’ll make you beg for his cock, beg him to fuck you since you’re so desperate. When he finally fucks you he won’t fuck you where you’ve been begging him no he fucks your ass. Only good pets get what they want.
3K notes · View notes
areislol · 4 months
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝SWEET!❞
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►— pairings. various genshin men x fem! reader
►— warnings. smut, cursing, dirty talk, just smutty. implied reader has somewhat thick thighs, 18+ fingering, MDNI
►— synopsis. an alternative title, how do they eat pussy?
►— a/n. been having these thoughts for a bit now i need to jot them down before my obsession grows worse.
►— wordcount. 2.3k
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they eat that pussy like it's a religion, his head buried in between your legs, his hands gripping onto your thighs tightly, using his strength to keep your thighs still and from closing in. his eyes are focused solely on your face as he languidly drags his tongue into a line on your wet pussy.
he's addicted, to say the least. the smell, the taste, the lewd and dirty sounds you were making, he loved it all, and all the while as his mouth latches onto your poor abused cunt he whispers the sweetest things in your ear, dirty words as well. he switches between both. on the rare occasions that he does tease you he will whisper the most vile and dirty things you've ever heard, but most of the time he's just craving you, he just can't wait, once you give him the word that he could go down on you he wastes no time and before you know it he's sandwiched between your thighs and giving you an orgasm.
every time he eats you out he reminds you of a starving animal (if you didn't know any better), every time he eats you out you are a mess, and your pussy is a mess. your juices, sweat and saliva combined created a nasty sight it made him achingly hard but even so he prioritizes your pleasure first as he grinds his bulge on the bed. your moans and praises as you grip his hair and push his head deeper in were all he needed while jerking your hips at the same time.
his nose rested on your clit, the air hitting your clit as his tongue relentlessly flicked up and down your folds, he sucks and kisses your clit before adding a finger in. yes, although he does love to eat you out he also loves fingering you as well, the sweet moans and screams you let out just get him so hard it motivates him to eat you out even more. not that he plans on stopping. he barely teases you, he doesn't like the idea of stripping you of the chance to cum because truth be told he really really wants you to cum on his face (and sometimes he unintentionally overstimulates you).
— XIAO, CHILDE, kaveh, CYNO, WRIOTHESLEY, thoma, lyney, VENTI, itto, gorou
teases you while eating you out and teases you before eating you out, he knew what you wanted but continued to tease you, savouring every moment when you squirm and whine for him to go down on you. he's mean, he doesn't stick to one pace and instead chooses to go slow and fast, it's just how your face contorts when he buries his face against your pussy and begins to lick and slurp your folds and just when you're about to cum (he has been teasing your poor pussy for so long the second he begins to actually eat you out you're too sensitive, that's him to blame) he slows down his pace, a frustrated cry leaving your lips as tears brim your eyes, you just wanted him to do it properly.
he doesn't mind fingering you as he licks your clit but he finds it satisfyingly when he knows only he can make you cum with his tongue, when he feels nice he'll finger you with one or two fingers, pumping in and out of your mushy walls as his tongue rolls over your sensitive bud, his tactic never fails to get you cumming in no time.
he won't lie, he loves seeing you in tears as he continues to tease your bud and clit with his tongue, he isn't even giving it his all, his cheeks aren't even pressed against your inner thighs and here you are, let out cries for him to please eat you out, it's adorable. and when he thinks you're ready and he had enough teasing you already he's already lapping at your folds and humming, the vibrations and hums on your sensitive skin make it all the more pleasurable. he isn't that bad though, when he feels bad for you or feels like you've endured enough teasing he'll make sure to make it up by eating you out good (not saying he never does).
that doesn't mean he's not done being mean to you though, he's heavy on eye contact. he loves making eye contact with you as he brutally violates your clit, and he lives to see the faces you make as he inserts one finger in your soaking pussy, juices spilling out of your greedy hole, he loves seeing how you gasp when he swiftly slips in another finger, teasing you as he says how wet you were that he could easily fit in a third finger.
but he hates when you look away in embarrassment, he'll stop doing what he's doing—he'll stop his fingers from bottoming in and out of your pussy, and he'll stop his sucking and licking at your clit when you look away from embarrassment, "getting shy now are we? guess that means i'll have to stop.." you whine and quickly look back at him, looking down and meeting his eyes, his gaze was hot and intense, mouth and cheeks wet with your juices and his saliva, it was dirty.
"keep looking at me as i fuck you with my tongue, you understand? i want to see your face as you cum, i want you to watch me as i make you cum, got that?"
