#getting taken care of by someone Better Than Him
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Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.
When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.
Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.
Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.
It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.
He simply didn’t care if you were.
He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.
It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?
He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.
Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?
Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.
When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.
When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.
“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.
You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.
"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.
You were safe.
You weren't going to be tortured.
You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.
“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.
"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.
"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”
It took you a moment to process it.
Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.
And Simon was touching you.
He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.
"Why?"
“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.
"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.
Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.
"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.
"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.
Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."
"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.
"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.
Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.
Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.
Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.
He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.
He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.
You would fall as deeply as he had.
You would come to love your life with Simon.
No matter how long it took you to accept it.
#kidnapping#simon ghost riley#call of duty#obsessive love#yandere#touch her and die#no literally#don't fuck with reader
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cold dry stone
gator tillman x fem!reader ┃ 18+, MDNI 3.5k
Revenge is a dish best served immediately and relentlessly.
cw: hate-fucking/revenge sex, references to infidelity. pretty much just blatant bullying of Gator ‘cos it’s actually sooo fun to be mean to him?? hand job, bareback piv sex, finishing inside (consensually, despite the dialogue)
What’s the opposite of a breeding kink?
Gator’s party was too fucking loud.
You weren’t even inside yet and you already regretted coming here. A veritable horde of trucks and cars and more than a few cruisers littered the gravel drive and lawn, parked haphazardly over the dying grass with no rhyme or reason.
The walls of the house practically shook from the bass of the music playing inside and the drunken revelry could be heard clear across the fields.
The elder Tillman was away for the week—off taking care of some vague and surely nefarious business—and now his pissant son was throwing a kegger while daddy was away, carrying on with his dumbass friends like a fucking adolescent despite his ripe age of nearly 30.
You wouldn’t have shown up in a million years if not under such extenuating circumstances.
The back of your neck still burned at the memory of catching your so-called fiancée naked in bed with someone who was very much not you.
The ensuing fight left you in a kind of fugue state— speeding recklessly along deserted highways, knuckles throbbing as you gripped the steering wheel with one thing on your mind: revenge.
There was no shortage of people Drew hated in this shitty little town you had both grown up in. And any one of them would have sufficed for your purposes. But you didn’t just want to get back at him. You had to destroy him. You had to humiliate him the same way he had humiliated you.
And no one said “humiliation” quite like Gator.
You spotted him as soon as you walked in the door—all 5’11 of his stupid frame leaning against the stone mantle; sunglasses sitting on the back of his head; arms bulging in that same black polo he loved to wear under his Sherrif’s vest; the tips of his fingers brushing those two slits shaved into his hairline he thought made him look so tough; sucking down a hit from that lime green excuse for a phallic symbol he never put down.
He was talking to some girl. A pretty little thing in a pretty little dress looking up at him all demure and coy with fluttering lashes and puckered lips. She was the exact type he always went for—all pliant and willing, taken in by the veneer of status and power afforded to him both by his badge and being the son of the most powerful man in town.
Tough break, hon. Maybe some other time.
Thumb and middle finger pinched together, you pushed them between your lips and blew.
Your shrill whistle rang out over the din, silencing the party save Gator’s godawful choice of music. Every pair of eyes in the room was on you now, including the round hazel ones you were after.
Good. The more people Drew heard this story from, the better.
“Let’s go, Tillman,” you barked.
With two fingers motioning in a succinct come here, you beckoned him forward and jerked your head in the direction of the staircase, heading up them before he’d even started to follow.
You made your way down the narrow hall, cracking open doors as you went in search of Gator’s room, shocked you couldn’t smell your way to whatever dirty hamster cage he slept in. Behind you, the clomp of his boots alerted you to his presence as he reached the top of the stairs.
“You can’t just whistle at me like a dog. I’m a fuckin’ deputy—”
The family pictures in their gaudy frames rattled as you pushed him against the wall, your forearm planted in the center of his broad chest. Your face assaulted his, neck stretching to kiss him, tongue pushing past his teeth into his mouth—the sting of bourbon tempered by the sickly-sweet taste of his Mountain Dew mixer and…something with a synthetic smokey flavor.
Was he just eating jerky? Seriously?
His hand came up to try and grip the back of your neck, but you slapped it away with your free arm as your other drove a bit harder into his pecks.
He whined into your mouth, a choked-up simpering sound that made your heartbeat pulse between your legs. You pulled back to look at him, eyes flickering over his face, his lips spit-slick and swollen, his chin bobbing like a chicken’s head as he tried to chase your mouth, eyes round and pleading. Desperate and messy. Perfect.
He flinched as you ruffled his over-gelled hair, snatching his sunglasses off the back of his head and tossing them away, letting them clatter on the wooden floor as they fell.
“It’s the middle of the night, you idiot,” you sniped. “Now where’s your room?”
Jaw clenched, mouth forming into a hard, thin line as he bit back what he wished he could say, he made a loud sucking sound with his tongue behind his teeth. He pushed open the door to his room and you yanked him inside, closing it back by shoving him up against it on the other side.
It was a sty, no surprise there.
Dirty clothes scattered across the floor, mixing with (clean?) ones spilling out of hampers. Empty pop and beer cans dotted every available surface, alongside bottles of e-juice that sat in sticky rings made by their own drippings.
Half-dressed girls cut out of skin mags were pasted up on the walls along with some wrinkled posters of movies and bands you liked a little less just because he enjoyed them. He really was just a teenager frozen in time, wasn’t he?
You tsked at him as you looked around, your voice ripe with judgment. “Think you oughta move out of daddy’s house one of these days?”
Gator’s eyes hardened. “He likes having me close by when we’ve got business to attend to.”
He’s clearly irked, getting that look in his eyes like when you would mock and goad and tease during recess in grade school, and challenge him to races he never, ever won.
Most everyone knew there was no love lost between you and Gator. You had always been a little extra mean to him growing up, probably as a retaliation for all the knowing glances and nudges and so-called “jokes” people liked to make about you two getting married someday.
If he hadn’t turned into such an insufferable ass along the way, maybe you would have.
The old Gator, the soft and gentle boy who was so desperate for kindness and love and approval and encouragement he’d never gotten enough of, was nothing more than an ever-fading memory now—snuffed out by Roy’s influence and all his hyper-masculine, abusive, racist, cultish bullshit.
You might even miss him if you thought there was a chance that side of him still existed. But every day that possibility seemed less and less likely.
He jammed a hand into his cargo pants pocket to retrieve his vape, probably trying to recover some vestige of his dignity; or to pretend like he hadn’t been totally at your mercy since your whistle.
Mid-pull, you snatched the lime green machine out of his hand and stuffed it down the front of your dress so it rested between your cleavage.
He started to whinge in protest, only for you to cut him off with a harsh kiss, punctuated with a punishing bite to his bottom lip.
