#it’s becoming accustomed to being unsatisfied

[kyunzin]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞

✰ characters ✰ 𝐇. 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐅.𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐊. 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐮

✰ summary ✰ you miss them and ask for a video

✰tags/warnings✰ (most of this is only mentioned), nsfw, higuruma {breeding kink, degradation, blowjob, dumbification}, toji {public masturbation, degradation, breeding kink, riding}, shiu {cockwarming, praise, edging, cum stuffing, orgasm denial}

𝐇. 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢

✰ doesn’t put much effort into it but gives you what you want anyway

“this what you wanted?”

the phone is angled up towards him as he languidly strokes his cock till its standing up with a little bit of pre coming out of the tip, looking down at the camera with a bored stare. he knew that you weren’t going to last long without him but he didn’t expect it this soon.

“I haven’t even been gone a few days and you already miss me or is it my cock that you miss?”

he continues with the same slow pace never looking away from the camera as pleasure builds up. he hast had to use his hands in a while due to you always being readily accessible. he’d become accustomed to being in your presence for too long forgetting what it’s like to not be able to fuck you.

“wish this was you instead of my hand. know you’d suck it like the good slut that you are right?”

the vision of you on your knees before him has his head dropping back as he lets out a low groan of frustration , knowing that heel have to wait a bit longer before he can feel you choking around his cock again.

“cant wait to get back home and fuck you stupid till you can only remember how to scream my name”

his volume soon picks up as he tightens his hold around his cock, letting a string curses leave his lips. it’s not long before he’s spilling into his hand painting his hand and stomach in his seed.

“what a waste, this should have been stuffed deep inside your sloppy cunt”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

✰ he slips inside a bathroom stall while he’s in public.

“look at what you have me doing, just to please you “

he stationed his phone on top of the toilet seat, giving you nearly a full view of his body, while he leans against the stall door. his pants are pooled around his ankles while his hard cock hangs above his briefs.

“know you’d fuck- ride me like a pro if I was sat on the seat”

he leans his head back against the door of the stall eyes closing, circling the tip of his dripping cock with his thumb as he most likely envisions the two of you in that position. he enjoyed letting you do most of the work and he found that that was the best way to hear it, letting you bounce on his cock relentlessly.

“bet you’d let me fuck you right here in this dirty stall like a cheap whore”

pulling up his tight shirt, letting his nipple piercings free as he uses his other free hand to tweak one like you would usually do. it also serves as a way to muffle his moans even though his heavy breathing would be enough to alert anyone who was paying close attention.

“really miss your tight little cunt wrapped around me”

the hand that was previously pinching his nipple now fondles his balls whilst he begins to furiously jerk his his cock letting the slick sounds resonate through the small space. he soon doubles over spilling his cum into his hand and letting some drop to the floor.

“look how much cum could have been kept inside you if only you’d been patient and waited until I got home”

𝐊. 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐮

✰ plans to punish you for being impatient

"cant even go a couple of days without me can you?"

all that's visible in the video is his face but from is laboured breaths and flushed cheeks you can tell what's going on behind the camera. even though he teases you for being desperate he feels unsatisfied without you, knowing that it would be better if you were there for him to fuck.

"these meetings are so boring. you should be here to keep me warm, kneeling under my desk, keeping me all the way down your throat. know would swallow it all like a good girl"

you can hear the slick noises of him jerking his cock in the background, the slick noises of is hand sliding up and down his thick cock that you used to struggle to take all the way, but after sitting on is cock for a long time it was if your pussy remembered the shape of his cock.

"you wanna see what you're missing out on baby?"

the camera flips and you can see is spit soaked cock, an angry shade of red at the tip nearly overflowing with pre cum. his whole and stokes up and down in slow fluid motions, in his tight grip you can see the thick veins running up the side.

"i've stopped myself from cumming so many times now. when i get back i'm gonna fuck you full and you're not allowed to cum, since all you need is my cum to be satisfied. right?"

his pace intensifies but is grip loosens as is groan starts to pick up in volume and you can hear a few curses leave his lips when he sporadically squeezes his cock. then he suddenly lets go watching as small beads of cum drip from the tip

"when i get home you better be ready for me to fill you with this, I've stored up so much for you baby"

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

[monster-mash-m]

Parasite hybrid.

Cw: Nsfw mdni, yandere themes, murder, madturbation, body control, immortality?

Hear me out-

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

He’s one of the more… sapient parasites. Most parasites glint to their hosts, take over their bodies mindlessly to survive and then kill the host once done with their body.

Not him though, not Or-1-on or as you’ve grown accustomed to call him, Orion. His species of parasite is rare. Yet here he was. With you.

Unlike his parasitic families, Orion didn’t take over his host’s body, in a sense. Sure he could control your body if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He just often sat in the back of your mind. He liked your company and surprisingly… he liked yours. He was rather funny, although you’re pretty sure he’s just adapted his personality from you.

And at the moment you’re at your dead end job. One of your coworkers is being rude. Orion doesn’t like that of course, no one talks to his host like that.

‘Kill them’

You reply in your mind ‘no they don’t deserve death… maybe just a bad hair day though’. You resist the urge to giggle

‘They barged past you.’ He said ‘They deserve everyday to be a bad hair day…’

That was just one instance of Orion being overprotective. He always wanted what he believed was in your best interest.

‘Buy it. You like these.’ He hums out, his melodic voice echoing in your mind “Orion- I’m not buying anymore books, I’m just window shopping.” You reply outloud, when you’re home alone there’s no reason why you have to use your mind to respond. ‘But you like them.’ He protests, taking control of your arm on the mouse of your laptop, clicking the mouse, buying the book you’ve been looking at for far too long.

Orion is sweet, he really is. … he just has a hard time when people treat you poorly. He just couldn’t stand the fact that someone insulted you the other day, it’s been eating away at him. Of course he leaves your head at night, while you’re asleep. Asking one of his more… deadly parasite brothers to get in that person’s head. You notice them become more sickly as the weeks go on. Orion acting the part of a clueless friend.

Orion was unfortunately not much of a physical presence. His true body akin to a featureless clump or blob, almost like slime. Oh how he longed to hold you like a lover would. To run his hands over your soft curves like a lover would… to pleasure you like a lover would…

And oh there goes one of your hands as he lazily takes control of one of your arms. His control making your hand slip under your underwear, making you touch yourself for him. He could feel your pleasure, he liked that. He liked when you gasped for him, he liked how he could make you squirm without even touching you. He’d control small parts of your brain to make the pleasure seem oh so much more intense. Isn’t he just the sweetest.

‘Look at all that cum… you’re the first human host I’ve had you know… I’m glad it was you…’

He coos in your mind so adoringly, almost as if he was inlove, can parasites love?

‘I want to be with you… forever…’

All you could do is just gasp and let out your pretty moans for him as he controls your orgasms. Needless to say he never leaves you unsatisfied.

He will never let you go. Even when you start to age, he won’t allow that. Oh no no. He’s a parasite, he can’t live without his host. He will keep your body up and running, maybe even trying to find a way to make sure your soul can never leave him…

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Idk why but I love this concept!

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 9

A/N: Honestly I meant to put this out way earlier but i forgot! We are almost done with season one! This chapter features an unlikely duo.

TW: Blood, violence,slight gore

The night sky swirled into obscurity as Rhaella lay naked in the grass. The trees towering overhead shielded her from the soft beams of moonlight.

It was another dream. An occurrence she had grown used to. The unanswered questions had become common, leaving her frustrated and unsatisfied. 

There was a certain freedom, being confined to her mind this way. Rhaella stood to her feet, leisurely walking through the forest.

“Follow my voice.” The sound hissed, passing her by. 

Like many times before, she had no choice but to follow.

Rhaella found herself at the edge of a cliff, staring the water down. She wondered if she jumped at this very moment, would she wake?

“You wake when I allow it.” The voice whispered again.

Rhaella sat herself, legs dangling off the edge. She could feel its presence. Whatever it was. Despite this fact, she did not feel ashamed of her nakedness.

“Quite presumptuous of you, placing commands onto me,” Rhaella said.

It was a back-and-forth they had engaged in. It would shrill riddles and prophecies that Rhaella couldn’t even pretend to understand.

“Tell me something,” Rhaella said. Her voice was distant, she already knew what the outcome would be.

“You have invaded my thoughts, for reasons unknown to me,” Rhaella said, bringing her knees to her chest.

“Tell me, have I gone mad?” 

The voice gave a low chuckle. Rhaella could feel its misty aura pass over her body, oddly enough she found it comforting.

“Perhaps.” The voice said in wicked irony. 

“It may be that you were born this way.” It said. 

Rhaella rolled her eyes at Its musings. She had become accustomed to it.

“You’ve given that boy a portion of your soul.” It buzzed. Maybe it was her mind turning against her, but the voice had switched to a lighter tone. 

Rhaella scoffed. Even in her unconscious, she could not escape the stigma.

“What now?” She asked. Her fingers raked through the strands of her hair at the memory of Aemond. He hadn’t held back, the repressed lust had spread like a sickness, infecting them both.

Rhaella smiled. “I suppose you think I'm a whore.”

The voice gave a hum of contemplation. 

“Love is the mind-killer.” It said.

Love? Is this how it is to be? Filled with the musings of some spirit or other as she continued to fall deeper into her desire?

It was equal parts unpleasant and enthralling.

“I need not your opinion, I don’t even know what you are. Rhaella responded.

Then she felt it. Disembodied arms wrapped around, engulfing her. They had no particular feeling.

“Oh Rhaella, but I know what you are.” It whispered into her ear.

Rhaella’s head tilted, curiosity peaked. This conversation felt familiar, but the meaning was compromised. 

“What am I?” She said. 

“Mine.”

It must’ve been well into noon when Rhaella awoke. 

Heaps of her curls surrounded her face as she sat up in bed. Her whole body ached, causing her to wince.

Why hadn’t any of the maids come? Typically they made a big show of opening the blinds and preparing her clothes.

No matter, there was a more pressing issue at hand. Rhaella pulled the white sheet from her body to reveal the crimson red that permeated through.

Proof of what she had done. What they had done.

Rhaella’s eyes darted across the room for a moment. A hiding place. She landed on the wardrobe. Someone would find the sheets eventually, but not after she was long gone.

Her feet found purchase on the cold tile. It wasn’t even for a full second before her knees buckled, stumbling to the floor.

It was as if her body was screaming for her to feel shame.

Balling up the linens, she shoved them inside the deepest parts of the wardrobe.

It had been some time and handmaidens had not yet entered. Deciding to dress herself, Rhaella slipped on the dress Helaena had given her. The gorgeous purple silks hid the slightly reddened bruises around her thighs and waist.

Then there was the issue with her hair. Curses were let loose and Rhaella struggled against the tangles.

The end result was somewhat presentable. Rhaella had wished her hair was loced like Rhaena or her grandfather.

Rhaella’s stomach rumbled in protest. She would make it a point to visit the kitchens first.

Her hand slid over the door’s handle. The knob would not budge, despite Rhaella’s efforts. 

She tried again. Then once more, followed by several futile attempts thereafter.

Confusion etched itself onto her brow. There wasn’t a possibility that she locked herself in.

Perhaps one of the guards made a mistake.

Rhaella raised her fists, pounding on the wooden door.

“Hello?” She called out. “Is anyone there?”

Her fists continued to beat the door, leaving nothing but echoes.

Rhaella reluctantly took her hands away from the door. She couldn’t place it,but something wasn’t right.

Pressing her ear against the door, she listened in for...anything at this rate.

Silence. There were no footsteps or voices to be heard.

Something was entirely wrong. Rhaella tried to recall the night before, nothing odd had stood out.

She remembered the way Ser Criston Cole was short with her, but she figured it was due to her disrespect of the queen during the past week.

Her grandmother. Rhaella had walked through the main halls before entering her own room and had not seen her.

Rhaella’s breath quickened. Was there something she had missed? Her mind raced with all the possibilities of what could be going wrong at this moment.

Rhaella paced back and forth in the room, arms crossed anxiously.

The king was most likely dead, that could be the reason for the silence.

But would she not have been informed? And why the locked door?

Rhaella walked over to the window in the room, the view was nothing but cobbled streets. It was quite a ways down, she’d surely break her legs should she try to escape.

The creak of the old door interrupted Rhaella’s contemplation. 

But it was not a maid she was met with.

It was Ser Otto Hightower.

Rhaella was surprised to see him of all people. However, she maintained a level of composure so as to not reveal her worry.

Slow and steady.

“Ser Otto?” Rhaella said. “What has happened?”

Otto walked further into the room, Rhaella's eyes darted to the slightly ajar door.

If she was quick about it, escape was a possibility. But then there were guards to worry about.

That was of no consequence though, Otto shut the door behind him.

“Lady Rhaella.” Otto greeted. He carried an air of pleasantry.

As if he’d won something. 

“What is the matter?” Rhaella asked. She attempted to conceal the anxiety in her voice. 

Otto paused for a moment. He watched Rhaella’s unwavering posture.

He was not fooled, unfortunately for her.

“There has been... an unprecedented event,” Otto said.

“The king has passed, hasn’t he?” Rhaella said sharply, leaving no room for questioning.

Otto folded his hands in front of him, nodding. 

“It is unfortunate, but yes his grace has passed.” 

Rhaella’s mind raced, unable to focus on one single thought. 

Ser Otto was not here simply to inform. No, there must be more.

So she would rip it from him, slowly.

“I never had the privilege of truly knowing him,” Rhaella said, her head bowing slightly.

“However.” Rhaella continued. “The king was my uncle, I do not see why I needed to be locked in my chambers.”

Otto sighed. “ We had much to prepare.”

Rhaella’s eyes squinted at the word. Prepare?

“Ser Otto,” Rhaella said. Her voice had turned cold, void of emotion.

“You did not come here to inform me of the king,” Rhaella stated. 

Ser Otto attempted to speak but was cut off. Rhaella was far from done.

“Choose your next words carefully ser, as I have been confined to this room for some time,” Rhaella said.

Otto’s mouth lifted into a slight smirk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bell.

Rhaella’s sharp eyes tracked his movement as he placed it on the table.

“It’s a curious trick you do,” Otto spoke. 

“One moment, you are a quiet girl.” Otto’s head tilted slightly in analysis.

“But then, you open your mouth and suddenly it’s your father I see.”