— ALHAITHAM, AYATO, WANDERER, pierro, PANTALONE, TIGHNARI, HEIZOU, DOTTORE, capitano
gentle and soft yet never fails to make you orgasm hard, he relishes in watching your dripping entrance as you wait for him to go down on you. he takes things slow and is very passionate, he considers himself a lucky man every time he eats you out because he knows only he is allowed to be in this position, no one else. he is sort of possessive when in the act when he really thinks about it, no one has eaten your pussy out this good, your moans and cries are only for him to hear.
despite him taking it slowly he is a god at eating pussy (you can't change my mind), he plants soft and tender kisses on your thighs before slowly reaching your inner thighs, you whine and beg for him to hurry up but he only shushes you and reminds you to be patient. "ah, remember to be patient love, i want to savour this moment.." you let out a soft moan and bring your head backwards when he finally kissed your clit.
his hands are tightly yet tenderly holding your legs apart, his hands grabbing a hold of the soft plush of your thighs. he leans in closer to your pussy, his thumb prying your wet pussy slightly open, he stares at it in awe before softly blowing on it, the cold air hitting your sensitive folds. your back arches as a shaky sigh escapes your lips, he looks up from his position and smirks before latching his mouth onto your pussy, it was all so sudden it caught you off-guard but within a couple of seconds the pleasure had taken over your body, your mind was clouded with nothing but pleasure.
he loves it when you yank and grip his hair, pulling him in closer to your pussy just to create more friction. you were so greedy it was cute so he always allowed it, he hummed and moaned softly as he ate you out, the vibrating sensation never failed you made your legs tremble and he knew it. he nips and softly (just barely) bites at your folds before covering them with a long kiss and when he releases he lets out a "pop!", your moans grow louder and louder the more he licks and slurps at your sensitive dripping entrance.
he knows when you're about to cum, the sound of your gasps and moans strained, the way your grip on his hair tightens as you try to pull him in closer to your pussy (it already is but he isn't complaining) and your hips jerking up—he closes his eyes, taking in the moment and makes sure to hold you steady when you finally reach your climax, thighs, hands and legs trembling from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.
and even after cumming on his face he continues to eat you out (obsessed much), you try to push his head away but he only narrows his eyes at you, it was hot to see him maintaining eye contact with you so well as he licked and slurped up your sweet essence. "don't try to push me away now princess, not after you were so eager to cum and pushed me in so close. just another, please?"
he's the type, that even after you're passed out in bed from cumming, his head's still in between your thighs, bumping his nose onto your clit for stimulation as a few strands of hair tickled your thighs. he really enjoys eating you out, if you can't tell (he doesn't even stop even after you've done passed out) but you know what he enjoys as well? face sitting, the feeling of your soft thighs squeezing his head as you ride his face and nose is everything.
he ignores his own problem when eating you out, his cock was aching, all hot and bothered. but he didn't mind, if anything just seeing you cum from his tongue and mouth made him cum (happened too many times), he's too preoccupied with your pleasure anyway. although if you really do insist on helping him out then... (can he put his dick in?)
— ZHONGLI, DILUC, albedo, BAIZHU, DAINSLEIF, aether, kaeya, KAZUHA, NEUVILLETTE
definition of "pussy drunk", he LOVES eating you out.. so what if he suffocates between your thighs? he will gladly and happily suffocate between your thighs. although he is a bit shy doing it in public the thought of someone walking in the restroom and hearing the lustful moans coming from one closed stall makes him hard, at first he's soft and slow and kissing your thighs but that only lasts for a bit before he's literally making out with your pussy.
he LIVES to hear your praises when you mewl his name and cry out of pleasure, his lips swollen from burying his mouth deeper into your warm pussy, his nails digging into your thighs as juices (was it cum, saliva or sweat? who knows?) coated his chin, dribbling down his neck. it was a sticky mess and he loved it. his eyes are closed shut, brows furrowing his concentration as he sloppily laps over your hot, swollen puffy cunt. and when he does open his eyes he only does it to admire your soaking pussy coated with slick before licking up your cream, and his eyes? god they're so dazed and lustful it makes you feel embarrassed, real pussy drunk.
one thing he will never ever get enough of is the taste and how messy it gets. call him a freak or whatever you want but the sensation of his cheeks and mouth smothered by your juices and arousal as he gently nipped at your folds and slurped up all of your essence, is something to die for. the way your slick rolls down from his lips to his chin and down his neck, the tickling sensation is one he will never forget.
who knows what the slick is made up of? was it from your arousal? was it his spit and drool? perhaps both. there's just something irresistible about how dirty you could get just by his tongue and fingers that does something to him (not to mention the precum leaking out of his boxers), the more you cry out in pleasure and overstimulation makes him crack.
he's extremely skilled when eating pussy, that's just something he's naturally good at but you swear he gets better and better every time.. maybe you're too kind to let him eat you out nearly every day. but the more he goes down on you the more he learns—what spot you like the most, where's the most sensitive part, what combination you like, what pace... you get the jist. one of his favourite things is when you get too overwhelmed with pleasure to the point where your legs are shaking and pushing his head away, crying out for him to stop—that you were full.