“You’ll get it back if you make me come,” you burred, fingers now making fast work of his belt.
Once it had been pulled through the loops and tossed to the side, your fingers curled around the waistband of his pants and you hauled him over to the bed. The ancient metal frame creaked in protest as he landed on it with a bounce, his legs spreading wide and eyes flashing with need.
He would never admit to this, but he loved how strong you were—the way your arms rippled when you threw him around, the latent strength built up by a lifetime of farm chores. If he had it in him to struggle or fight back a little, it might not be so easy for you. But he never did.
“Get undressed,” you said as you stepped out of your shoes, gaze as bored as your tone.
Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he clumsily started stripping off his polo, toeing off his boots, and tugging down his pants and the briefs he wore underneath.
They pooled around his ankles and he leaned back on his elbows to kick them away, smugness now polluting his face. He smirked up at you, eyes flitting between yours and his substantial length that flopped across his thigh, as though waiting for your awed reaction.
He was an impressive specimen, as much as it pained you to admit. But you sure as shit weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it.
You tilted your head, studying it quietly.
“I remembered it being bigger.” You shrugged as Gator’s face fell. “I guess it’ll do.”
His cocky smirk disappeared, now looking all sour and deflated as he went to pull his white singlet over his head. You placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to lay flat.
“Leave it,” you told him, tugging the hem back down. You much preferred the way his muscles bulged out of the too-small tank more than you liked the sight of his bare chest.
He licked his lips and nodded, jaw going slack as he watched you drop to your knees, the spread of his legs widening to accommodate you as you knelt on the floor between them. A shudder ran through him as your hand wrapped tight around his length and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, the pool of saliva you’d collected there dribbling out all over his cock.
The tip of your tongue just barely grazed his slit that was already leaking and he moaned deeply at the feeling, knowing it was as close as he’d ever get to you sucking him off.
Your hand curled around him and began to move in a slow, even stroke. It was perfunctory. Totally emotionless. Gator couldn’t stay hard unless he got jerked off a little first—probably some kind of performance anxiety holdover from puberty.
Truth be told, you didn’t mind it so much.
You sort of liked watching him fall apart from nothing but your fist and spit. Making his brow scrunch and his mouth slacken, seeing him throw his head back and the muscles in his thick neck strain as he huffed and gasped out his labored breaths, cheeks puffing as he panted.
“Wh-where’s your ring?” he asked, his voice already weak and pitiful as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view of the work your hand was doing.
“Bottom of the lake,” you said shortly, giving him a steady glare over your pumping fist.
“That why you’re here, then?” he grunted. “Cos you two had a fight?”
“Not a fight,” you corrected, hacking another glob of spit on his cock. “We’re done. Found him in bed with some floozy from the Family Fare.”
Gator scoffed. “S’that it?”
“Yes, that’s it,” you snapped back. “That not a good enough reason for you?”
“Just seems kinda harsh s’all. It’s not like you and I haven’t been—ah-ah-ahhh!”
Your stroking ceased abruptly, a mean glint in your eye as you closed both fists around him and started to twist—not unlike the burns you used to give his arm on the playground.
“That’s different,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “We didn’t get caught.”
Gator whimpered at the harshness of your touch, his abdomen flexing under thin white cotton as he squirmed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he stammered. “You’re right, you’re right.”
“Damn fucking right I’m right,” you grumbled, releasing your hold on him.
With a couple of strained gasps, Gator struggled to regain his breath as you got to your feet and began to drag your panties down your legs.
He was hard as a rock now—no surprise there.
He pushed himself up to lay on the bed, his toes already curling over as you climbed on top of him. You straddled him at the waist, knees bracketing his hips as you lifted your dress.
His eyes strained in the dark for just a glimpse of you, watching hungrily as you bunched your skirt in one hand and made a few cursory swipes across your clit with your other.
“Suck,” you instructed as you brought your fingers to his lips, request redundant as he was already eagerly taking all three into his mouth.
He mewled around them, licking sloppily at the wetness there, the tang of your arousal covering his tongue. Bullying him always got you riled up in a way you never fully understood.
Fingers now thoroughly coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, you reached down to align him with your entrance. His cock twitched excitedly in your hand as you rubbed his head through your folds, and he made a sniveling sort of noise as you began to lower down onto him.
His hands came up and he reached for your chest only to be slapped away as you sank further, your body stretching to take him in until he was seated fully in your heat. The slow and deliberate grind of your hips had him squirming under you already, whimpering at the sensation as your walls squeezed around his shaft.
Letting your head tip back and your eyes flutter until they closed, you lost yourself in the rhythm you set rocking back and forth on his cock.
Tentatively he reached out again, this time aiming for your hips, and you surprised the both of you when you let his hands settle there to hold you.
He was nearly silent, emitting only a few soft grunts and quiet huffs of pleasure as you rode him at this punishingly slow pace. He could be such a fucking jackrabbit sometimes, it was like pulling teeth getting him to bend to your will and go at your preferred speed.
But he was behaving surprisingly well this time.
For a moment, it didn’t even feel like you were fucking someone you hated. It was as if Gator wasn’t the one under you at all. At least not the Gator you’d despised for most of your life, but a good Gator. A Gator who listened to you and cared about you and did whatever he could to—
“That’s right, you love that dick, don’t ya?”
The sound of his voice effectively shattered the illusion you’d built in your mind, and you felt your eyes narrow as they snapped open, reality rushing back in. Below you, Gator was totally unphased, lips still quirked and his brow raised as if expecting praise. Idiot.
“Feel’s good, eh?” he asked.
“It did,” you hissed at him. “Until you opened that stupid mouth.”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged with a knowing smile as his fingers tightened briefly on your hips. “I think you like my stupid mouth sometimes.”
Well…he’s got you there.
And the thought, unfortunately, has a wave of arousal crashing through your body that Gator can now feel gushing around his cock.
You slid forward roughly in retaliation, rolling your whole body against his as you started to fuck him harder. The motion and shift change made Gator suddenly buck up from underneath you, sending a jolt through your core. You glanced down at his face, all scrunched up like he was in pain, biting down on his bottom lip to hold himself together, even though you knew it was taking everything he had not to blow now.
“Don’t you dare come in me, Gator,” you warned, the grind of your hips still speeding up. “You keep your dirty fucking seed to yourself, you hear me?”
His long fingers squeezed harder at your waist, digging into your flesh like he was trying to bruise you through the thin material of your dress.
He started pushing you down to meet his thrusts as he in turn fucked up into you. Sweat beaded on the ridge of his strong brow, his rosy lips parting in a gasping moan. He threw his head back, the muscles in his neck flexing under freckled skin.
If he wasn’t such a tool, he might be handsome.
The lewd sound of slapping flesh filled the room as you worked up to a bounce to meet his thrusts. You leaned forward to brace yourself on his chest, a low moan escaping as you gripped the material of his white tank in your fists. He smirked at you, that insufferable smugness returning when he heard the sound you tried to hide and failed.
