#but when you really explore him you can find a lot of depth
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Sacred realm update! so I'm back!
Hi all!
Hope your doing well! :D
Only a few days late, Exam season man, what can you do?
This update shows link and Time Escaping. And time having... a Time....
Alright, now for the important stuff! Sacred realm belongs to @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. I've got their permission to do these! I love the comic so much its so good and so well done!
The link to the update can be found here! You should go reblog it, it's great, give it some love, please? :D
Let's do this, grab your popcorn and your water. Let's go! :D
Cinnamon roll Link strikes again, Clearly, the big purple guy just wants a hug!
oh no...
Panic!
Time's little superhero slide here.
Also, it must be said he's doing all this while carrying an adult. (Or close enough.) I know he's a spirit and all but that's VERY impressive!
You know when you're reading and you can hear the atmosphere, you can hear the moment that a breath is held. And time stands still.
This. The moment in a movie when everything stops before the action picks up in another way.
The talent it takes to get it from still images. I just am in awe.
Pure fear from Link.
Props to Time here for remaining calm while he's got the cinnamon roll here just scared out of his mind.
Time... Being reassuring?
Wow.
This is important I think for these two's relationship. The need to protect someone only comes to people who dont really hate someone. Before this, I'm pretty sure Link doesn't think Time cares too much about him.
Why would he right? Time's been nothing but cold to him.
(More on this later)
Link getting cocooned in Time's cloak is just, everything to me. It's such a caring more from him. (Even if it is a you can't die thing)
Ouch, that's gotta hurt
Oh man, this man is like... low-key gripping onto him.
Excuse me while I cry a little?
Twilightttttt ;-;
DIRECT FAMILY CONNECTION
EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRY MORE? ;-;-;-;
TIME? OH YOU POOR MAN
This reaction gives me father-son vibes but with time and Link, it's giving me life because oh my god these two.
Link is a cinnamon roll and must be protected.
PFFFFFFTTTT
Rip
This made me laugh I won't lie. Damit Time I was rooting for some Dad Time in this world.
Says the 'Small cinnamon roll with scared of everything issues.'
I love him but ohhhh man Time is gonna kill you
SEE
RUN LINK
RUN
Link, poor guy. Man needs help okay.
This map is interesting, I reckon is a list of the first three heroes we meet.
That top one is Skyloft. With Hylia and the floating island. - For Sky. who we met first.
The middle one has someone holding The double helix sword... That's the fierce deity on the middle level. We know Time has a connection to the Fierce deity mask. And in turn the deity himself. So this middle level is Time.
And that lower one.
If im right, This is the Twilight realm, and we will find ourselves there soon. The people look similar to the 'Link' we see on the land level to an extent while still holding a semblance of individuality.
Its almost, inverted? Like the twilight people were. Rather than looking different different.
I'm excited to see where this goes.
Also
Hi it's later
So I'm a sucker for visual storytelling in backgrounds and I think this might be more than an exploration into the depths beneath the ice.
Starting with this.
I think this, is Time being vulnerable.
The break from a cold icy exterior to something a little more personal.
Funny how when Time begins to see more personal stuff, he has more visions of the past.
The trigger has him almost scared, just look at him.
Why would Time be scared, if he didn't care?
Time appears to carry a lot of guilt around Twilight.
And when Link calls him out on it, he returns to that icy exterior, not allowing himself the opportunity to be vulnerable again.
And I wonder if that has to be explored before he can take his place within the medallion. Trials by fire, as they are so suitably called, can be for the spirits as much as Link.
Just a thought tho.
That's all from me! Hope you have a great day! :D
#comic analysis with major#ramble corner with major#zelda sacred realm#zeldathesacredrealm#sacred realm#sr twilight#loz sr#sr realms#sr time#i love this comic#Writing these brings me almost as much joy as Sky does#And that's saying something#because in every iteration dear god does he bring me joy#ztsr#hero of time#hero of realms#sacred realm analysis#this comic brings me so much joy
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Something I find really interesting is this panel from "Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot" where the Phantom Blot explains why he didn't straight up kill Mickey even though he clearly overpowered him multiple times and could easily do so.
I think this moment is interesting because it kind of adds a bit of depth to him beyond a generic killer/criminal. Plus it isn't that he is against death in general (as he still puts Mickey into traps with the intention of killing him) but directly being involved where he can see the person dying. What is even more interesting is how people interpret it.
Some people see it as a oddly wimpy moment for the Phantom Blot, with even some just straight up ignoring it.
Some interpret it solely from a Doylist perspective where they understand that the real reason Blot can't kill Mickey is because the story would be over and Disney probably wouldn't be okay with their main character being killed off.
Some take it at straight up face value that he doesn't like to kill, because he doesn't like to see things die and that's it. Just as he said.
And some people even add some element to expand on him as a character such as having some kind of phobia related to blood and gore or even a traumatic experience with death to further expand why he isn't comfortable directly killing someone.
Personally, I like to interpret it as a reflection of a key part of the Phantom Blot's character: His lack of accountability. If there is one thing that is common in many interpretations of the Blot is his refusal to answer for his criminal actions. His first thought when being placed in prison is usually to escape rather than reflect on what he did. And I feel like his aversion to directly killing someone is connected. When he indirectly kills someone in a different location. It is out of sight and out of mind. He can just easily move on to his next criminal action without even a care in the world. But that becomes a bit harder when he is more directly involved.
I like the idea that he constantly tries to separate himself from fault. You even kind of see this in the original comic in how he will sometimes place the blame on Mickey for getting involved instead of him trying to kill him. And while you could say he is just teasing Mickey, you could also see it as him trying to justify his actions. He tries to put up mental barriers to protect himself truly understanding the harm of his actions. And I feel like a part of him knows that if he were to ever directly end a life that it would be a lot harder for him to justify in his mind. He would no longer be able to just ignore it. Any mental barriers he made would crumble.
I also kind of wonder if death also reminds him how vulnerable he actually is. That no matter how skilled and above everyone else he thinks he is. He is not free from the eventuality that is death. That is one thing everyone has in common no matter who you are. His entire criminal career could end before he even achieves the amount of fame and success that he wants. He could be gone from this world and even worse completely forgotten in the sands of time.
#phantom blot#the phantom blot#blot thoughts#this has been on my mind for a while#now obviously i know gottfredson probably wasn't planning all this when he made the character#tbh i think the doylist perspective is probably more accurate#but i love this moment because of how much depth you can get from it#i feel like blot is one of those deceptively simple characters#where he can come across as generic if taken at face value#but when you really explore him you can find a lot of depth
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i'm reading a new interview tim downie gave about gale and it offers some of tim's own headcanons about gale, as well as tim's thoughts and insights on gale's character:
Nerds & Beyond: I like that you mentioned that the game is full of rounded characters because they are, they all have different aspects that make them feel real. I adore that Gale specifically is so serious and studious, but at the same time he has this really playful side — he often jokes about how he was a mischievous youth, he encourages other people like Arabella to do so, he understands when The Dark Urge first mentions their violent thoughts. There is a lot of nuance and depth there.
But the quality that I love with Gale most is that obviously he is very ill when we first meet him – not that we know immediately – and he’s dealing with a lot of chronic pain. I find him incredibly selfless because he takes that day-to-day head on to help the party, which is an aspect I feel continues to show throughout the three acts. What’s your favorite quality of Gale’s, or what did you take away from him?
Tim Downie: It’s so interesting hearing you say that, because I had so many different feedbacks about what people take from the character and sometimes things really surprise you. It’s interesting hearing that such and such has taken that particular aspect, because there are broad things like “He’s funny,” and that’s quite nice, that’s a nice trait, though not one you necessarily get to see that much. It’s so interesting hearing other people’s views about what they take from Gale.
The idea of dealing with chronic pain I found really interesting and an interesting subplot to play, and that was the great thing about doing something like this is that it is so unbelievably nuanced. You have so many layers that just keep going and going and going, as much as we all contain multitudes within ourselves. We all deal with these things, but only certain things pop up to the surface at any given point.
What did I take from Gale, though? I liked his studiousness. I would imagine that he was probably bullied as a kid for it, and he was probably a bit of a joker because he was bullied, and he uses that as a defense. But an even bigger defense for him is “I now know stuff that I didn’t before,” and that’s a power. It’s very similar to when you are being bullied and you’re the funny one – that’s your power, that’s your thing. “I may not be able to hurt you in a traditional sense, but I can say things that will make you feel pain,” which is a very different thing because you physically can’t go after them.
That’s the wonderful thing about acting and this character as well is being able to explore all these things that you might not have, that you might have gone, “I’m not gonna look at that again, I don’t want to deal with that,” and then it brings it up again and it’s like, “Oh, this is actually quite cathartic,” to re-explore these these moments of sorrow and loss and how you deal with grief and things like that and heartbreak and how you get over that.
It’s not all just tears, you do try and make a joke of it.
i really like that they are addressing the topic of gale's chronic pain. it's something that doesn't get addressed often, not even in the game itself.
i also found his answer as to why people might connect to gale very nice:
Nerds & Beyond: Gale is the most popular origin character to play as. What is it about him that you think allows so many different players to connect with him to the depths the fandom has?
Tim Downie: I really don’t know. I think you’d have to ask the players that, ‘cause I don’t know, to be quite honest with you. He’s a wizard, and who wouldn’t want to be a wizard at the end of the day? I always say the difference between wizards and sorcerers is that sorcerers just pretend – they just assume they know what they’re doing, but a wizard has really learned this trade. And so there’s that kind of weight of knowledge and learning, which I would love to play as and be for a length of time.
I think it’s also the frailties. I like characters, and a lot of people do I’m assuming, that have flaws, otherwise you’ve made them completely unapproachable. To be completely superhuman or completely extraordinary at something then removes the humanity from it because it becomes like, “Well, that’s never gonna happen.” But when there’s a flaw, when there’s, “Oh, I’ve got that wrong, too,” or like, “My knees hurt” as you say, or “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I really don’t want to do this,” “You’re really annoying me, this is very annoying, could you please hurry up?” or “Stop licking the damn thing,” it’s always those moments that are fun because it shows what we’re all thinking at that point, it removes it from almost archetype and stereotype and it becomes human in a way.
gale is approachable and likeable, has flaws, but is genuinely nice. i think that very much sums up his character.
this bit here made me laugh:
Nerds & Beyond: When you’re talking about those different layers in the humanity building, I think one of the most important aspects in this game is the more “background” or passive dialogue, so dialogue that is prompted in the world and not in the cut scenes.
For instance — the first time I made Gale sneak he immediately complained about his knees, and it was such a real moment where he was just like, “Oh, don’t make me do this. This is not what I’m here for, I’ve got bad knees and I’m not made for this.” Did you have any of those background lines or moments that stick out as being particularly fun to craft?
Tim Downie: I remember the first time I ever had to do waiting, I found it infinitely interesting in so many ways. The idea that I did actually just have to wait and just actually, “Hmm…” Those little things I find really funny because they’re probably the closest to me that the character ever gets. His waiting mannerisms are kind of very English – slightly annoyed and I’m not going to show it to you though because we’re all being very nice, but I’ll do it with a huff and a slightly sarcastic, “Well, that’s great. Another 20 minutes. That’s great.” Those kinds of sentiments I found wonderful and incredibly fun, and funny, to do.
if you want to read the whole interview for yourself, you can do so here!
#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate 3#tim downie#ch: gale dekarios#actor: tim downie#vg: baldur's gate 3#series: baldur's gate#please keep in mind that this is not canon and just tim sharing his thoughts#i'd just like to add that as a general disclaimer
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you ask for ficlet prompts, and a prompt you shall receive:
merman Steve please and thank you 🙏
blows you a kiss, i would do anything for you
also im mixing a lot of lore here im so sorry
He grew up lonely. Nereides live solitary lives mostly, only gathering when called, when there is need. He spent many years roaming and exploring deep oceans, only seeing his kind in passing moments of trade and exchange. It is a very lonely life, and he never understands why he was so different from the resst, when all of his kind are perfectly happy in their solitude.
The ocean is vast, and there aren't many nereides in this part of the world. But there are a lot of humans—humans who are never alone, he finds, always accompanied by others in their boats and their swims.
He loves to watch them. They are fascinating, these land people who throw themselves into the ocean with excitement and joy and curiosity. He watches from a distance, filled with longing and envy, as these creatures leave the safety of their home to touch the sea.
It's how he finds Dustin, as its little body struggles as a rip tide pulls it from the shores. He knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous humans are, but still, he rushes to it as the tiny thing wanes, stills, and brings it to the surface.
They float there together, the human and the nereid, just above the water, the human gasping for breath, trembling against him, until finally it speaks. Or screeches really. "HOLY SHIT!"
He doesn't understand the words, but he understands the meaning. "Holy shit," he says back to the human, because he's kind of feeling the same way.
The human begins to babble a whole lot of other things, and he has no idea what any of it means. He knows a little of human speech, things overheard, but he knows none of these words. This goes on for a long time, the two of them floating in the water alone, until finally the human points at itself and says, "Dustin."
"Dustin," he repeats.
"Dustin!" the human says again, gesturing at itself.
Ah, this is a Dustin. "Dustin," he says, agreeing, and uses his free hand to pat the human's head. Dustin then points, its little finger wagging in his face.
"You?"
"You?"
The Dustin says something again, but he doesn't understand it, distracted by a human boat shooting across the water towards them now. The Dustin is saying a lot of things still, but it's quickly approaching.