Her father? Were her words not her own?

“What is this?” Rhaella blurted out. She had grown tired of it all. 

“You are being presented with a choice.” Otto gestured to the bell.

“Choice?” Rhaella asked.

“The king’s dying wish was that Prince Aegon should succeed him,” Otto said.

Rhaella took a step back, in pure disbelief. Aegon and succession should not be spoken in the same sentence. For many a reason.

“Do you think me an idiot?” Rhaella snapped. 

“No, you have always been much more perceptive than others.” Ser Otto said.

“The king declared Princess Rhaenyra his heir, she is to be queen,” Rhaella said.

“He spoke his will unto the queen Alicent in his last breath,” Otto said.

Rhaella’s words fell stuck in her throat. 

What sort of fuckery is taking place here? And why is she in it?

“It is of no consequence what you think,” Otto said.

It never was.

“Bend the knee to Aegon, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms,” Otto stated. His tone had shifted to conviction.

She would do no such thing. 

Instead, Rhaella gave a lofty smile. 

“I am my father’s daughter, am I?” She said.

“You know full well what my answer is.”

Ser Otto nodded his head, expectantly.

“You will remain here until you’ve changed your mind.” 

Rhaella could feel her composure ripping at the seams.

“Ring the bell when you have decided.” Ser Otto said.

With his words lingering in the air, Otto turned to leave.

“Wait!” Rhaella said. 

Otto paused to face her.

“What of my grandmother?” Rhaella asked.

Ser Otto smiled. “ Both you and her will remain here for the time being.”

Otto closed the door behind him.

Rhaella swiftly walked toward the table, where the bell was placed.

It gleamed from the sun’s rays, almost mockingly.

In a fit of frustration, Rhaella hurled the bell at the closed door.

Fuck that stupid bell.

She was stuck here. Indefinitly it seemed.

There was no escape for her and no help would be coming.

Through the fog of her panic, Rhaella had another thought.

Had Aemond known? He couldn’t possibly stand for this.

Rhaella knew Aemond had no love for Rhaenyra, but he could certainly agree that Aegon was not suited for the throne.

She required clarity. She required him.

.......

In the long hours that followed, Rhaella could sense her sanity slipping from her being. She had been staring up at the high ceiling for what seemed like forever.

She played out multiple scenarios of what would happen to her. Rhaella was sure she would not be touched, nor would her grandmother.

Rather, they would have her rot to death.

A knock at the door cut through her musings.

Whoever had come was not her saving grace.

“Rhaella?” Queen Alicent called softly.

Standing up from the bed, Rhaella stared at Alicent wordlessly.

Alicent tried to offer a smile but was met with a blank stare from Rhaella’s violet eyes.

“I understand you may be confused at the moment,” Alicent said.

Confused? A plummeting understatement.

“What have you done?” Rhaella said.

“I am acting on the former kings’ command,” Alicent said.

“So, it appears you are not only a liar, but an usperer as well.” Rhaella snided.

Alicent grimaced at Rhaella’s words. She came close, grabbing her hands.

“It is better to not disrupt the realm, I only can guide it to peace,” Alicent said.

Rhaella jerked her hands away from Alicent in disgust.

“You guide the realm to war,” Rhaella said angrily.

It was preposterous that the queen thought that Princess Rhaenyra would accept this.

“I am doing what is best for the realm.” Queen Alicent responded. Her voice wavered slightly, her judgment was toothless.

“Ser Otto has informed me of your terms,” Rhaella said, eyes darting from the queen and back to the door.

Queen Alicent toyed with her hands, carefully considering her words.

“ I have come to offer you new ones,” Alicent said after a while.

Rhaella’s eyebrows furrowed. There was nothing more to be said. She would not bend the knee.

“I know that you care deeply for Aemond,” Alicent said. 

Rhaella felt herself turn cold, although she was hardly surprised. The queen had been dangling her own emotions over her head like a guillotine. 

“ You could marry him, and spend the rest of your days here in the Red Keep.”

Rhaella did not honor the queen with an answer. She feared the next words uttered would be curses. 

“I’ve known you to always be disregarded to the side.” Alicent continued.

“Your own father ignores you in favor of the princess, you are a stranger in your own home.”

Rhaella couldn’t deny that the observation stung. It only reaffirmed her own thoughts.

The queen need not know that, however.

“My son is most happy at your side, the both of you would be a fitting match.”

A thought occurred to Rhaella. She had been a fool, and not for the first time.

“So why not send him to speak to me?” Rhaella asked. Her mind was clear now.

“I came here on his behalf.” Alicent insisted.

Quite an earnest liar she was.

“Does he even know I’m being held here?” Rhaella questioned.

The queen’s silence was deafening. There was her answer.

Rhaella stepped closer to Alicent, eye to eye. The queen held her ground but the slight shrink back did not escape Rhaella’s predatory gaze.

“You seem confused your grace,” Rhaella said, her voice, menacing.

“No amount of care I have for your son would make me turn against my own family,” Rhaella said.

Alicent’s eyes widened. This was not the small girl she had kept under watch all that time ago.

No. Rhaella Targaryen was a beast, evolving before the queen’s very eyes.

“So, run to your sept and kneel to your Gods,” Rhaella said.

“Pray that my family does not answer you with fire and blood.”

The Queen Alicent’s mouth was agape. Her eyes searched Rhaella’s, hoping for a hint of feebleness.

There was none—only the swirling of something dark.

“Very well,” Alicent said. And just like her father, she too left the chamber, shutting and locking the doors behind her.

Alone again, once more. All those threats she threw and what came of it?

Rhaella dropped to the ground, eyes rimmed with tears. It mattered not if Aemond knew of her confinement.

He blindsighted her. All the speak of desiring something bigger than himself was clearer than ever to her. 

There would be no exploring the seven kingdoms on dragon back together. No more stolen glances or lingering touches.

Aemond did not simply desire a dragon. He craved revenge, undeniable power.

This was the man she had given herself to. Rhaella was unsure what horrified her more. The fact that she could see his reasoning or the fact that her heart still longed to speak with him.

Love was indeed the mind-killer. 

The day turned to evening as Rhaella remained confined to the room. She had food nor water at her disposal and it was beginning to take effect.

She needed to escape. Somehow. 

Rhaella ripped through the little belongings she had brought with her, looking for something that might assist her.

An object near the bed caught her eye. Dropping to her hands and knees, she went to retrieve it.

A sturdy stick no larger than an ordinary dagger. Rhaella fiddled with it methodically. 

Rhaella dragged the stick back and forth against the whetted edge of the bed.

Distress morphed into persistence as she continued. The wood soon peeled back, forming a point comparable to that of a knife.

It must suffice.

“The next person,” Rhaella mumbled to herself. She sat at the side of the door, in animalistic hyperfocus.

Whoever dared come through the door next would become a corpse.

Rhaella had never killed before, not even a bug. However, she could feel that same misty aura, the one from her dreams. It was guiding her, encouraging her to fight.

Pressing against the side wall, Rhaella listened for anything. 

Her efforts were not in vain. Padded footsteps could be heard outside the door.

She would aim for the chest.

Slowly, the door opened as a figure stepped inside.

Briskly, Rhaella tackled the body to the floor, shank raised in hand.

It was Talya, the queen’s handmaid.

“Please, wait I’m here to help!” Talya squealed. 

Rhaella hesitated, contemplating. Talya had grown to be a great annoyance to her, always around every corner.

But to take her life? All the dark courage Rhaella had summoned quickly fizzled out.

She, who had no dragon, no tangible aspirations. Could she really take a life?

Rhaella drew her weapon to the side, keeping Talya’s body on the ground.

“Explain quickly, lest I change my mind,” Rhaella said.

Talya, in a panic, fumbled her words before straining out something coherent.

“I am here on behalf of Astris and the white worm,” Talya said, panicked eyes shifting to the wooden dagger.

“Astris?” Rhaella said, eyes blinking in perplexion. 

When she had left Pentos for Dragonstone, the lord offered her a handmaid as a parting gift.

Rhaella was sure it was just to please her father, however, when she caught the gaze of the black-haired beauty in front of her, everything fell silent.

Astris. A girl who had a strangeness equal to Rhaella herself. The two girls grew much and more fond of one another. It was when Astris was brushing Rhaella’s silver curls, they shared a kiss.

That had been many moons ago, as Astris was moved elsewhere.

For Talya to possess such knowledge of her, she must have been telling the truth.

“How do you know her?” Rhaella demanded. Her expression remained guarded.

“We are both spies for the White Worm, it was she who sent me to help you,” Talya explained.

Spy? White Worm? Rhaella reeled over the new information. She studied the frightened yet earnest expression on Talya’s face.

It was not as if Rhaella held many options in her grasp.

Rhaella carefully removed herself from Talya, allowing the maid to stand.

“Quickly, we do not have much time,” Talya said urgently. She walked to the wardrobe, pulling out a brown cloak.

Rhaella reluctantly accepted, pulling the hood over her head.

“My grandmother is still locked in her room, we must help her,” Rhaella said.

Talya grabbed Rhaella’s arm in assurance.

“She has already found help, Ser Arryk Cargyll is aiding her escape,” Talya said.

The two of them quietly stepped into the halls. Talya’s swift pace was one Rhaella followed suit. Although there was an endless stream of questions she wanted to ask, only one sentence left her.

“I’ll kill you if I find that you are lying,” Rhaella stated. 

Talya paused for a moment, looking at Rhaella with an annoyed expression.

“I’m here risking my neck for you, why on earth would I lie?” Talya scoffed.

She had a point. It’s not as if they had ever been friendly, nor had Rhaella paid her any mind.

They arrived at Maegor’s holdfast, doing well to remain vigilant of others.

Talya opened a door, gesturing for Rhaella to follow. The tunnels underground were mostly dark, save for the mounted torches on the walls. 

The way Talya strode cautiously yet confidently through the tunnels indicated to Rhaella that she had done this many many times before.

“I suppose it makes sense that you’re a spy, you’re always mousing around me,” Rhaella whispered.

Talya’s cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment, the dark concealing the fact.

“You can be quite flippant I see” Talya hissed back. Rhaella simply shrugged.

“It’s not hard to wonder why the prince enjoys your company.”

Rhaella rolled her eyes at the comment. However, her retort was cut off by a loud boom that shook the tunnel.

Talya and Rhaella paused, glancing at each other. The source of noise must’ve been coming from the Dragon Pit.

“We must keep moving,” Talya said, grabbing Rhaella’s hand tightly.

They had nearly made it to the other side when a voice bellowed out, demanding them to stop.

“You two!” A guard shouted. Rhaella and Talya froze,not daring to move.

If they ran now, he would only follow. The guard approached them, drawing his sword.

Talya stepped in front, attempting to hide Rhaella’s face.

“What business do you have down here?” He asked.

“I am on an errand, by request of her grace the queen,” Talya said calmly.

“And you?” The guard called to Rhaella. 

“I am..assisting her,” Rhaella mumbled lamely. Her eyes remained downcast as they’d be an obvious giveaway.

Pushing Talya to the side, the guard grabbed Rhaella roughly, snatching the hood off of her.

“Lady Rhaella?” The guard said. Rhaella’s eyes darted to Talya, who shared her expression of fear.

“You were not to leave your quarters, by order of the queen,” He said.

‘His neck, drive your steak into it.’ A voice hissed inside of her. The familiar dark presence from her dreams had taken lodging in her day consciousness it seemed.

Flashes of her dreams, the green fire, and the dark figure polluted her mind.

And all the repressed rage, fear, and sorrow she carried manifested in that very moment. Something feral overtook her, seething and ripping inside her body.

A righteous violence took root in her.

Drawing the wooden shank, Rhaella stabbed it into the guard’s neck.

The guard was wide-eyed as he fell to the floor, blood gurgling in his throat.

Rhaella’s eyes followed him to the ground.

‘Finish it.’

Rhaella pulled the dagger from the guard’s neck, only to plunge it into his trachea.

Again. 

And again.

She could not stop. She would not stop. Rhaella’s grunts turned into a cry, formed from the deepest parts of her being.

“He’s dead, stop now!” Talya pleaded. She pulled Rhaella’s blood-soaked form from the guard.

Rhaella dropped her weapon to the ground as she let out heavy gasps. A certain rush perverted her blood. She looked down at the dark stains on the purple silks.

Talya dragged Rhaella to the ends of the tunnel, light giving way. There was no attempt to justify her actions and Talya dared not ask.

Had Rhaella’s actions been her own? She was not all sure. The whisper guided her,but it was her own hand that delieverd the blow.

She truly had gone mad. And her madness was now shared. 

[eradicatetehnormal]

Posted this as a comment, but here's a repost to tumblr:

I think that unless something big centered around Kairi happens, I'll always have mixed feelings for her. When I'm playing the games, I don't pay her much mind, but when I go back and think about her, it's so frustrating. Sora was reckless when he stood up to Riku with no weapon but got rewarded for his courage and learning his lesson about the power of connection. Riku is reckless when he joins Maleficent but gets to redeem himself by going through castle oblivion and eventually becoming a keyblade master. Kairi though? As mentioned in the video, when she's reckless in KH2 by jumping into the pile of heartless, she needs to be given grace by Riku and his ability to apparently pull keyblades out of his bum-hole.

It's almost as if the narrative, the very universe of Kingdom Hearts is punishing her for daring to try to be more involved. It's sad. I get that that's the point, but when Sora gets to rebound and save the universe despite his mistakes, it can feel upsetting and unsatisfying to see Kairi be able to barely progress in terms of her position. I get, understand, and agree with some points about the people who say that Kairi sucks because she doesn't fight, having a bit of a sexist mindset. Here's the thing though, when it comes to action movies, cheezy shounen anime, or most relevantly, RPGs, fights aren't just two dudes slicining at each other with "d1ldo sticks," as TheGamer'sJoint calls, them.

Fights carry narrative weight behind them. They represent things. Roxas fighting Sora represented the former's last-ditch effort to get out of the latter's shadow and take control of his life, only to end in tragedy, confirming, for then, that nobodies are fated to be forgotten. Xion's fight with Axel represents the hardships of crumbling friendships and how some desperately cling to something that isn't working out.