“Don’t you fucking smirk at me,” you sneered. “You think I want your melon-headed spawn? Think this town actually needs more of your godforsaken DNA in it?”
With a mean sneer of his own to match yours, he planted his feet on the bed and gave himself the leverage he needed to slam upwards inside you. The unforgiving punch and drag of his cock along your walls made you keen and grasp more desperately at his shirt, threatening to rip it apart.
“Whas the matter, hon?” he asked, his smile all teeth. “S’not me making you feel so good, is it? Can’t be—cos I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? Right?”
He punctuates each word with an especially deep thrust and you hate how close he’s got you now.
You push back against him, returning each thrust with a squeeze of your walls. Everything else falls away as he strokes that spot inside you hate him for reaching. Especially now, as you’re going to come and you know he can tell.
With a guttural groan and making the ugliest face he’s pulled yet, Gator’s spend spilled out of him. The warmth of it flooded your whole body—never more grateful for the IUD you made that special trip out of state to get placed. Your body was still radiating from your own orgasm, all that tension and rigidness in you loosening at last like spaghetti finally starting to cook.
“Fuck, Gate…”
A languid sigh tumbled past your lips and your body slumped forward, limp and exhausted. You were closer to him now, hands still on his chest to keep yourself up, not quite laying against him, but close enough so he could slide his large hands up and down your back in a soothing rub.
“Oh, c’mon now, tough stuff,” he teased from beneath you. “Don’ tell me yer goin’ soft on me?”
“Only one goin’ soft is you,” you snapped, arms trembling as you pushed yourself up so his dick could slip out and flop over, slick and spent.
His hand came up and caught your face as you started to move off him, stilling you as he cradled your jaw in his wide grasp and a calloused thumb brushed across your soft cheek. And even though you knew he couldn’t, it almost felt as though he could see the faint remnants of tears that spilled there—the ones you despised yourself for letting fall; the ones you’d scrubbed from your face until your skin was raw and dry; the ones that made you feel so weak.
You withdrew from him, swatting his hand away as you climbed off him and the bed, ignoring the way his head had started to lift to kiss you.
Silently, he watched you gather yourself to leave.
The straps of your dress hung loose around your shoulders and you made no attempt to straighten the crooked bust or to fix your smeared mascara.
You picked up your shoes, but you let them dangle at your side, planning to stop at the front door downstairs to put them on—smiling out at the party, letting everyone get a good, long look. A big you-sized middle finger to Drew.
“Wait a minute—” Gator said suddenly, his voice hoarse and strained.
You paused at the words and glanced back at him over your shoulder. He sat up further, the heaving in his chest having started to slow, his eyes shiny in the harsh blue light of his computer monitor.
He gulped, inhaling a shaky breath as you arched your brow at him.
“Vape?” he asked, his gaze flitting to your chest.
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you sauntered back over towards the bed. You leaned forward on your fists, his lumpy mattress sinking under them as he scooted closer and you kissed him. Sweet and soft this time.
Far nicer than he deserved.
He breathed into it, sucking you down as desperately as he did those strawberry-kiwi flavored hits, his hand coming up to finally, finally palm the breast you’d refused to let him touch.
So distracted by the kiss, he didn’t notice you slipping the lime green device from the front of your dress. You pulled back from his face, grinning at him now all sly and catlike.
And flung it straight out his open window.
#gator tillman#gator tillman x you#gator tillman x reader#gator tillman smut#gator tillman fanfiction#gator tillman fargo
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omg your könig posts just heal me. how do you think he’d deal w/ someone who just gets sad a lot?
He’s just awful!
König has braved an eternal winter his whole life. He knows what depression feels like, knows how sadness and badness can creep in even during your happiest moments. Considers that he’s already met the demiurge and is punished with an everlasting purgatory.
And König also knows loneliness intimately. He never had an arm around him those nights he spent curled in his bed sobbing far away from where any eyes could see. His “comfort” came in the form of demands from both internally and externally; his father’s voice always rung out far above the rest. Be stronger. More of a man.
With you, a part of him breaks.
Because despite knowing these things down to the marrow, helping with them has never been a skill of his. He can kill a man in seconds, ram through a door with practiced posture in less than a minute, but helping you when you’re sad is entirely foreign to him.
It’s hell entirely, because you’re sad so often. He does what a good lover should: fetches you gifts and food, holds you tight, buries you in nothing but words he deems sweet enough (even if they’re a bit crude).
And often you don’t want any of it.
You shutdown when he hovers and badgers, always pleading with you to explain what’s wrong. You’re curling into yourself, facing away when he tries his best to pull you in. Sometimes it’s an aggressive sort of love — forcing you into his lap and holding your face while you cry your little heart out, dragging you out of the house to sit in the sun while you babble about your woes (or even lack of, really, he just wants something to go off of), and an abundance of unsolicited advice as to what may help your mental state (as though he himself has not ghosted every poor therapist he's ever had). The gifts only increase and your every need is taken care of as though you were physically ill.
He’s aware enough to know that he’s being a total nuisance, too. He expects you to lash out, tell him to stop his pestering and coddling. And König would even enjoy your anger, because it’s something other than being sad and withdrawn. All of this only stems from what he felt he may have needed when he was a pitiful, lonely boy.
So, he holds you close, pampers you like the finest treasure, speaks softer and chooses his words a little better. There are no threats of hours of unhinged sex now, but he’s still a pervert: offers to lick you to take your mind off of whatever is going on. It’s a good distraction, he’s certain, because a wank in the barracks usually does aid him when you’re apart and that sadness creeps its way in.
And more often than not, he’ll question if it’s he who caused all of this. He’s not a good man, never pretends to be. He’s brutish and socially stunted in ways only seen in feral people or beasts in myth. König won’t ask for reassurance directly, very rarely wants you to see him seeming so vulnerable and small, but it’s evident how this growing aching reflects your own. The confessions of love come tenfold, not just for you, but because he needs to hear you say them too.
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Transformer Prime Theory: The Optics
It’s interesting how, in TFP, the characters all have a variety of optics sizes and shapes, instead of everyone having plain solid colours like in G1 and most other continuities. And I personally believe there is some more biological reasons why some of these optics look the way they are (some big, some small, some solid colours and others not, and some having rings and others not).
TW: starvation mention.
THEORY #1:
The size of the optics is determined by how well fed and healthy the transformer is.
Firstly, we can see that most Transformers with big optics are Decepticons, who we always know have more Energon mines and supplies than the Autobots.
