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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months ago

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Of all the disturbing things that happened to Harry, I think the graveyard scene really takes it. It's horrific on so many different levels, and everytime I read it, something new sticks out to me. The last time, it was the death eaters laughing at Harry. A bunch of grown men laughing at one of the darkest wizards torturing and mocking a fourteen year old. Like it's actually insane, whether they were trying to appease Voldemort or were really entertained by the whole thing.

I know! I feel the same way about that scene. It's really no wonder Harry was as traumatized as he was in OotP (honestly, he's incredibly resilient, all things considered). The graveyard was awful. And their laughing is some of the worst of it:

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort’s lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him . . . he was not going to give him that satisfaction. . . . “I said, bow,” Voldemort said, raising his wand — and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

(GoF, Ch34)

Especially when you read Harry's thoughts about the Cruciatus and how he wants to die so it will end and they laugh:

“Crucio!” It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end . . . to black out . . . to die . . . And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort’s father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters’ laughter.

(GoF, Ch33)

But the part that stuck out to me the most last time I read it was this moment:

he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was. . . . White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he’d ever screamed in his life — And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

(GoF, Ch34)

Not only are the DE laughing at him, but they pushed a pained, shaking, and stumbling 14-year-old kid back into the circle to be tortured again!

Harry was stumbling over himself, barely getting onto his feet, and they pushed him down again and laughed. A bunch of grown-ass men. It's disgusting and horrifying. Like, them pushing Harry back towards Voldemort when he's barely walking and shaking all over disgusts me. That is so vile.

I think a good chunk of them seem to be 100% going along with Voldemort of their own free will and not just for his favor (though, I think that is part of it). After all, they did stuff like that on their own volition earlier in the book:

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee. “That’s sick,” Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. “That is really sick. . . .”

(GoF, Ch9)

I really hope these DE didn't get to escape Azkaban for a second time after the second war (the ones that survived it, that is).

GoF has always been my favorite in the series and its darkest moments are part of why. Sure, there are horrific moments in the later books, but the shock of the graveyard scene is unparalleled for me in this series in the kind of horror it hits. Nothing later hits quite the same when it comes to the helplessness of it. To how Harry is certain he is going to die, that this is it. Unlike when he walks to his death in DH, in GoF, he wants to live so badly but he doesn't think he will — it's not a noble sacrifice, it's a child grasping at a chance to survive. And unlike at the end of OotP, he is completely and utterly alone. In the DoM, the Order and Dumbledore were right behind him and before they arrived he had friends with him, but in the graveyard, there was no one — just Harry against 30 Death Eaters and Voldemort. No one was coming for him, no one was coming to save him, Cedric just died, he was alone, and the only dueling spell he knew was Expelliarmus. It's horrifying and heartbreaking and it hits.

#harry potter #hp #hollowedrambling #death eaters #goblet of fire #asks #anonymous #hp meta #harry potter meta #harry james potter #voldemort #lord voldemort

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sebsxphia · 11 months ago

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me too, he’s so husband shaped 🥹💗

shopping lists.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: you rush to the shops after work to do a quick food shop, but bob floyd was not on your shopping list.

￫ word count: 3.3K.

￫ warnings: mentions of food, supermarkets, feeling hungry and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ authors notes: my description of the supermarket is based off uk supermarkets, so i apologise if there’s inaccuracies to us supermarkets! this also hasn’t been proof read. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob was starving.

He cursed himself under his breath as he drove back from base. He had the driver's window in his baby blue truck rolled down and his forearm resting on the side, his fingers pushing through the sticky summer air as he drove. Air conditioning alone wouldn’t keep him cool, as he still wore his flight suit from training earlier that day. He could feel how the ring of sweat around his neck was sticking to his collar, but he simply didn’t have the time or willpower to shower and change on base.

It had just gone five o’clock in the afternoon and he had gotten off later than he expected. He would’ve already had a small meal to keep him going until dinner by now, but low and behold, when he awoke this morning, as the sun was only a crack along the horizon, he realized he had no substantial food in his fridge.

Bob was a planner. He would do his fortnightly shop routinely, but something came up at work and it had simply slipped his mind. The only thing he could do now was drive as fast as he could to the supermarket, slip in, whisk around the aisles in record time and drive back home to cook something up in under an hour. He had another early start the next morning and as always, he had a routinely early bedtime.