Kairi though? She never gets that big narrative fight. Sure, there's the fight with Xehanort, but that's shared with Sora. I guess it's cool that she got to stick it to the guy who tried to "fRiDgE" her, but most of the truly emotional stuff comes from the scene before that fight. It showed how the relationship between her and Sora has changed over time, where she hasn't proven herself to some losers in the real world, Sora has come to recognize her strength and is willing to fight with her as an equal possibly giving her some confidence for the battle. Still, she never has that character that's a foil to her.

She doesn't have anybody forcing her to push past her limits. She's essentially her own cheerleader. I guess Axel's there too? They didn't do anything with that.

I used to feel irritated with how much of her character is centered around her relationship with and to Sora and Riku, but the more I think about it, it makes sense. Particularly with Sora, I always thought of them as parallels to each other. Sora is everything Kairi wants to be. Someone who defied fate and expectations by rising above almost any challenge that faced him in spite of his weakness. Kairi is everything Sora thinks he is. Someone who, despite their best efforts and endless potential, end up failing most of the time and having to rely on others, never quite being able to get out of those training wheels. Sora is what happens when you TRY to be the knight. Kairi is what happens when you are FORCED to be the princess.

I hope that KH4 can find time to make that undertone to their relationship, more of an overtone, even if they're just feeling the relationship change through their hearts or something. I feel like people (myself included) miss Kairi's character because, beyond our misogyny, we're so accustomed to arm candy bimbos in action media, that we'll immediately look at most leading female characters through that lens. I wonder if more people would appreciate her character, had KH been a character-driven TV show instead of an action JRPG. I would love to get some more side material of her, whether it be a short series, a 3-hour visual novel, or another rhythm game. Something that really picks her brain.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Either Seteth x Alois x M!Byleth or Mauvier x Griss x M!Alear

Byleth, Seteth, Griss, and Alear are the feeders. You can choose which one you want to do. Maybe include gainer sex?

Didn't get much engage so did the latter option. Also like, Griss so good

Also, I did say nothing explicit and I kinda was just not gonna do the explicit stuff but like hrghhhh, changed my mind cause I have had many thoughts and also I want to get better with explicit stuff wahh. Also one of few people to not be anon so felt better doing it lol

So, I hope you enjoy this and hopefully the explicit stuff came out at least somewhat decent after not writing anything like it for so long.

Warning: This is a fetish story!

The Holy Land of Lythos is revered throughout all of Elyos. Even the oldest, most staunch Elusians are unable to to help themselves to hold some level of respect for the venerable country of the last remaining Divine Dragon who had been able to save the entirety of the continent. 

The title as the Holy One is still a name that Alear is unable to become accustomed to even after so many years of being referred to as such. Even after forgiving the Four Hounds who served one who wished for Elyos’ destruction and welcoming them into his own group, only a few questioning The Holy One’s decision. Even less opposition came about with the decision of Mauvier and Griss to dedicate themselves to him, the two’s service only acceptable after all the destruction wrought by Sombron. Unfortunately, those in agreement over the men’s new posts had been unsatisfied with the later news of Alear’s decision to marry the two men. 

Now, Alear wonders if many would still refer to him as the Holy One if they knew about his certain, larger preferences towards those of the same sex. Said preferences are all too noticeable now on Mauvier’s waistline.

The former Four Hounds member is nothing like his former knightly glory. Long gone is his built, statuesque figure hidden beneath bulky armor. His tall frame is now swathed in a heaping bundle of lard that is barely covered up by large, oversized clothes. Mauvier is a complete butterball with his new weight now. His own girth surpasses Alear’s and Griss’ combined with him also weighing more than the two men together; his massive pillowy gut drapes past his rounded, flabby waistline that is always squished and pinched by even the stretchiest and loosest of fabrics. His gut is by far the largest thing about Mauvier, even with the rest of his bloated figure also being encased by extra piles of fat. His thighs are one section of his body to also receive a generous amount of adipose. The two large thighs are wide enough to where the obese knight can no longer walk properly; his low amount of steps are all done by him needing to swing one wide, chair sized thigh in as big an arc he can muster with his enormous gut in the way past another equally sized thigh. His plush knees have even lost definition like the rest of his body, the two joints coated in sagging fat from his thighs. And Mauvier’s elbows are in almost the same condition, his flour bag sized biceps swaddled in so much fat that he has far less mobility in them than he could ever imagine. His arms rest at a permanent angle now from all the extra flab on him. The upper portions and sides of his large chest press into his arms like proofed dough smushed against more dough. The two breasts are larger than Mauvier’s flabby face now; both breasts manage to sit heavily atop his even heavier stomach despite all the flab packed into his chest that is close to cascading down his belly if not for the sheer size of his gut alone.

Mauvier’s figure a far cry from his former self, him ballooning in weight had been easy with both Alear and Griss to feed and stuff him. Unlike the morbidly obese knight, the two men still keep their trim, well kept for figures. Well, Alear does, Griss slowly starting to gain some extra heft now to even having a small starter belly that presses against his shirt coupled with a pair of thighs that fit snugly in his taut pants that are a couple pounds the point of being ill fitting. 

The three men are currently retired for the night, all three in the comfortable confines of Alear’s enormous room that makes even his former room in the Somniel seem like a minor lordling’s. No expense withheld, the entire area is furnished with only the finest materials and extravagant adornments. A fact that Griss holds in high contention, every single piece of furniture crafted from the sturdiest of wood so as to not utter a single creak or groan even when under the stress of having to accommodate a minimum of 600 pounds of lard from Mauvier.

None of the furniture has to suffer from Mauvier’s occupancy at the moment. Only Griss lounges on the largest seat in the room. A couch that can fit five entire men with extra room to breathe for each one seems more fitting for the Somniel and Divine Dragon’s army a few years back than for just three men. Even now, the couch still has ample room whenever the three sit together. And with only him using it, Griss reclines against the velvet armrest that is carefully arched and curved to perfectly embrace one’s back. He also helps himself to the food on the table, carelessly picking at the fried, buttery bits of chicken for an after dinner appetizer and putting it all away with nothing more than a contented sigh and a pat to his gut. 

Griss hears the shower still going on in the background as he diligently eats the food he himself put in front of him. “I might have to join and show them how to have some more fun if they don’t hurry up,” Griss makes no motion to get up despite the growing erection in his pants that press against the flab on his thighs. He doesn’t bother when he can hear his husbands fucking in the shower; the two tire themselves out, the heavy, potent thuds against the walls that slowly devolve into tired, meager thuds muddled with desperate exhausted moans. And just as planned, he hears the water turn off not too long after. Half of his plate is still left. By the time he reaches for the last bit of meat, the two freshly washed men come back from the adjacent bathroom. 

Mauvier walks in first. The heavyset man waddles past the wide doorways with a sturdy grip on them to heave his enormous body past it. Mauvier is only clothed in his nightclothes, the attire made up only by a pair of far excruciatingly small shorts that pinch his thighs and fupa in all their enormity. Mauvier’s two globes for ass cheeks stick out the back of the shorts; the waistband only covers three quarters of their volume. Alear walks behind the muffin top Mauvier. He rests a hand on Mauvier’s side, right where the sides of his abs would be 400 pounds and countless binges ago. ‘Guiding’ him, Alear slowly pushes one of his husbands to the couch despite the two’s exhaustion. Alear’s shoulders notably sag more than Mauvier’s, the petite man having much less stamina than the other two. Mauvier also struggles with his own issues of moving with a far too stuffed gut, the wobbling mass of fat gurgling as he walks. Despite their earlier activities weighing them both down, Alear helps get Mauvier onto the couch just in time for Griss to stand and get out of the way.

“Oh I hope you don’t think I’m sitting myself out,” Mauvier right in the center of the massive, widespread couch, Griss gets comfortable on the floor. On his knees, he presses his face against Mauvier’s gut. He hugs the large sagging expanse that drapes off the couch itself. He wastes no time in picking up the speed of his fondling. Fingers grope at the lowest rivulets of flab on his gut, hands squish and jostle the stuffed belly, and his face sinks into the expansive fat right next to Mauvier’s cavernous navel. “Oh come now. Stop staring and join in,” Griss taunts Alear after pulling himself away for a quick breath. “I’m sure this pig has more than enough room for dessert,” 

Mauvier only sits back on the couch. He rests both his heavy arms on the backrest, the two large, flabby arms framing his bloated, rounded out face. His mouth open, the older man’s moans come out in barely choked out sounds; barely able to hold himself back, the most he can do is close his eyes and try his best to keep himself down. 

His mouth is swiftly closed by a large chunk of sugary sweet bread crammed inside. Alear shoves another piece the instant Mauvier finishes the first. “Sorry, you just seemed so hungry,” A large, embarrassed smile is spread across Alear’s face.

“When isn’t he hungry,” Griss removes himself from Mauvier’s gut and goes lower. He lifts the mass of fat with both his hands. The warm, plush lardscape of Mauvier’s thighs and underside of his stomach await him as he drapes the pile of blubber over his head. The sounds from Mauvier’s gut reverberate in his ear, the flab pressing into his head. “He just eats and eats. That’s all he’s good for anyways. And I deserve my reward for making sure such a greedy hog never goes hungry,” Griss laughs to himself. Sweat mars his face from the heat radiating off of Mauvier. Even after the shower, he still smells the faint musk coming from his dick. He tugs at Mauvier’s bulging shorts. The fabric strains from his fat pad, the soft curvature of the doughy fupa teasing and begging Griss to come closer. So he does, pulling and tugging at the taut fabric that resists giving him his coveted treasure. 

Alear thankfully helps him by pulling from the sides. He sits on Mauvier’s churning gut that groans from the extra weight. He straddles the large mound of fat the best he can, giving Mauvier the rest of one bread—the knight dutifully and greedily devouring it—and helps pull the fabric down the best that he can. “I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself,” Alear gives his husband a quick peck on his porcine cheeks and fondles his breasts.

“Got it,” Griss wheezes out. His arms strain as he goes back to holding up Mauvier’s gut, a much harder task with Alear sitting on it. Mauvier’s fat pad exposed, Griss chuckles to himself as he sees only the tip of Mauvier’s engorged head poking out in between all the flab. “Since you can’t even reach it yourself, let good ol’ Griss give you a hand,” He pushes back Mauvier’s fat with his free hand. And without wasting another moment, Griss wraps his lips around his husband’s shaft. 

Alear feels himself shaking as the seat beneath him wobbles. Mauvier’s gut keeps jiggling as Griss enjoys himself down there. Alear currently not feeding Mauvier, he instead tends to his gut the best that he can while sitting on it. Draping himself over his husband, his hands rub and care for the stuffed, churning mess for a gut. Alear nuzzles his neck, the large, swollen rolls making up his neck jiggling as he kisses them and his own cheek rubs against the fuzzy beard that makes Mauvier’s face look even fatter and more puffed out.

“M-more food,,,” Mauvier whines with both eyes closed and his head tilted back. His knees come close to buckling despite being seated. Both his tremendous thighs brought closer and squishing Griss while he desperately sucks him off. 

Alear promptly reaches for the plate of food and begins to shovel more bread into his mouth. “I was worried that you might be full, but I guess I don’t need to worry about you ever being hungry,” 

Griss’ face is unbearably hot as he continues to give Mauvier a messy blowjob. Even after taking and swallowing an entire load the instant Mauvier’s dick hit the back of throat, Griss coaxes another from him—the mild discomfort from being sucked dry only fair to him. And Griss receives Mauvier’s salty cum; he swallows the tired spurts that Mauvier’s spent, half hard dick ejaculates. He quickly pulls himself away and frees himself from underneath Mauvier’s expansive gut. Griss takes deep breaths of the fresh air as beads of sweat drip down his face. He only allows himself a brief respite as he stands up and drapes himself over Mauvier’s gut.

“Oh we’re only just getting started, hog. I hope you’re ready. Even the pure little Divine One can’t wait to do unspeakable things to you,”

Alear’s shame pressing against his own shorts, he practically humps his fat ass for a husband. “I’ll make sure to take good care of you,”

The two men give Mauvier a kiss on his cheeks. And for Mauvier’s part, all he does is let out a wheezed out moan, ready to enjoy the night with his husbands. 

[penumbraal]

@trelonkan: “ it’s one of the great tragedies of life — something always changes. ” (( from teacher suguru 🤔 || house md prompts, still accepting

change is something megumi thinks he's grown accustomed to. even in spite of the fact that he was able to more or less enjoy almost a decade of stability, it's the big changes in his life that have informed the way he sees the world, that have shaped who he is.

his father and stepmother walked away, left he and his sister with dwindling funds, cheap convenience store food and stern voicemails and mailed warnings of utilities about to be shut off, and in spite of his acceptance there remained an anger in his chest that festered, wild and thorny flowers in bloom, piercing skin and drawing blood of anyone who got too close.

his sale to the zen'in was stopped, and that changed his life, too. ( megumi tends not to care to think about the what - ifs, but he still recognizes that he wouldn't be the same person, even if he won't think about how. ) he had the luxury of spending that near - decade of stability with virtually no interest in being part of the sorcerer world, even when satoru and suguru very often brought it with them wherever they went.

then, tsumiki fell asleep, wouldn't wake up — and so megumi had to, had no choice but to wake up.

sorcerers come and go ; people die. megumi thinks he understands it as a facet of change. he thinks he understands change as consequences of actions, as cause and effect, as decisions that create branches out of the course of one's life, creates ripples. he understands change as gains and losses, and the way they affect the heart. tsumiki's loss ( temporary though it is, he prays ) leaves him with emptiness. finding best friends in itadori and kugisaki, trusted confidants in the second years, in satoru and suguru, despite how easily they all can annoy him, leaves him full. both feelings coexist all the same, but loss feels like something that becomes more and more difficult to stomach.

it's been silent as megumi contemplates this, always thinking, and yet never really able to turn his thoughts into something he can accurately express, even though he has come close more than once.

it becomes frustrating when he's seeking an understanding he can't quite reach ; because, megumi ought to be accustomed to change, and yet he sits in the wake of itadori's revival, the goodwill event, his victory over the finger bearer, feeling more unsettled by it all than ever.

❝ geto - sensei ... ❞ he starts, still seemingly unsatisfied with the thoughts in his mind. ❝ how ... do you deal with it, then ... ? the changing. ❞

[hwangbiz]

WINTER TASK

Scenario 3: There’s always whispering in the industry. Chatter that says false information or rude comments about your idol and their fellow peers. Unfortunately, they overhear a conversation that they shouldn’t. What will be their reaction? Walk away? Speak up for themselves?