Secondly. Megatron has a big optic that take over the entire frame, and he is totally someone who would have a feast himself first before feeding his subjects. On the contrary Optimus have one of the smallest optic in the show, probably because, unlike Megatron, he would only eat himself when he knows his subjects are well fed. (Poor Optimus)
Thirdly, Breakdown and Bulkhead also have some of the biggest optics in their teams. Breakdown is one of the few in the show whose optics are complete solid colors, and, although Bulkhead’s optics are not solid colours, or completely take over the frame, they are still much bigger than most other Autobots. This is probably because they are both the muscles of the team so they must have been fed more so that they can be stronger and fight better. (Cliffjumper might have been one, too, because he also got a huge optic, but we never hang around him enough to know for sure)
Fourthly: Bumblebee also got big optics, probably because he is the youngest Autobot, and is probably still growing in a way, so everyone would want to make sure he got enough nutrients to grow up big and healthy.
Fifthly: Skyquake and Dreadwing also got solid coloured pupils, because they were also kind of muscles, and also because they were both loyal and high ranked so of course, they will also get a lot of supplies.
Sixly: Wheeljack and Arachnid also have op to call that fill the frame. And tbh Wheeljack is the only Autobot who got optics that filled the frame. And both of them had been rogue for a while. This is probably because, since those two work on their own, and when they find Energon, they don’t have to share with anyone, they took care of themselves fine.
Seventhly: I think this is the best proof of all. So throughout the show Starscream’s optics are always quite big and round (though it is not always obvious in bright lightings).
(“Partner”, Season 1 Episode 20)
However, in the Orion Episode, while Starscream was sneaking into the Nemisis to steal energons, his optics suddenly fill the whole frame
(“Orion Pax Part One”, Season 2, Episode 2)
This is likely because, since Starscream had gone rogue at this point, and we know that in “Rock Bottom” (Season One Episode 19) Starscream has been hiding energons for himself, Starscream hasn’t yet learned how to manage supplies sustainably on his own, and quickly drained his resources that he’s hide for himself before. Thus, more energons in the eyes. That’s probably also why he has taken the risk to go back to the Nemisis to steal Energon cause he was out of it already. He was living feast or famine at this point.
Now, there are some bugs in this theory, such as why Knockout have such a small pupil despite not having any reasons to starve. However, knowing Knockout and his obsession with his appearance, I believe he would totally put himself on a diet to look even more fabulous. I don’t think Transformers can really gain weight from Energons, though, at least not in the way we think, but Knockout can also just love the look of a small optic.
One question you might have for the theory, “But it has been going around that Ratchet starve himself to save the supplies for the others, but his optics are big?” Now. Ratchet, I believe, is a different situation, which leaves us to theory #2.
THEORY #2:
The ring around the optic signify how intensely the optic was used.
Firstly, like mentioned above, Ratchet have a special optic: his centeral pupil itself is pretty small, similiar size with Optimus’s, but it got a big ring around it, making it look big. Now I think the ring have nothing to do with how well fed the Transformer is, like the theory above, it is there to supply more Energon to the function of the optic, and making it sharper basically. Knockout also have one, probably for the same reason as Ratchet.
Secondly: Bumblebee also have one. Understandable. He is the scout, he need to look afar a lot. His ring, though, looks differently than Ratchet’s, probably because he uses his optics to look at big things afar, instead of little details up close, like Ratchet.
Thirdly: if you look closely you can see that Optimus got these colorless, metal ring around his optic, too, which no one else have, but it doesn’t have Energon in them. This is probably because he probably used to have them, as Orion Pax, who was an archives working in front of computers all the time. But over the years of not using it in the same way as much as the Prime, Energons left the ring and left the area, leaving the empty ring behind.
Now, there goes my theories and how I think the optics works, kind of. There is still a lot that I am still working on and might make another post off in the future, such as why some of them had a white ring/circle in their optics (I don’t think white rings work the same as blue rings, cause Bulkhead have a white ring but he doesn’t have any reasons to need good vision more than others.) and why their optics are different colors.
I hoped you enjoy this
#transformers#tfp#tfp theory#Transformer headcanon#Hc#headcanon#tfp headcanons#transformer theories#Theories#show theories#Tf theory#tfp arachnid#tfp ratchet#tfp starscream#tfp megatron#tfp optimus prime#tfp knockout#tfp wheeljack
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I think that if someone truly worshipped William it would fix him.
counterpoint: that man needs to grovel
#i think he thrives in subsurviance#he likes being called pretty and told hes done a good job but in like a kiinda demeaning way y'know#getting taken care of by someone Better Than Him#anyways#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#william afton#yelling about the bear#asks#anon
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So. Fatebreaker, right? Ryne's biggest fears made manifest, daddy issues personified, yes?
He's an amalgamation of Thancred and Ran'jit, his face, his voice and his weapon is Thancred's, but his body, his fighting style and his words are Ran'jit's.
Throughout the fight Fatebreaker constantly makes comments about how only he can protect Ryne, only he can provide for her, only he has even the right to so much as stand beside her, to be in her general presence. He's possessive and obsessive, repeatedly asserting that she is HIS and his only. Which is exactly what Ran'jit says basically every time we encounter him.
But this time it's in Thancred's voice. This time it's with the voice and face of a man she actually cares about.
Ryne isn't scared of Thancred, she never has been. Even when she first met him she was barely even nervous (as clearly shown in Thancred's short story). There's a lot of different feelings happening between those two, but fear has never been one of them.
But now, after things have gotten so much better, she is scared of Thancred becoming like Ran'jit. Because if Thancred was just a little further gone, if he was just a little less compassionate, he would've. It wouldn't be hard for him to go down the same path as Ran'jit did, to be incapable of letting go of the ghost of that girl he loved so so much to the point he'd stubbornly grip anything close to her he could. He didn't, but the fact he could've is terrifying.
It makes his final words, words that are Thancred's, so very important. This is her deepest fears made manifest, but he still says he wants her to be happy. Her happiness not only matters, but is important to him.
#Now we -the audience- ofc knew Thancred was unlikely to go down that path#bc if theres one thing hes been consistent in even in his darkest moments its living up to his loved ones' wishes and legacies#the only time he even speaks against it is his conversation w minfilia in amh araeng#and thats more a case of all his (poorly) repressed grief and stress exploding than him actually meaning what he says#and trying to control rynes life after minfilia literally told him to just let her live her life goes directly against that#i think about fatebreaker a lot. as i do all things related to ryne & thancred#and to me its so important to note that hes more or less ran'jit with just enough thancred in him to be *too* thancred for comfort#its so. her greatest fear isnt even the thing thats been haunting her her whole life (being forced to fill in for minfilia)#its having her free will taken from her by the person she cares about the most (thancred)#and for him to be trapped in endless suffering because he cant move on#just like ran'jit did and was#its not even necessarily that shes all that scared of ran'jit himself#what shes scared about is caring about someone like that#because then she wont say no or try to be anyone but minfilia#(thats also why this fear appears specifically after things get better)#(because she was already ready to forsake herself if it eased thancred suffering)#okay im gonna stop now i need to sleep gnight everyone#ryne waters#thancred waters#ran'jit#final fantasy#final fantasy 14#final fantasy xiv#ff14#ffxiv#xander rambles#at this point i should make a tag for ryne ramble posts i make so many of them#tomorrow. maybe. if i remember#edit: i made it#xander being insane about ryne
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I might have pitied this deformed woman
With all due respect ACD why is everyone calling someone with a limp deformed... Also to be honest I would have felt more horror from the story if Gilroy found her attractive and/or charming and enjoyed her company and work relationship but also did not love her for whatever (non-physical) reason, because then there could have been a potential inner conflict and guilt, instead of ''this is out of my hands she is icky-looking and a crone (Gilroy you are 35) so I have no self-doubts about being in love involved on top of it all yay''. Having him vehemently dislike her all the time minus during hypnosis removes those layers.