"Good-bye," he says to the Dustin, hoping that's the correct word. He ducks under the water and releases it, waiting a moment to make sure it floats, before darting back into the depths—only so far as to not be seen from the surface, even when the little human sticks its head underwater and looks around. Soon, the boat is beside it, and the Dustin is pulled from the sea.
He tries not to be sad about it. Dustin was wiggly and warm, and it was nice to hear it talk so loudly and so much. Nereides rarely speak like humans do, and he wishes that Dustin could teach him a few more of his words.
"Holy shit," he says, alone in the water, and decides to come back again tomorrow. Maybe he can see Dustin again.
#asks#ficlet fill#stranger things#he comes back early the next day to see Dustin literally camped out on the shore before anyone else gets there#and yes dustin names him 'steve' smdh#nereides are sea nymphs in greek mythology which is a part of my expansive mermaid lore that lives in my head and never on paper SMDH#I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS A LIL IT WAS FUN TO WRITE THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!#my steddies
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Kissing Headcanons Part 6 (Kazuha, Tighnari, Cyno, Dainsleif)
Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7
(Reader's gender is not mentioned)
Kazuha’s kisses are as soft and light as the breeze. He enjoys kissing your palms while gazing into your eyes, spontaneously reciting a new haiku about the depth of his love for you or the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. He can be surprisingly very forward and bold about his affection for you, and lets out a soft laugh whenever you get flustered from his flirting, finding your reaction to his kisses and words to be cute.
He also likes to kiss your hands if you get upset with him or other things happening in your life. He tells you words of reassurance and support, taking both your hands in between his and bringing them up for a kiss. Such actions convey his devotion and desire to comfort you because he wants you to know that you can rely on him to be there for you. He also has a tendency to kiss your shoulder. If you’re hugging or are simply spending some alone time together in close proximity, Kazuha will use the opportunity to place his lips to your shoulder in a lingering kiss.
Despite his overall calm demeanor, Kazuha tends to get a little playful with you when the mood strikes. While kissing, he could gently nip your bottom lip, or lean in for a kiss only to kiss the corner of your mouth at the last moment. He tries to hold back his laughter at your indignant reaction to his teasing, but sometimes he lets a chuckle slip past. Overall, his kisses are usually soft, gentle, and exploratory in nature. Kazuha likes to take his time to explore your feelings for each other, both through words and physical touch. He wants to make sure you feel comfortable enough to open up to him in such intimate situations, which is why he takes it nice and slow. He feels really connected to you during such intimate moments. He may be a wandering samurai that travels all over Teyvat, but you are his home, the one he belongs with, and the one that makes him happiest.
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Tighnari is not particularly into lots of physical affection, but he does like giving and receiving it when the two of you have some private time. He prefers to kiss your forehead opposed to your lips since he can keep the kisses short and sweet, especially as a way of saying goodbye when he heads out on patrol. He places his hand on the back of your head to pull you closer as he presses his lips to your forehead in a short peck, saying a word of farewell before leaving. It may not seem like much, but considering how he typically doesn’t engage in a lot of physical affection, these kisses serve as proof that he does love you and feels comfortable enough to engage in such intimacy with you.
Tighnari enjoys it when you kiss his fluffy ears, though he likes it more due to your happy expression rather than the sensation. He knows you like touching his fox ears and feeling how soft and fluffy they are, and the expression of absolute joy that lights up your features as you play with them amuses Tighnari. He chuckles and flicks his ear when you kiss it, finding the sensation a little ticklish, but he can’t help but smile at the delight in your eyes as you feel the fur of his ear. If you rub his ears while kissing him on the lips, Tighnari absolutely melts at the feeling, his tail swishing in pleasure. However, he doesn’t want you to know the effect your touch has on him, so he grows flustered and tells you off for touching his ears unprompted, but you laugh off his admonishment because you know he’s simply embarrassed for enjoying it.
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Cyno isn’t shy about kissing you. In fact, he was the first one to ask if you could try kissing and deepen your relationship. When the two of you are about to have your first kiss as a couple, Cyno will instantly notice if you’re nervous. He’s trying his best to make the experience as nice and comfortable for you as possible, and if you’re uneasy or nervous, then he’ll try to lighten the mood with a joke. Whether you find it genuinely funny and laugh or think it’s awful, it does its job of calming you down. After all, this is still your beloved Cyno in all his regular, goofy glory, and there’s no reason to feel intimidated.
Each time he wants to kiss you, Cyno asks your permission first before doing anything. He’s very respectful of your boundaries and wants you to be as comfortable as possible being in this new stage of your relationship with him, and will only stop asking if you tell him it’s unnecessary.
Though Cyno’s expression may remain aloof, he is very careful with how he pulls your face in for a kiss. His touch is light and gentle as he tilts your chin up and leans in to press his lips to yours. Though Cyno’s lips are warm, they’re chapped from traveling through the harsh desert winds and heat. Even so, his sweet, slow, and tender kisses warm your heart as much as your presence warms his. He’s very grateful to you for accepting him for who he is—bad jokes, intimidating appearance, and all. To be accepted and loved so wholeheartedly means more to him than you’ll ever know, and he at least wants to express his gratitude through such sweet kisses that he hopes make you feel as loved as he does by you.
When you give him surprise kisses to his cheek or any other part of his body, Cyno will ask what you’re doing. His expression may be impassive, but the blush on his cheeks gives away how flustered he really feels. Your unexpected kisses make his heart skip a beat and make him feel like a young schoolboy again. He really likes receiving such affection from you, though he prefers it when you do it in private rather than in public. He has a reputation to uphold as the fierce General Mahamatra. He can’t be caught blushing and stuttering because of a simple kiss. But catch him like that in private, and you’ll be privy to an adorable sight of a flustered Cyno that none except you get to see.
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There is something restrained about Dainsleif’s kisses when you first take that step in your relationship. They feel nice. Very tender, careful, and loving, but you can tell that he’s afraid of something. Each kiss feels like he’s kissing you for the last time, and it always make your heart ache to feel him act as if your relationship is already over. Dainsleif knows he’ll outlive you because of his curse, and there’s a part of him that’s already trying to numb himself to the inevitable day when he’ll lose you to time just so it won’t hurt as bad.
Underneath the fear of losing you, you can also feel that Dainsleif craves for more from your shared kisses, but he never asks for it. It's not until you confront Dainsleif about it that he confesses he feels an urge to be more aggressive with his kisses, but he didn’t want to ask for more since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or force you into something you don’t want. Even when you tell him it’s okay, Dainsleif will remain stubborn and won’t let himself indulge in his cravings. It will take a lot of patience and convincing on your end for Dainsleif to finally loosen the chains on his self-restraint and give in to his desires.
Once he lets himself indulge, you’ll feel a stark difference in his kisses. Dainsleif is like a man starved. He deepens the kiss, kissing you with a hunger that burns you from the inside. You can feel that he craves you, desires you, longs for you just from how firmly he presses his lips to yours, melding them together and barely letting you have a chance to catch your breath. He’s lost so much, and lives with those painful memories every day of his immortal life, feels and sees the effects of the curse on his body. But with you by his side, he can forget about the curse and the pain he feels, if only for a moment. You are his respite, and he tries to lose himself in you by kissing you senseless. Though he knows one day he’ll be forced to part from you, you chose him to be your lover and he wants to at the very least express his gratitude by giving you all the love he is capable of.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#kazuha x reader#kaedehara kazuha x reader#tighnari x reader#cyno x reader#dainsleif x reader
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Fuck it. Every Steve Harrington headcannon I have because I've been rotating that boy in my head like a pig on a stick Part 2 this is a little more in depth than the first one but only by a smug
- Epileptic, either since he was young or developed it over time due to all those concussions he keeps getting
- Favorite fruit is blackberries I have no reason
- Kinda sad but he never really had friends, yeah he hung out with Tommy and Carol but that was about it. Like after the fall out with them he was by himself, alone. I feel like if he was as popular as we think he is, he would have at least one other friend right?
- Does not have a filter at all. That one scene where he just casually says, "Oh yeah my parents are out of town because my mom doesn't trust him to not cheat on her any who!" and I feel like he just kinda does that
- Star Trek fan but he just does not comprehend that it's supposed to be nerdy (this is not my own I saw someone else headcannon this please tell me if you find them I can not)
- Absolutely sucked at ELA, could be cause of dyslexia or not whatever you want buttercup
- But on the topic of dyslexia, this headcannon is one of the main reasons why I love math nerd Stevie so much. Like, ELA test and History test are mostly long paragraphs that he needs more time to read through and his teachers don't care enough to give him extra time like he needs. But math tests tend to have a small paragraph that he can read faster or just focus on the numbers and finish on time, so he just got really good at math so he would have at least one class he passed
- Survives off of coffee, lord knows he needs it
- My most random headcannon is that since his parents were never really around or cared much for his safety, he used to hang out outside a lot and explore the wildlife around, got really into nature and animals, bought nature books etc. But his dad told him nature and animals were girly and forced him to stop even though he really loved it
- If he does ever go to college (which he doesn't have to, though if Robin went he would probably go with her), he would either get in education major and become a math teacher or some form of environmental degree
- His love language is quality time
- Among the three of them, Steve and Carol were the closest. Yes, Steve and Tommy met first, and yes they tend to call each other their best friends, but in actuality Carol and Steve were best friends. They have mean girl energy.
- He used to also play hockey when he was younger but stopped playing due to scheduling and shit. But he really liked it cause whenever he would practice there were these older figure skaters who would teach him figure skating (he kinda liked it more than hockey but he never told anyone)
- Speaking of scheduling, he is always tired due to his packed schedule. Since he was young, his dad forced him into a lot of sports and didn't really give him a break. Add that to his piano lessons, his jobs, studying that his dad forced him to do, friends, etc... he is just perpetually tired. And it fucked up his sleep schedule developing into insomnia as he got older
- Most of his and Eddie's dates are just them taking naps
- Once he meets Corroded Coffin they all become best friends. Like best fucking friends
- Specifically Steve and Jeff
#epileptic steve harrington#trekkie steve harrington#dyslexic steve harrington#hes a nature boy#i just love headcannons so much and i love hearing other peoples headcannons#like its the same character but we all just view them so differently#its beautiful#also yes some of these contradict others#stranger things#steve harrington#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington headcanon#oh and#corroded coffin#steve harrington and corroded coffin#insomniac steve harrington#ice skating#alrighty then#im done
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𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 | roronoa zoro
913 words
content: fem. latina reader, fluff, post time-skip, zoro watches reader dance and sing while she cleans the sunny.
notes: i miss rbd... yo digo r, tu dices bd, rbd, rbd!
zoro loves to watch you clean. he likes to stay back with you while the others explore a new island, knowing that you like to take advantage of the time alone. he’ll make himself scarce to let you work in peace but he's always there, keeping you company.
sometimes he closes his eyes to rest, enjoying the comfortable silence of the empty ship, hearing only the sound of you humming or singing softly; although most often, all he does is watch. it doesn't really matter to him; so long as he's near you, he's content.
there’s something endearing to him about the way you zone out, moving from one thing to another as if all the chore work came naturally to you.
she’d make a perfect housewife, he thinks to himself, knowing full well that if he ever uttered those words aloud, you and your tiny frame would make sure he hurt (and that thought is only further proof to him that you would be).
he likes it most when you play your loud latin music and sing along to it, almost always sounding terribly though he's convinced if you bothered to try you'd sound like an angel.
you hold the broom like a mic, singing each syllable like you feel it in the depths of your soul and zoro wonders what the hell you could be singing about; he rarely asks anymore, knowing well enough that it'll likely be a feeling you've never actually felt before.
you're dramatic and loud and he's certain that you wouldn't act this foolishly around anyone else. something he couldn't be more thankful for.
"y aquí estoy rendida a tus pies." you drop to your knees in front of him and the swordsman raises a brow, silently wondering how long it'll take you to sweep the room this time.
"y sé que no hay nada que perder..." you stand, stepping closer to him and your hand rests on his cheek and he thinks it might take at least another ten minutes for you to be done.
"pensando en ti," you lean in close, your hand falling into his and all that's left on his mind is that he could kiss you for those next ten minutes instead.
but you pull away before your lips can touch, fingers slipping from his as you sing the next line. "hasta que no me dejes ir."
you sing the chorus as you twirl around the room, picking things up from the floor, your eyes meeting zoro's enough for him to know that this time the song is about a feeling you know.
"no quiero vivir sin tu amor jamás..." you take a seat on his lap, your legs on either side of him and zoro's hands find their place on your waist, deciding not to let you stand up again.
"what're you singing about this time?" he grunts, his thumbs drawing circles into your skin.
"nothing special. just loving you and needing you and never wanting to let you go..." you say, pressing kisses to his face between every few words.
"what was that last line?" zoro questions, somehow knowing that whatever it was, you'd left it out. a part of him thinks he deserves a nice little treat for the spanish he's inadvertently learned from you.
you think about the line for a moment before translating it, "i don't want to live without your love, not ever."
and there's something left hanging in the air when you've said it. a twinkle of uncertainty in your eyes. something left unspoken.
"you won't."
it's the kind of oath that is rooted in regret. the kind that feels certain — set in stone, despite the impossibility of it. like he's promising you the stars and there's nothing you can do but believe him. it's not up to him whether you get to be at his side forever or not, but you believe it when he says you will.
"i missed you a lot." you can't help but say it and it feels pointless to mention, but you can’t put it out of your mind either. those two years taught you what eternity can feel like.
