#also i did so much like. way too in depth research for this

[existence-is-a-pain87]

MONSTER AU AS I TRY TO CRAWL OUT OF WRITERS BLOCK!!! (Haha ima totally hate anything I write for this BUT I NEED TO TRY MY BEST!!)

Here Be Monsters

Yandere!Monster!Dandy's World x Toon?Reader

Wanrings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, gore, blood, swearing

IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not own all the monster versions of the Toons in this! Fxnn the Fishbowl and Faceless Shrimpo belongs to KC99 (marsol2099 helped create Fxnn though). I'm just using them in this AU because I think they're cool, hope yall don't mind. <3

Also, if yall don't want to create a special Toon for the reader in this, feel free to just use my OC Endri (ima make her the canon protagonist in this because... eh I'm too lazy to create a reader-centric Toon rn, hope yall don't care too much). (Also yes she shares my name, she's a self-insert <3)

Furthermore, I'm planning on this to be like a Part 1 where not all Toons are showed. You wanna see more of this? Then request a Part 2 or smth, idk. Hehe.

--☆☆☆☆☆--

You've been stuck in that basement for 20 years.

It wasn't like the depths of the facility you were used too, as a scrapped Toon. You were used to roaming around, being made to help out with the handlers and human employees with moving equipment or helping clean up spills of ichor.

But after your Incident? After you drowned in that... Ocean of Darkness?

...they put you in a basement you learnt was made for Dandy. Because they thought you were a Monster.

And you believed them. Why?

Because you weren't a Toon originally.

No, you used to be a human. You died in a car accident, and was reborn as a Toon.

Why?

Probably for some sick and twisted beings' amusement.

Because the Toons were obsessed. Whether romantic or platonic, it did not take them long after meeting you to show a crazed obsession with you.

Yet they contained themselves, to an extent. To the point you could call them your friends.

But you haven't seen them in 20 years.

You were painfully used to the small series of rooms that trapped you in. Allowed you to dwell, and remember your life as a human. Allowed you to learn how to return to the form of a Toon from your giant Twisted form, and to return to that form at will.

You learnt how your eyes had little white pupils at all times now, and would turn red when you got dangerously close to turning unwillingly.

But you learnt. You had to.

...

It was easy to figure out when you were abandoned.

You weren't angry. You knew Gardenview shut down at this point, you played Dandy's World when you were human. It probably shut down shortly after they locked you away and no one could find you.

It was fine, you didn't die. The ichor within you forcibly kept you alive, despite years of starvation and tons of dehydration.

You managed to break through a wall enough and find a pipe, and through a stroke of luck you managed to break it in a specific way that allowed water to come through, so the dehydration issue was solved.

But god, you were hungry.

You did try to ration your food, but 20 years is a long time.

After the food ran out and you broke the wall, you turned your focus to the door.

It was heavily reinforced, more so than the wall with the water pipe.

It took practically 15 years to break through.

15 long, grueling years.

And when you finally got through?

You turned back, desperate to not scare anyone, and immediately began hunting.

No other Toons knew of the little research facility within Gardenview they were born from. You did, though. And you scrounged for food.

Thank whatever evil deity that did this to you because there were tons of canned food that were designed to last this time.

You were never more grateful the cans of soup lasted over twenty years until they expired. You ate tons of canned soup that day.

And the next day. You were bringing that soup with you, you were not starving anymore.

You refused to starve again.

You had a plan. One to leave Gardenview.

It would mean reaching the top, but you could do it. And you could get out and form a life outside of thie facility.

Why?

Because you learnt how to turn into a human.

--☆☆☆--

Your initial plan was to try the elevator.

Unfortunately, it seemed to almost... lose power and plummet down.

Thankfully you survived, but you knew you had to find a new elevator.

You remembered the mines. Even lower down in the earth than your prison, but filled with five generators that would power a backup elevator in emergencies.

...you did not like roaming through these empty depths. You found and grabbed some random items on the ground, and kept going.

When you found that first generator, you quickly booted it back up. It wasn't hard, you've done it before.

But when it booted back up the power, you heard someone.

"What's that? Someone's here?"

You paused, looking back from where you stood in front of the generator.