It isn't 'everyone' in the story who calls her deformed, though. It's just Gilroy. No one else is mentioned deriding her for her disability or her looks or anything else beyond Penelosa's talent.
Considering ACD's comparatively progressive track record with the Sherlock Holmes stories--a series notable for how often it takes the side of oppressed parties, including abused or preyed-upon women--I can't see Gilroy's ageist and ableist views as anything but an intentional setup for the narrative payoff of his disgust as well as his anger and fear.
The story does feel slightly karmic at the start and, to give ACD the benefit of the doubt, I agree with you that having Penelosa not be an attractive hypno-dominatrix likely played a part in Gilroy's initial revulsion at her controlling him into playing paramour. I think this was intentional for the character's buildup, but also for the audience's. Even in the present day, there's no ignoring that there are demographics out there who are Highly Interested in the erotic implications of hypnosis. BDSM for the brain, puppet master kinks, et cetera.
If Miss Penelosa had been hot, or even just pretty, I wouldn't have been surprised if the horror story ACD was trying to put together would lose much of its punch in his era's audience. Sure, it's still icky that Gilroy's a man being Controlled By a Woman (!!!), but having her be attractive would 'soften' it for them. Still, all this is only in play if ACD was really truly adamant about selling the horror of 'A Stranger Now Owns My Free Will and Is Planning to Violate My Life in Intimate Ways.'
It could also have just been intended as an eerie scientific*** what-if adventure applied to a then-popular (and wildly overestimated) practice of the time. Or maybe he meant it as a straight-up supernatural escapade in the vein of vampiric mesmerism from a psychic monster. I don't know, I can't ask him.
All of that said, the horror is soured a bit by Gilroy being a haughty skeptic snob who had some comeuppance heading his way in the first place. Similar setups are common in horror flicks today, where we get to cheer at least once in a movie when the Big Villain takes down a more commonplace bad guy. There's no scare there, just vindication.
And me being me, that's not enough. Because I am all about two things.
One, adding more horror to everything, always, forever.
Two, making life harder for Jonathan Harker.
Jonathan 'Holiest Love means I Will Walk Backwards into Hell to Protect/Stay with My Wife Whether She's Mortal or a Literal Monster' Harker is not about to shit on anyone for a bad leg or some crow's feet.
More importantly, we've already seen his reaction to sexy sexy undead ladies trying to hypnotize him into compliance so they can take certain bloody/eternally conscripting liberties with him.
To judge by the 1000+ Dracula adaptations that show the directors' fetishes in full view, Jonathan being preyed on by the hot vampire Brides is seen by many people as...you know. Hot. Enough to rewrite and bastardize his character every time to make him seem like he was genuinely tempted by them.
But He Was Not.
He was being hypnotized into artificial attraction and paralysis so the ladies could take their turns with him without his fighting back or trying to run. Which he does later! More than once! Every time this voluptuous trio tries to hypnotize or corner him again, Jonathan catches on and sprints in the other direction. He is not into that shit no matter how pretty you are, ladies.
Specifically because, as I and Bramothy Stoker cannot stress enough, Jonathan Harker is strictly Minasexual. All Mina all the time. 24/7 Mina lockdown 365 days of the year. Mina, Mina, Mina. Mina? Mina. (I personally headcanon him as demisexual with shades of biromanticism and ace, but that's beside the point.)
The point is, even if Penelosa was a knockout, Jonathan wouldn't notice. He wouldn't care. Just as his love would not have been stopped by Mina turning into an actual monster; he would rather be damned and in love than slay her and be holy. You can bet your ass if Mina suddenly had a handicap he'd still be enraptured with her to the point of blasphemy. You know he's going to still be heart-eyed as they grow older. Jonathan Harker is made of unconditional and extremely focused love. It is all-encompassing and yet it belongs to a single person. It's the kind of love we all wish we had for ourselves.
It's the kind of love that someone like Penelosa--who latched onto a random handsome prick of a professor after she had known him LESS THAN AN HOUR and started plotting to groom him into her personal Ken doll--would do anything to have for herself; Jonathan Harker, the true Prince Charming, the gallant beloved, the guileless charmer who holds the One He Loves above himself, above God and Devil and the world itself...being wasted on some pretty young thing who hardly needs such a treasure.
It isn't fair. Mrs. Harker will never appreciate dear Jonathan like other, more deserving women would. Not like her. She would show him. Help him through the motions until he learned better; learned to love in the right direction.
Her direction.
Only if given the opportunity, of course.
(👁)
In short, yeah, Gilroy was not the best option for a sympathetic horror story protagonist who we could feel real fear and empathy for. We only really get a glimpse of that toward the end, when Penelosa escalates enough to start injuring innocents and tries to make Gilroy throw acid in his fiancée's face. A big scary leap, but also too late in the game for a proper punch. Especially with the abrupt copout of the ending. Bleh.
I think we can do better than that. Say, with a protagonist who can balance on the pro-and-con line of keeping the supernatural puppet master of their life happy enough to not act rashly, who knows the value of dancing on eggshells in a tight spot, who could tug the heartstrings of villain and audience just enough to let fuller and far more frightening machinations come to light as time goes by.
Especially with certain other powers lurking in the shadows, which might make a trifle like death a far less permanent end to their ~romance~ than it ought to be.
Don't you agree, Mr. Harker? ❤
P.S. Gilroy's still absolutely getting his ass handed to him in this take, don't you worry. He's been demoted from crush to chew toy to minion. RIP sir, but you're not off the hook just because Jonathan's distracting her with his dreaminess. Get to work.