Last summer seemed like a lifetime ago. The first time that Hwang Eunbi had seen the BPM building, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia mixed with regret. She’d remembered the first time she’d seen the Source Music building and of course, at that time, Source hadn’t had any money and she was just a trainee. No one knew who she was and barely anyone knew what Source was either and despite the fact that she didn’t know where her career would go from there, she had been satisfied that she was still working hard towards her dream. That was not the same as this. She was an adult now, not some scrawny 16-year-old with precise coordination and an attitude so disciplined that she’d sometimes forgotten to let herself have fun, and BPM was as small as Source had been back then but BPM had money. A set of wealthy men worked together to take experienced idols and give them the treatment they deserved. This was what she needed. It was a second chance to do things without regret, but again, that seemed like a lifetime ago. Last winter and this winter, she felt like two completely different people. 

As she leaned against the stainless steel banister of the glass-wrapped porch she looked out onto the streets of Seoul. Despite being wrapped in a fuzzy winter coat, her body felt slightly warm. That was because of the fact that she’d just gotten done trying to dance out her frustrations and been left unsatisfied. She’d tried everything so far to clear her mind: binging Netflix, visiting with her family, playing with Ankko, and even spending extra time in the gym. Dance was her last resort but instead of clearing her mind, it only made the thoughts swirling in her head, even worse. When Yuna had pulled her aside at the Winter Gala to give her a soft interrogation about her best friend, she’d thought nothing of it, at first, but now, it consumed her. If anyone were to be able to tell what Eunbi’s hidden feelings were, it would be one of her members, right? Five people knew her better than anyone on earth, and Yuna was one of them. Yuna had crossed her mind that day, too, when she’d arrived at BPM. They’d done so much together as GFriend. There was a part of Eunbi that didn’t know who she was an idol without the “SinB” being followed by a “of Yeojachingu” because, after six years, it became her life, and then, boom, it was taken from her just like that. Even without the title of a group, though, they were still family. Sowon who acted in the role of a concerned mother trying so hard to get Eunbi to behave despite knowing that she didn’t listen. Yerin who was her best friend. A friendship so intense, they wrote a song about each other. Her partner in crime. Eunha who had known her since long before they ever reached Source or were in a group together. Her soulmate who never left her side. Yuna who would put up with the petty argument that Eunbi started with her just for jokes and always entertained her when she came up with silly ideas. Yewon who in all her quiet glory was powerful and strong in ways that people didn’t realize, reminded her of a Disney princess and was funnier than most people would ever get the pleasure of knowing. The five of them were her sisters. She’d gotten to stay with Yewon and Eunha, at least, and she was thankful for that, but still, sometimes, she felt like something had been stolen from her. The life she’d become accustomed to was taken from her and she’d had little to no say in it. Maybe it was just about how hard change was. At the end of the day, no matter how it had ended, even if they were all still at the same company together now, it would feel different. It would have changed. Everything changes in the end. 

Even friendships change. As she closed her eyes and slid down with her back against the glass wall, her face pressed into its cool surface seeking some release from her body’s overheating from exertion. She could practically see the joy and shock on Yuju’s face as she thought of that moment. She’d been inside drinking champagne, which she knew nearly nothing about but had been learning from Jimin, and having the time of her life. She always did when she was with him and apparently, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. She’d thought Yuju was in trouble and that there was some sort of emergency but when she’d emerged from the glamoured hotel ballroom, it turned out that she was the one in an emergency. Everything her older friend had said seemed like a blur in hindsight. Yuju had been watching them like a hawk all night so far and although Eunbi had caught her a few times, she didn’t think anything of it. That was until her friend had asked if she and Jimin were finally together. Finally. That word… Had this been something that Yuna was waiting for? Eunbi had been so confused and blindsided that she’d just chalked it up to her friend being silly. The two of them and the rest of their members always laughed about the rumours of them dating their good friends. Eunbi and Moonbin. Umji and Seungkwan. Sowon and Jeonghan. They’d been asked about it in interviews before and her  answer was always the same. It’s not impossible for men and women to be friends. That was the resolution they always told interviewers and it was true. Being in the idol industry since she was a child meant that she had plenty of friends, men and women, who also became idols and debuted following their dreams just like she did. It didn’t mean that she was dating any of them, but with this one…a small part of Eunbi understood. She’d known about the rumour of Jimin dating a GFriend member that had been going around for an unreasonable amount of time and dating her best friend surely wasn’t the worst rumour going around about her. 

Eunbi had heard all sorts of things said behind her back. It was almost always by people who didn’t actually know any of the girls very well but she’d heard people call her names, assume that she must be rude because of her facial expressions, and even some people say that she’s not as talented as people hyped her up to seem. She’d always been a person of strong conviction, though. She didn’t care what others thought. What mattered most was if she was satisfied with herself and she was. At least, she thought that she was. She’d had that dark period for a few years but redebuting had pulled her right out of that. Of course, when she thought back on that dark period, those who knew her best made it easy to rely on them. Even if she didn’t believe in herself, she had them cheering for her and she felt like she could do anything because of it. The rumours usually never mattered to her. This was different, though, because it didn’t feel wholly untrue. If it was just a rumour amongst staff, then it would be different, but it was her own eonnie who pulled her aside and asked if the date between she and Jimin was a romantic one and after that, she’d been so conflicted that she’d wanted some sort of confirmation and so she’d gone to her favourite stylist.

When they’d left Source Music, they didn’t take any staff with them, no, but some people had come voluntarily. That was how close they’d become with their stylists. They felt like a part of an extended family, too. Saying goodbye to them had been one of the most difficult things to do but they’d been presently surprised to see some of them at BPM when they’d started working there, too. It was a few days after the gala and they had schedules to film a present for Christmas for Na.v. Eunbi, who never normally got up early, had snuck out of the dorm before anyone could see her. She’d practically begged one of their managers to get her to the venue earlier than Eunha and Umji so she could have time alone with the staff. Her excuse of taking her role as interim leader seriously and wanting to know what went on behind the scenes before the girls’ arrived was so easy to see through but the older woman hadn’t called her out on it and instead just told her what time to meet in front of the dorm. She needed to know the truth about this rumour and where it had come from and more than that, she wanted so badly to hear someone else say that it was silly so that she wouldn’t have to face the reality of the feelings that had been hiding in the back of her mind since she’d first heard of it a few days prior. 

The moment that she’d climbed out of the van, she’d made a beeline for hair and makeup. Her little furlined crocs smacked against the pavement but when she’d reached the door, she was stopped in her tracks. She heard her own name, and at first, she thought that she’d simply been spotted by their stylist but as she neared the dressing rooms, she realized that everyone inside had their backs turned. She knew better, usually, than to listen in on conversations that didn’t belong to her but her brain had been so scrambled for the past couple of days that she was almost desperate to hear something that would confirm her suspicions, even if it meant only hearing the tail half of statements made about her.

“-announced that they’ll be doing their military service soon. You know how much she hates being alone,”

Military service? They couldn’t be talking about BTS…right? There was no way they were talking about Jimin. Yuju had imagined what she’d said to Eunbi. She was sure of it. 

“She’s not alone, though. She has Yewon and Eunha and she has us,”

The uplifting positive voice behind that statement was exactly the stylist she’d come to speak to. 

“I’m only concerned because of how long their relationship has been.”

“We don’t even know that they are dating for a fact.” “Isn’t it obvious? She practically had stars in her eyes watching him during their return to music shows this year,”

“Lots of women have stars in their eyes when they look at Park Jimin,”

“Not the way that she does. She looks at him like she’s in love,”

There it was. Eunbi stood up straight and cleared her throat making her presence known as she pushed the door open. She was good at putting on a brave face. It was her talent. That was why she’d been able to go on with the rest of her day acting like nothing had happened and she hadn’t heard anything. It worked for her until they’d gotten home and then, she’d fallen apart so easily. She had thrown herself on the bed, buried her body under the covers and sat thinking for longer than just a while. She’d even told Jimin they’d had to cancel their plans that day which only made the situation all too real when she realized that canceling felt like she was missing something immensely. The worst part of all of this is that Jimin was the person she would usually talk to about things like this but she just couldn’t. Not this time. She would have to tell him eventually, sure, but it wasn’t fair to try and navigate this with him while her feelings weren’t clear to her. 

She rolled over, determined to find a resolution to this new information, and pulled out her phone. 

“Okay,” she said looking over at Ankko. The pup had been there for just a few days as they’d had fewer public schedules and more rehearsals. It was a good chance to see her. “I’m going to sit here and I’m going to look through my phone objectively like…from another person’s point of view, you know? Just to see if this is the phone of Park Jimin’s girlfriend,”

She knew it was somewhat ridiculous to talk to her pet but thinking out loud was really helpful sometimes and she was further encouraged by the fact that Ankko left her place to come lay next to Eunbi. She held her phone high above her face careful to keep a good grip on it as she rested on her back. Eunbi had flings before, yes, but never a real relationship so she wasn’t even sure where to start in deciding if this was truly something to be concerned about. She decided to begin with her camera roll first. 

Surely if there were any weight to this rumour, there would be some evidence of it there. She’d taken plenty of videos and pictures with Jimin. Of course, a lot of that leaned heavily on their hobby of learning dances together or teaching each other what they knew when it came to the videos but the pictures were just things Eunbi took when they hung out. They were only in her phone and Jimin’s as they’d never dare break the carefully constructed barrier between their friendship and the real world but Eunbi loved taking pictures and documenting memories. She and Jimin had a lot of memories, that was for sure. 

She scrolled to the very top of her camera roll. Pictures the two of them had taken together at one of the schedules that BTS and Gfriend had around the time of her group’s debut. She remembered how hard she’d laughed that day, having to pretend like they weren’t as close as they were for the sake of avoiding scandal. Back then, they’d only been friends for a few years but they’d known each other for at least ten years. He was one of the very few people able to see past her pouty demeanor during her trainee days and even though, he was struggling with his own things independently, he’d gone out of his way to befriend her and help her. When it came to dancing, they were both perfectionists and what she lacked in ability when it came to having the smooth and flowy movements needed for Gfriend, he had gained from years of contemporary. Alternatively, BTS had debuted with a hip-hop concept and that was her specialty. They balanced each other out and as it turned out, it wasn’t just in dance, either. It was no secret that Eunbi had a slight reputation for being a little cold around her trainee days and while she was always kind to other idol hopefuls, she was intimidating to them, too. She was well aware of it. She rarely ever cried or complained or showed any feelings besides discipline or her sarcastic joking playfulness. No one would know how hard she always was on herself in private or how many times she’d have privately convinced herself not to give up. Jimin, of course, was the opposite. He was the type of person to show his feelings freely. Eunbi, over time with her own group, had learned to be less guarded with her emotions, too, but as she looked at the old photo, all she could think of was how opposite they had been back then. 

She couldn’t help but think of how many milestones there were in her life since they’d met. Even in just the past three years, it felt like her life had been whipped up in a whirlwind and then changed. They’d been at the same company and then her group had disbanded and all of the self-hatred that she’d felt since Fever era had come crashing down on her. All of those times that she’d watched herself on the monitors and wanted to do everything over and over because it wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t perfect enough. Those feelings that she’d been afraid to share with her members. They were emotions that she had to hold close to her heart because she didn’t feel that anyone would understand. Who could understand being told that you’re beautiful and talented every single day but still hating seeing yourself perform? She’d felt so…ridiculous and absurd. Even people who didn’t know much about Gfriend agreed that she was one of the best dancers of their generation of Kpop but those things were hard to listen to when she wasn’t satisfied with her own performance. And who exactly was she to say all of this to? She couldn’t share it with Buddy. After all the times that she’d told them that it was important to love themselves first, she would sound like a hypocrite. After all of the times that she’d confidently called herself pretty, even recently, she felt like a fraud back then and it had taken the disbandment and Viviz to wake her up. It had taken those events to make her realize that even after years, she was doing well and not only was she doing well but she was doing what she wanted to do. She was living a dream that an eight-year-old Eunbi would hardly be able to believe now. Through all of those events, if she really thought about it, he’d been there for her. Even when things were hard for them both, they’d always supported each other, but…dating?

Even just laying here looking through her photo gallery, her eyes began welling up with tears as the realization started to hit her. She’d had flings before but never anything serious. She’d never been able to get fully emotionally invested in anyone. In her mind, it has always been because she’d been so busy with Gfriend activities and then with Viviz but…the more she thought about it that couldn’t have been true. After all, she was emotionally invested in the friends she’d made, in her group members, and even in Ankko. She hummed as she looked over at the pup who nuzzled her face closer to Eunbi’s neck. Eunbi chuckled and gave the white furball a pat on the head before turning back to her phone. She pressed the button and the screen turned black before she chucked it halfway across her bed.

“Ankko…could it be that this entire time we’ve been dating and I just didn’t realize?” she furrowed her brows at the thought. “In that case, poor Jimin oppa. His girlfriend doesn’t even kiss him,”

She let out a loud laugh which startled the dog on her chest but she couldn’t help it. The thought was silly. She was sure, now, that if she didn’t know then neither did he. They were close friends and they did the things that close friends normally did with each other. They spoke about their troubles and helped each other when it was necessary. They were just being kind to each other…right? For a relationship, romantic feelings…of love were necessary. 

It was then that it was brought back to her mind. Before Yuna had ever uttered a word of the idea of Eunbi and Jimin dating…she’d felt it. She’d felt it and she’d so easily dismissed it because she wasn’t sure what it meant, but…hadn’t she felt her cheeks practically burst into flames when he’d told her that she’d look pretty the night of the Gala and the sensation of her own heart swelling in her chest when she realized how nice they looked together. Those weren’t feelings that someone felt for a friend. Her fingers ghosted up to her lips and brushed over them slightly remembering how they’d met his cheek that night. Something small and not unusual for them…but significant to her at that moment and she hadn’t been able to figure out why. How was she supposed to know if she loved someone if she’d never known before? Was it when you missed that person even when they were with you? When you wished that you could be around them all the time? When you knew your life would be so much worse without them than with them? When you smiled simply thinking of them? When tears came to your eyes at the idea of being away from them for long? When they came to your mind every time you saw the smallest thing related to them? When seeing them happy made you happy? When you felt a deep sense of warmth and safety with them? Maybe…when you knew that you wanted them to be in your life for as long as they were willing…

She felt all of those things for Jimin and more. It would be a risk telling him so…in case, all of this…everything the stylists said and what she was thinking…if it was all just in her head. She’d be breaking her own heart...but she owed it to herself to move on if it wasn’t true and she could only know it if she told him. She sat up grabbed her phone and with her fingers clutched tightly around it…she placed the call without hesitation. 