"full? already? but i haven't even used my fingers yet..." he sighs (directly onto your pussy) and only ducks his head back in despite your futile attempts to push his head away, he knew your energy was low meaning you couldn't push him away even if you wanted to. he could eat out for hours on end, even days if he could (he would), he gets really delirious when eating you out, it's as if everything around him is gone, he's like his own little world with your pussy. the low groan and grumbled escaping his lips as he licks your clit up and down before sucking on it, letting go with a loud "pop!"
and once again he's back it, his tongue brazenly exploring your cunt before swirling at your poor sensitive bud, with every sharp and precise movement he makes he does it with every intention to make you cum, for like the third time. the way he's alternating between your clit and your needy hole makes your mind crazy, too fucked out to think about anything but the intense pleasure, and with every exhale his warm breath hits your flushed skin, his tongue lapping over your squishy folds. he'll never leave your pussy alone, will he?
— XIAO, ZHONGLI, ALHAITHAM, DILUC
the one thing they all have in common is that in the end when he pulls away he can't tell whether or not you're extremely wet because of your arousal/sweat or his saliva, or maybe it's both, who knows?
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note: uuuuhhhhhhh dialogue or the text itself may be a bit icky (I'M NOT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT) so if it irks you just stay quiet and go on about your day. (*′з`b)
taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..
liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!
another note: slightly proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me.
3K notes · View notes
mamayan · 4 months
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Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)
Part 1 (Here)
cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding
A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️
“Freak!”
“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”
“Jinx.”
“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”
You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.
Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.
Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.
“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.
Your fault.
“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.
You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.
So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.
Would Ava have killed her too?
You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.
You didn’t feel like you were home though.
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“Look at me.”
He’s impossible to ignore.
“I will force you if I must.”
You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.
“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.
“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.
“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”
His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.
You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.
“I thought I loved a human once.”
You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.
“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.
He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.
He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.
“What was it?”
“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”
He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.
“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.
Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.
“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”
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He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.
You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.
You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.
“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.
“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.
“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.
“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.
“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”
“Your potion not your presence.”
Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.
“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.
She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.
Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.
“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”
“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”
“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.
The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.
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“Drink for me, petal.”
You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.
He would rather just take you by force.
This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?
You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.
You eye the delicate glass cup warily.
His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.
You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.
“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.
He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.
“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”
“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”
For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.
“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”
“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.
“For being so foolish.”
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You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.
“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.
“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.
“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.
“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”
You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.
“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.
He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.
“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.
You speak with what little focus you have left…
“My sister…loved me.”
His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.
“Always…she loved me.”
He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”
“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.
“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”
He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.
He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.
“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”
“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”
He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.
“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.
“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.
“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.
He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.
“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.
You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.
He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.
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“Oh gods…!”
He’s trying to kill you. He must be.
You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.
“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.
His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.
He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.
He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.
“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.
“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.
“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.
“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.
“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.
“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.
You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.
“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.
“Let me rest…”
“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.
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“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.
Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.
“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”
“Watch your tone and words witch,”
“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”
They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.
“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.
“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.
The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.
As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.
She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.
They’re the only fae that can lie after all.
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Dividers/@cafekistune
1K notes · View notes
i-cant-sing · 4 months
Note
I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.
No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.
Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.
Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.
Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).
The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"
And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.
You didn't like either nickname.
Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.
Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.
And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.
Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.
Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.
"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"
After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.
The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.
It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"
Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.
Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.
You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.
You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.
It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.
"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."
She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.
She died on the spot.
Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.
She wasn't a fucking Wayne.
If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.
But you didn't.
When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.
"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"
You sighed. Might as well get this over with.
You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.
"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."
Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"
"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."
"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.
"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.
"But I don't want you to move-"
You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"
Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.
"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"
Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"
"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.
-
They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.
He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.
Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.
"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.
"What now?"
"Where are you going?" Tim asked.
"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.
"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?
"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.
"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.
You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-
They were all dead serious.
"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.
"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.
"Bruce-"
"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."
"I'm fine-"
"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."
You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.
Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.
After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.
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heartfullofleeches · 9 months
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Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive
A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.
The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.
-
The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.
"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"
"I'd like to go home, please."
"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"
"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."
"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."
The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.
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cloudybarnes · 7 months
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bella donna
Pairing: theodore nott x reader
Summary: a sick night in bed calls for your cute boyfriend to come in and take care of you
Word Count: 800+
Masterlist
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✰  ✰  ✰
Nothing was helping.
The soup burned your tongue, the medication didn’t cure your stuffy nose, and your throat felt like it was on fire.
You felt like total shit right about now. 
“I’m sorry mi amore.” Theodore said as he wrung out a wet rag to place on your forehead. You were laid up in your bed, covers drawn to your chin as a chill wracked through you. 