"i know," zoro’s lips brush yours without kissing you. instead, you feel his breath, the warmth coming from his body, and you wish you could get to know a different kind of eternity with him. closing the gap between you and him, you think this is the next best thing — the little taste of eternity on his lips.
"‘m going to love you for a long, long time…"
zoro doesn’t mean for the words to come off as romantic, doesn’t intend for them to make your heartbeat stutter, and you know that as well as you know him but they do regardless. the swordsman doesn’t even realize the sweetness of his blunt sincerity and you couldn’t love him more for it.
“i love you,” you utter the words in a faint whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest and listening to the music still playing. you could sit there in his arms forever, you think, until a familiar rapid beat meets your ears.
"da-ddy yan-keh..."
and zoro doesn’t fight it when you leave the warmth of his arms to dance again. he still has an eternity to hold you and to love you, anyway.
─────────────────────────────
taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa
masterlist | taglist
#୨⎯ sol escribe ☼#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#one piece x reader#zoro fluff#one piece fluff#everybody say thank u josh andrés rivera for inspiring zoro's last line in this#love him mwah
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Come back to me
So to start off with, i hate a lot of fanfics that include the (y/n) character as a barely legal, fragile, tiny thing that is oblivious to sex because that is just not me! i love alot of fanfics that have a lot of world building, real life issues and are really in depth, mixed in with some smut, steamy romance and fluff. i know this will not be for everyone but for those who do enjoy that, i hope this does it for you!
Husband William afton x Wife female reader - AU.
Planning on making this into a series if people like it!
content warning: marriage issues, smut, verbal abuse, age gap couple - william (early 50's) Reader (mid/late 20's)
UNDER 18'S DNI!!!
Come back to me (pt.1)
A glance. A kiss. Lips crashing down unto yours. he has you pinned against the bedroom door, panting heavily. Hands exploring places they've been so many times before. yours hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. desperation. his hooking their way into your sweatpants, teasingly close to where you need him, where you're yearning for him. his kisses moving from your lips, slowly trailing along your jaw before reaching your neck. he bites, suckles and licks the skin there, sending tingles throughout your body, reaching to your core. you're lost in the moment, feeling his beard scratch so deliciously against your skin, his lips soft but desperate. You need this. He needs this.
"mommy!" your ears prick up. the sound of one of your twins calling for you. you ignore it, trying to focus on the present scene unfolding in front of you.
"mommy, look at me!" again. calling for you. you can feel a haze slipping over you. mind going grey, unable to feel the kisses being planted.
a snap of your husbands fingers and you jump. you're in the garden, sitting on the patio next to william. the morning sun is beaming, your two children running around the garden, screaming and giggling. you glance over at william, he is staring at you. the silence between you both brooding ... deafening.
"your children are calling for you. just gonna ignore them?" he grunts out. a dig at you, most definitely.
you shake your head in response, taking the cup filled with coffee off the table, moving it up to your lips and taking a sip, you frown. it's gone cold.
the better part of the morning is spent playing with your children, trying to forget that you have a marriage counselling appointment in the early afternoon. not the first and most definitely not the last. no doubt william will find some excuse to not attend, he thinks marriage counselling is a scam, a waste of money. he refused to even acknowledge the idea until you nagged him for weeks. he eventually gave up.
you're now sat in the car, he's driving. the silence is painful. the drive to the appointment, uncomfortable.
your in the appointment. all his responses are grunts or a few word answers, while you're pouring your heart out, begging for him to just talk to you. a usual occurrence during these appointments.
You stop crying, lost in thought. maybe he was having an affair, it would explain a lot... no. yes. wait... would he do that to you? when would he have the time? god. don't be silly, he isn't cheating on you.... right? Before your mind can trail off anymore the therapist throws a question to you both.
"what are the biggest issues within your marriage? we have discussed this before briefly, however i'm curious as to the individual answers. William, why don't you start us off? yes?"
you glance over at william. he is staring directly at the therapist, poor woman, having to endure his death stare. his eye twitches slightly. he's trying to calm himself before answering. you avert your gaze back to the floor.
"Nothing is wrong with my marriage. i dont believe there are issues" your husband spits out.
the older woman nods, accepting his answer before she turns to you and nods again, signalling for you to answer.
"well... for starters i feel like he doesn't want me around anymore. he avoids me like the plague. there is no love, no affection, no.... no intimacy anymore" you begin.
william adjusts himself in his seat. clearly annoyed at the intimacy comment. you keep your gaze focused on the therapist.
"He wont talk more than a few words to me without snapping at me, he's stopped sleeping in our bedroom, he's taken the spare room instead. i never see him anymore. i'm... i... I've just had enough. it's hard living in a space that you have known as home for many years, yet feel so unwelcome at the same time" you finish. you can feel his stare burning into the side of your head.
the older woman nods again. that's all she seems to do, just nod. it can be quite annoying. she looks between you both.
"Y/N why do you feel like William has become this way with you?"
you sigh, not knowing the answer. you could only answer with what your mind has provided as far fetched ideas over the past few months. you shrug. "i'm not sure. i have a lot of ideas, none that could be close to the truth though" you respond, voice soft, deflated. like you've given up.
"One good way to get your marriage on track is open communication. Y/n why dont you share your ideas with William. it's a good place to start"
you sigh again and look over at william. he is staring at the floor. annoyed written all over his features. he looks over at you
"William..." you start with a sigh. "i... uhm... i have begun to think that maybe... you have fallen out of love with me" his gaze softens, almost looking heartbroken that you could ever think that. he shakes his head. he goes to reach out his hand, it lifts ever so slightly but stops immediately, his fists tightened, a small noise escaping his lips. almost like the whimper of a wounded animal as he quickly avoids your gaze, looking back down at the floor.
you take a moment to process what just happened. what was that noise? sound of affirmation? or denial? maybe his reaction is something to be hopeful for?
"any other ideas you have that you would like to share?" she adds quickly.
you nod, taking a deep breath. you knew he wasn't going to like this one but you had to get it out before the thought consumes you.
"William, i have thought for a while that you are having an affair." you blurt out.
his softened gaze quickly turns to a grimace, furrowed eyebrows. followed with a scoff before he stands up, grabbing your hand "session over. thanks for your time doc, see you next month" he mumbles as he pulls you out the door. the doctor looking more so confused than ever as she watches the two of you leave abruptly.
you get back into the car. oh he's pissed. maybe he is embarrassed that you brought that up? self conscious of how he looks in front of the therapist maybe?
he drives in silence before turning into an empty parking lot near a wooded trail path, probably for dog walkers.
he parks up before turning to you, face twisted with anger "An affair? an affair? .... AN AFFAIR?" He snaps. you nod "it just makes s-" he cuts you off "NO Y/N! NO! the falling out of love i can understand but an affair? i have done nothing to make you think that way"
you look at him confused.
"you're not affectionate. you're only happy when you're around the kids, you're only affectionate in public for 'appearances', you wont sleep in the same bed as me, let alone fuck me anymore, so you must be getting it from someone else!" you angrily snap out, you knew being with an older man would have it's problems but not to this extent.
he rolls his eyes. scoffs. "you're ridiculous. i am not having an affair!"
"it makes more sense than 'i'm stressed' " you quickly respond
he scoffs again but doesn't respond. just stares out the windshield of the car into the woods adorning the outskirts of the parking lot. the forest looked peaceful, serene almost. you continue to stare at him waiting for a response. receiving nothing.
you place your hand on his thigh gently "Will... Bear. please just talk to me... let me in again" you whisper. no response from him. he smiles in his mind at the use of the old nickname for him.
he was your bear. Tall, grumpy and hairy as one. Used to have you in fits of laughter when he would groan and snore, you telling him the attributes resembled a bear when you were first dating. hence the nickname.
Something snaps inside of him.
Your argument before, playing through his mind.
He looks over at you, eyes boring into yours. he reaches his hand out, cupping your cheek. it's been too long since he last touched you.
He moves from your cheek and trails his fingers through the mids of your hair before leaning down, hand clamped on the back of your head, moving you up to meet him halfway, lips on yours. slow. tender. A sense of yearning in the kiss. you let out a small surprised noise. not complaining in the slightest. just surprised, shocked even.
he pulls away ever so slightly, lips still touching. a small protesting whine leaving your lips as you desperately try to kiss him again. he stops you. nuzzling his nose against yours. hot breaths caressing each others skin. his lips soft. as you remember them. a free hand intertwined with your left hand, fingers caressing your wedding and engagement rings.
"I've not fallen out of love with you bunny" he breaks the silence, his words barely above a whisper. desperation. yearning. sadness being carried in his voice.
#william afton x reader#william afton#steve raglan x reader#steve raglan#fnaf au#fnaf#fluff#slow burn#william afton x you#steve raglan x you#older guys
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I watched the Netflix adaptation of ATLA today and being a hardcore fan of the OG series who knows every nook and cranny of the ATLA world, here’s my unbiased and truly honest review (It contains both the negatives and positives of the series, so dear reader please enter to read at your own risk).
Firstly, let’s talk about the wonderful additions to the already magical world of ATLA.
1. The depth of the genocide
Well, I always wanted to know how the air nomads were suddenly wiped out and how it would have been for them? Why didn’t they resist? I got my answers in the first episode where we explore how the unhinged power of the comet was “actually” used to create a genocide on a massive level. Before that, I had only heard about it in the OG series. Those few scenes were so powerful that they had left me sobbing uncontrollably and Gyatso’s concern regarding Aang had me bawling.
2. Suki’s Characterization
In the OG series, we do find our Suki the fiercest warrior, but here in the live action, she’s an absolute goddess. She is perfect in every sense. She understands the responsibilities she has being a non-bender and is fearless. Her character is what I believe to be was the strongest one of all.
3. Graphics & Music
We never talk about a film by M.Night (that didn’t happen), but this one is really a visual treat for you can readily set yourself up for some mind-blowing bending scenes, plus the fight scenes are quite impressive. It seems that the VFX team had really done their homework this time. Plus, both Momo and Appa are so freaking cute. I loved the fluffy Appa. Good work over there. The revival of the OG theme is also a highlight plus the sun warriors’ chanting in the end is given a new but intriguing twist. The background music especially in scenes where Aang unravels his Avatar powers is mystical in every aspect.
4. Life in motion
I don’t know about others, but I have always been a sucker for animation as well as live-action where characters are operating even in the direst of the circumstances. Life is there and even after they know what happened a hundred years ago, they are still trying to believe and regain their past confidence. This is beautifully portrayed and I was very much impressed by the way people are continuing their day-to-day activities even in the middle of a crisis.
Overall, the series serves the purpose of an adaptation carrying its unique colors (at least better than the previous live-action disaster that didn’t happen).
Now let’s move to the bad side, and when I say it’s honestly what I felt, you need to take my word on it being a hardcore Atla fan.
1. Weak writing & lots of exposition
ATLA remains at a 9.2 IMDB rating even after years because of its writing, strong plot, and very few plot holes. This time, the writers are the real amateur ones. Despite addicting more to the already flourishing universe of ATLA, sadly, they killed the quest of the viewer to find answers. There is too much exposition. It seems that every character just wants to see the end of the war and keeps on revealing things after things. Plus, some of the OG moments that were the soul of the series are not even included. The way Aang finds Momo and then decides to keep it with him as a last remnant of their bygone air nomad civilization is nowhere to be found. In fact, the replacement of Roku with Kyoshi is the biggest disappointment. I love Kyoshi like no one else but that was unnecessary as per the cycle.
2. Bland acting
Even the worst writing shots can be digested only if the acting appears real good. Sadly, this is another issue that I found with the NETFLIXED version. No doubt the characters must have done a lot of hard work for this, yet, they lack the expressive power. Gordon as Aang is super cute but the goofiness is not even there. Katara seems a nerd who doesn’t like to talk much even when it’s necessary and Sokka’s jokes are forced. Meanwhile, Dallas seems to save the day at one point, but again his over-the-top angry young man attitude ruins it for me. Maybe the actors will learn from the criticism in the upcoming season (if Netflix plans to go with it).
3. Major changes
Yes, it’s okay to change the narrative while you are working on an adaptation, but targeting the loyal viewers who are OG fans of ATLA means that you have to be very careful when you are trying to implement your changes in scenes that are the real soul of the OG. You can’t change the Omashu myth as if it’s nothing when we actually see even the cute animated version of the folklore. You cannot portray Roku more as a perpetrator of the genocide and Bumi as the evil king when in truth he’s the mad king who’s known for his genius ways of teaching. I hated that. Plus, reducing Zhao’s authority and taking Uncle Iroh’s sarcastic attitude is just meh. Mai again doesn’t even seem perfect as a cast. Jet is good as far as the aesthetics are concerned but Jet being in Omashu doesn’t even sit right with me. The amalgamation of multiple storylines creates so much confusion and this persists till the end.
4. Bending at convenience
We all know how Katara’s bending progressed throughout the first season and it’s little effort each day. However, in series, one day she’s unable to bend even a droplet of water and the next day she is capable of producing ice crystals. This was unacceptable for me because I was anticipating her learning strategies. Besides, Aang doesn’t learn much water bending throughout this season and in the end, it’s him being the savior in Avatar state. Thoughtless bending sucks despite the great VFX and that’s one thing at which you can’t convince me otherwise.