"It's been a long time since I've sea-n someone..."

Finn..?

"Oh. You must be apart of those lunatics that did this to me... I'll make this quick."

...what?

...

You acted quickly. You knew the implication behind those words.

But... lunatics? Why did he assume you were not a Toon? What even happened here?

You knew better than to stop and dwell right now. You just ran.

But dammit, your stealth was never that great.

And when you saw him?

...that wasn't Finn anymore. A chunk of his head was gone, one hand had large claws, and he carried a bloodstained axe.

...Why was his head leaking blood, though? And why would he charge at anyone with an axe?

You knew he wouldn't kill you, but you were immediately scared you'd kill him if you entered your Twisted form.

So you just ran, your feet thudding against the ground. And he chased.

God was he faster than before, and laughing. Why was he laughing? Why was he taking joy in the idea of hurting another?

What happened to the Finn who would crack fish puns at you and ask you to take care of Barnaby Wilikers when he was being taken away somewhere for a bit.

Then you drowned.

...was this where he was taken? And they did this to him?

...wait.

WAIT!

You still have Barnaby Wilikers on you, don't you? You cleaned off all the ichor from him and kept him safe and close.

What if..?

"GO AWAY!" You yelp out, pulling out Barnaby Wilikers and gently tossing the toy fish at...

Fxnn. That's what he is now.

Barnaby lands square in Fxnn's bowl, staying in neatly despite the damage. Immediately, Fxnn freezes and reaches into his head, giving you a chance to get away and find a new generator.

"...How did you get him?" You hear him ask, "How?!"

You don't dare respond, focusing on the machine. You hear him mumble to himself, but can't make out the words.

"...did you do something to them?"

...uh oh.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!"

OH SHIT, YOUR PLAN BACKFIRED.

Did he think you weren't yourself? How couldn't he piece together that this was you?

HOW BLIND WAS HE?!

You quickly fixed the machine and bolted, right as Fxnn charged in, readying the axe to chop off anything from your body until you died.

You kept running, didn't dare to stop, as you desperately fixed machines.

You fixed four by the time he cornered you.

"There you are, you bastard..." He breathlessly says, "Haha, you're a quick one, you know that? Reel hard to catch... but no more games. I'll kill you for what you did to them, because there's no other way you'd get Barnaby Wilikers..."

"...Finn, are you fucking blind?" You blurt out, "Like, how? How do you not recognize me as a Toon? I'm fucking tiny compared to a human! I'm not a human!"

He freezes, eye widening as he lowers the axe.

"...Angelfish..?" He weakly croaks out, sounding almost relieved yet even more terrified, "Is that... you?"

You quickly squirm away, managing to avoid the hand he reaches for you with.

"Stay back!" You yelp out, shaking a bit. You were terrified something would go wrong and you'd hurt him.

"Angelfish-?" Fxnn asks, looking panicked when you start running, "Angelfish, WAIT!"

He kept calling for you as you fled, searching for you as you rebooted the last generator and got the spare elevator running.

"NO! NONONO!" He roared out as you made a mad dash, "GET BACK HERE! I'M NOT LOSING YOU AGAIN!"

...How long as Fxnn been down here? As long as you were imprisoned?

How could they do this? Why could they?

You becoming a Twisted was an accident. This had to be on purpose. There were no machines of blood, unlike the pit of ichor you drowned in.

...You got an idea.

You didn't need to take an elevator, necessarily. Your Twisted form was primarily ichor, not to mention huge. You could climb into the vents and clamber through like you were Yatta.

So as Fxnn reached for you and you got to the elevator, you hopped to the side and shoved Fxnn in there.

He stares at you with a wide eye, and you sheepishly grin back as the elevator slams shut and starts going up.

You wheeze a bit, horrified by what you just experienced, but just want to leave.

So you go into the vents, and start climbing through.

Completely unaware of Fxnn's shaky laughter, his broken mind thinking you sacrificed yourself for him for some reason, and his desperation to see you after seemingly losing you again.

Cod, he loves you.

--☆☆☆--

You didn't know Yatta would be in the vents.

Or... what remained of Yatta.

It started with you seeing dark ribbons in the vents, randomly laid over each other, some knotted together.