Theo sat on a small stool next to your bed. He was being the sweetest boyfriend ever. He waited on you hand and foot for everything you needed. 
He was the one to make the soup and fetch the medicine and rags for your head. 
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Theo,” you mumbled. “You’ve done literally everything right for me.”
He smiled softly, then just as quickly, his smile fell. “I just can’t believe how suddenly this came about. Something must be going around; I heard Draco coughing in class yesterday, he must be the one who got you sick.”
You chuckled but were soon thrown into a fit of coughs. The coughing was so bad, you had to sit yourself up in order to catch your breath. 
“Mio dio,” he softly said. “My poor baby.” Theo rubbed your back as you caught your breath. You smiled at him, grateful for his being here. 
“What would I do without you, Theo?” 
He smiled and left a tender kiss on your forehead. The action was so soft and sweet, your eyes involuntarily closed, a soft smile adorning your lips. Theo really was something special. While most may find him to be a brute and hard to get on with, you’d only ever seen the kind, caring boy standing in front of you. 
“The real question,” he replied, “is how could I ever live without you?”
You giggled as Theo led you from your seated position to lay down. 
“You need your rest, sweetheart. Don’t waste all of your energy sitting up.”
You nodded and let Theo guide you down. You sniffled, but all that did was send more mucus to your throat, causing it to hurt worse. A whimper came from your lips without meaning to. 
“What hurts now, dolcezza?” He felt your forehead with the back of his hand, and gently picked up the discarded rag to dunk it in the bucket of ice water on the floor. 
“Just everything: my head, my throat, my nose, it all just sucks,” you said. “At least I have you to take care of me.”
Theo smiled, his eyes alive with love for you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, even when you’re snotty and coughing on me.” He teased as he wrung out the ice rag and placed it back on your forehead. 
“Hey!” You whined with a teasing smile. “I didn’t cough on you, just in your general direction.”
“Oh, so that’s how we’re describing it, now, huh bella donna?” 
You gave a health-hearted smile and shifted a little in bed. “I don't feel very pretty right now. I’m all snotted up and it feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“I think you look beautiful, (Y/N). Fully and truly, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
Your heart swelled. You had the sweetest boyfriend in the world. Theo never failed to make you smile and make you feel beautiful, even when you felt far from it. 
Slowly, as to not hurt the ache in your head, you pushed yourself up into a seated position. 
Theo started to fix the pillows so they would accommodate your upright position. “This okay, amore?”
You smiled down at him. Never had you felt more in love with this boy than you did just then. “It’s perfect, my love. Everything you do is just perfect, Theo. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
A pink hue tinted your boyfriend's cheeks as a smile crept onto his face. “You’re everything to me, (Y/N). I would do anything for you. Something as simple as taking care of you while you’re not feeling good is my job as your lover.” 
You didn’t think your heart could take anymore sweetest from him. “Come ‘ere,” you mumbled as you patted the empty side of the bed. “‘wanna lay with you for a little while.”
Theo walked around the bed and climbed into the empty space. He fit perfectly in the bed, like it was made to accompany him. 
You pushed him to lay down so you could rest your tired head on his chest. He lightly chuckled at your movement, and pulled you close to him. His arms wrapped around you as your fist held onto the fabric of his shirt. 
“I love you, (Y/N),” he mumbled. 
You smiled, closing your eyes. Right before sleep pulled you in, you responded, “I love you most, Theo.”
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kairiscorner · 10 months
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is this the start of a new series?
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
miggy and his feelings for you (after an argument).
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a/n: ok so this is kind of an extension of the "miggy's sole friend" fic, but you can read this as-is.
summary: you had an argument with miguel, and this time, you did something unexpected of you: you walked out on him. instead of getting mad at you, he got scared. he knew you all his life and could never remember a time when he didn't know you. he wants to apologize and admit to you once and for all how he feels about you, what you make him feel now that you've left him for the time being, and how he's... oh, is he really saying it? how sorry he is about his shitty attitude towards you.
word count: 2,440 (wowza)
it was certainly an experience being miguel o'hara's... only friend ever since, well, forever. you had other friends of your own, but the one who you knew the best and who knew you best was none other than miguel. you two knew each other pretty well, like the back of each other's hands. you two knew everything there was to know about the other; be it a favorite color, their 7th birthday, that time they broke their right arm in two places, the name of the second pet they owned, where your beauty marks were most prominent, and just about every other little detail there was to remark about each other.
you lauded yourself as an observant person, as someone who could look at something and see a thousand unnoticed details that a lot of other people never looked twice at, or even caught at first glance. it was due to this aptitude of yours to be able to know where to look and what to for that you became friends with miguel, even when he was a difficult little brat when you first met him.