5. Forced friendships
We all know how it took some time for Sokka to embrace Aang as a chum. However, here Sokka keeps on calling him “the kid” and remains mostly alienated from Aang. Talking to Katara, then she also seems more interested in helping Avatar fulfill his goal than being with a friend. I hated the scene where Aang comes into the Avatar state and instead of hugging him just like in the OG series, Katara runs along Sokka and keeps on calling his name. How is that going to build any organic friendship? I think the first mistake began right from the very moment when Aang was taken back to Wolf Cove on a boat in his unconscious state. Upon opening his eyes, the first person he finds near him is neither Katara nor Sokka but a tribesman who’s playing guessing games. Writers were really high when they wrote that.
6. Lack of the four nations’ biodiversity
Maybe in live action, it’s difficult to create all the marvels of the four nations when we talk about their natural biodiversity. In the OG series, it is indicated by Aang that even after 112 years, he has still not forgotten the animals that define different regions in the four kingdoms and that’s exactly why he wants to finish those “important tasks” alongside saving the world. His important tasks included keeping a check on the natural biodiversity of the lands and exploring whether the Hundred Years’ War had not damaged the majestic animals. Actually, his first dialogue right after regaining consciousness is to go for an otter penguin’s ride with Katara. When I thought about that I felt that somewhere in Aang’s mind he was always connected to nature and that’s why he wanted to regain that connection by being an avatar. Sadly we never see much of the biodiversity but I hoped that maybe they will.
Also, how come Aang had that silent whistle for one hundred years when in the series he only discovers that accidentally? I missed the OG Yip Yip for our Appa. There are lots and lots of problems with the Netflix version, and no I am not being a nitpicker. I appreciate how the current creators credited the original ones, but now I know why Bryan and Michael bade farewell to this project. On a scale of 10, it’s a 4 for me or 4.5 if I am being too generous.
If I am asked to review the live action in a single line, I would only say this:
“The Netflixed ATLA makes you go back to the OG series and you end up watching the animation to give your mind a much-needed respite from a carefully crafted artistic disaster aimed at the sensationalized generation.”
#atla#avatar the last airbender#atla live action#atla netflix#avatar aang#atla katara#avatar zuko#avatar roku#avatar the legend of aang#iroh & zuko#zutara atla#kataang#avatar canon#avatar review
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To Love and To Cherish (II)
Part 10 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!
Warnings: CNC, oral (f), knife play (he fucks her with the hilt of his knife), bondage, threats, chasing, creepy phonecalls, mild mirror sex, somnophilia, anxiety, fear, angst, cliffhanger.
A/N: Please keep in mind that though this is dark play, everything has been discussed and even practised in advance and is fully consensual.
Hehe
@icannotbetrustedalone 😘
A late lunch is brought to your door after you wake up. You have no idea how Sam knew you were awake, perhaps she'd timed your jet lag that well.
She tells you to enjoy, that her team will be here around dusk to get you dressed for your date.
You smile at that word, knowing that she had no real clue what your husband was really up to.
Later in the day, there’s a knock on your door.
You open it to Sam, with her binder, looking eager.
“Are you ready?” She asks with a smile.
When you nod and open the door wider, she turns her head and nods too, and you blink in surprise when four other women follow her into your room with a lot of different things in hand.
You spot a garment bag, and a makeup kit, another bag has a hair curler sticking out.
They introduce themselves, their specialties are in hairstyles, makeup and nails.
You're out of your depth and you say so, glancing over at Sam for some kind of help.
“Don't worry, we already know what to do based off your preferences.” She explains, “You just have to sit back and enjoy being pampered.”
You guess you could try.
When they're done, you're surprised to see so much of yourself there.
There's a lovely little tiara on your head, your hair in a delicate updo with strands framing your face. The dress- is beyond beautiful, white shimmering fabric, an off shoulder design that makes you feel like a princess.
Your fingers and toes are freshly done in a dark red like you'd requested, so that they can match the red on your lips.
There's a small heel on your silver shoes- safe to run in while still being pretty.
“You guys are amazing.” You say in wonder as you fully assess yourself.
They laugh, happy that you're satisfied.
Sam presents one final thing to you, the one odd thing you'd asked for that wasn't in your binder.
You grin at her, ducking into the ensuite bathroom and tugging the garter out of the box, sliding it on.
There's a small knife attached to it, and you make sure it's concealed, and easily reachable through the slit in your dress before you step out again.
When they’re finished with some last minute makeup retouches, Sam smiles proudly, and wishes you a very good night, letting you know that they’ll all be leaving you soon, here alone with your husband.
You can’t help the excited pulse your nether regions give at the reminder, dressed pristinely from head to toe, all for Billy to tear off.
You grin at Sam, walking the small group of women to the door, listening quietly to their plans for the night, encouraging and enjoying their banter, sending them off with a wave into a car waiting for them.
The heavy wooden door closes with a dull sound that echoes through the castle, emphasising your desolation.
You turn, leaning against the door in your shimmery dress, taking in the quiet silence of the place.
There’s a little bit of fear tingling down your spine, the feeling of being truly alone in such a big place, not really knowing where you are, with no means of escape.
You find that it turns you on.
All dressed up, all for him, and you can’t even really leave, a headiness to the realisation, your fear is an aphrodisiac all on its own.
You bite down on the corner of your lip, smiling, pushing yourself away from the door, and decidedly picking a direction to begin your exploration.
You touch everything you see, trailing your freshly done fingertips over every item, examining the feel, appreciating the textures.
The curtains, the lighting fixtures, you examine all of it, a crown on your head that makes you almost feel like you own it all.
You get into the fantasy he’s weaved, becoming the role of the princess he’s cast you in.
You find the throne room first, a flourish of plum and golds, a large red carpet leading to the thrones in question- two- sitting side by side, beckoning you closer.
You squint, looking up at the massive chandelier that sits in the middle of the room, with little pieces of glass that if cleaned properly, would probably reflect little shards of light.
You pick the chair on the right, and settle yourself onto it, sighing happily at how comfortable it is, relaxing for a moment, before standing to continue your exploration.
You’re passing the dining room when a phone begins to ring in the distance.
It sends a shiver of fear over you, the dated sound echoing through the halls. You begin searching for it, following the rings of what you assume is an old era phone.
You find the phone on a table at the bottom of the staircase, ruby red, sitting beside a marble statue of a woman, posed with her hand in the air as if to block the light from her eyes.
It keeps ringing until you tentatively pick it up, bringing it to your ear.
“Hello?” You say softly into it.
There’s a voice on the other end, modulated to be unrecognizeable to you, but even that sends a shiver of excitement through you.
“Princess.” The voice says calmly.
You swallow.
“Who is this?”
The voice is deep, each grovel is a tremor in your body.
“I’m just a nightmare, sweetheart. I hope you’re ready for me.”
You shudder, shaking your head.
“Ready for what?”
He doesn’t answer your question.
“You look gorgeous. Prettier than I expected. It’s making me… want.”
You stiffen, taking a breath and looking around, searching the shadows for some sign of a man, lurking in the darkness.
“You can see me?” You ask in a soft whisper, laying the fear on thickly.
“Of course, princess. I’ll be inside soon, we’ll get a nice, long introduction to each other.”
You gasp in surprise, dropping the phone and moving quickly to the doors you passed during your exploration, making sure that they’re locked.
Your hand is on the door separating the kitchen from the gardens- when the lights go out.
You hear your own breath of surprise, your heart pattering in your chest, real fear being awakened inside of you when you realise that this is actually happening.
Everything is still, you’re afraid to move, the darkness becoming honey thick all around you.
Eventually, being still is too much, and you have to force your body to break the stillness around you.
There’s barely a sliver of light, the moon, casting pale streams through the windows. Instinct tells you to stay where you can see, your body backed against the window, eyes peering into the darkness as if it’s alive and coming for you.
You glance down when something shimmery catches your eye, gasping, you realise that the moonlight makes you a bigger target, your dress reflecting its beams in every direction.
It leaves you no choice but to step into the darkness.
You wonder where he is, if hands will just reach out and grab you at any given moment.
It makes your stomach tight, that what you’ve been yearning for is almost within reach.
“Hello?” You call out shyly, voice shaking just a little. You walk softly out of the kitchen, one hand against the wall to guide you, unsure of exactly where you’re going.
Suddenly, a chill runs over the back of your neck, like a soft breath from someone standing just behind you. You turn, waving your hand into the darkness, and finding nothing but air.
You feel so much like prey in that moment, searching for a predator with hunting skills beyond your comprehension.
You’re passing the dining room when your heart freezes in your chest. In the corner of your eye, you can see the silhouette of a dark figure, standing in the moonlit window.
Your breath halts in your throat, turning to face him, the swishing of your dress is louder in your ears.
The mask is- terrifying- white, with the appearance of fractured glass across it, some pieces missing over the cheek area, his real face peeking through.
He raises a hand, and presses a gloved finger to the mouth of the mask.
You turn, and run.
Fuck, this was it, it was really happening. He was here, and he was going to do all the things he promised he would, all the things you’d practised together so that he was sure you were always one hundred percent safe and comfortable.
You’re not very fast, the dress and heels slowing you down
He grabs you at the very moment the lights flick on.
It takes a moment for your eyes to get adjusted, and then you gasp when your back is slammed to a wooden wall behind you, the intricate carvings pressing uncomfortably to your spine.
His hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place as you look up at him with fear in your eyes.
You finally get a chance to see him fully, all masked up, covered from head to toe in what can only be the most mouth watering look on the planet.
Sure, his suits were divine, but seeing him dressed down like this was a cherry on top of a malevolent cake.
It clings to his skin, the cut of his chest and arms showing through the tight, long- sleeved shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of navy combat pants, and further into boots.
It’s much easier to note where you can see his skin- on his wrists between the sleeve and the glove, his neck, and parts of his face that show through the fractured pieces of his mask.
He’s a work of devastating art, lust incarnate, bringing forth so much delight that you struggle to hide it.
“Please,” you whisper shakily, getting into character, feeling it spark arousal, “Don't hurt me.”
You watch the darkness clouds his eyes, a predator, hidden beneath layers of humanity, finally being set free.
“Oh, princess,” he whispers, leaning in, trailing his gloved thumb over your jaw and cheekbone lovingly, “I am definitely going to hurt you.”
You gasp at his words, reaching for the weapon strapped to your thigh. It was your turn to give him a surprise.
The dagger is sharp, you made sure of it, wanted it to be real, you wanted to see a genuine look of surprise in his eyes when you finally pressed it to his neck.
Except, he doesn't look surprised at all.
“Leave.” You say, with so much command in your voice that you almost believe you have the power to say something like that to him.
He studies you for a lengthy moment, before he tilts his head back and lets out a deep laugh, and even that, works to seduce you.
His hold is an iron grip on your wrist, and it was a mistake letting him grab you, he’s too strong, and no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t get your hand back.
“This knife is pathetic, princess.” He grabs the hilt, twisting it so that you’re forced to release it or have your wrist twisted too, it clatters loudly in the empty space.
“Is that all you have to fight me off with? No wonder this is so easy.”
You exhale angrily, trying to push him away, your freshly done nails digging into his arms.
He grips your hands, pulling them above your head and pinning them there with one of his.
A soft sound of distress leaves your lips, struggling to get away but your dress is too much of a hindrance, keeping your legs pressed in one place when he moves closer.
“Here, why don’t I show you mine?” He murmurs, reaching with his free hand to pull a significantly larger knife out of his boot.
You gulp, eyeing it wearily as he rubs the handle roughly against your cheek, the hilt is coated in a rubber, with indents to help with grip. He slides it around till it’s pressed to your lips, smearing your lipstick, you angle your head away to avoid it.
“I’m going to fuck you with this,” He promises, leaning in till the mouth of his mask is on your ear, “Gonna use it to get you ready for my cock.”
“No.” you murmur weakly.
“No?” He teases, “Well why don’t you try stopping me then?” He murmurs, pulling back a little to free you from his hold.
You’re surprised to be free, knowing that it’s just a trick, knowing that he wants to chase you.
You keep your eyes on his form, watching him observe you as you slowly back away.
“Go on, princess,” He says in such a condescending tone that your knees wobble, “Run away from me.”
When you're far enough away that you know he won't grab you, you turn, pulling your skirts up a little so that you can run.
Heart pounding in your chest you have no idea where you're going or what your plan is beyond running away. You couldn't very well hide in a dress that glimmers when you breathe, you couldn't fight- all you really had in your arsenal was your capacity to get him angrier.
With that in mind, you grab the first heavy thing you can find- the telephone directory- turning and chucking it in his approximate vicinity.
It doesn't slow him down at all, because he grabs your wrist in the next second, pulling you into him.
“No!” You exclaim, swiping your nails across his mask, knocking it askew so that he can't see.
You’re not proud of how hard you stomp his foot next, watching him double over with a low grunt, allowing you to get some distance.
The phone, you decide, angling your run to get you to the base of the main stairs.
You just make it to the phone- grabbing the glossy handset and raising it to your ear- before he grabs it roughly from you, reaching behind to rip all the important wires out of the back.
You almost can’t do it, wanting to drop to your knees right there and beg him to take you- but you know that deep down you had to see this fantasy fully play out.
He’s angry now, and he shows it by grabbing the entire phone and slamming it to the floor while you watch, backing away in horror, his sleek boot slamming the broken pieces until it’s nothing but ruby shards.
“Who were you going to call, princess? You don’t even know where you are.”
Jesus, you think, helplessly aroused.
The next time you turn away, he wraps an arm around your waist and picks you up.