[samethyst01]

A Mother's Love: Chapter One

“—and I really do think that is, uh, the measure of a real actor, you know, someone who can… not only understand the director’s vision but understand their character as well and imbue it with a sense of— of purpose and realism, right?”

Coraline had long since stopped listening to the radio. It was on in the background, and playing at a subtle volume, but she hadn’t actually paid attention to what it was saying for a few hours. She was far too lost in the piece, her brush-strokes far more deliberate and reflective of the whole idea, rather than moving of their own accord in time with her wandering mind. That’s usually how she’d do it when she was bored – keep the radio on and listen to whatever nonsense she found tolerable, letting her body move the brush wherever it would.

But this time was different, this time she had fallen into a far more focused motion, her entire being centred around getting this image, this idea, perfect. Her tongue gently parted her lips as she worked, an idiosyncrasy she had apparently picked up from watching Wybie at work. With one hand she adjusted the easel slightly and with the other she added some subtle discolouration to the clouds, unsatisfied with their greyness. They weren’t perfect enough. She needed them to be perfect.

In the years since she had moved back home, Coraline had become something of an artisan. She had always known art would be her career of choice, or at the very least, known it for a while. Gardening was her parents’ thing, and while she assumed she might one day just fall into the routine of it, as so many did with their parents’ line of work, she found herself growing more averse to the idea as she matured. The days spent back in Ashland were filled with exploration and a sense of wondering, about life and about death and about how much she wanted to express it all in her own way.

With a gentle flick of the brush, the last distant bird was added to the sky and it – the entire idea – was finished. She adjusted the easel once again before stepping back and admiring it, the sound of the radio providing a nearly imperceptible soundtrack.

“Well, look at that…”

She murmured to herself, gently biting the tip of her thumb.

Before she could fully process the reality of what she had drawn in her focused yet entirely unfocused state, her phone buzzed with a message. She reached down and grabbed it, working on autopilot, reading an alert for an appointment in thirty minutes. She inhaled deeply, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling and grabbing her coat, sliding it on and grabbing her keys from the desk. Without turning back, she headed out the door.

It was a slightly gloomy, overcast day, so Coraline didn’t feel too uncomfortable wearing her coat. In fact, it was just the right temperature for it, not so warm that it was unnecessary and not so cold that it wasn’t enough. It was… perfect. She trotted to the edge of the sidewalk and held out her hand for an oncoming bus. It screeched to a halt in front of her, and as she was getting on she looked across the street and watched a stray cat disappear around the corner of a building. Its fur was jet black.

With her headphones in, music dancing into her ears, Coraline sat back on the bus and gently played with her phone, rolling it around between her fingers. It was just another ordinary day, of course it was, in every sense of the word ‘ordinary’, and yet something felt strange. It was a different motion, an off-centre kind of thing, a vague alteration to the very specific routine she had become accustomed to over the years. But try as she might, Coraline couldn’t figure out why, or what it was that had begun bothering her so much.

Before she could formulate an idea, a proper one, she had arrived at her stop and without thinking much else, she promptly got off the bus. As she was crossing the street she could swear she saw the cat again, staring at her from the window of a high-rise or watching her from a coffee shop. There it was again, a stray black tail here, a pointed ear there, the shine of a dark blue eye in the reflection of her phone screen. At the very least, this eye was more like a marble than a button.

Coraline reached the familiar door rather quickly, gently pressing the buzzer next to it. She held herself close, wrapping her coat around her chest and stealing glances around the street. Maybe she was just tired. That had to have been it, there was no way that—

—that he was back.

The thought secretly terrified Coraline. Because if he was back then so was everything, so was all the horror she has become convinced no longer scared her, so were the ghosts and the buttons and the eyes and—

“Hello?”

A husky voice escaped from the door’s intercom. Coraline was jolted out of her sudden daze, taking one last look around the street before turning back to the door. She cleared her throat before speaking, pressing a different buzzer in order to do so.

“It’s Coraline… is that you, Ingrid?”

She tried not to look, but she couldn’t help it. She could see him now, clear as day, sat in the middle of the road as cars just drove on past him like he didn’t exist, like they couldn’t see him. There was a reply from the intercom but Coraline couldn’t hear it. All she could think about was the black cat sitting in the middle of the road, staring at her…

…and how it had no reflection.

******

“So. Coraline.”

Ingrid folded her hands in her lap as she sat across from her younger patient, her long black hair tied into a messy bun. Glasses were perched on her face and she had a prominent scar running across her left cheek. Coraline tried not to focus on it when the two of them first met, three years ago, but she was always so fascinated by the mystery of it. She had never been so rude as to ask where it came from, the idea of embarrassing her therapist smothering her desire for knowledge.

“Tell me about the past couple of weeks. How it’s been going?”

There was a pause before Coraline spoke. She had taken some time to muster the words, wondering about how she’d phrase them. Would it come off as convincing as she’d hoped?

“…good. Yeah, it’s been good.”

The sentence came out slightly unconfident, but the hesitancy was balanced out by an earnest undertone. Ingrid nodded, already prepared to grapple with her patient for some honesty.

“And your art? Are you still painting?”

Coraline laughed.

“Well of course I am, it’s my passion. I actually finished a piece this morning before I got here.”

This was the moment.

“Oh, that’s great. May I ask what it is?”

The young woman’s smile faltered and she looked down, biting her lip. She hadn’t fully processed it herself, and it felt like a bullet was slowly being driven into her chest. Not a knife – the pain was small and localised. It was just a gunshot wound that took minutes to arrive.

“The… Pink Palace.”

It was hard to get the words out, but she managed it, a heavy breath escaping her lips as she did, one she had no idea she was even holding in. Ingrid sat forward with intrigue. She knew Coraline had been hiding something but she wasn’t aware that it was this. The young woman had spoken about her trauma only once before, during their first meeting, and only in the vaguest of terms, as if it were something so terrible that even the mere thought of it was too painful.

But the truth was that Coraline knew nobody would believe her.

“I remember you mentioning it the first time we met, actually. Our first session. You said something about it being hard for you to talk about.”

With a slight glimmer in her eyes, Ingrid slowly sat forward and pressed her two index fingers together. Coraline tried not to meet her gaze, her eyes flitting from the bookshelf on her right to the ragged plant on her left, and then to the window, but like a magnet it began to attract her eyes back towards Ingrid’s. She stared at her therapist for a good few seconds before letting out another withheld breath.

“Nothing I say would make you believe what really happened.”

She sat back and folded her arms, deep in thought. Pursing her lips, Ingrid considered her words for a moment before deciding to pluck on this particular thread some more.

“And… what did really happen, Coraline?”

The young woman thought about how she’d tell it. She had fantasised about it many times before, in fact. She pictured herself on late night television talk shows, or podcasts, telling her story to the world. She imagined herself relaying every detail, from the moment she and her parents arrived in Ashland, unpacking their things and exploring the Pink Palace. The mist seemed constant, the air always thick and heavy, the sky dark, rain constantly either dripping or pouring.

They’d met the neighbours next, the strange gymnast Bobinsky and his imaginary mouse circus above, and the two retired actresses Spink and Forcible below. Coraline spent the first few days just missing her friends back home, and when she wasn’t moping over that she was exploring the grounds and the garden. She remembered that day clear as crystal, the day when all her dull and regular moments washed away in the wake of something far more terrible.

But she couldn’t have known it, couldn’t have known that cat would drag her into such evil! She had also met Wybie that day, the boy who would quickly become her best friend. So it wasn’t all bad, right? No, it wasn’t. But the full context almost swallowed the shining light that Wybie was. If she took just a second to consider the rest of the story, she’d remember everything that came after that. The mice at the foot of her bed, the door in the living room, the tunnel, the other place – all its secrets and horrors with it – and worst of all—

“Coraline?”

Ingrid’s voice jolted the young woman back to full focus and she coughed awkwardly. She’d been spacing out. Her therapist sighed softly and leant back, coming to accept the fact that this particular memory was going to stay hidden for the foreseeable.

“We don’t have to talk about that. Not if you’re not ready.”

At her words, Coraline gave her therapist an intense look, one filled with a kind of desperation she hadn’t felt in years. It was as if she was trying to muster the courage to let it all out, only now coming to terms with the monstrous nature of it all. The nightmares spoke volumes. She was still scared of that place, and its occupant. Oh, and that occupant. How she wished she could forget it all. But it was time for her to remember.

“I dreamt of her again.” She whispered.

[httpkryzs]

Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone

01-30-23

Have you ever felt stuck in your daily life or unsatisfied with it? Previously, I had a fear of pushing myself over my perceived limits. I tend to overthink situations because I'm terrified of people's opinions, which makes me avoid social interactions. I hardly never start a conversation or talk first. I also avoid looking at faces when I don't know them or when I'm uncomfortable. Every time I try to socialize, there's dead air and awkwardness all around me. Every time I see someone else socializing, I feel envious of them as they have a great sense of humor.

As we are all aware, the term "comfort zone" describes a mental state of security and familiarity in which we feel secure, relaxed, and with little to no stress. It may also allude to our accustomed routines and behaviors, which help us feel safe and refrain from taking chances. One can experience personal growth and development by stepping beyond of their comfort zone, which frequently entails attempting new things, taking chances, and overcoming challenges. Stepping out of your comfort zone can bring several benefits. Personal growth, new experiences, creates opportunities, improves decision-making, increases adaptability and of course it also benefits us the most in overcoming our greatest fears. We face our worries since doing so advances us. If you don't learn to confront your negativity, you won't be able to leave where you are. It is impossible to acquire a development attitude, act, accept change, and be successful. Instead, you'll stay mired in the same circumstance. We all have different comfort zones; some people want to be alone while others enjoy socializing. Knowing the type of comfort we desire is crucial. We never know what tricks our lives will play on us. We are aware of what to do and what will console us if we tumble again. Knowing one's limitations entails accepting them as well as those of one's abilities, knowledge, resources, time, and energy. Realistic expectations, task prioritization, and burnout prevention are all beneficial. Knowing one's limitations enables one to make wiser choices, concentrate on what they can manage, and ask for help when they need it. Recognizing what makes you feel comfortable and secure as well as what prevents you from moving outside of your comfort zone is necessary to pinpoint the triggers that keep you there. Fear of failing, dread of the unknown, dread of being judged, lack of confidence, previous experiences, and routines that are comfortable can all be common triggers. You may work to overcome them and push yourself to develop and attempt new things by recognizing your triggers. There are several reasons why people may stay in their comfort zone. Such as, fear of failure, fear of the unknown, lack of confidence, and Past experiences or trauma's. Taking deliberate steps toward new experiences and pushing yourself to attempt something new are necessary for stepping beyond of your comfort zone. By setting realistic goals, taking small steps of progress, surrounding yourself with supportive people, and celebrating your achievements can help you to slowly go out of your comfort zone. In breaking out of your comfort zone also includes ,embracing the unknown and taking risks you might feared. By overcoming fear through mindset shift involves changing the way you perceive and respond to fear. Accepting failure as a part of the journey involves recognizing that failures and setbacks are inevitable in life, and viewing them as opportunities for learning and growth.

It's common for many of us to go through periods in life where we don't want to leave our comfort zone, but as we move forward in life, we should gradually work toward leaving our comfort zone. We should gradually face and overcome our fears in order to grow as people and become better versions of ourselves. We shouldn't be shy about talking to people or expressing our opinions. Everything takes time, including the process of getting ready to become a better version of ourselves. Like a cocoon preparing to become a lovely butterfly, so are we. Getting out of your comfort zone can be a challenge, but it is a necessary step for personal growth and fulfillment. Encouragement to do so, can come from setting achievable goals, focusing on the benefits, seeking support from friends and family, embracing failure, taking slow steps, and rewarding yourself for progress and successes. By taking these steps, you can build confidence and overcome fear, leading to a more fulfilling life.

@joezerkemuel

[galaxythixf]

@knifvd​ said: lights out for sage & yoru uwu Send " lights out " for the sender to hug the receiver and collapse in their arms || Accepting

" ... " Slow breathing begins to feel natural as the familiar cool settles along his bleeding wounds, bullet shells clattering to the muddied ground around him in an instant. The blur of his vision fixes itself as the pain he previously laid in began to subside, brown eyes glancing up at the healer that worked tirelessly over him. Reckless actions aren't becoming of him, he never makes a habit of committing to something he knows will be done in vain, yet that's the reason he's lying here. This was a suicide mission. A mission with very little hope of success but Yoru refused to believe in failure.

Even at odds he remained unfazed, unbothered, unwavering. There was no wall tall enough to intimidate him, and no enemy strong enough to deter him from taking them on. No matter the position, he wasn't afraid of a challenge, even if it felt impossible. It's confidence that carried him to the victory that he sought out and exactly what held them against their enemies despite being completely outnumbered. Alone, this wouldn't have mattered but working with a team was still something he was growing accustomed to. Relying on others wasn't something ingrained in him, it was something he was still learning — trusting was something he was still learning.

Their victory was within arms length, trusting that she'd handle the defusal while he kept watch for any stragglers because even bruised and bleeding he would hold his own. Finger heavy on the trigger even as his body cried for rest. He was relentless. Unyielding. His steps remain light as he surveys the area and if not for their enemy's careless footsteps behind him he would have missed them entirely. Turning swiftly wasn't enough, not when she's in direct line of sight.

This was reckless. This was stupid.

It was necessary.

Yoru teleported in an instant, with the intent of acting as a shield while she operated the bomb but firing the last of his clip into the enemy that threatened her, as they happily retaliated.

Now laying here under her care he feels unsatisfied — frustrated that he was so easily on the brink of death despite his best efforts working out in the end. It's the silence that suffocates him and the droplets of rain that paint his frustrations for him as it began to fall. Minutes pass before he feels well enough to sit up with a groan, hair beginning to stick to the sides of his temple as light pitter patter turned to rainfall. He looks at her with his thanks hanging off of his tongue, but the look she returns to him is tired as the healing wounds she tended to suddenly stung as arms threw themselves around his shoulders.