his snarkiness and sarcasm was palpable and irritating, he mouthed off anyone he pleased, which was not for pleasure; he hated having to point out everyone else's incompetencies--but rather out of an insecurity of himself, a sort of allusion to how he wanted people to understand him, but how he struggles with understanding himself in the first place. he did it to feel safe, and you could see right through him when a lot of other people were turning away from the poor boy.
little did you know that your decision to befriend him would be the decision that saved miguel from himself. you saved him from his loneliness, you became the sole person in his life to make the first move and stick with him, no matter how difficult he became towards you or how aggressive he was at times.
of course, you two never saw eye-to-eye all the time; but you two genuinely got along a lot. you two would complain to each other, compliment each other, taunt and make banter with each other, you two were each other's companion, never complete without the other. but you two would also have disagreements, and when you had disagreements, miguel would be convinced he was right. at least, he used to think he was always right.
but one time, you storm out and got out of his face after an argument. he thought to himself he did nothing wrong, you were wrong. you were always the one thinking you were right, that you knew everything there was to know about a person, that you could do no wrong, that... you were the only person in his life that really understood him.
...this feeling is shit.
he had never felt that feeling before, of being walked out on, being left alone for being difficult and demanding. he knew the world couldn't give him everything, but he just wished, this once, that he could restrain himself and quell his ego for once so you wouldn't get sick of him.
oh, please, please don't be sick of him. he was a grown adult, he could take rejection in the face by anyone but you. he was frightened of what would happen if you one day stopped seeing him, stopped talking to him, or worse, managed to forget he even existed.
the gnawing feeling of despondency and probing the thought of you leaving him alone when you were the only, only person who understood him. lyla didn't count, she was made by him; the people of the spider society didn't count either, they were either scared shitless of him or understood his need for order and justice--not the person who believed in those ideals.
you did save him from his loneliness, but that didn't mean he was doing fine without you. if miguel could put a label on the feelings you gave him when he was without you, it'd be, "an utter, soul-crushing weight on my chest that grows the longer you're gone". and if he was without you because of his own actions, it'd be, "an immense regret of having ever done that to you, and if i could go back in time to punch myself to stop me from doing it, i would. in a heartbeat, i would".
miguel couldn't focus right throughout the day, every time he would try to listen to a report or look through the multiverse's canon events and occurences, his mind would always shift his attention the other way, to that nagging, unrelenting voice in his head that keeps screaming at him, "i need to talk to them. i need them back here, i'm... scared. i'm scared without them."
miguel had a hubris, and as often as he denied it, it always showed ceaselessly; but he attempted to put it aside for a minute and think of what to say to get you to stay with him for a few seconds longer, see you again even if you didn't want to see him; he just really wanted you right then and there with him, and he was so sorry he let himself get to you with his stupid, stupid pride.
"lyla," he called for the ai assistant. "now before you tell me to call them up so you can keep screaming, count me out. as a virtual assistant, i have rights." she said as she pulled up a monitor. miguel shook his head. "no, i'm not gonna yell anymore, no screaming, i just... wanna talk to them, in a civil manner." he emphasized the latter parts, with lyla slowly nodding in a sarcastic manner.
"well, have you ever thought that maybe they don't want to hear from you right now?" she asked miguel, looking at him quizzically. he sighed. "i've thought about it. and i'm done letting my thoughts dictate what i do." he said as lyla called you, miguel's thoughts racing in his mind, contesting against one another and contradicting each other. all the apologies he wants to tell you because he never told you before, all the genuine compliments he wants to tell you because he doesn't think you've heard enough of them in your life, let alone from him--all the thanks he has for you saving him the day you approached him and stood your ground in your desire to befriend him...
he wants you to know more than the "everything" you swore to have known about him, from the good and the bad, from the beautiful to the ugly; this is the one thing you and your astuteness never caught.
"what? i'm--" you began as you appeared on the other side of the screen, visibly irritated at miguel's impromptu call, but miguel cut you off.
"i'm in love with you." he blurted out without hesitation. the minute he saw you, the minute his breath was hitched in his throat as he caught sight of the most perfect person in the world, the one who toughed out every single time he was being a hard-headed bastard... he had to tell you how he felt. or at least, the only words that have so much meaning, yet so many meanings no matter how often it is uttered or how it is said.