You kick your feet in protest, scratching at his arms, trying to pry his iron grip off of you but it’s no help, you grunt, and you kick and you wriggle and still he drags your body wherever.
He drops you below the chandelier of the throne room.
It glitters in your eyes as you try to catch your bearings, sitting up you watch him grab a length of rope from his belt.
You try to scramble back but your dress catches under your feet, making you slip, falling back even more.
He grips one of your wrists while you’re disoriented, and you feel the rope wrap tightly around it. You try to push him off, but he just catches your other hand, wrapping them securely in front of you, knotting them easily.
He stands, and with a strong arm, throws the other end of the rope through a support rung of the chandelier, catching it as it swings toward him.
Then, he pulls, forcing you up onto your knees, your hands suspended in the air, as he moves to secure the rope to the throne nearby.
You struggle, trying to tug your way out, your legs tangled in your dress, stopping you from standing.
“I wouldn’t.” He warns softly, “Pull too hard and it might fall, carving up that pretty body before I’m done.”
He kneels beside you, brushing some of your hair out of your face.
“That would make me, real upset.” He breathes through the mask.
“P-lease.” You beg, turning your head to look at him, relaxing when you realise there was no escaping without hurting yourself.
“God, you're so pretty.” He trails a gloved hand over your cheek, down your chest, the leather is smooth on your skin, you shiver when his hand reaches the top of your dress.
“I almost don't want to hurt you.” his hand smooths over the front of the dress, slipping lower to gently untangle the skirts from your legs, you adjust to let him do so, thinking that it will allow you to stand up.
You turn your head to look at him, examining his eyes through the mask, the way they linger on your body, you don’t even realise what’s been done until you feel his gloved hand slip under your panties and press right to your clit.
The friction is delicious, the smooth leather providing an interesting feel between your thighs. You look down, realising he’s used the high slit of your dress to get under your skirts easily.
“Don’t.” You beg, trying to inch away, “Please.”
“I don’t fucking care what you want, princess.” He grits out harshly, his finger pressing down more firmly, slipping from side to side, the pleasure, trying to force you to shut down your resistance.
“I’m here to steal from you, and I’m going to take everything I want.”
Your breaths become shallow when his finger starts circling your aching bud, you’ve been denying yourself for so long that you feel the sweet burn of pleasure the longer he does it.
You can even feel how wet you are, in the fluidness of his movements. He breathes into your ear, and you find yourself leaning into him to take the weight off of your knees.
“Don’t do this,” You murmur weakly, “Please I’ll do anything.”
He laughs in your ear, slowing his movements to torment you.
“I’m doing you a favour, sweetheart, you should be grateful. At least I have the decency to let you cum before I fuck you with my knife.”
You make a sound of protest, angling away from him.
“No!” You cry.
He doesn’t let you move far, gripping the back of your head, till it’s tilted back, hands suspended above you, his fingers resume their fast movement on your clit.
He’s dextrous, even with gloves on, you can feel the micromovements that succeed in bringing you right up to that edge even faster.
Your eyes roll back in your head, surprised that he’s got you right on edge so soon, though you know you shouldn’t be, this is your husband after all, he knows exactly how to get you off.
The weeks of denial burn, your body not accustomed to orgasm needs an extra push getting there, he presses down even firmer, speeding up.
You groan, unable to stop it, or resist it, your stomach clenched tight with nothing in sight but the precipice of orgasm.
Don’t stop, you beg internally, please don’t stop.
It’s a hollow thing, but strong nonetheless. You breathe shallowly through gritted teeth as you reach your peak, thighs trembling, as you rut yourself helplessly on his gloved fingers.
Too good, needing just a little bit more, thighs sticky with your orgasm, his fingers growing even more messy as you come.
Your vision whites out for a moment, senses evaporating temporarily, you come back to the sound of your own panting, heavy in the room.
You don’t get a chance to look over at him with desperate eyes, he pulls his hand from between your thighs and promptly shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth.
You hum in protest, trying to pull away, but he’s still got that iron grip on the back of your head.
“Taste that slutty little cunt, princess. Remember how wet you get for me when you’re begging me to stop later.”
You can only grunt your denial, with his fingers in your mouth, the taste of leather and your arousal making its point on your tongue.
When he draws his hand back, they come out with heavy strings of saliva that cling to your bottom lip.
“You’ll pay for this.” You whisper hoarsely, your head hanging low. Your arms start to ache a little from the way they’re held above your head.
It’s the wrong thing to say, he grips your hair once more, tugging your head back to an almost uncomfortable position.
“What was that?”
You make a little sound at the way he manhandles you, tilting your head, you look him in the face.
“I said, ‘You'll pay for this.”
He studies you slowly, you watch his eyes flicker as he studies your face. You curl your hands into fists, hoping he lets you down soon.
His laughter doesn't surprise you, but it does make your stomach twist.
“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me pay? You?” He says between small sounds of amusement, reaching back, he pulls the knife from before out of his pocket.
You eye it warily, as he brings the blade up to your line of sight, you swallow, trying to breathe as you examine the wicked edge of the serrated blade.
You go perfectly still when the cool metal of the blade touches your cheek.
“You might be a pretty little thing, but you have no power to make me pay. You’re all mine to do what I want. You can’t stop me.”
You whine pitifully, knowing that his words were true.
He reaches up, cutting the rope and guiding your hands into your lap. By now, they tingle, almost numb but not quite, you sigh in relief, watching him quietly squeeze your arms.
“Don’t be scared,” He says, surprisingly soft for someone who was just running the sharp edge of a knife over your cheek, “I'm sure you'll learn to love taking my cock. Maybe with time, you'll beg me for it.”
“Go to hell.” You utter with as much venom as you can muster.
Behind the mask, you hear his laugh, watching the way he lowers his hand, flipping the knife around so that the hilt points toward you.
You lean away, your dress glittering as you move, feeble bound arms raising to push his hand back as he draws closer.
You don’t get far in stopping him, and in the next moment, you feel the hilt of his blade pressed between your thighs.
Fuck, this was too good.
Your head tips back in bliss, torn between fighting him and begging him to just take you in any way he wanted.
Your husband, the man you loved with almost every atom in your body.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You whisper on a shaky breath, turning to look at him.
Behind the mask, he huffs, the hand in your hair wraps neatly around your throat.
Pulling you close, looking into your eyes, you can hear his angry breaths behind his mask.
He wriggles the hilt of his knife against your cunt, pleasure swelling in your head at the very touch.
He stands suddenly, sheathing his knife, grips your arm to haul you up. Your legs wobble, almost giving out beneath you before he’s wrapping his hands around your hips to lift you.
With your hands tied together, there’s nothing more you can do than wiggle, shifting your body this way and that, but he doesn’t say a word, dropping you onto one of the thrones in the next moment.
He grabs the rope that's tied to the throne- the one that had been used to pull you onto your knees just moments before- and uses it to secure each hand to either side of you.
You kick your foot out at him, and he simply grabs your ankle, gloved hand trailing up to your thigh for a moment before he bends your knee, pulling your leg over the arm of the throne, and securing your ankle to a point somewhere between the base and the foot that you can't really see.
From there, it's over for you, your other foot is caught just as swiftly, and the next thing you know, you’re tied securely to the throne with your legs opened wide, draped across the arms of the intricately carved seat.
He's silent for a moment, appreciating his work, you tug at the restraints to further reinforce his satisfaction that you can't move.
“Damn. You look like a work of art.”
You frown up at him.
He leans over you, and you finally understand the versatility he has with you in this position. He could fuck your cunt, or your mouth, or even your breasts if he so wanted and you couldn't do a damn thing.
He grips your jaw with one hand, tilting your head up, coming closer, pressing a knee into the open space between your thighs for balance. When he gets close enough, he covers your eyes, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours.
It gives you butterflies, the way he presses in firmly, taking with his mouth, his beard scratching softly at your chin and lips. You hum against his mouth, feeling his hold on your jaw tighten for a second before he's shoving his tongue past your lips.
Like he owns you, his kiss consumes your senses, your bound fingers curling into little fists as you enjoy kissing him for a few moments more.
Before you bite down harshly on his tongue.
He pulls away in a split second, back to you as he presses his hand to his mouth. You grin in victory as he tugs the mask sitting on his head back down to his face before turning to face you angrily.
He's slow when he approaches, predatory with his long legs and his cocky attitude.
He drops to one knee in front of you, tilts his head, leaning in.
You hear the loud thud of his hand slamming into the space beside your head long before you've registered what's happened.
It makes you flinch in surprise, despite the fact that he'd practised it with you before. It seems way more sinister now, with his masked persona feeling like a different person altogether.
Naturally, the fear spinning inside of you, only succeeds in making you more aroused.
“You're such a brat, I almost want to fuck you right now with no prep.” He presses his thumb between your spread legs, ambling slowly over your clothed clit, “I bet I'd make that little cunt cry with how much I stretch her.”
You suck in a slow breath.
“Please don't.”
He pulls his knife out again.
“You don’t really have a choice.” He answers, carefully angling the cool blade between the seam of your panties.
“Don’t move, little girl, or I might accidentally hurt you- on purpose.” He teases, tugging the knife toward him so that your panties are cut through with zero effort.
You sigh in relief when your cunt is finally exposed to the cool air, sticky with arousal, you groan when he tugs your undergarment free.
“Look at that weepy little hole princess- fuck- she’s so empty, isn’t she?”
“Noo” You hum softly, clenching around nothing as he studies your most delicate area.
He moves slowly, almost reverent in his actions, notching the tip of his hilt against your entrance, you feel your lungs seize as the pleasure hits you.
You hiss when he presses in, the ridged hilt stretching you open, not as big as his cock, but certainly larger than his fingers.
You take it as best as you can, relaxing, eyes watering with an abundance of pleasure.
He tilts his head, makes a single click of his tongue.
“She’s so greedy,” He says breathlessly, “Look at that.” He sinks more of the hilt in.
You bite your lip, moaning when he pulls slowly out, pushing in again.
He starts slow, moving softly until you can take all of the hilt. He grips the blade, you wonder if the glove protects him from the sharp edge.
You want to say his name, but he hasn’t given it, so you settle for sniffling, your bottom lip wobbling wetly as he takes his time.
“Stop.” You mewl, trying to stay in character, looking at his masked face, watching his dark eyes look back.
“No, sweetheart,” He says evenly, “I’m going to play with you, until I’m done.”
You suck in a deep breath, holding it.
He quickens his pace just a little, and before you know it, your cunt has locked tight around the hilt of his knife, every blunted ridge of it being imprinted into your head as you see stars.
It’s unexpected, you hadn’t meant to cum, your body jerking helplessly against the restraints, you pant, unable to see straight for a few moments.
You gulp in air, coming back to your senses. He waits patiently for your orgasm to subside, your body to relax before he works the hilt out of your eager cunt.
“You’re so pretty when you do that.” He says, tucking his knife back into his belt, studying you for a moment before reaching up to shove two of his fingers past your lips.
You can’t go anywhere, simply forced to feel him carefully push and pull his fingers in and out of your mouth, the weight on your tongue encouraging your brain to surrender to him.
When he determines his fingers are wet enough, he glides them down your chest, and tugs at the front of your dress.
It takes a little work before his thumb and index find your pert nipple.
A breath of air leaves you, and your back arches involuntarily, begging for more of his touch.
“You like it, huh? Kinda pathetic.”
“Rot in- f- hell.” You grunt, eyes rolling back as pleasure swims in your head from the way he takes his time to play with your nipples.
You feel his hand, drag over your stomach as he chuckles, the rushing sound as he disturbs the fabric of your skirts. Deft fingers rub circles into your inner thigh before a lone finger slips under the silky elastic garter that was holding your little knife.
You watch him assess you, bound arms and spread thighs and his masked face tilts as his eyes meet your centre.
“So pretty.” He mumbles, before he leans in, lifts his mask to the top of his head and lays a gentle lick to the seam of your cunt.
You gasp in surprise, unable to see his face with the mask atop his head, all you can do is feel- the way he licks gently at you, softly, the need burning white hot with each moment he teases. His tongue trails up to your clit, offers you a preview of the pleasure he can give, before placing slow swipes of his tongue over you.
You sigh, the fight leaves your limbs, you feel like jelly above him, with a tongue that can only be described as godly.
There’s no way you can continue fighting past this, his tongue pulls obedience from you, compliance, it makes you willing and eager to let him do whatever he wanted, helpless for your perfect husband.
You let out a slow moan, head tipping back, thighs trembling with the way his tongue moves, gliding over your clit, showing you exactly what he was capable of without ever actually giving you anything.
“Please,” You simper, unable to resist, with the tongue of such a dextrous man working on you.
If he wants to ask you about where your fight went, he doesn’t bother, merely laughing into your heated cunt, the fractures of his pale mask staring back at you.
Almost there, your fingers curl tight, nails pressed to the flesh of your palms as your breathing hastens.
There’s a rushing in your head, pressure all over, threatening to make you burst apart.
You’re not sure if he knows or cares, his mask moving slightly when his head does, when his tongue, the raving appendage it is, delves through you.
Faster and yet faster, slippery tongue gliding over you, aimed at your oversensitive bundle of nerves, delicate movements of his tongue that are going to unravel you.
His beard rough against your thighs, a wet smacking sound, warm air brushing over you as he exhales, the reminder that he's there, enjoying his time on his knees, unwilling to stop until you've hit that peak.
He presses in closer, his grip on your thighs tightening, firm in their reminder that he’s there- as if you could forget. Your body shakes, soft whines leave your throat, his tongue harsher on your clit.