"Hey."

Teeth grit in response to the gesture but the duelist made no effort to move her. First she pleaded that he stay behind rather than attempt an assignment this dangerous and now he had to wonder if she knew it'd turn out like this. On the verge of kissing death for the price of their victory, muddied with battle scars to tell their tale. Is that what urged her to insist accompanying him? Now ... the idea felt like a blessing.  

Her grip grew lighter while the weight of her torso grew heavier. "Hey! Hey!" His frustrations grew the more her limp body weighed him, an arm looping around her middle to support her. Exhaustion. "Great." Yoru curses under his breath despite how quickly he accepts his circumstances, forcing himself to rise, free arm swiftly looping around her legs to let her head rest on his shoulder while he carried her to the drop site. Every other step came with a wince but she'd healed him enough to move.

She's done enough.

[showmethesneer]

Funny how I was saving The Hunger Games books for when my semester was over, and then the standalone I chose to hold me over until after finals just so happens to be the perfect little appetizer: OG dystopia/sci fi classic, Brave New World.

Anyway, here are some of my favourite parts:

-"the principles of mass production at last applied to biology"

-"a T for the males, a circle for the females and for those who were destined to become freemartins a question mark, black on a white ground." ~enby feels~

-"in the vast majority of cases, fertility is merely a nuisance." ~quite literally about meee~

-"though the Epsilon mind was mature at ten, the Epsilon body was not fit to work till eighteen. Long years of superfluous and wasted immaturity."

-"Books and loud noises, flowers and electric shocks—already in the infant mind these couples were compromisingly linked; and after two hundred repetitions of the same or a similar lesson would be wedded indissolubly. What man has joined, nature is powerless to put asunder."

-"Reflexes unalterably conditioned. They’ll be safe from books and botany all their lives."

-"A love of nature keeps no factories busy."

-"“These,” he said gravely, “are unpleasant facts; I know it. But then most historical facts are unpleasant.”"

-"when you’re not accustomed to history, most facts about the past do sound incredible."

-"“And do you know what a ‘home’ was?”

They shook their heads." ~queer and abuse survivor and Latin American diaspora feels~

-"Family, monogamy, romance. Everywhere exclusiveness, a narrow channelling of impulse and energy."

-"Mother, monogamy, romance. High spurts the fountain; fierce and foamy the wild jet. The urge has but a single outlet. My love, my baby. No wonder these poor pre-moderns were mad and wicked and miserable. Their world didn’t allow them to take things easily, didn’t allow them to be sane, virtuous, happy."

-"Feeling lurks in that interval of time between desire and its consummation. Shorten that interval, break down all those old unnecessary barriers."

-"There was also a thing called God."

-"And what makes it worse, she thinks of herself as meat."

-"Slowly, majestically, with a faint humming of machinery, the Conveyors moved forward, thirty-three centimeters an hour. In the red darkness glinted innumerable rubies."

-"The mockery made him feel an outsider; and feeling an outsider he behaved like one, which increased the prejudice against him and intensified the contempt and hostility aroused by his physical defects. Which in turn increased his sense of being alien and alone."

- “Fine to think we can go on being socially useful even after we’re dead. Making plants grow.” ~ #afterlifegoals ~

-“But queer that Alphas and Betas won’t make any more plants grow than those nasty little Gammas and Deltas and Epsilons down there.”

-"The saxophones wailed like melodious cats under the moon, moaned in the alto and tenor registers as though the little death were upon them. Rich with a wealth of harmonics, their tremulous chorus mounted towards a climax, louder and ever louder—until at last, with a wave of his hand, the conductor let loose the final shattering note of ether-music and blew the sixteen merely human blowers clean out of existence. Thunder in A flat major."

-"to be excited is still to be unsatisfied."

-“I’d rather be myself,” he said. “Myself and nasty. Not somebody else, however jolly.”

-"'Even Epsilons are useful’! So am I. And I damned well wish I weren’t!”

-"He was a mine of irrelevant information and unasked-for good advice."

-"Suddenly it was as though the whole air had come alive and were pulsing, pulsing with the indefatigable movement of blood."

-"Lenina liked the drums. Shutting her eyes she abandoned herself to their soft repeated thunder, allowed it to invade her consciousness more and more completely, till at last there was nothing left in the world but that one deep pulse of sound."

-"Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous … Like drums, like the men singing for the corn, like magic, the words repeated and repeated themselves in his head."

-"He held out his right hand in the moonlight. From the cut on his wrist the blood was still oozing. Every few seconds a drop fell, dark, almost colourless in the dead light. Drop, drop, drop. To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow … He had discovered Time and Death and God."

-"The scene in the orchard had delighted him with its poetry; but the sentiments expressed had made him smile. Getting into such a state about having a girl—it seemed rather ridiculous. But, taken detail by verbal detail, what a superb piece of emotional engineering!"

-"We've sacrificed high art. We have the Feelies and the scent organ instead." ~the gut punch of a scene that fucked me up the most~

-"We could synthesize every morsel of food, if we wanted to. But we don’t. We prefer to keep a third of the population on the land. For their own sakes- because it takes longer to get food out of the land than out of a factory." ~literally The Hunger Games~

-"Every discovery in pure science is potentially subversive; even science must sometimes be treated as a possible enemy. Yes, even science.”

-"God in the safe and Ford on the shelves."

-"what you need is something with tears for a change. Nothing costs enough here."

-“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

[electricleclerc]

monza podium will always be his home.

[darlingpwease]

cw unhealthy behaviour (obsessiveness, clinginess, manipulation r.). yandere themes. abandonment issues. unhealthy unconditional love. pet names. mention of death. mention of suicide attempts?

disclaimer: i don't analyze "objectively", only subjectively.

I don't really like talking about characters out loud, honestly. My drafts are full of small ideas, facts and moments that I use in order not to stray too far from the personality, but it's always something closed — because I regularly change my mind, use a different template, make up other ideas, and don't like to do it publicly.

(... because it's boring to watch, but hey!)

But, you know, I want to get out of this habit a little bit and have a very little chat; for example, about the connection between Rika and Yuuta and why almost any interpretation leaves me unsatisfied, or why Yuuta would be able to combine well only with someone who would be at least equal to him — and in general talk about how I see the situation.

I can afford it, can't I, pie? I think I already look like enough of a complainer to do this.

Rika & Yuuta

Listen, listen, listen — Yuuta loved Rika very much when he was a child, and it was mutual. Yes, it was puppy love, when you exchange rings and promise to be always together, but it was love, mutual and between children of about the same age.

For Rika, who lives in an unhappy family after the death of her parents, friendship with Yuuta was an outlet — she got along well with his family (with his sister at least) and she was attached enough to exchange parents' rings with him. And, of course, we can't make statements without confirmation, but for Yuuta, this connection was very significant and, apparently, the closest — none of the children are mentioned in his past or present anymore, as if only Rika existed, and even we learn about his sister only because of information about Rika.

Everything leads to the fact that the two of them had no one but each other as someone important and significant — and this is also normal, they are children and they are in love, they are irrationally jealous, looking only for each other, have secrets and promise to be together forever.

And they outgrow this stage: love becomes softer and disappears or becomes stronger and more mature; they do not grasp each other so much, gain experience by watching their object of sighing and how adults show love, change behavior and look for a more suitable form of manifestation of love. This is healthy growing up and developing love.

The problem is that Rika is not growing. She is not developing emotionally or mentally, she is still the same child who was hit by a car and who came to life because her little fiance could not let her go. Rika was forcibly revived as a cursed spirit, forced to follow Yuutu until he dies because she can't do otherwise — it's now her duty to protect him from everything and everyone, because now it's the only thing she can. Rika is driven by eternal adoration and only Yuuta exists for her — she is forever frozen in this awareness, as was once during lifetime.

And this already affects Yuuta, who has outgrown puppy love and no longer breathes only Rika, but cannot let her go not only because he does not understand how, but also because he does not want to. His socialization is closely connected with Rika, he is used to her and her presence, he knows that she is always there and will always protect him — and this simultaneously suffocates and soothes him.

He is looking for her as an aggressor and as a defender, being an eternal victim, accustomed to the fact that he does not have to fight because there is Rika who almost always acts according to his desires, especially before he became a sorcerer. He wanted to be left alone, he wanted everything to stop — and Rika fulfilled this wish, making sure that the bullies no longer touch him. Rika did not act on her own, as it was, for example, during the attack — she acted because Yuuta felt uncomfortable.

The same thing happens during Yuuta's first appearance among classmates — Rika comes out not because it bothers her, but because Yuuta is scared, and she, his familiar, comes out as soon as she feels his fear. That's why Rika doesn't come out later when Maki hits him during training — Yuuta doesn't feel scared or uncomfortable, which means he doesn't need her.

But for Yuuta, he will always be a victim — until the very end, until he is ready to face the fact that he was the one who cursed her, that he made her suffer and harm, because although these thoughts appeared even earlier, they always flew by, since Yuuta was not forced to ponder them, ignoring any concern. And this is also an important point — Yuuta thinks about himself, but not about Rika; he loves Rika, but this is not the kind of love that you can think about at first, because Yuuta grew up accustomed to the role of victim, and you probably know what happens to a person when they grow up, being emotionally isolated (since any socialization is getting discomfort, but Rika is too protective of him) and are only taught to hide and run, as if his original emotionality was not enough.

They learn to manage only as they can, and Yuuta is not so alienated that he does not understand the level of Rika's mental development. Especially when he got out of the shell and found those who became his family.

Rika is dead and is a cursed spirit, he does not consider himself at least someone significant and puts everyone above himself.

Rika won't let him commit suicide. She adores him, she protects him, for her Yuuta and his love are the whole world. No one is higher than Yuuta, no one can become better than Yuuta.

And Yuuta knows that she thinks so. He knows that this is the same Rika who promised that they would get married.

He knows how to influence her, he knows how to control her, he knows how to make her do what he wants from her — because Rika, being a spirit with the mindset of an abandoned and unloved child, is like an open book for him; a child whom he promised to marry and who is looking for his love, since for only he exists for her.

Yuuta only thinks about Rika's feelings when he sees her soul freed from the burden of being cursed by the spirit. Because even if he still keeps her ring, even if she's the only one close to him, she's just a spirit. A creature he fears — and whom he can trust, knowing that she will never let him down.

Rika loves Yuuta because she can't help it, but Yuuta loves her because it's the only thing he can do for her — and he loves her no longer as a future bride, but rather as a child, as a family member, as someone who has become a natural part of his life, but not as a partner. Do you understand? He loves her for no reason, just like she loves him, but this is not the kind of love that his partner will have to fight, because he will never love Rika as much as you and will never love you as much as Rika.

I'm not saying that Rika won't be jealous — she definitely will, including grumbling, growling and being suspicious, because she's a child, but it doesn't make sense for Yuuta because these loves will never intersect, since he will never be able to replace you with her or her with you. Even if you become a cursed spirit, it will still be absolutely different love, but this does not mean that some kind is stronger or more significant — she is a child for him, she was the only one who was next to him, and he takes responsibility, but this does not mean that he will not be an absolutely in love puppy for you, adoring the very fact of your existence.

Rika made him what he is — she isolated him, she pushed him, she protected him, she did everything for him and she left wounds, and she, among other things, is to blame for what Yuuta is in a hateful sense, where the loss of the meaning of life and uncertainty in any social contact despite the greedy need to be needed by someone.

He wants to be needed, he wants to 'make sense' because Rika can't give him that. Yuuta wants to live by someone or something; he wants to dedicate his life because he cannot do otherwise, and he has already grown up with these thoughts, fighting for others and protecting.

He got the power and he uses it for anyone but himself — because Rika was always there to protect him, to keep him safe, to isolate him, which, together with his innate sensitivity and definitely a share of insecurity, made him lose the need to fight for himself and experience the pleasure of satisfying his needs.

Yuuta is melancholic, sensitive, eager to please and looking for something that can take hold of him and to which he can devote himself, because this is the only thing that will make his life "meaningful". He is created out of love because he cannot do otherwise — his life collapses when he has nothing and he instantly comes to life when he has something, and he clearly understands it.

Rika is not this "something". Rika is a part of his life that has no will of her own; she will never be able to become a full-fledged person (especially after she leaves behind only a shell), she will never be something he can give up. She was his puppy love, she was with him for almost more than ten years, she influenced him at the most tender age, shaping his behavior and making him even more 'hothouse' and nervous — but she can't do what Yuuta craves and wants.

Rika shaped him and Yuuta is grateful to her for everything; he wouldn't have become like this if it wasn't for her, and he will never be able to blame her from the heart, because he understands that she is just a child who will do everything for him because of their past love. He is grateful to her for her love and he uses her love, because his friends are higher and more significant than him — and he is ready to sacrifice himself by giving Rika the love she craves, because then she will let him do what he wants.

He promises her to be with her forever, he gives her everything he has, and Rika, for whom the meaning of life is his protection, agrees, because his love is her motivation.

And he knows it.

And I don't know about you, pie, but in my opinion...

Yuuta & reasoning

In fact, Rika's influence cannot be overstated — even his abilities are named after her, although it include not only the rest of her body (?) as shikigami, but also reverse technique and copying other people's techniques.

We already know that sorcerers and their techniques influence each other and definitely have a correlation between the sorcerer's personality/past and the techniques they will receive in most cases — or vice versa, the sorcerer's personality is formed under the influence of techniques for the best and safest use.

Mai and her use of long-range weapons to show her habit of keeping a distance and the inability to get closer; Toge and cursed speech, because of which any word can hurt him and others, why he was forced to speak with ingredients and cannot communicate normally; Megumi and his wolves are a reference to him and Yuuji, also Megumi is directly called a "wolf" when he tries to kill a girl and generally embodies the "lone wolf" trope.

Yuuta who can only copy others because he has spent too much time in social isolation and clings to others with all his might?..

It's even a little cute — none of his abilities are related only to him. He can use the reverse technique on others (unlike Satoru, who uses it only on himself), his main ability is copying, he uses "Rika" as an armory and a supply of cursed energy, and even his sword is used only to protect others, since Yuuta sees no point in fighting and does not enjoys the battles. His whole life is connected with anyone but him and is dedicated to anyone but him, since he has friends and loved ones whom he can protect and take care of.