You tried to ignore it and keep moving. Ignoring the faint clanging you heard in the vents you swore wasn't you. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched that came later, and the feeling of being followed.

Then, you found pieces of ichor-stained candy wrappers in the vents.

When you paused in your crawling to pick one up, you heard a quiet chitter.

It made you tense and move a little quicker.

And made what was following you quicker. And giggle.

Then you felt a hand grab your ankle. You squeak and glanced back, seeing Yatta.

Her head was bashed in, one eye hanging by a tendril of ichor, but both staring intently at you. Her mouth is curved up in a grin that feels too big, until you realize she no longer has lips.

You barely see her legs, but all you can really see are stumps. Her ribbon tail is too long, disappearing into the darkness as you realize those black ribbons are her tail, and it seems like it's constantly growing.

She lets out a chitter, opening her mouth as candy spills out, gargled, excited words, desperately trying to leave her candy-stuffed throat.

You let out a screech, and drag your leg away and start crawling.

She's much more skilled at crawling through vents than you, though. So she easily catches and grabs onto you, arms wrapping around your waist as she pulls onto you in a hug.

She tries to say something, and candy falls onto your back. She rests her head on your back, and you feel her eye- wet, uncomfortably wet- press into your neck.

You shake slightly, as Yatta lets out a content purr.

"Yatta, let go."

You assume she replies with a garbled 'no'.

"Please, Yatta, I could hurt you."

Her eye narrows, as she looks a tad bit skeptical.

"Yatta, please. I may not look it, but I've become dangerous. I could hurt you, even kill you."

She may be a Twisted now, but it's not to your extent. You're terrified for her.

Yatta drags herself more onto you, clearly uninterested in letting go.

She just found you after TWENTY years, and now you're leaving? How RUDE!

"...Yatta, please."

She ignores you.

"...Would Looey approve? Or Blot? I'd think they'd ask you to let go."

Yatta looks up at you, tilting her head.

"What if you let me go? Wouldn't they like to see me again? You can show me where they are!"

Yatta hesitates, before letting go.

"...Thank you. You can show me the way now."

She turns and starts crawling away, expecting you to follow.

You don't follow. You move the opposite direction before she notices you aren't following and keep moving up.

You manage to get out on a higher floor as Yatta realizes you didn't follow her and immediately starts searching for you again.

You left her? AGAIN?! Why?! How DARE you! She's going to drag you back into the vents and NEVER LET YOU GO!!!

--☆☆☆--

You ended up in Astro's room.

He used to bring you here all the time. Mostly for naps with him.

You were glad to be in a familiar place, though.

You immediately started moving to go find one of the elevators, trying to ignore the eyes in the wall. Why did the walls have eyes? And why did they all snap to stare at you as you went, and you felt... exhausted.

You yawned but kept moving, mumbling weakly under your breath.

Then you saw it in the middle of the room.

Its top half looked like Astro without his blanket, even if it was larger than how he normally was. But his lower half looked like a slug's body made of ichor, blankets, and eyes, with his hat seeming to blend into it.

He was staring at you, and you felt even more exhausted. Your legs started shaking as this Twisted form of Astro seems to slowly start approaching you.

You try to hold yourself together as Astro manages to approach you, all four of his arms wrapping around you as you almost fall asleep.

"Starshine..."

You glance up at Astro, trying to push away.

"Let... go..."

"Why? It's been so long since I've seen you, please don't make me lose you again..."

"Astro... please..."

His gaze is usually soft, as he presses your face to his chest.

"Shh... You're exhausted. Just sleep."

No...

"I promise your dreams will be perfect."

No..!

"You'll barely tell you're asleep. You'll be completely okay. I won't lose you again."

NO!

You barely processed when you were in your Twisted form, dragging yourself out of Astro's arms. You could barely recognize how his eyes widened, the way his mouth opened and closed as his mind reeled.

You let out a snarl, being unable to speak from the ichor leaking from your mouth.

Astro wasn't too fazed. He just reached out and took your hands, staring at you with a mournful look.

"...I'm sorry I couldn't stop you from becoming like him."

You pause, giving Astro a confused look, as your Twisted form makes his exhausting effect notably less effective. He brings your hands to his face and buries his face in then, looking absolutely mournful.