“I-” You try to say, but your body decides that you’ve spoken enough, you bite down on your bottom lip, every muscle in your body pulled tight.
The first thing you do when your orgasm hits, is tremble.
A sweet fire erupts inside of you, an insurmountable amount of pleasure spreading over you. Your breathing is harsh, heaving, his soft tongue licks you through it, gentle now and soothing between your thighs, no doubt drinking deep of your orgasm.
You press your hips into his face, unable to stop yourself, and he rewards the movement with more careful touches of his tongue.
The rope holding your arms and legs down chafes slightly, protesting your movement, and after a minute, you slump into the chair, boneless and sated.
Your breathing remains harsh, lips wet from being trapped between your teeth, your face is hot, you can feel each time the blood reaches your cheeks, each time your heart contracts in your chest.
You can't hold yourself up and you know it. If you weren't tied up you'd be in a boneless pile.
“Not bad, princess.” He says, warm breath on your thighs. He raises his body to be in your line of sight, the mask still covering his face.
You feel your nipples tingle, excitement stiffening them as he hovers above you.
He tilts his head to study you, his gloved finger tapping the tip of your nose, sliding down to your parted lips.
“You look real pretty when you come. Your mouth opens and your eyes roll back sometimes- makes me want to do it again and again so I can memorise the way you look.”
It's hard to respond, brain hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, but you have to- you need to.
“Please,” You whisper, “You're not the first man to make me come, and you won't be the last.”
You know you're in real trouble when his hand wraps around your throat.
Your eyes widen, he squeezes hard for a moment, which only succeeds in filling your brain with mindless pleasure. You don't bother trying to breathe, waiting till his grip loosens to take a small breath.
“If you think,” He grunts angrily, leaning in till he hovers over you, “that another man is ever going to touch you, you're more delusional than I thought, princess.”
You can only make a small grunt of protest, gazing angrily up at him.
“And maybe I can't control who touched you before I met you, but I can still gift you their heads.”
It makes your breath stutter in shock.
He releases your throat, pressing the tip of his gloved finger to your bottom lip.
“Tug this off. I want to really touch you now.”
You hold his eyes while your teeth sink into the tip of his glove, biting down on his finger too. He pulls down, dislodging his finger from the glove. You release it, and repeat the process with all five of his fingers, and finally, when they're all loose, you clamp your teeth down on the middle finger of his glove and he pulls his hand free easily.
It smears your lipstick no doubt, and you probably look quite messy by now, no doubt your hair is askew as well.
He reaches down after he makes you help with his other glove, and you hear the slow drag of his zipper. Nothing has ever sounded so euphoric.
You look up at him with wide eyes to find that he's already looking at you.
His eyes terrify you, so much darkness in them, you wonder how you'd never seen it before.
“Don't do this.” You beg, startling when you feel his hot cock brush your inner thigh.
At the same time, the main lights flicker off, only the small auxiliary lights on the walls glow softly.
The darkness in his eyes grow, until it becomes an extension of the room.
“Just breathe, princess, this is going to hurt.”
It does at first.
Even though you've come three times so far, and he's used the hilt of his knife on you, and also his tongue to help further your wetness, his size still pinches.
It's been a while, and you feel it in the way he stretches you open, going slow because he knows he's not an easy man to take.
But God, he feels so good.
The pain comes with double the pleasure, that makes your eyes roll back in your head, bound hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to process the feeling.
He pushes the tip of his cock in, works carefully to fill you, slows down when he encounters resistance.
You take a shallow breath, coming back to your senses a little, looking up at him as he works himself into you.
He rocks his hips, encouraging your body to feel him, to welcome him in, and you have no control over it, surrendering to him easily.
He's so deep you feel it in your throat, a shuddering mess as he bottoms out, you feel tears spring to your eyes, a fullness you've been craving.
Your lips tremble, watery vision glued to the mask, you couldn't look away if you wanted to.
“Should I stop?” He asks, a minuscule tremor of his voice that gives away that he's not as unaffected as he seems.
You can't say the words, the lie too big to be voiced, but you want to keep playing despite how desperately you need him.
You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding softly.
He blinks behind the mask, a tilt of his head to study you.
Arms braced on either side of you, he leans in till the mask touches your cheek.
“That's too bad.” He murmurs.
Then, he draws out, before pressing into you once more.
You make a small sound, and then another when he does it again, the slow drag of his cock is torture, but that's the best part.
You whine, unable to speak, or voice your frustrations, but he chuckles above you, already knowing that he's not giving you what you need.
It's slow, so fucking slow and yet deep enough to create spots of black in your vision.
He grunts above you, and the sound goes right down to your cunt, clamping around him for a second before releasing.
“Fuck.” He growls, “You're so tight. I'm going to love coming in you.”
This was it, time to be the best actress possible.
“N-no, you can't! I'm- I'm not-”
His laugh is so dark it sends shivers down your spine.
Deep and low, devastatingly malicious.
“I can’t?” He teases.
You shake your head no quickly, eyes wide in shock and fear.
He pauses his slow movements to look down at you, too enraptured to focus on two things at once.
“Who’s going to stop me, princess? You?”
You struggle against your bindings helplessly.
“It's okay, we both know you'll learn to like it.”
With those words, he resumes his slow pace.
It's not fair, barely realistic you've never had an orgasm creep up on you like this.
You don't understand, his cock is moving slow, and yet all your pleasure spots are sparking. Is it his size? Or maybe he just knows your body so well that he can force an orgasm so sweet out of you that it almost hurts.
But you can feel every spark, every short circuit of your brain, your toes curl, and your back stiffens, and the dangerous man above you draws it out, wringing each drop of pleasure before moving to the next.
“Perfect.” He whispers, almost sounding out of breath, and when your chest begins to burn, he delivers one harsh thrust of his cock that makes you topple like a house of cards.
A moan leaves your mouth on every other breath, unable to control your vocalisations, or even your breathing, clamped so tightly around him that he makes a low grunt before you feel him spill inside of you. It makes it that much better, knowing that he's hit his peak at the same time you have.
You come back to your senses slowly, his mask coming into focus.
Each breath eases the burning pleasure, replacing it with sweet euphoria, a drug like never before.
He’s panting too, trembling a little, no doubt struggling to stay upright after his first orgasm in six weeks.
And here you are, about to taunt him for it.
“Is that it?” You ask softly.
You’re a little unprepared for the way his eyes scald you.
“Is my cunt that good?” You continue to tease.
He closes his eyes, takes a slow breath to calm himself.
When he looks at you again, you know you're in a lot of trouble.
He leans away, reaches for his knife before slowly cutting the ropes free from around your ankles.
You hiss when he frees your arms, noticing that there's the impression of the rope on your wrists, you rub them as you right your legs, moving them from their previously spread state.
He watches you, and you do the same warily.
“Stand up.”
You gulp, pushing yourself onto wobbly legs, you sway for a moment, before looking over at him expectantly.
He’s still wearing the mask, but by now you’re aching to see his face, you wanted to see your husband while he did these wicked things to you.
He tilts his head toward the door, and your eyes follow the motion, not understanding until he speaks.
“Get out.”
Your head swivels back to him.
“Go, before I change my mind.”
This was another game, you realise, you’d made him mad, and he was going to show you exactly how helpless you were.
You back away, like always, keeping your eyes on his. You can feel his cum, smearing the inside of your thighs as you move. It only makes you more aroused.
You smooth your dress out anxiously, looking down at the shimmery material, and then back up at him, slowly backing away until you’re far enough that he won’t grab you from behind.
When you make it to the door, he’s still standing where he was, looking at you in the dimly lit room.
You can feel your heart in your throat with the fear of everything around you, a sinister ambience, the thrill of being chased.
Outside is dim as well.
The main lights are off. All you have to go on are the smaller lights along the walls.
You don’t get too far from the throne room before all the auxiliary lights flicker off as well.
The darkness squeezes at your heart, a shiver going down your spine. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the distinct nothingness.
The room is still, quiet around you but you can feel him everywhere. It’s like he’s the darkness surrounding you, touching your skin, depriving you of everything except himself.
It’s why you’re not surprised when you feel him at your back.
His hand reaches around, grips your throat and uses the leverage to pull you back. He isn’t gentle, squeezing at the sides harshly to ensure you’re paying attention to him, as if you could ever be distracted.
His bare hand, warm, coarse, thumb and middle finger pressed to either side of your neck. You go lightheaded at the sensation.
You feel his nose press into your hair, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and you realise he’s taken his mask off.
“I change my mind.” He whispers darkly, laughs when you struggle.
You pull out of his grip, and you run as fast as your legs can take you.
He doesn’t chase, and you make it a good distance away, tucking your body behind a wall to catch your breath. You don’t know where you are, but you assume it’s somewhere near the front doors. The pins in your hair are uncomfortable, and you take your time tugging the little tiara out of your hair, dropping it to the floor.
You can feel his cum, making an even bigger mess, and the implications of that only succeed in heightening your arousal.
The sound of his knife, dragging against the wooden panels on the walls catch your attention. You lift your head, a tug of desire pulls below your navel.
“You know, the first time I met you, really met you, I couldn't believe you were real.” He says, his voice carrying through the quiet hallway.
“You looked at me, and you listened, and all I could think about was how to get you alone, away from that useless boyfriend of yours.”
Your lips part, head pressed to the wall, eager to hear his words, your heart drumming in your chest.
“And when you left me that night, I went back to my lonely apartment, and I found out everything I could about you. I didn’t sleep. I needed to find something to hate- something that would help me stop obsessing over a girl I’d met one time.”
His voice gets closer and you know you have to move, or else he was going to find you.
Quietly, you kick your shoes off, abandoning them so that your steps can be quieter, you lift your skirts slowly, trying to stop the swishing sound it makes.
“You know what I found? Nothing. Nothing could make me hate you, nothing could stop what you started when you smiled at me, all of it made me want you.”
Your heart hammers even more with his words.
“And while I was trying to come up with a plan to make you mine, I’d been yours for ages.”
You stop, turning to his voice as he says that last part, wanting to go to him, to hold him, to tell him the secret you’d been keeping for weeks- that you were his too.
“Don’t fret too much about it though, princess. There’s no need to worry, I’ll feel all better once you come on my cock.”
You gasp, backing away, one hand behind you to stop you from bumping into anything. He was absolutely insane in the best way.
You can’t see a damn thing, feeling your way around to find the entrance you’d come through, your breathing is loud in your ears, you’re sure he can hear you.
You were conflicted. You wanted to run towards the scary man hiding in the darkness, though you know it would be worth your while to run away.
“You want me so bad?” You taunt into the darkness, “You’ll have to catch me first.”
Skirts in hand, you follow the first light you see- the moonlight streaming through the kitchen windows, the feel of the carpet runner helps you move in a straight line, and the next thing you know is that you’re at the foot of the stairs.
You look back, trying to make shapes out of the darkness, but there’s nothing there, you turn and begin your ascent.
You don’t know where he is, he could be two feet or two inches behind you and you wouldn’t know.
Your body is warm from the adrenaline, the dress constricts your breathing.
You stop for a second time when you find what you think is a tea room.
There’s a large wooden table sitting in front of an equally large window, the moonlight streaming in allows you to see that there’s a wall of mirrors on one side of the room. On the other side, is a smaller round table with a porcelain teapot, and other matching dishes.
“Surprise.” He says from right behind you, and you swear your heart jumps right out of your chest.
Before you can turn to look at him, your cheek is pressed to the large table, one hand behind your neck, the other pulls your skirts up.
When he has your ass exposed, his hand comes down hard on your soft flesh. You cry out.
“That’s for all your mouthing back.” He grunts, before spanking you again.
It hurts, stings so sweetly, you try to rise but his hand is firm on the spot between your neck and shoulder.
When he’s satisfied, he reaches down between your legs.
He clicks his tongue, his fingers swiping through the mess between your thighs.
“Look at the mess you made. Don't you have any kind of consideration for how hard I worked to put my cum in you?”
You feel him move, you assume to take his cock out. Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel him kick your legs wider, pressing his tip to your entrance.
You mewl helplessly when he enters you.
Stretched once more, he feels bigger in this position, his pace is harsh, fucking into you meaningfully, your eyes roll back in your head, spit slipping from past your lips as your face is kept pressed to the table.
You feel a sharp tug and your dress loosens, too pleasure drunk to figure out why.
The glide of his cock quells your urge to fight, your body sparking, electrified at the feeling of him.
He pulls you upwards, and the front of the dress sags, exposing your front to the air.
“Look at us.” He growls into your ear, turning your head to the mirror, you see your bodies reflecting back. Him, in his tight shirt and open pants, you with your beautiful shimmering dress caught between your bodies and hanging off your shoulders. It’s the first time for the night that you see his face, and your eyes are locked on how handsome he looks, hair askew, filling you with his magnificent erection.
He’d cut the back of your dress, you realise absentmindedly, your full breasts on display for him because of that, a small sound leaving your chest as he enters you again.
“We’re perfect together.” He acknowledges, you internally agree.
He presses his lips to your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror, his teeth flashing for a second before he bites you.
You cry out, the sweet burn of it only succeeds in making you want him more and more.
He doesn’t stop when you come, only slows for a moment to help you catch your breath before he continues.
“All mine now, princess.” He affirms, his hips slapping against yours, filling you till your vision blurs.
Deeper than ever, you feel his cock press securely to your cervix, eager to have him fill you with his cum.