#I got an ask a while ago that was really focused on whether or not I was 'going to keep Penelosa ugly'#not long after I went into a whole other ramble about how she was Not Described As Ugly#just middle-aged a bit plain and having a limp#a ramble where I also pointed out that Gilroy was the only person who was shown being insulting about her appearance#to be clear: While there will be (unpleasantly) intimate predatory scenes#this is not a kinkfic I'm writing#this isn't 'Jonathan Gets Hypno-Dommed By Sexy Psychic Lady XXX'#it's meant to be taken as a story directly following Dracula's events and happening a third of the way into 'The Parasite'#while also taking some liberties with the amount of time involved rather than killing the story (and Penelosa) unceremoniously#barely a month into the interesting bits#the fact that Jonathan is careful enough to play the long game without pissing off (X) bogeyman/bogeywoman is grounds to let things go on#for much Much longer than Gilroy allowed with his temper getting the better of him and setting Penelosa on vengeance#more time = more dread = Penelosa getting to show exactly how far she's willing to go to own her target's life/love#I don't plan to throw any ageist or ableist shit in the mix#just fleshing out character points we never got to see in focus before#and highlighting the Actual Menace of the premise that Gilroy's plight/personality didn't really sell#'Someone owns your brain and is taking steps to cut you out of your life and make you into their personal doll.'#which is scary! fucked up! absolute nightmare and a half!#regardless if the person making you into a puppet is sexy~ or not#but again: I am not sexifying this story or its characters. Period.#they are who they are and anything I might add to the story will have its roots in the original works#so to any future anons wanting to know: No. No Sexy Penelosa for you. No hot Harker love triangle. The End.#anyway#the parasite#arthur conan doyle#dracula#bram stoker#jonathan harker#helen penelosa#austin gilroy
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found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?
#i didnt really get to process it bc i found out when i was hanging w a friend but. im processing it now#sigh.. i dont know. i dont know.#at the end of the day he is and has always been someone else's cat. i can't control what she does with him#no matter what i think of it. she can always take him away. but every time it happens im just. im tired yknow?#it's worth it to me to have him around. i love him dearly and i want him to be in a home where he's actually cared for (which i have done my#best to provide) but he's just. not mine. and every time it happens i back up and think man. im such a sucker.#i don't think people manipulate me often. not in an ongoing way i mean. i don't think ppl see me as valuable enough to most of the time.#but damn. she really found my weak spots didn't she. free petcare courtesy of one chump who can't live without animals around. sigh#he deserves stability but he deserves love more. this weird shared custody thing is better for him i think. and frankly i also love him.#im not the priority here but my feelings are like. there. him being taken away without even telling me first hurts. i'd like to be able to#say goodbye to him. im not saying he has to stay or this has to go on but couldn't they just.. consider my feelings a bit more?#just bc you're fine with dropping your cat off somewhere for weeks not knowing when you'll see him again and not visiting doesn't mean i am#and i kind of feel like my roommate is part of this. after all it's not like his owner can just break into our room and take him#and if im always out when they do it there's a chance roomie's just shipping him off whenever she gets sick of him.#she's done it before. even after she agreed so vehemently with me about never wanting him to go back to such treatment and stuff early on.#she's been spraying him for little reason lately too. and i mean i get being a little more cautious with some things bc her neck's broken#but she's really fixated on how much he smells and bites and stuff and talks about how if i wasn't around she'd consider eating him#and then other times she's like that's my pookie. i don't get it. like yeah i tell rascal to fuck off sometimes bc he hurts me but it's not#like a hateful thing. i dont resent him for it i'm just annoyed sometimes bc he's maiming me a little. he's my baby. how could i loathe him?#so it makes me think that roomie might be blaming his transfers on his owner bc she doesn't want me to judge her#and like. this is her room too. it's not her fault she's more bothered by the smell than me. if she doesn't want to be bitten and clawed all#the time i can sympathize. i don't wanna force her to house him. but i wish she'd just be honest with me i guess#like. what if his owner decides to give him away without telling me? i'd take him in in a heartbeat. even though i know it's a bad idea.#but i'm worried he'll fall out of my reach completely. and at the very least I'd like to be able to say goodbye first. that's all.
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maybe im projecting but i feel like Ollie would have a FUCKING HUGE monstera plant in his house thats taking over his living room
#ollie#anytime someone asks about it hes just ''good camouflage for me :]''#in fact i feel like he would have a shit load of plants from his home continent that his mom keeps sending him#but again maybe im projecting AHA#like yeah he can forge weapons of war with his eyes closed and can maul a grown man to death but dammit that man knows his PLANTS#anyway i got a monstera over the winter bc ive wanted one for the longest time but i was sO scared of killing it#bc its higher maintenance than succulents and snake plants all that#and brother i aint got the remembrance or energy or executive function to be taknig care of high maintenance plants but luckily#my obsession has taken over and im doin pretty good keeping up with watering and i plan on getting it better soil for fertilization#it seems to be doing well and is even growing 3 new leaves AAOOOOO#one of the juvenile leaves even grew a lil hole in it and im :')#but i still gotta properly repot it and actually put poles in it to climb bc theyre kinda half ass put in there#but sPRING IS COMING i am ready#also have a monster adinsoniiiiiiihowever tf u spell it but same applies#i feel like just having 1 (or 2 kindof) that are high maintenance is goin good bc i can focus most of my energy on that like a pet PFFT#bc unfortunately i fear that if i had a shit load of high maintenance plants i would get overwhelmed and involuntarily make them all die#which SUCKS bc i want my house to be infested with so many plants sOOO BAD ugh maybe one day i wont be mentally ill lmfao 💗#ANYWAY more pon ti comin soon
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i care less abt suguru in this fic i’m literally just thinking abt haigojo rn and their dynamic
#they go on fun dates + they’re always touching somehow + they’re also SOOOOOO protective of each other#that’s something that always FASCINATED me abt haibara……… he’s so insanely protective#forbidding his sister from going to jjk high??? bc he wants to protect her??? bc he’s the eldest???#trust that THAT vibe will be present in my fic… protective!haibara my beloved#haibara loves his friends & boyfriend & family more than life itself… gonna use canon haibara in my fic too like personality wise obvi#ALSO HAIGOJO JUST LOVE TO HAVE FUN AND BE TOGETHER#they’re sooooo. cuddly and snuggly and clingy towards e/o#i think haibara also is so energetically blunt and satoru loves him for it#because satoru needs someone like haibara in his life Okie he needs someone to rely on & be taken care of too!!!!! who better than loverboy#and vice versa… haibara loves gojo bc satoru is so cool & playful & strong-willed and also. is LOADED#they’re just soooooo. loving & devoted & Understand Each Other#i think ppl always think they’re Too Much but they get e/o in a way others don’t… never feels like a chore being w one another#not me creating haigojo lore mfnfnfnf this really is just for me to have fun w these characters#personal#snippets
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pharma really is such an interesting case. one thing i’ve always felt with pharma is that he absolutely doesn’t want consequences. and facing up to it requires a lot of looking at and showing people what he’s done and you know. the consequences. i mean hell he’d rather start a plague than say “hey i got coerced into doing a very bad thing by the djd”
I do understand what you mean about Pharma not wanting to face consequences, but on the other hand, I kind of understand why Pharma made a plague rather than admit to medical malpractice/murder? Because like, the thing that I don't see brought up often enough with regards to Pharma is that blackmail... is blackmail. Like, as someone who's unfortunately been on the receiving end of blackmail, the entire point of blackmailing someone is that you corner them into doing bad things by convincing them that they CAN'T turn to an authority figure to ask for help. Like, the person doing the blackmailing generally convinces the person who's getting blackmailed that if they try to reach out for help, the law/authorities/etc either won't care about their predicament or will punish them for the bad thing they did that they're getting blackmailed about.