Being a pilot made his reactions lightening fast. This would be easy for him.

As he pulled into the car park and zoned in on a space, he noticed another car also going for the same spot.

You were inches away from the space and although he was in a hunger-fueled rush, being the ever polite gentleman that he was, he let you go for it. Through the glare of the late afternoon sun reflecting off your windshield, he couldn’t quite make out the person driving, but he saw how you politely lifted your hand off the steering wheel to motion, “Thanks!”

Bob responded in turn with his wave and warm smile. He drove a little further forward past your car to find another space and the reflecting sun moved against your windshield to reveal you in a clearer light. You had the sweetest little smile as you thanked Bob. Your lips curled up to meet the creases in the corners of your eyes and your cheeks were a sweet rosy colour.

As he drove away and around the corner of the car park, Bob chewed at the inside of his cheek, still with a small smile twitching on his lips. He had a small hope that he would see you inside, only because he wanted to let you know that he was more than happy to give you the spot.

No other reason.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about your sweet smile as he felt his stomach grumble furiously. After doing a loop around, he managed to find a spot at the opposite end of the car park. He of course cursed himself again under his breath for going shopping at peak hours after everyone had finished work on a weekday, but he only blamed himself. He didn’t blame you. You were simply there first.

The almost freezing blast of air conditioner on his face as he entered the supermarket, was a welcomed change to the ever-growing humid air outside. The tiny, blonde baby hairs on the back of his sweat-coated neck stood up momentarily, as the icy air flowed down and through his flight suit. He felt himself cool down almost instantly. He pulled up with a shopping cart and started with fruits and vegetables at the front of the store. He was desperate to move fast, but his boots were heavy and searingly hot with every step he took around the aisles. That was the only spot on his body that the air conditioning could not reach.

As he came to the end of the fruits and vegetables section, he turned to reach for the tomatoes when suddenly a flurry swooped by him. It caught his attention instantly and he whipped his head around, with his torso moving inwards towards the tomatoes to avoid bumping into whoever had just swept by him.

It was you. The same person in the car park who he had given his space to. He observed as you descended the cheese and yoghurt aisle.

A small lump got caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly, as he watched how your sundress swished around your bare calves. He couldn’t help but let his cobalt blue eyes from behind his glasses, glance over you. Bob was raised right by his mom. He was respectful and well-mannered, but the simple and undeniable fact was, that you were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on. Even from the glow of the cool light down the food aisle, it could not diminish your luminescence.

He reached his slender index finger up to his glasses and pushed them up his nose ever so slightly. The prior sudden movement had caused them to jolt down the bridge of his nose by a centimetre.

As you walked straight down the aisle and turned to face the cheese selection, the delicate material of your sundress moved back into place to frame your body. It rippled over each curve of your figure and Bob’s heartbeat doubled in time when he caught sight of your soft belly in your sundress. He sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth as he wondered for a fleeting second, how soft your belly would feel to hold when his face was buried between your thighs.

He registered the smile creases in the corners of your eyes. The same ones that he noticed first in the parking lot and how they narrowed to read the label in front of you. Your eyelashes fluttered against one another as you blinked against the glaring light humming above you. As you raked over your options, he watched how your teeth grazed over your bottom lip and chewed nimbly at it. The same habit he had.

He needed some cheese and yoghurt himself, so perhaps he could catch you there.

Bob meandered some meters behind you and acted as if he was choosing his yoghurt option. He already knew what he needed. The same yoghurt he’d had for the past five years, but he was drawn to you. Like a moth to the radiating flame.

He cocked his head behind him to glance in your direction and you had already moved down the aisle to assess your next grocery choice. He took his multipack of yoghurts, placed it in his cart and wheeled it around to stand by you, again acting as if he was evaluating his cheese choice. From behind his glasses, he took another sideways glance. You were performing a balancing act of holding your shopping basket’s flimsy handles, holding the cheese in your other hand and somehow holding open a small notebook and crossing out the presumed item, with a pen.

At a glance, Bob saw how inside your notebook was filled with lots of little scribbles, and crossed-out parts and as you went to close it, the front cover was decorated with sweet little stickers.

“Jesus Christ. That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” He thought to himself.