You take a shuddering breath, so close to another orgasm, unable to think about anything with the way he feels.
Your nails claw at the table, willing your body to take him, your perfect husband, giving you just what you need. He groans above you, enjoying you almost as much as you enjoy him.
The pleasure builds, swimming in your head, worsening with each move of his cock inside of you. He holds nothing back, all of his energy is focused on filling you as hard and as fast as he can, leaving nothing behind but hot, near blistering, rapture.
You cry out when you come, body shuddering, a loud roaring in your head. He grunts loudly, following you over the edge, filling you with even more of his hot cum.
After a moment, he draws out of you, helping you stand, he gently pulls your dress off, discarding it on the ground, he reaches to scoop your swaying body into his arms.
You’re sated, unable to lift your head. You feel him rest you gently on a soft, cool bed.
The sheets are amazing on your overstimulated skin, and you peek your eyes open to watch him pull his tight fitting shirt over his head.
In the low light, your eyes find his tattoo, you smile softly as it ripples, watching him kick his shoes and pants off too, until he’s hovering above you, naked.
“You’re so gorgeous.” You whisper dreamily, raising a hand to press it to his cheek.
He lets out an air of amusement, he reaches around, gripping one of your legs to wrap it around his hip.
“Only the best for you, princess.” He hums, before you feel him push his cock into you once more.
You fall asleep to him fucking you, your adrenaline crashes after countless orgasms, and before you know it you’re out. You wake a few hours later to find him inside you once more.
You moan his name, your body still eager and receptive to him, having craved this side of him for so long.
“Messy pile of wife.” He grunts into your ear mid-thrust, “Just like I promised.”
There’s so much of his cum slipping out, you can feel it, you can’t wait for him to top you up with more.
He kisses your cheek, licks a stripe through the tears slipping from the corner of your eyes.
“Cum for me. One more time, baby.”
You gasp, nodding, head filled with cotton, floating in the clouds, lost in his essence.
You blink hazily after you feel the smooth metal plug slip in, soothing you with its coolness, arousing you with the reminder that he’s filled you to the brim.
You’re pressed against him, his hand wrapped securely around you. He stretches to reach something on the bedside table.
You’re almost asleep when you feel him slip your ring back onto your finger.
It makes you complete, eases any lingering worry.
“I love you, Billy.” You murmur, before you finally let sleep take you.
.
It wakes him up.
He blinks in shock, turning to look at you.
You’ve already fallen asleep, breaths even with your left hand pressed to his chest.
Had you really just said what he thinks you just said?
He considers shaking you awake, desperate to hear you say it again. To tell him what he’s been dreaming of for years.
What if it was a mistake? His mind asks.
His stomach drops.
What if you didn’t really mean it?
He swears he breaks his own heart in the moments after you say those four words.
He stays awake for a while, trying to memorise your words, the way you said them, the way they made him feel. He tries to learn the hour and the minute and the position of the moon in the sky at the very moment the words left your mouth.
He wonders if he’ll ever hear them again, wonders if this would be the only time in his life that you say these words to him.
If this is all he gets, he decides he’s going to cherish it.
“I love you too.” He whispers, with everything he has.
.
You’re curled up against him the next morning having breakfast when you finally take the time to examine your ring.
Your body is sore, having been fucked thoroughly, but you were a little proud to see the litany of scratches over the expanse of Billy’s back. You weren’t the only one marked last night.
You raise your hand to offer him a piece of your buttered croissant, he eagerly takes a bite.
“My ring looks the same. What did you change?” You ask, reaching for more jam.
“The inside.” He says with his mouth full.
You smile, pulling it off your finger to see what’s there. On the silver surface on the inside, you can see something engraved. At first you think it’s words, but as you bring the ring closer to your face you realise it’s numbers.
“I’m still confused.” You state.
He makes a little hum, having just swallowed his food.
“If you go to my bank, and show them this ring, and give them your fingerprint, you can withdraw from any of my personal accounts.”
You blink, your eyebrows drawing together.
After a moment you give him a confused look.
He chuckles, reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing over your tense eyebrows, encouraging them to relax.
“Any amount, little wife, any time.” He elaborates.
You blink in shock.
He was… giving you access to his money?
“Is that safe?” You ask warily.
“Planning to take all my money?” He teases.
“No! But- what if someone steals the ring… or… kidnaps me and forces me to take it?”
“That will never happen.” He promises, his fingers tightening on your cheek to reinforce his words, “As long as I’m breathing, and even if I’m not, you will always be safe.”
“You can’t stop breathing,” You fight back, leaning in to wrap your arms around him, “I won’t let you.” The words are muffled against his shirt.
He laughs.
“Noted.”
.
He grunts, his fingers curling over yours as they grip the back of the soft couch.
“Hold on.” He commands, just as he slides his amazing cock into your body.
You make a soft sound of delight, tipping your head back to rest on his chest. He groans into your ear, fucking up into you slowly and thoroughly.
His skin is hot, having spent the morning of the second day exploring the gardens outside, only to come back in and ravish you on the sitting room couch.
His left hand drops down, thick fingers find your swollen clit.
“Sing for me. Let me hear you, wife.”
You whine, the sensation of his fingers rolling over your clit makes your legs shake.
“Gonna take my cum like a good girl?” He grovels in your ear.
You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding, seeing stars as he rubs your clit with more fervour.
“Fucking perfect.” He moans, and the words go right to your cunt, setting you off.
He growls in your ear when you clench around him, it only makes your orgasm last that much longer, eager to have him cum, you roll your hips on his cock.
It succeeds in working him into a frenzy, and you’re face down, with your ass in the air in the next moment.
He licks your slit harshly before his cock slides right back in, moving faster, his hips set a brutal pace, your next orgasm is like a gunshot.
He falls beside you after he comes, out of breath with a dopey grin on his face.
“What is it?” You ask curiously.
“Nothing really,” He gasps, “I just feel really fucking good.”
You smile shyly, leaning up to kiss him.
.
You’re whisking eggs for french toast when his arms wrap around you.
He presses his nose into your hair, breathing in your soft smell.
“Morning.” He grovels into your ear, feels your body shiver.
“Hello Mister Russo. Sleep okay?’
He chuckles, remembering the feel of your lips around his cock as he came last night. Fuck, you were delightfully insatiable.
“Like a rock,” He confirms, “Join me for a bath?”
“Yeah,” You agree, “Let me finish this batch and I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t keep me waiting, little wife.” He whispers as he pulls back, reaches for an apple sitting in the basket nearby, taking a slow bite.
“I won’t. Love you.” You say absentmindedly.
Billy stops.
He turns to stare at your back in shock. You continue moving as if you haven’t said anything strange.
“What was that?” He asks.
You raise your head to glance at him.
“I’ll be right there.”
“No, the last part.”
You blink, a look of confusion on your face.
“I… love you?”
The room goes still, the only sound is the french toast as it sizzles.
“You love me?” He asks, his heart getting heavier and lighter at an alarming rate.
“Yeah? I-I said it to you on our first night. You- you said it back.”
He did remember saying it back.
“I thought you said it accidentally.”
You pause, reaching to turn the stove off, before facing him.
“You thought my tongue slipped and I told you I loved you without meaning it?”
Billy swallows.
“I thought the number of orgasms had gotten to your head and you were saying things that might not be totally true.”
Your eyebrows raise in realisation.
“It was true. I’ve been… feeling like that for a while.”
“Like you love me.” He says dumbly.
You nod your head.
“Like I love you.” You confirm.
This wasn’t an outcome Billy had ever seen coming. Sure, he’d been hoping for fondness, that he could give you a comfortable life and you could be content by his side.
But love?
Unthought of.
“Why the fuck would you love me?” He whispers, horrified.
He’d done so many bad things, ruined your life in so many ways.
You take a careful step in his direction.
“What’s not to love? You’re smart, and strong and you go after what you want-”
“-One of those things was you.” He argues.
You laugh. He wasn’t joking.
“Yeah, how I got here wasn’t the best, but, I’m glad I am, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
He takes a step toward you, and then another, and then his arms are pulling you into a soul crushing hug.
“You love me.” He murmurs into the top of your head.
“Yes,” You reply, holding him just as tightly, “I do.”
.
“Where are we anyway?” You ask on the fourth night.
He raises his head from between your thighs.
“Europe.” He answers vaguely, before dropping his head to lap gently at your clit once more.
You smile happily, leaning back against the library desk.
“Billy?”
“Mmm?” He hums from between your thighs.
“I love you.”
You feel the breath he lets out before he pulls back.
He kisses you, lips wet with your arousal, a tart taste on your tongue that makes you smile when he pulls away.
“I’ll show you how much I love you.” He mumbles, dropping to his knees once more.
.
Coming back to his apartment after that had felt surreal.
Like it was all a dream, the fucking best dream you’d ever had.
You’d been given a letter from your mother at the front desk, and you’d happily dropped it to the floor the minute Billy had pulled you into his arms for a slow kiss.
It was… magical, your fingers glazing through his beard, gripping his hair, the next thing you know you’re being lifted and taken to his bedroom.
The fire hadn’t left either of you, burning, sizzling sparks each time you touched, each time you held his hand or kissed his cheek.
He was all over you, inside and out, claiming you in a way you knew deep down would never be done by another.
“My wife.” He groans into your ear when he comes.
You pant, reaching up to kiss him, legs wrapped tightly around his hips to keep him inside of you for as long as possible.
Your husband.
.
He leaves you in the early morning of the next day. It’s training day and he wants to get there early to get a jump on what he’s missed.
He kisses a path between the valley of your breasts down to your womb before he leaves, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit. You grin happily as you fall back asleep.
Later, when it’s time for you to leave for work, you find that manila envelope your mom had sent you sitting on the kitchen counter. Billy had probably picked it up from the floor where you had left it yesterday when he was leaving for work earlier.
You reach for it after you’re done hopping around to tug your heel on.
It’s unopened, so you take your time peeling it open, wondering what it was. Last time it had been a bunch of recoloured family photos, you assumed this was probably more of the same.
It’s not, it’s a stack of papers. At first, it’s odd things like flyers for bikes, and a bouncy castle rental ad. You flip through, a little concerned that your mother might be losing her mind.
Your face falls when you flip another page, and find what’s really been sent.
SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK
You could feel your heart turn to ice.
You see your name printed under Plaintiff, and under Defendant, is Billy’s. Most of your information has been filled out, including your fucking social security number. Most of Billy’s information is missing, only his real name is there.
Then you see it.
‘The grounds for dissolution of the marriage are as follows:’
Divorce papers.
These were divorce papers.
.
.
.
A/N: DON'T HURT ME THANKS
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#accidentally on purpose#accidentally on purpose married billy#billy russo x female reader#my writings#the punisher#billy russo smut#dark!billy russo
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Joy! I've officially jumped on the Phangs bandwagon, so I can finally send coherent questions about it—how did you come up with the political landscape? I imagine it's at least partially inspired by true events, but how do you keep straight the political compasses of each character?
Eeey! Welcome aboard!
And yeah, a lot of it's based on history, but also a lot of current events if you squint. (Or maybe you don't need to squint.)
As for how I keep the characters straight (ha!) I had definite ideas about them while forming their personalities and history.
Nathan is the youngest and only starting to question the political landscape around him. He's not politically unaware but perhaps a little naive and unwilling to see how corrupt everything is.
He's been conditioned from a young age not to question authority. Military indoctrination will do that to you. Only when he finds himself on the frontline of an unjust and hopeless war does he realize things aren't what they seem. He still toes the line... until he gets injured, and the true depths of how little the military or government cares for people like him gives him a nasty jolt. Even in the first book, he's still somewhat in denial because part of him doesn't want to admit that he's been complacent. You can see what in the conversation with his brother Miles. His realization that he's spent his whole life following orders doesn't sit well with him, and that's a theme that will continue for his character in all future books.
It's only when he meets Vlad that he genuinely starts to question things, and that's because Vlad is the walking embodiment of a homemade Molotov cocktail wrapped up in a silk suit and a fierce, unshakeable sense of justice.
Vlad was created as a challenge to the bored, misanthropic vampire stereotype who doesn't give a shit about humanity because they've been around for hundreds of years and lost all faith in humanity. If anything, the longer Vlad is around humanity, the more fiercely he loves it and wants to do everything he can to help them. He grew up under the bloody iron fist of his grandfather's regime and saw firsthand what happens in a world devoid of democracy, and he's been running from it ever since.
He can only do a little under his father's thumb. But what he can do, Vlad does with all of his being. He's found ways to enable free schooling and medical care on the island, and if you give him a few more decades, he'll find a way to make housing accessible, too. (It's a numbers game, and he's very good with numbers. And honestly, his father doesn't pay too much attention to what he's doing. Not if he's careful about it...) He's also a staunch believer in the power of worker's unions, and despite technically being the person the unions would fight against, he is trying to help the workers of his island unionize because he believes it is the just and right thing to do.
Ultimately, Vlad is my firebrand catalyst for change, and I am really looking forward to exploring his arcs in future books.
Ursula is... tricky. She's in a precarious situation where she can't afford to draw attention to herself and, at times, has been forced to side with people she'd otherwise cheerfully drown because they could offer her the best protection. It's exhausting and soul-destroying, and it leaves her feeling powerless. Which is laughable when considering who she is. What she is.