"i'm... in love with you." he repeated, in a slower voice, a voice that wanted to take you gently by the hand and lead you through each syllable and pause as if it were like teaching one how to walk after being debilitated and bed-ridden. he ran a hand through his hair and placed his other hand on his waist as you remained silent, waiting to hear if he was roped into some prank by the knuckleheaded fools in the spider society somehow, if this was his "canon event" or whatever else he spouted out as a mandate through his authority as the leader of this "elite force of heroes".
you soon broke the silence when he didn't say anything with a cough.
he stared up at you, your face presented on the monitors in an larger ratio. he opened his mouth to speak, but he took a few seconds to collect his thoughts. "i... realized i've been selfish, i've been a bossy, arrogant, self-absorbed... pendejo." he finished with a deep breath in as he sighed. he knew that he was a bastard to you, has been and... probably will always be, even if he doesn't want to.
he wants to change, but he's painfully aware that his admission to all the things he's been called over the years didn't only hurt his pride, it hurt you because you knew he hardly changed from before. "okay." you said as you angled the camera of your phone better to get a good look at him. "so what?" you asked, trying to sound angry after he let his pride down just to see how true this change in attitude really was.
he scratched the back of his neck and peered up at you as his head was hung. "so i, uh... i wanted to admit it. estoy enamorado de ti. i'm... dammit." he said softly as he lost what he was going to say, just letting loose that spanish phrase he's wanted to tell you ever since you won him over with your beautiful smile, that ceaselessly sweet charisma of yours, and that patience and strength you had when it came to bearing with him and everything he puts you through.
"...i know, i don't deserve you. you don't deserve this overly dependent manchild you probably think of--" he continued, but you cut him off with a sarcastic chuckle. "oh it's not just probably, you are a manchild." you corrected, to which he nodded along. "right, right, i suppose you're..." he trailed off, not wanting to relent at that appraisal of his true, uninhibited nature. "...you're right." he finally admitted.
"but the matter of fact is that i am completely in love with you and want nothing more than for you to know i am so, so sorry for my idiocy, my inadequacy, my... every kind of 'cy i've lacked and... should be making up to you in ways that aren't just limited to calling you when you're clearly busy with work." he said in a quieted voice as he went on.
"i'm nothing without you, and i know i come off as dramatic, needy, or just straight up pathetic as shit, but it's the truth. i need you like i need air, you understand me when i can't even understand myself. i need you, so much, and i'd do anything to just keep you remembering me, even just one last time before you decide to cut me off from your life fore-- why are you laughing?" he asked as he heard a few chuckles escape your pursed lips as the corners of your mouth quivered, trying to conceal your laugh, to stifle it so he doesn't notice, but he does.
"you're just so extra, you know that?" you point out with a fit of giggles as miguel sighs, a small smile forming on his face. "well what can i say? it's the truth, and nothing but the truth. you deserve so much more, and i understand if you don't want me, too, but i..." he cuts himself off again as he hears the doors to his office open, looking at your video feed and noting the background looked exactly like the layout of his office. from the dimness of the light to the small, intricate carvings on the walls--it was an exact replica of his office. soon, he connected the dots together, and realized a little too late you were in the room, smiling slyly to yourself the whole time as he looked from the monitors to your face that was now close to his.
"and i can be a little extra with my entrance, too." you quipped as you leaned over and gave him a hug. "even if you're a hardass pendejo like you say you are... i'll never forget you. and i won't leave you, not like that. not when i'm..." you drifted off as you looked up at him, holding him tighter as his breath hitched in his throat, admiring how small you appeared below him, how warm and loving your touch was, how... delicately you held him, as if you didn't plan on hurting him despite how you had every right to get angry with him for being so conceited and prideful.
"...not when i'm in love with you, too." you admitted as you buried your face in his chest, leaving in your wake a blushing, heated mess of a man as you nuzzled yourself further into him. "i just wanted to hear you admit it, first." you said with a chuckle as he slowly carded your hair in his hands, wondering to himself if this moment was real, was supposed to happen, was going to happen all along? all the events that led to this very euphoric, heavenly moment; and he wouldn't waste a second.
he leaned over to you, and as you pulled away from his chest, he brushed his nose over yours in an attempt to seize your soft, plush lips which he yearned for too damn long. he kissed you, and you found yourself kissing him back. he savored your taste, the feeling of your lips on his was too perfect, too right; he could do this for the rest of his life if you were up for it, kissing you until you knew just how much he loved you--which not even he could tell you, either, not with you constantly stealing his heart and attention all the time.
"i'll work on not being so unbearable all the time... i just want to, to hold you like this," he said as he reciprocated your touch and wrapped his arms around your waist gently, pulling you closer to him as he felt your racing heartbeat, and you felt his own in yours.
your hearts beating together in perfect harmony, as if each of your hearts responded to the other. "if it means i can keep you for eternity, i'd stop being a prideful bastard and admit i'm wrong, admit you're the greatest, that you're amazing, you're... perfect." he finished as he kissed your forehead, apologizing still for all that he did, with you giggling and telling him it's okay, but he has a whole lot to do to make up for it.
luckily for you... he's always up for a challenge.
a/n: man i fr thought i had writer's block while making this, it was a bluff, i just got tired and lazy LMAO but hoping y'all enjoyed :> TYSM TO @jrrantss FOR THE HELP IN THE SPANISH TRANSLATION, it's so fucking romantic, ako'y kinikilig super tyyy <333
tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @jrrantss @luvstarrstruck
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h34rtbeat · 7 months
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STEP-BRO KNOWS BEST.