As you went to slide the pen back into the elasticated band, it slipped from your balancing act and slid along the dotted tiles of the supermarket, straight for Bob’s direction. It hit the sole of his boots and he heard your voice for the first time.

“Ah, shit.” It was muttered under your breath with annoyance, but he thought your voice sounded like sweet honey.

Before his thought process could catch up to him, he wondered if you tasted like sweet honey.

You spoke directly to Bob this time, as you scurried over and bent down to pick up the pen by his boots. He caught a fleeting glance at the swell of your breasts, resting in your sundress.

You laughed out faintly with your apology. “I’m sorry, my mistake—”

As you moved too quickly with embarrassment to pick up your pen, your flimsy shopping basket was swinging and the cheese you were holding also fell out of your grasp.

“Ah! Fuck.” You quietly cursed again to yourself, or so you thought.

Bob had caught your second string of curses to you accidentally dropping something and he thought it was rather cute.

“Here, let me.” He chuckled to himself as he squatted down to reach for your cheese and pen.

Both now standing upright, he handed your belongings back to you and felt how the palms of your hands were as soft as butter against his fingertips. You looked at each other directly and now without the glare of your windshield, he could finally see every delicate feature that made up your beautiful face. He thought that you were so pretty.

You went to open your mouth and speak, but your words got caught on your tongue. This kind stranger was incredibly handsome. He looked smart with his clean-shaven face and his dusty blonde hair parted neatly to one side, with a thick swoop. His rounded glasses didn’t have a single smudge on them and his cheeks were round as he smiled at you, although it still didn't take away from his strong cheekbones and firm jaw.

You blinked in a flurry as you took in his build. You were accustomed to seeing pilots around here with the air base being so close to town, but it was rare to see one in what you presumed was a flight suit of some kind. It was deep forest green in colour and harmoniously blended against his striking eyes from behind his glasses. It wasn’t tightly fitted, yet still, his broad shoulders and firm biceps were flexing against the coarse material. His thighs stood strong with his heavy boots planted firmly against the tiled floor. He was tall and practically towered over you, but he respectfully kept a distance between you both.

“I’m sorry again, thank you.” You smiled bashfully at him. Your eyelashes were still fluttering against one another and your rounded cheeks were dusted pink.

Bob couldn’t help himself. He grinned as he shook his head and politely rejected your apology.

“No need to apologise, Ma’am. It’s all good.”

Suddenly your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised with them.

The glimmer from the overhead light in the supermarket made your eyes sparkle with such an inviting glow.

“Oh! You were the nice guy in the parking lot! You let me take your space!” You pointed your finger towards him. His truck was significantly higher than your car and you were only able to get a glance at his face from behind your windshield.

Bob let out a chuckle and waved his large hand in front of him, diminishing the idea. He further wanted to wave off the ever-growing flush of heat that was creeping up from his chest. It flushed over his neck and cheeks and sat right under his glasses. The blasting air conditioning had once again failed him and his chest, neck and cheeks were now flushed warm.

“Oh, hey. Not at all, it wasn’t my space. You had it, fair and square.”

You giggled in response. His respectful and polite demeanour had your stomach feeling as though a million and one butterflies were fluttering through you, making their way up through your heart and coming out of your mouth with sweet giggles.

“Alright, thanks again though, I appreciate it. I was in such a rush after work. Always the way, isn’t it?”

You laughed again and the sound flowed to Bob’s ears, making his playful smile reach the tips of his ears.

“Tell me about it.” He agreed with a grin.

You flashed a last beaming smile at Bob as the conversation between two strangers in a supermarket came to its natural end and you turned around to continue following your shopping list.

That’s what he thought.

As you turned down the aisle, you once again cursed at yourself for not being more forward, flirtatious, or whatever it would be that would land you his number. He was gorgeous. Undeniably handsome. And he was so stupidly charming and polite.

You turned on a quick heel to see if he was still there, but he had disappeared and you were left alone in the chilled aisle, with nothing to comfort you but your notebook and the static overhead lights.

Bob too mentally scolded himself for not asking such a pretty sweetheart like yourself for your number. As he watched you turn away, he chewed on his bottom lip, curled his fists tightly, released them and then walked away.