(definitely not a cat person.)

And that's literally his role. To protect, fulfill, take care — carrying out the duties assigned by someone.

He does not want to study the world, he does not want to lead, he does not want to do something "morally right" or act according to his code — Yuuta does what can make his loved ones happy, since for him there is no one dearer than them; then come all the others, and at the very end is himself, supporting the constructed structure, as this is what gives his life meaning.

Because this is what his loved ones do, because this is what others expect from him, because this is what is considered "right".

Would he be like this if the meaning of his life was created thanks to the Geto?

... Maybe. Maybe not. For Yuuta, the highest value is not laws or morally correct actions, but this does not mean that he will kill everyone; he is more passive if he does not have a global goal in front of him. If Suguru got someone like him, the battle would drag on much longer — and bloodier, especially as Yuuta gets used to what he does.

He is actually a "dog without a master" to a greater extent than he looks, and if he can only become meaningful and useful by getting his hands dirty, then he is ready to do it, following orders as long as he is given meaning.

Yuuta is nothing more than an unhealed abandoned child, looking for meaning for his existence and community with others; who grew up under the supervision of no more socially developed cursed spirit in partial social isolation without the ability to even communicate with his family.

Constant guilt, lack of a loved one, problems with peers, victim complex, pessimism and definitely something close to depression due to deeply unsatisfied needs — and the only one he's close to is a long-dead (girl)friend that he can't control.

(and, for sure, learned helplessness and a large number of emotional traumas where he emotionally affectionately throws himself at everyone who walks next to him for a long enough time and promises to protect him.

do you know that first love, as a rule, has an impact on all future partners? just a silly fact.

of course, it was puppy love, which is not so intense, but...)

His first part of the story ends with gaining power — to use it for good, protecting others and destroying everything that can harm. Yuuta knows that he is powerful and he uses it, gaining confidence that now he will not be a victim.

And although it looks more like a transition from "victim" to "saviour", it's not so important — at least for him.

He got the meaning of his life — the rest is not so important.

Yuuta & obsession

[hcs]

... But we've been talking about him for too long; I'm sure someone has already discussed all his skeletons in the closet and cockroaches in his head and why he can safely kill anyone if it means saving people dear to him, or why his morality is so gray and cruel. His prudence and manipulativeness are obvious things and it's not so interesting — repeating is not very exciting,

so...

Yuuta is strong — very strong. After all, he is called Satoru's successor. He is not too strong physically (relatively), but his cursed energy absolutely compensates for this and adds on top. With his bloodline, he was destined to become a great sorcerer, especially when he created himself a shikigami without even realizing it, acting according to pure desire.

That's really too much for one sorcerer, huh? It's even better that he doesn't like to fight and doesn't enjoy it.

... Although it's probably not very convenient? In the sense of being strong and knowing that your loved ones can't reach you. Although I don't think Maki, Toge or Panda have such problems, given their abilities, if you are his partner and can't be at least as strong as them, that would be a problem. Fall in love, make plans for the future and hope to meet only to find out that they are dead. It's a bit, uh, unsafe.

Find someone with whom you want to share the rest of life (have no doubt that the "rest of life", Yuuta is probably too passionate and in love, maybe even fanatically monogamous for his part), but then they die due to the inability to fight something so strong. Curses regularly become stronger and smarter — at what point will your technique be useless? The mortality rate among sorcerers is very high — how can he prepare for the fact that you may be in this statistic?

Yuuta can't point and order you — has no right, but is it really worth it?

As some points show, he manages emotions and feelings well when he needs it, and is smart and strategic enough to build a plan and get a goal with minimal costs. Not exactly someone you want to quarrel with, given his manipulativeness and empathy.

He reads the room, understands Toge's actions, encourages Maki — a typical hero of senen with their "therapy".

Do you want to try it out for yourself? Don't make any sudden movements — it won't help too much if he has already caught your eye and you see how he feels. Yuuta goes along with your desires if you can stand up for yourself, but you probably expect a diversion when he feels that he has to do everything himself.

After all, he has to protect and take responsibility if he has that power. Being not strong enough is like needing to be protected. And that's okay — Yuuta was like that himself, he knows what it's like, so he has to take care of you.

... In the end, if you are not strong enough and equal, it will certainly lead to sharp jumps until someone gives up — but even if it is him, Yuuta will rather regroup and return to this topic, and if his fears are confirmed...

In any case, showing you what he means would be more accurate than talking about it, wouldn't it? Yuuta will never be able to harm you or ignore the threat to your life, but a little fear will never hurt and will definitely be more intelligible than his stepping over himself and your desires just to convince you.

He is not one of those who does stupid things or refuses what he thinks is right.

[thatharringrovehoe]

Mob AU Nancy and Steve ✨friendship✨!!!

- Nancy Wheeler introduced herself to Steve Harrington in sixth grade. Cuz Steve was handsome and more charming than any eleven year old had any right to be and Nancy's mother had taught her that it's important to secure your future at a young age. And while she wasn't going to enter into a marriage of convenience, she was definitely vying for a spot in King Steve's court. Because this Nancy is.. not bad. But spoiled. Accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Isn't used to being told no. Watched her mother wilt under the weight of a loveless and stagnant union with her father. So she wants her own power. And that means making friends with Hawkins royalty.

- Steve imidiatly likes her. Sees her bushy curls and sharp teeth as she holds out her tiny bird bone hand. She's got a firm grip. Got fire in her eyes. Steel in her spine. He's pretty sure Nancy could take Steve's crown if she really wanted. But Nancy doesn't want to rule. She wants freedom. Freedom to say and do and be whoever she wants. And Steve? Steve can respect that.

- They didn't really become friends until a year later on Steve's birthday. It was expected that Steve's parents wouldn't be home. Wouldn't call. Wouldn't bother to send a gift since they had scheduled an extra bit of cash in the monthly payment for the account they had opened for him. And while Steve would throw large parties in highschool later, right then he was only twelve. All alone in an empty castle. So it was a suprise when the doorbell rang. And there stood Nancy Wheeler, dressed in her Sunday best and holding a truly hideous birthday cake. Lopsided and crumbly, with a "happy birthday Steve" written in neon green icing because that was the only color she could find before her mother discovered what she was doing. It's burnt all to hell and Steve's got tears in his eyes because he knows Nancy HATES baking. Had never taken to it no matter how hard her mother tried. So it's no surprise that Karen Wheeler has a back up cake in the backseat of her car that she's parked in Steve's driveway. And as delicious as it is, he likes Nancy's better. Keeps the hand drawn card she made him in a place of honor up on his bedroom wall.

- They grow up being each other's cheerleader. Steve doesn't brush Nancy off when she tells him she wants to enter into politics. He thinks she has exactly what it takes. Pitties the poor idiot who thinks they can take on Nancy Wheeler in a debate. And Nancy doesn't bat an eye when Steve tells her he likes boys just as much as girls. Sits with him at lunch sipping her juice box as they rank the boys in their class from hot to not.

- And you see Tommy is 100% Steve's guard dog. But while Tommy protects the body, Nancy protects the Kings heart. Because that's Steve's only weakness. He loves so easily, so deeply. Is a gentleman to a fault. Will never use his influence and power against someone he's taken to bed. And that proves to be a bit of a problem because it means people try to take advantage. Means that people lie to get what they want from Steve. And Nancy? Nancy HATES bullshit like that. Can snuff it out like a bloodhound from a mile away. And when she finds it. Boy howdy you better fucking run. Cuz Nancy Wheeler is good at cutting people down. Is almost as good as Jonathan when it comes to finding secrets. But she likes to twist them. Make a mountain out of a mole hill that sets your reputation on fire. Steve doesn't encourage this. But he also doesn't put a stop to it.

- Nancy knows Steve is in love with Billy Hargrove before he does. Knows the signs. Watches him fall fast and hard. And at first she brushes it off. Just another in the long line of flings for Steve Harrington. Bright and explosive like a firework and over just as quickly. But before long she catches her mistake. Because this isn't a firework so much as it's a forest fire. All encompassing and dangerous. She doesn't want to watch Steve get burned.

- But she also watches Billy hold Steve's hand under the table in the cafeteria even though he's shaking. Sees this angry boy go soft for her best friend. And she can spot the bruises. Knows through Jonathan where they came from. Knows Billy still risks it all just for Steve. Because he loves Steve maybe almost as much as she does.

- Steve and Nancy have ALOT in common but are total opposites in other areas. Because while they're both dominant in personality they differ in how they show it. Steve is possessive. Doesn't like anyone LOOKING at Billy let alone flirting with him. Will cover his neck in hickies and buy him new clothes as if to say "This is MINE. Do not fucking touch". But then Nancy? Nancy likes to show off what's hers. Knows that even if people vyed for Jonathan's attention like they do Billy's it wouldn't even matter. Because Jonathan is GONE for Nancy Wheeler. She has him on a long leash but she yanks it sharp whenever she feels like it. No one else gives it to him like she does. No one else will take him under the bleachers and edge him till he cries so so pretty. No one will scratch claw marks into his back till he bleeds so right. And no one will put him back together so perfectly. Card their fingers through his hair. Tell him they love him for everything he is. Even the weird parts. And she means it.

- Mike Wheeler respects Steve Harrington. Because it's because of him that El is in school with the party instead of locked away in Hopper's cabin or a lab cell. Has been babysitting Mike and his friends for years with Nancy. Never once made fun of any of them for their DnD campaigns. And he suspects Steve is probably the reason him and his friends NEVER get bullied.

- Karen Wheeler DOES NOT flirt with Billy. Just. No. The Duffer Brothers did her so fucking dirty. Karen DOES cheat on her husband though. Like. Alot. (WITH CONSENTING ADULTS). Ted doesn't notice. Steve doesn't think highly of her. Above all else hates disloyalty. Watched his mother's heart break with every one of his father's sordid affairs so while he can see why she feels unsatisfied, he can't respect her.

- Nancy was going to give Billy the shovel talk but every time she tries, Max shows up out of nowhere snarling. Cuz Steve isn't the only one with a protector. Looks at this little spitfire who's ready to put Nancy's head on a pike for her brother. Reminds her so much of Nancy herself at that age. A little girl who will not bend. Isn't afraid to get blood in her teeth. It's the reason Max hasn't threatened Steve. They have a mutual respect. And as those two idiots fall deeper and deeper in love they worry less about heartbreak. Find a comradery in each other. Max teaches Nancy how to skate board while Nancy shows Max how to draw eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man.

- Billy was really jealous of Nancy at first because her and Steve are so close. Was convinced Billy was just a distraction while Steve waited for Nancy to get bored of Jonathan. This resolves itself when Billy accidentally walks in on Nancy riding a tied and gagged Jonathan's in the photo development room and the tone that she uses when she tells Billy to lock the fucking door on his way out makes it obvious that Nancy and Steve are NOT compatible in that way. Billy will never admit it but he is low key intimidated by Nancy Wheeler. Steve laughs so hard he shoots soda out of his nose when Billy tells him about it.

[eddiesfaerie]

Pet

Summary: You accompany the Supreme Leader to one of his meetings. Unsurprisingly, you become desperate for attention. (2.2k words) ao3 link here

Warnings: NSFW, noncon/implied noncon, f!reader, exhibitionism, memories of sex lol, thigh riding, canon typical violence, violence against reader??, Kylo Ren is not nice, choking, slapping, mentions of blood, bondage i guess (let me know if i missed anything!)

@elmidol: Kylo + “Tell them to fuck off.” okay so maybe i went off with this request... i literally couldn't help myself so i hope you enjoy!!!

The transparisteel of the throne room is always cold beneath your knees, you flinch anytime your thighs come into contact with it if you shift your position too much. It often left you with purpling bruises on your kneecaps, ones that never seem to fade anymore.

You accompany the Supreme Leader in any and every meeting he wants you in, which as of late, has been to every single one. If he asks for you, you’re there. At this point, you assume it’s just some form of punishment; because as much as you’re expected not to speak, you’re expected to stay awake and attentive.

Half the time you let your mind wander off into some fantasy. Sometimes it involves the Supreme Leader, remembering how he fucked you the night before, wondering if he’d do that thing with the Force again.

Other times it was about escaping. You were punished by him for both sorts of daydreams. Now you just try to keep your mind as blank as possible. Sometimes you almost manage to reach a meditative state if the meetings are long enough.

The air of his throne room is cold. Everyone else is dressed normally, of course. You don’t doubt that you’re the only one shivering in your own flesh. The thinnest scrap of useless silk cascades down your body, completely see-through and hides nothing of your body for anyone who dares sneak a glance in your direction.

Besides the scrap of material you think someone referred to as a dress once, the only other thing you wear is your collar and chain - a heavy, thick metal, one they definitely use on the ships and TIE fighters, you’ve concluded. It’s sturdy and basically indestructible to anyone who wasn’t Force sensitive.

The metal was branded ungraciously with anything but fancy letters or delicate swooping and curling. No, your Supreme Leader didn’t care to spoil you with niceties. Thick capital letters branded on to the front of the collar spelt out R-E-N.

Ren.

You're his. His thing, his object. Whatever he wants you to be, you became that. You belong to him. And you’ve long since accepted that. Once you stopped struggling, it became easier and at times… enjoyable.

You also think that the Supreme Leader’s become more comfortable around you as time has passed. He’s not as harsh with you anymore, not nearly as cruel as your first few weeks with him. He was nowhere near easy, or nice, or kind, or loving. He was none of that, but you were starting to like how sharp his edges were, how cold he could be.

It became a little game of yours; seeing how long it could take for you to crack him on certain nights, how long until he let you massage his shoulders, his arms, his thighs or let you suck his cock on your own accord. It’s rare but it actually works sometimes. Sometimes he lets you in.

If he’s tired enough, fucked out enough, or just had enough, he’ll let you do as you please, like a little fish cleaning up after the shark’s mess; he’ll let you have some scraps.

Sometimes, he hand feeds you the scraps. Like right now.

Your head is resting on his thigh as he sits back extremely reclined, leisurely, unbothered yet so, so bored. And his hand is on your skull, fingers scritching at your scalp.

It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You could fall asleep just like this -

But you can’t. The rule. The rule! You have to stay awake even though he’s visibly slacking right now, probably dozing off to some fantasy as he mindlessly scratches at your head.