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pairings: stepbrother!jake x younger!fem!reader
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warnings: stepcest, stepbro!jake, intoxication, car sex, spit, unprotected sex, afab!reader, mentions of breeding, cherry popping, reader is a virgin, virgin-shaming(??) , non-con
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“Stupid bitch, can’t even get a cock right.” Jake cursed, his snaps snapping into yours at a brutal pace.
Your tear stained cheeks and hoarse throat did nothing but fuel the man above you, feeling his balls slap against your ass.
“Went to party— ugh— to get fucked, huh? Fuckin’ virgin..” he said, eyes staring at the war your virgin cunt took him.
“Up, now” his fingers curled at your chin, pulling your body up as she shared his saliva with yours, kissing you hungrily, his pace still overbearing.
You didn’t plan on losing your virginity— not like this.
Not with your big step-bro :( he was so mean. Slamming into your poor cunt,
“Ugh..ngh! Jake.. s-slow down..!” You cried out, tears brimming at your lashes again.
“No, can’t..” he grunted, hands going back down to your waist to force your hips back onto his. You would’ve been fine, if you just kept your mouth shut.
You shouldn’t have ever tried to suck a guys dick, maybe then your cunt wouldn’t be being abused by your brothers hard cock.
Though you’d admit, all hazy in the mind, he felt good, at the very least. The other guys cock being tiny in comparison, you couldn’t think straight anyway.
Jakes lips crashed onto yours again, the sloppy kiss making your mind go more blank, the car rocking with the harsh and fast movement.
“Fuck— this pussy, so slutty.. how’re you even a virgin?” Wet noises protruding from your slick cunt, as your tongue lolled out.
He sucked on your tongue, so nasty. So crude, this was disgusting, but it felt so good.
“I know you best, so shut up and take it. Those guys can’t fuck you like this.” He moaned, dick twitching with the way your cunt kept squirting out more.
Your body too hot and bothered, the liquor still in your system.
Even when you tried to push him off, knowing you couldn’t win, you couldn’t deny how hot your lower region felt, especially not when his fingers pressed against your damp panties.
Even worse, when he slid in, with a ‘pop’
“You like that? Huh? When your step-brother fucks you, yeah?” He moaned out, getting off on the thought of you only being his.
His cock would be better, always better than any stupid college guy.
“Fuck… ugh…” he grunted out again, brows furrowing when your pussy only squeezed him tighter. Seemed you were as perverted as he was, even if you were begging him to stop.
He wanted to go deeper— he wanted to fuck himself into you, cum into, mark you so every other man knew you were taken.
Swinging his leg to your side, his cock hitting a deeper angle. Your body jolted, back arching as you drilled into the passenger seats.
“J-jake..!” You whined, clawing at the leather seats.
He didn’t listen, only continuing. This wasn’t about your pleasure, this was about him fucking into you, like some kind of dog.
“Gonna.. ugh.. cum..” he grunted, ever strong grip on your hips.
He halted his movements, balls pressed against your ass as he bottomed out, filling you up with his seed. Your cunt too inexperienced, sputtering out the fluids.
He panted, watching you breathe heavily and try to straighten up your thoughts, though he could tell the liquor was stopping you.
Oh, what would you do without him?
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yandere-romanticaa · 7 months
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¡! ❞ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.
❝ he licked his lips, said to me - girl you look good enough to eat - put his arms around me, said - boy, no, get your paws right off me. ❞
yandere! blade x fem! reader.
inspired by the song monster by lady gaga.
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The scent of blood. The filth of iron. A shallow echo, followed by the sound of absolute nothingness.
He was close by.
You could feel it.
It was difficult to pinpoint when this song and dance had begun but that was just the way Blade handled everything, as you would come to learn. You could recall bumping into a masked stranger in large crowds on the Lofu - whom you now know is Blade - and finding it odd just how often they would occur. At first it just felt like a simple accident, perhaps the man was just working in a place that was close to your own shop, thus making all the run ins nothing too strange or something worthy to ponder on about.
It all took a turn for worse once you felt the hairs at the back of your neck standing up straight when you would be walking home at night.
The streets would be empty and desolate, not a single soul in sight. You chalked it up to being paranoid, because who wouldn't wouldn't be afraid to walk home alone in the dark? The only thing that could be heard was the sound of a few stray critters and the sound of your own beating heart. Every heartbeat felt like it knocked the air out of you, the pumps getting stronger and stronger with every step you would take. Paranoia would take over your entire mind as you would check behind you every few seconds, to see if there really was a mystery man following you.
All of that fear would be washed away once you'd be in front of your door, the familiar wood calming your nerves as you'd fumble with the keys. With an eager sigh, you'd open the door with lightning speed and shut it just as fast, always double locking it. Your back would be pressed against the wooden frame as you'd put your hand on your chest, checking to see if your poor heart had finally managed to catch a breather.