He was a gentleman. He would not harass someone if they didn’t show a sign of being interested in him. But he was sure you were. He had a sharp and watchful eye, and he saw how rosy your cheeks turned and how your chest stuttered slightly as your breath got caught in your throat. But he was pulled out of his battling thoughts but his stomach grumbly furiously at him again.

He whisked down the remaining aisles to finish his shop, still with the hope of a fleeting chance to see you again, but he couldn’t ignore what his body was telling him. As he checked out, tapped his card on the machine and wheeled his shopping cart out of the store, he still had both his trained eyes on his surroundings. Just in case there was a single chance, a perfect moment, where he could catch you. Bob had been extremely methodical about his choices in life and he only ever perused something if he was certain. He had never been so utterly and completely sure that you were the one for him.

He fished his truck keys out of his flight suit pocket and just as he was about to turn the key in the door, he remembered.

“Fuck. Tomatoes.”

Bob didn’t need a list. It was all written down mentally and he rarely forgot things, but he remembered that as he was about to reach for the tomatoes, you came by earlier in a flurry. He would’ve called it fate if he ever had a chance of seeing you again.

“Fuck! Tomatoes.”

You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance. It was on your list, sitting on the next line down under cheese and then you remembered why you forgot it in such a fluster. You slammed the boot door of your car back down, locked it shut and headed back inside to grab the final item. Your feet moved quickly along the tile floor and you turned on your heel to find the stack of plump, rosy red tomatoes in front of you.

“Hello again.”

The familiar voice made the tiny baby hairs on your neck stand up and a row of goosebumps rise on your forearms in tow. His smile radiated warmth as it crinkled up in the corners of his eyes. He stood tall over you, still in his flight suit, but again you didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. You felt a true sense of calm and safety wash over you.

Your lips parted to gasp with happy surprise at seeing him again, before they curled up into a relieved smile, mirroring his own.

“Hello again.” You repeated back to him. “I forgot tom—”

“I forgot some tom—”

You both spoke in unison, before snorting out a quiet laugh between yourselves.

“Apologies. You go.” Bob gestured towards you and the vegetable stand.

“I’m going to make a sauce when I get back home, but I completely forgot the main ingredient.” You waved it off with another giggle, yet still, you did not attempt to reach for said important ingredient. You simply stayed facing him with a gleaming smile.

Bob’s mouth watered at the sound of your homemade tomato sauce. His stomach still growled at him from inside, but he also felt how it twisted and turned on itself with exhilaration. He pictured coming home to you after work, sitting down together at your dining table and sharing the homemade sauce. You were, without a fault, the only person he had ever truly envisioned a future with and he couldn’t repeat the same mistake as before.

He nimbly chewed at his bottom lip, failing to notice how you were also doing the same, as he mentally prepared his next statement.

“That sounds, delicious. I hope I’m not oversteppin’ here, and please tell me if I am, but I’d love to have y’ number, Ma’am. I’d love to try some of y’ homemade sauce, if that’s okay with you?”

Bob was not an overly religious man, but he swallowed thickly and prayed with every hope that the last part of his sentence didn’t come across in the wrong way. It felt longer than mere seconds to receive your response, but he breathed out a short sigh of relief when he saw how your eyes crinkled up into an animated smile to match his.

“Yes, yes! I’d love that. Please, let me get my book…” Your fingers were trembling with giddy anticipation as you worked to open your bag and reached for your notebook. “Uh…” You flipped through to find a clean page and when you landed on one, you gestured it towards him. “Here you go.” You gushed.

“Thank you.” He began. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd.”

You mentioned your name and he felt his heart flutter at how pretty it was. By how eagerly you had accepted his proposal to exchange numbers, he could see that you were just as into him, as he was with you. And so, he let his true feelings become known.

“That’s a real pretty name, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a harsh breath between your teeth and let out a bashful, “Oh…”

The sweet name that he had just called you, made your legs nearly twitch and tremble on the supermarket floor.

His long, slender fingers curled around the pen as he scribbled down his number. Your notebook and pen looked so small in his hands.

When he offered it back to you, you wrote down your number in a flurry and tore the piece of paper out from the binder. You handed it over and he tucked it into the top pocket of his flight suit. You thought that that was the hottest thing you have ever witnessed a man doing.

Bob Floyd, as you now knew him, had seriously gotten into your head and clouded any reasonable senses.