I kind of feel like (and this isn't an attack on you, just a commentary about the nature of blackmail) when someone like Ratchet looks at Pharma and says "but you could've called for help or shut down the clinic or anything!", it kind of ignores the fact that...... when you're being blackmailed you're fucking terrified, and people who are terrified generally don't jump to the most rational, safe solutions possible? When you add in the fact that Pharma was blackmailed by Tarn of the DJD, notorious hater of Autobots and fanatic leader of a torture club, it's not hard to imagine that Pharma was both afraid and in pain (or threat of pain) while at Delphi and thus wouldn't be thinking straight about it.
I don't know, like. Yeah, on one hand Pharma made a plague and killed a bunch of people to try and cover up his crimes and maintain his career. But he didn't just do it for ego related reasons, he was also almost certainly facing threats of torture and death.
#squiggle answers#pharma apologism#i think i'm biased on this issue so anyone can come in here and add their thoughts or correct me#i guess it just bothers me because like. i've kind of been in that situation (not as serious as pharma's) where i didn't ask for help#and when i got in trouble for not asking for help afterwards and instead choosing to lie or go behind someone's back or whatever#it was generally bc i was more afraid of punishment by The People In Charge#than i was afraid of lying or breaking the rules or doing other bad things#and when i got accused (by the people in charge) of seeing myself as above the rules or thinking i was better/smarter than them#it always pissed me off because i was like. bro i didn't lie to you for fun and games i lied to you because i was afraid#that if i asked you for help you would just shun me or get pissed off at me and punish me#also re: the blackmail i was a victim of. the thing about that is it was over something ultimately petty (stupid internet drama)#and i was PROBABLY never in any real danger but like. the issue was that i FELT like i was in danger#fear is powerful. fear of being threatened at any time or having the things you care about taken away is especially powerful#i had nightmares p much once a week for months during the ordeal and still sometimes do now#like idk i really am biased on this matter but like. just bc pharma made the plague to cover up his crimes#doesn't mean that that's the ONLY reason is what i'm saying#when ppl lie and cover up things about that it's not just about ego but about dumb animal terror#and i mean. to get back to the pharma apologism brand. ratchet KNEW pharma was being blackmailed but he fucking ditched him anyways#this is the guy who was supposed to be his bestie of millions of years and he fucking told pharma he was dead to him#and that's the guy who pharma thought would UNDERSTAND. imagine what he thought other autobots would think of him#also i have a theory that tarn probably psychologically tortured pharma by telling him the autobots would just lock him up for his crimes#as a way to get pharma to not tell anyone and keep supplying him cogs. because you know. blackmail
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i looove putting spark over songs about like heroes and saving the world (tom cardy's 'level clear', uncle outrage's 'saved the world' <- nice voice hc for him!. and 'my superhero movie'.) when he like. Did. Not : ) funney.
#sprksplrs#gaia talked about spark wanting to be desired yesterday and while i think he's too much of a Lone Wolf... for those kinds of wants to#even surface. at least in my interpretation of him. its hilarious to think abt him getting. just a tad insecure abt fark's status as#a real like. superhero basically. just for a second in the far back of his head. oh i want to be as cool as him. im not good enough#tho again in my characterization he only wants to do that to be able to love himself. i first got this thought when ruminating on#oh god. what kinda games he n fark like to play respectively? and said 'if he ever does pick up hardmode or a challenge level#he will only do that to one up himself and himself only.' he only proves stuff to himself. he only cares about himself.#and the things that do the most mental damage to him are all scenarios in which his self is attacked.#in which his agency is taken his independence. losing a job to someone something that copies him and does it better than him#something that even copies a really dear object to him thats been with him throughout the years - his jester hat#an attack on individuality. and then being merged into the sim. idk. the yaoi moments when he does work together w fark become even more#potent. this way? and. it contrasts really well with how selfless (at some point in his life very literally) fark is. and how confident in#his self. he turns out to be in the end. as micah said 'how he moves with so much more fluidity in his organic body#the body he created himself because he's no longer afraid of it being fake'. citing that as the bible but yea kinda.#i think spark grew up quite ostracized maybe even self-ostracized and really needs a distinction between himself and everyone else#to be better than everyone else. there is some personality disorder shit happening under that piss yellow scalp.#and he fucking loses it when the events around him hammer in that the facade he builds for mostly again himself is. yknow. untrue. fake.#idk thoughts. i love exploring the antisocial aspect in fictional personas with how shipshipship focused fandoms and 'analysis'#in them is it's not something i see all that much. seems like only people whove experienced it ever bring up that topic.#is it so uncomfortable for others? who knows. ramble over
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#I would kill my ex ‘p’ to become rich.#I would kill my ex ‘m’ to obtain even more beauty and attract even more people.#I would beat up my ex ‘b’ to the point of him almost dying to have a nice house and the best of the best of things.#I would beat up my bf ‘d’ to be more mentally stable so that I am balanced and at peace with myself and my life.#I would kill my ex ‘k’ to become a well known scholar who has many degrees in maths science and philosophy and to preform surgery&research#I would step on anybody to get to where I want to be in life if it meant making myself happy.#I just manipulated my bf into feeling bad for me because I genuinely just want to feel good and secure even if that’s at his expense.#he’s right.. I don’t care about anyone more than myself and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. why should I put someone above myself?#I’ll tell you what.. until someone can show me that being a good honest generous person can get me anywhere I’ll keep doing what works :)#grey god#puppets#and I genuinely just don’t like or care for others. there’s always something I want in return when it comes to relationships with others.#I find humans disgusting and faulty and I don’t care if I add to their pain because it’s usually to benefit me and if it doesn’t it’s to-#-get back at others for hurting me. or I’m bored. I probably have the most sick and twisted mind of anyone I know. I think people know that#-tho but they still keep me around and help me out whenever I need it. it’s all a show for me and for them. people are so stupid and they#-genuinely think doing the right think helps them. it doesn’t. it’s kind of sad. I just know that once ‘d’ realizes I’ve taken him for -#-everything he’s got it’ll be too late and he’ll have to deal with how much better I am than him and how much I’ve grown leeching off of-#-his emotional labor. I just jump from one person to another taking what I want and what I can. I don’t think I’ve genuinely loved anyone.#I’ve always been this way. I almost love people but then I just truly don’t. it’s more fun to see how far I can break them before#-they can’t do it anymore. I hope that everyone I’ve ever hurt continues to hurt forever and that they never grown or evolve.#’d’ told me tonight that I ruined his life. ‘b’ told me I ruined him. ‘m’ is a coward and he said he’ll never love again.#’k’ is a used up simple minded loser. ‘p’ is a stunted delusion addict with me issues for the rest of his life. notice I said me issues and#not daddy or mommy issues lol. I have tricked them all. they are all pathetic and whimpy fucks.#the day I grinded against ‘d’s sluty ass again after I ‘raped him’ he told me to go slow but it made me think.. what if I just raped him?#I could just do it and he won’t do shit about it. he’ll forgive me like always. he’s an insecure loser. I wanted to just take my dick-#and shove it down his throat and then ruin his hole with it#but I didn’t. I respected what he said but the fact that I thought about it isn’t good.