This routine went on for months. You told your friends about the looming shadow that tailed you for countless nights, how terrified you were and just how unsafe it was for you to be walking home alone. Naturally, the responses were mixed. Some thought that you were just being jumpy, imagining things going bump in the night. It was natural to be scared of the unknown, that was their way of comforting you. The other side was more sympathetic and were more than willing to hear you out. Taking your words seriously, a good friend had offered himself to walk you home from that night onward. His own home was also close to your own so it was pretty much perfect. The two of you made plans on where to meet and what time. You could even treat him to some dinner while you were together, it was the least you could do to repay him for his kindness. Finally, the sun had set and it was time to depart together with your friend. With a pep in your step, you walked towards the rendezvous point and feeling just a bit more confident in this decision. You waited there and checked the time, he was running late. Well, it's not unusual to be a few minutes late, you could wait more.
Five minutes turned into ten.
Ten minutes turned into thirty.
This wasn't alright.
Everything was off once more, the familiar sensation of adrenaline had kicked back in as you looked around for your friend. Where was he? Why didn't he show up? Was this all just a prank to him after all?
Feeling dejected and nervous, you walked back home alone, the lights from the lanterns being your only companions. The familiar sounds of the night were still there, the occasional drunken yell as well.
But the sting that you would feel at the back of your neck, it...
It was not there.
There was no tension, no other presence that you could feel.
You were lost in the darkness.
The next day, you asked around for your friend but they all said the same thing - he had a sudden accident a bit before he was supposed to meet up with you and ended up bludging both his arms and legs. No one knew how it happened and whenever they would ask the guy all he would do is stare back at them, his lips quivering and bloodshot eyes filled to the brim with terror.
It made you want to curl up into a hole in the ground.
Calling in sick, you decided to go home while it was still daylight. The habit of looking behind your shoulder was very much on alert but there was also a sense of calmness in the air. Instead of the cold and chilly night you were walking down a path which was light up with warm light, instead of sounds of creatures looking for their next meal all you could hear were the sound of street vendors and chatter of children. The food smelled delicious and you allowed yourself the luxury of loosening up, just for a little bit. As you rummaged through your purse you came into contact with the familiar feeling of metal keys, the tiny charm you had on them being a dead set indicator. You put the key into the lock but before you twisted it, you turned around one last time to admire the scenery around you.
Happy children and grumpy adults were scattered all over the place, all of them lost in their own little world or they mingled with each other in one way or the other. You were particularly focused on the little boy who was devouring a grilled piece of meat on the stick, the aroma of it almost making your mouth drool. Looking behind your back really wasn't all too bad, especially if you could feast your eyes on the pure serenity which was so close.
Turns out, it was your front which you had to be looking out for.
Just as you opened the door, a tall man with jet black hair was on the other side. He stood perfectly still as he stared down at you, his blood red eyes leering over your body, like a hunter going in for the kill. Dread bubbled in your stomach at an alarming rate but before the scream could come out to the surface, the dark stranger pressed you close to him, one hand holding your waist tightly while the other clamped your mouth shut, not even allowing you to breathe.
"If you even make a sound." he said, his voice gruff but determined.
"I will kill every single person that is standing behind you. Man, woman or child, it does not matter to me."
You wanted to hurl. Your eyes were blown wide open with fear, your entire body shaking with anticipation as his hot breath fanned the shell of your ear. You could feel his teeth ghosting your earlobe, threatening to take a bite whenever he pleased. The hand which was snaked around your waist moved upwards to your back, his bandaged finger tracing the flesh through the fabric of your shirt. No one from the outside world was even paying attention to you and if they did, the two of you probably looked like two love birds who were just thoroughly enchanted with one another.
"You know." said the man, his voice edging on playful now. "I've been watching you for a while now."
You could feel your stomach drop in realization and he too picked up on that fact. He chuckled right in front of your face, his long strands of hair tickling your cheeks. You didn't even realize just how sticky his hands were up until now, you how putrid his scent was, like he had just cut up a carcass and left it for dead under the sun.
"Oh?" he chuckled, his tone fully serious now.
"Don't you recognize the smell of your friend?"
The tears finally kicked in and the sicko in front of you took great pleasure in them. You bawled like a baby in front of him, the horror of knowing that your friend was either dead or dying in a ditch somewhere was just too much to handle. But the creek merely laughed at you, his body shaking with pleasure as he kissed your tears away, his horrid cackles ringing loudly in your eyes. You managed to look at the world behind you one last time, your eyes searching for someone, anyone to help you in this time of need. But no one was there to see you, no one was there to help you.
The last thing you saw was a few strings of light before the stranger kicked the door shut with his foot, sealing you away from any possible freedom.
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