You both exchanged some further light conversation, still with Bob shamelessly and sweetly flirting with you, before you both picked up your tomatoes, paid and left for the car park together. He insisted on walking you to the car to ensure that you got there safely, even though it was still broad daylight and when he left, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

You both went back to your separate homes and cooked your separate meals. As you were about to get into bed you sent Bob a text, the taste of your homemade sauce still dancing on your taste buds.

“this weekend, would you like me to show you how i make the sauce? would you like to come to mine? x”

You were caught by surprise when your phone dinged with a message notification moments after.

“I would love that, thank you for the invite, sweetheart. Can’t wait :-) x”

Bob lay in bed that night thinking about how to tell the story of how you both met at your wedding.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @floydsglasses @fridamoss @floydsmuse @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @auroralightsthesky @cherrycola27 @withahappyrefrain @sugarcoated-lame @senawashere

#zatannas-wand #robert bob floyd

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comparativetarot · 1 year ago

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Four of Wands. Art by Robert Riedel, from Darkness, Earth, and Light.

Symbolizes stability and firm foundations. There is a sense of harmony and balance as well as completion. A time of peace and contentment. A time for quiet self reflection.

#Robert Riedel #Darkness Earth and Light #Four of Wands #Four #Wands #Minor Arcana #Tarot

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paolo-streito-1264 · 5 months ago

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Robert Wands. Julie Harris Stopping for a Coffee on Her Way to the Empire Theater. New York City, 1952.

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chillian-murphy · 3 months ago

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😈Dominance and sadism headcanons😈

Headcanons about Tommy, Jackson, Jonathan, Robert, Neil, and Kitten being dominant and/or sadistic in bed. I realize that not all sadists are doms and not all doms are sadists, but pairing them together is kinda like peanut butter and chocolate? Like you just gotta do it. NSFW for obvious reasons.

Tommy

*Strict daddy

*Brat tamer, straight up hoping you'll misbehave so he can throw you over his lap and spank you to tears

*Big on sexually training you, if he takes you on you're going to learn to deep throat, receive anal penetration, and more. He sees you as putty to be shaped.

*Uses pleasure as a means to manipulate you. He'll fuck you dumb, get you addicted to his cock, and reward every behavior he wants to see with orgasm after orgasm until you can't think for yourself.

*Praises you because he loves seeing the effect it has on you and how much you want his approval, usually by stroking your hair and calling you a good girl.

*Loves showing you off like a fancy trinket to his colleagues and rivals. Your obedience and allure serves to make you quite the status symbol, making him look even more powerful than he already does. He'll even go as far as having you warm his cock during business meetings.

*Favorite form of discipline is impact play, including pussy spankings. He'll use riding crops or his belt, but his favorite is his bare hand.

*Doesn't care much for bondage, if he wants you to stay in place, he expects you to stay in that place and position simply by being told. If he wants to restrain you, he'd rather do it himself by pinning you down.

*Feels affection towards you, but ultimately sees you as more of a pet than a partner. He wants someone who's more of an equal as a significant other.

Jackson

*Feral fucking sadist. Wants to see you struggle, wants to see you cry.

*Doesn't use safewords. Honestly more of an abuser than a dom.

*Sessions with him are purely sexual. In fact, you could even call him the Sex Machine because he nuts and bolts.

*Favorite position is doggie with your face being mashed into the mattress.

*Loves leaving marks all over you. Bruises, bite marks, rug burn. He wants everyone to know you're his, and for you to be feeling him for days.

*Likes to get wet and messy. Coming all over your face, facefucking you until you're hacking up saliva, pissing anywhere you'll let him. Once again, he likes to mark his territory.

*Favorite restraints are metal handcuffs. Yes, they hurt after a while... that's why he likes them.

*Big on verbal degradation, filthiest mouth imaginable. Constantly finding new, innovative ways to call you a whore and to make sure you feel like one.

*Don't expect aftercare. Don't expect him to toss you a towel to clean yourself off. Don't expect him to call you back.

Jonathan

*Cold, calculating, and impossible to please. His ideal sub is a type A perfectionist who feeds on criticism.

*Emotional sadist like nobody's business. Studies you intently to find out the exact insults that will cut you down and make you feel less like a person and more like a tool to be used.