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A Week (He Will Take You)
~
Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.
This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.
Anyway
This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,
They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.
They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.
Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.
Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.
In other words they were stuck in Gotham
Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.
Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,
Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.
You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.
Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.
But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.
"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"
This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.
"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"
That was it.
The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.
But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,
Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.
The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty
Like no one had been living in it.
People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.
Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.
~
Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"
Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "
~
Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"
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Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."
Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."
Bruce: "Hn."
Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"
~
Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"
Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"
~
Just an Idea
#dp x dc#danny phantom#dc x dp#dpxdc#batman#danny fenton#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#prompt fill#story prompt#prompts#writing prompt#dp#ghost#ghosts
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Lie There and Look Pretty
Dark!Rafe Cameron x stepsis!Reader
Warnings: noncon, somnophilia, incest relationship (step siblings), loss of virginity
A/N: this is a drabble separate from my Number One Fan series, which will have more chapters eventually
The only light in the room was the thin slits peeking between the blinds covering Rafe’s window.
He pressed closer to your sleeping figure, slowly rocking his hard on against your ass. Fingers danced across your hips before digging into your soft flesh and pulling you closer to him.
His hand left your waist, snaking between your legs and lightly brushing over the soft fabric of your panties. You let out a soft whimper in your sleep, hips starting to slowly rock with his touch.
You were so cute and sweet, all curled up in your older stepbrother’s bed, peacefully dozing without a care in the world. Rafe could feel himself getting harder just looking at you. He needed to get closer though, needed to feel you wrapped around him, gazing up at him with those dazed, sleepy doe eyes as he pushed himself inside of you, claiming you as his own in a way no other man could.
After all, wasn’t it his job to take care of you? To protect you? To make sure his little sister wasn’t hurt by a world full of cruel men? They all wanted to hurt you, but not him. Rafe would make sure you were always safe, always taken care of. You deserved someone who cared about you, who knew you better than anyone else in the world.
Carefully, he sat up, climbing over you and shifting you onto your back, before he parted your legs. His eyes were fixed on your now slightly damp panties, and he pulled them out of the way to get a glimpse at your perfect pussy. You were already so wet, and he had barely even touched you.
Surely you had to know what was happening, right? There must have been some part of you that could feel what he was doing to you, even in your sleeping state?
Rafe sucked in a breath when he slowly tried to push a finger inside of you, surprised by the resistance he felt, you were squeezing around his digit so tight, and so deliciously wet.
When he curled his finger inside, you let out another whine, face scrunching up in your sleep at the feeling. With his free hand, Rafe pulled his cock out of his boxers, stroking himself at the sight of you laid out in front of him. You looked so vulnerable, completely unaware of your older bother, whose dick was now throbbing in his hands as he leered above your unconscious body.
Before he could think twice, Rafe lined his cock up to your slit, gently rubbing the tip against your slick folds. You felt so good and he wasn’t even inside you yet.
He slowly tilted his hips forward, allowing just the tip to slide in. His breath caught in his throat at the feel, and he knew that it was too late to back out now. He wouldn’t be able to live after just a small taste, not allowing himself to have all of you would drive him crazy.
Gently, Rafe began moving back and forth, never going deeper than the tip, but enough to generate a friction that had him biting back curses. Rafe didn’t want to wake you up, but at the same time he desperately wanted you to be awake, reacting to his every touch and looking into his eyes as he took what was rightfully his.
He must have gotten caught up in his thoughts because when he looked down at where his cock was disappearing inside you, he realized he had been pushing in deeper than he thought, now half of his length was filling you up, and he could feel you squeezing down on every inch. Rafe’s eyes flitted back up to yours and he was shocked to see they were opening.
You felt confused, head swimming in a state between asleep and awake. There was a huge pressure between your legs, but also a twinge of pleasure, each rock of the bed brought you closer to being pulled from sleep, and when you opened your eyes you were surprised that blue eyes were staring back into your own.
You tensed up immediately and Rafe groaned at the feeling, his hand wrapping around your throat before you could react, stealing your breath away from you. His face came to your neck, hot breath fanning over your tender skin as he grunted softly.
“You gotta be quiet Y/N, mm k?” Rafe’s voice was barely a whisper, the only sounds in the room were your bed shifting as he fucked you and the lewd sounds of his cock plunging into your wet cunt. “Don’t wanna wake up mom and dad, yeah? Just lie there and look pretty, ‘m gonna make you feel good.”
You were in shock, unable to fully grasp the situation you had just woken up to. The feeling of him sliding against your snug walls was both heavenly and so so sinful. The conflicting feelings inside you stirred a horrible mix of desire and disgust, but you were mostly just caught between disbelief and horror.
Rafe was fucking you deeper, burying his cock into you a little faster and harder with every thrust. When you reached your hands up to try to push him off of you, he easily overpowered you, one hand tightly gripping your wrists and pinning you to the bed so hard you knew they would be bruised in the morning.
His hips were snapping against yours frantically now, bare chest pressing to yours as he caged you in between his arms. The blond’s lips covered your own, smothering you with unwanted kisses, before he pulled away to bite and nip at your neck.
“Relax,” he growled through gritted teeth. “And let your big brother take care of you, princess.”
#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron smut#stepbro!rafe cameron#outer banks#obx#rafe cameron noncon#rafe cameron fanfic#lie there and look pretty
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i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream
18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!
he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.
always in a good way when it’s with him.
especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.
but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.
however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.
but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.
he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.
you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.
this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.
because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.
if only you could just—
“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”
“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.
“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.
“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.
it seems like you’re no quitter either.
“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”
you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.
maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.
“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.
unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.
it’s definitely progress.
and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.
#he’s such a cutie pie sweetie honey bebi sweetheart!!!!!!!#i love him soooo much#yuuji x reader#yuuji smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#yuji smut#yuji x reader#itadori smut#biscuit drabbles
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