She hates it. She wants it to be different. She doesn't like feeling so hopeless. Defeated. But she's tried to change things in the past, and it almost destroyed everything. So now she just keeps her head down and works from the shadows. It's safest that way. Not to mention quicker. After all, what's one more human war to an immortal [REDACTED]? If she ignores it, it'll go away. Eventually. Right? Right? (This may or may not be the denial talking.) (It is absolutely the denial talking.)
The fact that human politics are about to severely and unavoidably affect her will not go down well. Ursula is, in fact, going to be bloody livid about it. Not to mention guilt-riddled for burying her head in the sand and letting the humans go unchecked for so long.
Fortunately, she's got some new allies in her corner. A fiercely protective werewolf with a newfound sense of political rage and a vampire who's been spoiling for a fight of this magnitude for over four hundred years. Maybe, just maybe, this time, things will be different...
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ok I am in fact using this as an excuse to make a long post about this thank you thank you asjksdjfaljdf
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Interpreting Yuri as asexual is my very very favorite type of headcanon, which is one that 1. is compellingly coded in the source material (even if that wasn't the creator's intent), 2. is thematically relevant to what the piece of media is Trying To Do as a whole, and 3. just means a lot to me, personally, because I said so.
Coded in the source material
Yuri’s short program is “eros”, aka desire (you can interpret what “eros” means in various ways, but YOI itself explicitly refers to sexual love, at least in the English translations). Yuri struggles with this. Hard. He can’t come up with an answer when asked what eros means to him. His big revelatory moment about desire is that it’s how he feels about wanting to eat his favorite food (omg… boy). Even as the season goes on and the way he views the Eros program changes, the program doesn’t ever really embody the idea of eros as sexuality or romance (which was how the other characters expect him to interpret it) but rather as a desire to keep Victor in his life.
Like look. I’m obviously not going to say that the creator intended any kind of ace subtext to be there. I kind of doubt it was her intent. But goddamn is the subtext there.
2. Thematic relevance
The central theme throughout YOI is “love”, and especially loving people in a way that inspires you both to be your best selves: Yuri learning that the people in his life truly love and support him; Victor finding someone who makes him feel joy about skating again.
Like, Yuri’s whole skating theme for the Grand Prix is literally about him exploring what love looks like to him, even when it takes a form that other people don’t totally understand. Viewing all this through a lens of him being ace is really compelling. It adds depth to the idea of learning how to express the way you feel love even when it looks different than what other people expect. I think it’s a really delicious layer that adds even more nuance to what the show is getting at.
Besides, it’s an interesting way of viewing the criticism of the show that occurred for it not being 100% explicit about them being a couple (aka people getting mad because the kiss in ep 7 is blocked by Victor’s arm lmaooo). Like, ok, did you see the ending scene of ep 9? Did you see ep 10??? They definitely, definitely love each other, in whatever way that means for them. Their relationship takes a form that’s pretty different than the other way people in the show are going about romantic relationships, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real for them. That is very much in line with the main themes of the show.
3. Means a lot to me
In the final scene of the penultimate episode, Yuri tells Victor that they should end their coaching relationship after the Grand Prix ends. This is because he thinks he’s holding Victor back, that Victor would be happier being free to go back to skating on his own instead of being Yuri’s coach. When I watched this (and, I’ll be honest, this is completely me projecting here) I REALLY interpreted this as an ace thing. I think it’s pretty easy to internalize the idea when you’re asexual that you just won’t be… enough, for other people. In my case I ended up a strong impulse to self-sabotage relationships because I would rather be the one to end things than to let someone else tell me that who I am as a person is fundamentally lacking. Yuri destroying a connection he desperately wants because he thinks there’s something about him that is holding Victor back from a life he’d be truly happy with? Oh yeah. I can fucking relate to that.
Also: YOI came out in 2016, which was the absolute peak of hostility to ace people I was seeing on this site. It was bad here. At the same time Tumblr was going wild over this show. Everyone was watching it. Seeing a whole site of people absolutely adore a character I very deeply in my heart believed to be ace? Extremely vindicating.
---
In conclusion Yuri is asexual because it is fun and interesting that way, and also because of this:
#like it adds so much to the show if you view it through this lens! it's really good!#same reason for why I hc zuko as gay like ->#yeah ok you don't *have* to see it this way... but don't you want to live deliciously (in your media analysis)???#yoi#yuri on ice#thank u for giving me the excuse to finally post about this lol this has been building in my head for literally the last 8 years
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Mike's Anxiety in Season 2
OKAY, I really wanted to explore/discuss Mike's anxiety in season 2. Specifically around losing Will. Because the show really focuses a lot on Joyce's anxiety but rarely does it touch on Mike's (even tho its clearly hinted at).
You can see throughout the season that Mike is really protective over Will. Whenever Will gets a vision and Mike snaps him out of it. He always hugs him the exact same way. Like outside the arcade and on halloween.
It's the same huge. I don't thing it's just a sign of comfort. I feel like its also Mike's way to coping. He's ensuring himself like I got him. He's here. He's holding him close because he's afraid of letting go and losing him again.
And if you think about it. It really makes sense because Mike was one of the last people to see Will. He disappeared after leaving Mike's house. There is a sense of guilt from that. And if you remember the next day of school, he was the only party member who felt something off about not seeing Will.
Everyone else brushed it off and so he did too. And he went about his day as normal, only to find out his gut feeling was right and that Will was gone. And that stuck with him. He was right and he ignored his gut. And in season 2 you sort of get a parallel to that moment when Will goes to the doctors.
The same thing happens where Mike has a bad feeling and Lucas just tries to reassure him its nothing/downplay it. But this time Mike doesn't ignore the feeling. It sticks.
Because he knows that the last time he ignored it, he was wrong.
Along with all this you also see how much more Mike panics compared to everyone else when Will is sort of unaccounted for.
Like when he finds him in Halloween he's FRANTICALLY asking if Will was okay. He even mentioned how he couldn't find him and that scared him. He was terrified that something happened to Will again. Same thing happens when Mike notices Will wasn't there when they were looking for dart. You can see the rush of panic flood through him. He is terrified.
Like– you can't tell me that in those moments he wasn't experiencing flashbacks to when Will disappeared.
And the next day at school, when Will didn't show up . We see Mike notice and we see how much it affects him. And, unlike season 1, the first chance he gets he calls their home.
And when no one answer, he plans to immediately head to their house the second school is over.
And he doesn't just ask nicely/quietly. he keeps pushing to see Will.
Is Will here? Is he okay? Those were the first thoughts that came to his mind. He wasn't even listening to what Joyce was saying. He just needed to see Will and make sure he isn't hurt (You can literally see him try and peer through the door).
I don't know it's just so sad to see how scared Mike is of losing Will! Like the events of season 1 really affected him mentally and I just really wanted to explore it more in depth.
#byler#mike wheeler#MY BOY DESERVES HUGS AND FREE THERAPY PLEASE#will byers#stranger things#byler analysis#Mike wheeler analysis#my gifs#im gonna make a separate post with all the gifs because they took so much Time to make holy shit#please reblog-- ;---:
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Can I just say I love the way you portray Floyd. I feel like 90% of writers make him out to be this abusive monster (yandere or otherwise) and it upsets me since he's among my favorite charcters.
But you make him out to be so cute and loveable. Like yes he has a long history of violence and mood swings, but you don't use that as a way to say he's awful. You portray him as "yes when he's having an off day he might hurt you". But you don't add what a lot of yandere writers I see seem to add which is "even when he's in a better mood, he'll still blame you and berate you". No you portray him as someone who in a bad mood MIGHT hurt his shrimpy, but the moment he's back to normal he's gonna feel awful about it and want to make up for it.
He doesn't come across like a monster (most of the time) but instead like a giant puppy in love who doesn't recognize his own strength, and just loves his little shrimpy with all his heart and wants to express that in the best way he knows how. Like he genuinly wants to make his darling happy, and wants them to love him. Like Jade might find the idea of his darling faking their feelings to be amusing. But Floyd wants them to be real, he wants them to love him as much as he loves them. He doesn't want them to pretend just to avoid his wrath, he wants his shrimpy to feel happy and safe and loved in his presence. And that makes me SO happy to see.
Please keep up the great work
Omg thank you so much!!!! I'm really happy you can enjoy my portrayal of yan!Floyd. I think he's such a fascinating character, especially when put in a yandere context, and I love writing for him and exploring the many facets to his personality. There's so much more to him than just "scary eel with dangerous mood swings" and I think most of the time he would be as you described: "a giant puppy in love who doesn't recognize his own strength." He has so much depth and doesn't hide much from you unless it's intentional or something he doesn't want you to know.
Floyd is so painfully honest that it can be blunt at times and he isn't one for dragging things out like Jade often does, which is why he's not one for overly complex mind games. Floyd just wants to love you without any strings attached and he wants you to reciprocate (genuinely. I think being genuine matters a lot to him). I like to imagine Floyd has all of these emotions and he feels so much, but sometimes he struggles with showing these emotions. So perhaps it results in them being translated/shown in his mood swings or things like his cuteness aggression towards you.
I could ramble forever, but I agree that he wants Shrimpy to feel safe and happy and loved with him. <3 he's the cutest. Such a sweet eel. >w<
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Thinking lots about the progression of pino becoming more and more human, and how the reader senses it...
It's slow, almost achingly, but is oh so startlingly present. The moment you are met with his long hair, you can't help but marvel at it. Lightly petting the tips of his long silky hair off his shoulder and turning him this way and that in fascination, you also can't help but notice a... Change in Pinocchio.
His gaze and mannerisms become more... human, in nature.
The way his eyes flicker over your face, traveling and taking you in, that feel so emotionally raw and expressive. It's his touch that finds you, smoothing over hair and clothing and skin, as if exploring the textures of you entirely. You're never quite sure how much Pino can truly feel as a puppet, but the way his more human looking hand lingers upon your cheek or how his fingertips spread across your palm, slipping between the grooves and entwining your hands together really feels like he can truly feel warmth and softness.
Then you begin to notice his hand is softer and warmer, and there are subtle creases and delicate fingerprints now where they weren't before. His eyes also hold so much more depth and life, twinkling warmly like a sunlit pond rather than a cold glinting jewel.
What really settles it however is when he holds you whilst you sleep, and you can feel a rhythmic thud in his chest, as well as his chest rising and falling like he's breathing. All you can do is lay still and silent as he holds you from behind in a locking embrace, and you wonder to yourself how truly far he will go... And who he will become.
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I know you’ve gotten asks already talking about how happy they are that you’re going more in depth on the subject of Vox being trans in your next installment, but I can’t help myself… I’m so excited that you’re writing about that. It can be difficult to find trans rep in fandom spaces sometimes and your stories are so well written that this is like a gift from god. SO ANYWAY I’m super happy and your works are amazing and I just hope you know how many people value your works for all that they give.
Secondly, I was wondering whether or not Vox would have been trans on earth or just in hell? I mean I’m sure it would be difficult considering the time period but I also couldn’t think of a reason why he would be cis on earth but trans in hell. UNLESS he realized he was trans in hell/was finally able to do something about it?? Anyway, all of this is just speculation, I am only curious!!
Regardless, great work. It genuinely means a lot to me, if no one else :)
Oh, man, I'm ngl, one of my little, "Wait! I can do anything I want!!!!" moments of going mad with power once I got more and more experience at writing was realizing that I could just trans anyone's gender at-will and I didn't need anyone's permission for that. I still remember the first time I quietly decided an OC of mine was trans (love you, Laledy, you obnoxious asshole). I'm always a little apprehensive to start writing trans characters in new fandoms, mostly because I've been in a number of fandoms that have corners that get very tetchy about their weird gender role stuff, but it's consistently been met with such a positive reaction that it really brings me joy. So thank you so very, very much!!
My personal take on Vox in 666 specifically (a lot of which isn't going to come up because he does not want to get into it) is that he wasn't personally really in a position or environment conducive to considering trans-ness as, like, a thing that happens when he was alive, and he put his all into putting on The Correct Gender Performance with the vim and aplomb that we see from him in canon, plus all the underlying bullshit that goes into maintaining that facade. So, y'know. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, minus the Jewish. Which did not do amazing things for his mental health, not that he let himself pay attention to that at the time!
And then he wakes up, in hell, with this weird-ass demon body with a television for a head, and - well, it just makes sense to present as a man at that point, doesn't it? Hell is dog-eat-dog, and he's not going to pick the submissive gender to put himself on the back foot from the start!
He figures out what the fuck being trans even is eventually, just. Not for a while, and not until after someone like Valentino, having known and assumed that Vox is trans as a given for fucking months, mentions it offhandedly to Vox, who had been mentally describing himself as "just lying about his sex like those girls in stories that get shit done by dressing up as men". Then he gets to have his own little spiral about it, and also why it's upsetting him, and why he felt so vulnerable about Valentino knowing, and why Valentino specifically, Mr. Fishnets, Heels, and Microminis, is the one that ended up in a position not only to know this about Vox but for Vox to feel comfortable having any kind of sex with. It wasn't something Vox had to analyze back when it was just "her" freaky boyfriend being into pegging!
Okay, fuck, I have even more feelings about trans Vox than I thought I did, hahahaha.
Might fuck around and write a staticmoth-centric prequel interlude at some point if I have the brain cells for it. Vox is a lot more confident and comfortable with his gender now, to the point where he can absolutely see fucking around in a dress for kinky reasons as crossdressing and not being forced back into a box that doesn't fit, but it'd be neat to explore the earlier days. Val isn't here for gender, he's here to be sexy, but Vox... this IS the origin of the daddy kink, just saying.
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