You sneak a peek up in his direction only to find his eyes already on you. You nearly squeak as you look away, back at the people congregating in his throne room for whatever ‘important’ reason.

His eyes burn like suns, they welt and blister your skin and you try to clear your mind, making it a place of disinterest to him so he doesn’t feel the urge to go swimming in and around your thoughts as he so often does.

A quiet murmur resonates throughout the room, coming from no direction in particular, it’s just simply there. It’s the incoming of his voice through the Force, you know this now, you’ve become accustomed to it. It ripples towards you like tiny waves in a pond before you hear his voice clear and deep in your head.

“Come.”

His hand steadily leaves your scalp, coming to rest gently on his thigh; his way of asking you to come sit on his lap. He’s never asked this of you while in a meeting before, he never really cares to give you that much attention, fearing it'll give you an ego, make you think you're special or something.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, uselessly debating over something you have no say in.

Having already wasted enough of his energy on asking you politely, the Supreme Leader pulls on your chain, sending you hurling up off the ground and straight into his lap. You make an ugly noise, one of surprise and fear as you fall into him almost gracefully thanks to the tiny invisible touches of the Force along your skin.

He steadies you against him with one hand on your waist and the other pulling your chain tight, pinning your back to his wide chest. You straddle only one of his enormous thighs - bare cunt pressed flushed to the rough material of his pants - and he keeps you there, holds you still while you try to regain your breath from being moved so quickly yet so effortlessly.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block out the several pairs of eyes that are taking in the scene before them, trying to tame your nerves and swallow down your shame and embarrassment. You're so visibly flustered, no doubt the Supreme Leader's getting a kick out of this.

You hear more rippling murmurs approaching you. Then a smooth leathered hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh tight in his crushing grip.

“Eyes open, pet.”

You hesitate too long, still trying to regain your breath. That same hand on your thigh comes down hard, smacking your skin and letting the sound of slapped flesh and your wanton cry float through the room.

You try to curl towards him, to hide yourself in his broad frame but he holds you and your chain tight. His voice fills your head.

“You do as I say.”

You begin to answer him with a nod of your head but he cuts off your attempt.

“Out loud.”

You close your eyes and take in a deep, shuddering breath. Nothing could have prepared you for this unique type of degradation today. “Yes, sir.”

Only a few heads turn, no one daring to stare at you for too long. Like he had called you, you were his pet, that granted you some level of security.

The Supreme Leader makes some sort of contented sound with his throat. Whoever was speaking continues on with their speech while you finally manage to come down from such an overwhelming ordeal.

His hand stays on your thigh, tenderly massaging the flesh where he had hit you, emphasizing the sweet sting and letting it resonate throughout your body until it finds its way to your clit. The little pearl buzzes, needy for attention but you refrain from begging for mercy, for him to finish you off.

It's too easy for him to get you worked up. He must have been experimenting on you or something, like Pavlov's dogs or whatever. Anytime he touches you, even in the slightest, it sends you reeling for more, it turns you into some desperate whore, needy for whatever he would give you, whatever he deems you worthy of. Whether it was his spit or his flaccid cock in your mouth, you take it and accept it eagerly-

“Quiet.”

His sudden booming voice fills your head and sends you squeaking a silent apology back to him, your hips involuntarily jerking on his thigh. He pulls on your chain again, your back becoming flush with his chest, the length of your pussy dragging along his thigh leaving an embarrassingly sticky trail in its wake. You keen at the sensation, wondering if he was doing this to you on purpose.

“Doing what?”

You huff out a non-response, telling yourself you would roll your eyes right now if it wouldn’t get you-

“Punished.”

You audibly groan, rocking your hips onto his thigh on purpose this time. Fuck, he was so infuriating, so difficult to deal with. You’re thankful you’re just his plaything, not someone who has to deal with him professionally. He’s impossible.

You ignore the heads that turn in your direction this time and focus on the unsatisfying clench of your pussy around nothing. You know he feels it, feels the way your pussy is throbbing with its own heartbeat for him right now. He knows how desperate you are, he must…

Silence.

No response from him.

Maker, you could cry right now. He's usually so easy to rile up. So easy to frustrate, to annoy, to anger.

Yet he gave you no bruising grip on your thigh or waist, no warning for you to stop. Nothing.

His hand retreated from your thigh and now lounged on the armrest of his giant throne. His other hand doing the same. You feel the warmth radiating off of his chest leave you as he leans back against the throne. He was spreading himself out so wide and so far away from you.

You know he must still be wandering around in your mind, he has to be. There was no way he wasn’t doing this on purpose.

So you project.

You imagine all the ways he’s taken you, all the places and surfaces he’s bent you over just to relieve his tension, his anger, not caring if you came or not. You often did but it was never with any special care from him, just the pure shock and intensity of his fat cock, impaling you over and over again until you couldn’t help but cum all over him and sob from overstimulation, begging for more despite the pain, despite the blood-

The lights in the room flicker and whoever’s speaking stutters at the sudden distraction, but then continues on discussing… whatever it was they’re discussing.

You continue as well, remembering all the different way he’s punished you: for accidentally chanting his name as if in prayer when you’ve become so cock drunk and fucked out that it was the only thing that you could possibly think of.

Kylo, Kylo, Kylo.

You remember how he’s slapped you, hit you with the unforgiving and weighted metal of his lightsaber hilt. How he’s bruised you, burned you, marked you with his teeth, his lips, his weapon. You remember it all and you shamelessly rut yourself against his thigh, the building pressure in your clit making your mind blank to anything else except getting yourself off on him.

Fuck, you need him. You need him so badly, need him like the moons need their planet, like a planet needs their all devouring sun, a celestial body to rotate around or else they become meaningless, drifting off into space without a serving purpose.

Your body withers against his, your back threatening to arch off his chest if it weren’t for the death grip he’s got on your chain right now, keeping you in place like an obedient dog.

The lights continue to flicker. The muruming waves return and you scramble for what’s about to come next.

“Tell them to leave.”

His voice is steady yet it crackles with hopeful embers threatening to combust into something fiery and deadly.

What?

The lights in the room buzz loud and shine brighter than they ever have, like the stars in the sky before something magnificent happens. They shriek with strain until they burst, sending shards of glass flying throughout the room as they burn out, no doubt cutting people in the process.

A figment flies by your cheek and slivers your skin. You hiss at the contact, feeling something hot and thick roll down your cheek in its wake.

“Tell them," his voice booms, "to fuck off.”

“L-leave.” You speak, voice small, unsure and terrified. You’re not certain if anyone even heard you based on the minimal reaction you got. A few heads turn, surprised to hear the timid voice of the Supreme Leader’s pet.

Yet no one budges.

Your Supreme Leader’s hand snakes its way up to your throat, resting above your thick metal collar and crushes your windpipe in warning. You try again, this time, like he asked.

“F-fuck off.”

Someone, an idiot, dares to speak up with a voice quivering worse than your own, “S-Supreme Leader?”

“You heard her.” It’s the first time he’s spoken in hours. His voice is terrifyingly calm and sickeningly deep, you feel it resonate throughout your entire body, landing in the depths of your belly. You whimper pathetically, anticipating whatever storm is about to come.

Everyone stands, chair scraping against the floor and they file out through the giant throne room doors, letting the thick and heavy material seal you two away until your Supreme Leader is through with you.

[galaxxiwrites]

hi i love your headcanons and scenarios so much!! can i request an arknights thorns x female reader nsfw oneshot?? tysm!

fjnse thank you anon!! (♡μ_μ)

Prompt: The Doctor asks Thorns to make them a drink that keeps them up for extended periods of time— the end result wasn't exactly what was intended, but it did work in keeping them awake.

Word count: 1378

warning: nsfw, please read at your own discretion :)

Energy Drink

"So...you're asking for an energy drink?" Thorns tilts his head ever so slightly, just enough to show his confusion upon hearing the Doctor's request.

"Yes, but stronger. Something to keep me up for...a few days at least."

Again, Thorns is flabbergasted by such a peculiar request. He opens his mouth, about to ask just why she would need to stay up for a few days.

"Contingency Contract." The Doctor says as she waves her hand in a nonchalant way, as if accepting their fate. She sighs as memories of past events slowly creep their way back into her thoughts, but immediately clears them as now was not the time for emotional vulnerability. It was time for blood.

"Extra strong energy drinks just don't pack that same punch anymore," Doctor explains as she peeks over to look up at Thorn's golden embers, pleading to him with puppy dog eyes to make them that concoction.

"I know it's not my place to lecture you on this, but no one is capable of functioning properly when they're deprived of sleep."

Thorns looks back to his desk, different chemicals in various test tubes and flasks and quickly scribbled notes on pieces of paper clutter his workspace.

"It'll be fine, it's only for a few days." The doctor waves her hand before turning around, mumbling that they'll come get the drink later in the day.

Thorns sighs, murmuring to himself that he never agreed to make something so dangerous for her. He then makes calculation in his head: which option would have a better outcome for him? On one hand, he didn't want his lover to overexert herself more than she already does. On the other hand...he's terrified of becoming the subject of her temper tantrums.

His solution was to just make a drink that stimulates the nervous system to keep them up, but slowly depresses it so Doctor could sleep at the proper time for once. Basically, a reverse of alcohol.

Working his magic, Thorns creates the desired drink— except he doesn't realize a miscalculation on his part. While it did work to relax the muscles, it wouldn't trigger drowsiness. Instead, it would end up exciting her hormones to the point of imitating a heat cycle— in short, he unknowingly made an aphrodisiac.

And he would suffer the consequences of his actions much sooner than expected.

While the doctor did feel awake, the longer the day got the more she felt...hot. It was unnatural, especially for her as she was used to wearing her hoodie no matter what the weather.

So when she ends up taking off her hoodie in the middle of the contingency contract planning, the Operators currently with her look bewildered. Many, especially the male operators, felt a lump in their throat form as they stared at the doctor.

"Doctor." Saria coughs to grab her attention. "Don't take off your jacket."

The defender operator places the jacket over the Doctor's shoulder and hugs it around her, making sure it fully covered her.

"What's the matter, Saria?"

Doctor couldn't hear the breathiness in her own voice, but the others sure could hear it clearly. Again, Saria scoffs before taking off with her, saying she'll escort Doctor back to her own private quarters.

"Doctor, next time please try to be more professional. If you're feeling even slightly unwell, then please don't hesitate to take the day off."

Saria leaves as quickly as she spoke, confusing the doctor even more. Left to her own devices, the Doctor thinks of why everyone reacted the way they didー or at least, she tries to even make a single coherent thought. The heat building up inside her however was getting unbearable, and thoughts of pleasuring herself started creeping in.

She doesn't resist her own temptations as she starts feeling herself; her hand softly traces her inner thigh before inserting her index finger into her womanhood.

The light teasing only drove Doctor closer to insanity—she needed more. Splaying herself on her bed, Doctor inserts another finger while her other hand massages her breast.

"Thorns." She mumbles as thoughts of her lover start filling her head. When was the last time he touched her, or when he was inside of her? It already felt so long ago, and maybe that's why she's been needy now.

Her thrusting became faster when she imagined his member inside her. Oh how she longed for him, his touch and kisses, his warmth—his everything.

Her imagination would ultimately cause her heat to become more unbearable as her fingers slowly start to leave her unsatisfied.

"Doctor, are you okay? I heard from Saria that—"

Thorns stops mid sentence when he sees her, legs wide open to reveal her dripping wet pussy, the sweet smell of her pre-cum flooded her room, almost intoxicating the eccentric guard.

He immediately closes the door, in fear of anyone else witnessing the sight he wants to keep for himself. His breathing became ragged as he continued to watch the Doctor desperately pleasuring herself, so lost in her own world that she didn't even hear him.

Thorns comes to Doctor's beside, shocking her so much that she abruptly stops and tries to apologize for her lewd behavior. Without saying a word, Thorns gives her a kiss.

A long, passionate, and hungry kiss. Doctor rubs her hand lightly against the tented area in his pants. Feeling his bulging manhood twitch at her touch, she smirks before bringing out his hardened member and starts stroking it teasingly slow.

Thorns whimpers her name as he pulls away from the kiss, only exciting the heated doctor even more. He then adjusts her so she would be facing him; he rubs the tip of his dick against her wet lips before slowly thrusting himself in her.

"Doctor," Thorns gasps as he feels her walls cling tightly around him. "You're so—tight."

Thorns grips on the doctor's thighs as he continues to slowly push himself deeper into her, causing Doctor to pull on her bed sheets as she was being stretched wide.

"Loosen up a bit." He grunts against her ear. Doctor gasps as she starts feeling him move, and try as she might she was far too excited to even try and calm down.

Doctor starts scratching Thorns' back in response to his more consistent movement. However, once she started getting accustomed to his girth and length, the pain subsided and was replaced with unthinkable pleasure.

"That it—keep moving like that…!" She whimpers as her legs wrap around his waist. Thorns trails hickeys on the doctor's neck as he thrusts deep in her, his pace steadily becoming faster the more the doctor loosened up.

"Ah, fuck…! That's it!" She yelped as he hit her sweet spot. "Fuck me there! More!"

He had not seen the Doctor this needy before, and he wishes that she would act like this a bit more.

"I've never seen you this...desperate, Doctor." Thorns whispers in a dangerously low and husky voice against her ear, almost bringing her to the edge.

"I want you—!" Doctor doesn't hesitate to beg as she starts matching his rhythm.

So lost in their euphoria, the couple continued without uttering anything else other than their needy groans and pleasured whimpers as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Thorns…! Thorns—! I," Doctor could not continue her sentence as she was hitting her climax, and he understood it well even without her having said anything as he walls tighten around him once more.

"Me too." Was all he said before moving at a slower, but more forceful pace. And with one last thrust, the both of them orgasmed.

Thorns, after releasing all his load into the doctor, slowly takes himself out of her. His semen, mixed with the doctor's, slowly trailed out of her womanhood. He smirked as he saw her queef before releasing a bit more of her thick juices.

Through ragged breaths, they give each other one more messy kiss before Thorns lays down, exhausted. He was about to close his eyes too, until he felt the familiar weight and heat of the doctor on top of him.

"Done already? But we're just getting started."

Doctor purrs as she traced circles on Thorn's heaving chest.

"We're not stopping until I'm cum-plete-ly satisfied~ Hehe."