*Not particularly affectionate, but neither of you expect that from him. When it comes to showing you that he cares, it's through the great lengths he goes through to provide for you physically, keep you safe, and make your surroundings comfortable.

*Extends his dominance beyond the bedroom and all around treats you like an object that exists to serve him, sometimes literally. If he needs a coffee table, he expects you on all fours, holding as still as you can as his scalding hot mug sits on your back. Better not let it spill, there will be consequences.

*Impact play is passé to him. Been there, done that. Sure, spankings can be fun, but he'd much rather stick you with needles, zap you with a violet wand, or pump you full of aphrodisiacs while forcing you to wear a chastity belt that prevents you from getting any relief.

*His most effective punishment, though, is... nothing. No insults. No probing. Nonchalant conversations about what to have for dinner. Watching you unravel while you try to read into his actions and figure out what you can do to please him again is far more interesting for him to watch than giving you anything concrete.

*Loves rope bondage, especially intricate shibari designs. If he's feeling particularly inspired, he'll include predicament bondage elements.

*Generally, being his sub is more dynamic- and service-oriented than it is about sex. The two of you do fuck, but it's surprisingly vanilla. His kicks primarily come from performing highly unethical psychological experiments on you while you're trying to do his laundry.

Robert

*His entire life has been laid out for him since he was a child. His time with you is the only time he actually feels in control.

*However, he's also spent his life getting exactly what he wants, when he wants, so he can be difficult to please.

*Loves playing sugar daddy, treating you to expensive trips and luxury clothes in return for you showing his gratitude.

*This also means that he'll threaten to revoke his financial support if you misbehave.

*Constantly pulling you aside for quickies in semi-public places: dark corners off nightclubs, his private plane while waiting to take off, the backs of cars. He's thrilled by the idea of getting caught.

*Wants you by his side even when he's working so he can pull you into his office for "stress relief"

*Not particularly sadistic, but owns a variety of high end floggers, paddles, and other spanking implements in case the mood strikes. He'll leave you with a bright flush across your cheeks but is unlikely to leave bruises.

*Incredibly affectionate during aftercare, to the point of being needy. He's bad with emotions and just needs to know that he's a good daddy and that he's taking care of you and that you're not going to leave.

Neil

*Much more competent as a dom than people expect. Still, he's not THAT dominant, it's just enough to deny people's expectations.

*Warm, playful, and goofy. Scenes are gonna be pretty soft with him.

*Plays best with littles and petplayers. Even if it's not a caregiver/little dynamic, he takes on kind of a caregiver vibe.

*Surprisingly good with brats, he knows how to match their energy. Punishments are pretty unconventional, and based more on him engaging in irritating or frustrating behavior, like only speaking to you in Dad Jokes for an entire afternoon.

*Even if he's not into the harder stuff, he loves to experiment and explore new kinks. He'll try anything once. Or twice. Eight or nine times until he really decides he dislikes it.

*So. Much. Praise. If you have a praise kink, this is your dream man.

*The only restraints he owns are the inexpensive ones with the velcro closures, although that's probably for the best because he doesn't know how to tie any knots and he's too scatterbrained to keep track of a key for locking cuffs.

*Even if you're a masochist, he feels kinda weird about hurting you. He'll spank and pull hair, but that's about it.

*For him, domming is more or less just foreplay for aftercare.

Kitten

*Will turn you into the slut you've always dreamed of being

*Loves to tease until you're sobbing and begging. You can look, but you can't touch.

*Dresses you up however she sees fit, you're her little dolly.

*Excels at being affectionate and condescending at the same time. "What a good puppy! Look how much looser and sloppier your little hole has become since our last session."

*Favorite spanking implement is a leather paddle with special cutouts so it leaves heart-shaped imprints on your ass.

*"Your son calls me Mommy, too"

*As a professional sex worker, she's seen and spent a lot of time working with kinks she's personally ambivalent towards, and has a very "live and let live" attitude towards it all.

*Has lowkey cracked at least one egg by repeatedly forcefemming a client (at their request)

*Aftercare is pretty standard, mostly cuddling and maybe sharing snacks. The quality of the snacks depend on how much she likes you, though.

#cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby headcanon #jackson rippner headcanon #jonathan crane headcanon #robert fischer headcanon #neil lewis headcanon #kitten braden headcanons

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