"I'm so sorry, starshine."

You try to pull away as his grip tightens slightly.

"Please stay, starshine. I don't want to lose you again. I love you."

You hesitate, grimacing.

"I know you don't love me back. But I'd love you no matter what happens. Please don't leave me."

--☆☆☆--

You managed to get away from Astro after lying about you planning on returning to him.

As you turned back to your Toon form and entered the elevator, you let out a quiet sigh as the door shut.

Finally. You're almost out. Just have to ride the elevator to the top and leave the building.

You're so close to freedom. Freedom from the obsession, freedom from this prison, and freedom from living life as a Toon.

You can be human again.

Then you hear a click behind you, the sound of something rolling up from the floor, and the sound of uncomfortably familiar music fill your ears.

...no...

You don't dare turn around. You just hope your mind deceives you.

"Hello, dewdrop!"

Pretend you didn't hear.

"Dewdrop, turn around~"

Don't move, don't move...

"..."

Please go away, please go away...

"Dewdrop. Turn around. Before I make you."

You slowly look behind you. And like a light switch, Dandy's scowl turns to a happy grin.

...Not him...

"Oh dewdrop, it's been so long since I've seen you!" He says, standing behind the counter of his shop. "You have no idea how much we've all missed you!"

He leans on the counter, staring at you with adoring eyes. "How much I've missed you."

"...Hello, Dandy." You quietly murmur.

"...Oh, come here, you." He instructs, beckoning you closer, "Let me show you just how much I've missed you~"

You cringe at his tone- attempting to be seductive- and his lidded eyes, or the way he tries to beckon you closer.

"No Dandy. I need to go to another floor."

Your reply is curt, and you look away as his expression immediately sours.

"...How are you not like the others?" You suddenly ask, "Not... Twisted? Or Broken?"

Dandy laughs. "Well, because I was waiting for you to come back, of course! I searched high and low for you, you know? But I couldn't find you. But that didn't mean I gave up, no most certainly not!"

You try not to scowl as his tone almost goes smug. "Isn't that what anyone who loves you would do?"

You look away from him, taking a breath to steady yourself.

"I don't love you, Dandy."

"...what?"

"I don't love you." You repeat, "I never did, and I don't think I ever will. Please leave me alone. I need to go."

"...No."

Then, a sickeningly wet crack fills your ears. And another. And another.

Before you can even look back, you let out a screech as you're forced to hit the ground as... he lands on you.

Oh god. He's like you.

A Twisted version of Dandy- even bigger than your own Twisted form- looms over you. He takes up most of the elevator. And one of his ginormous hands- with those sharp and almost dagger-like claws- wrapped around your throat.

"Oh dewdrop, my sweet, stupid dewdrop." He snarls out, a faux grin of sharp teeth plastered on his face. "Why must you lie? I know you adore me. Not as much as I adore you, but still."

His grip on your neck tighten. You choke slightly, tears welling in your eyes as you tightly squeeze them shut.

You do not dare to let him see that you're like him.

You do not dare let the delusions that will bring come to your reality.

"Perhaps I need to show you my love." He muses, as his other talon gently runs down your arm, a claw twirling across it and pausing uncomfortable close to your waist, "Drill it into your silly little head that we are in love. Make you accept these feelings you are so unused to."

You shake as his hot breath caresses your face.

He laughs, nuzzling into your cheek. Your breathing becomes far too ragged for your liking.

"...I see you shake. You're scared." He lets out a curt laugh, "Oh, what are you scared of? I'd never dare harm you! You're just my little dewdrop. A tiny drop of water that can barely stand on its own! I'd never dare to evaporate you, you pretty little thing."

Should you turn into a Twisted? Risk the delusions to fight him off?

No, are you stupid? He would kill you!

...or worse.

"No, I'll wait to teach you the extent of my adoration." Dandy tells you with a smirk, "You aren't quite ready for it, my dear dewdrop. But I won't take you to the surface, I know that's where you desperately seek to go. Not yet, at least."

His other talon gently trails down your side as he hums.

"Get me tapes." He instructs you, "As many as you can get your tiny, little hands on. Bring them to me, and I'll take you to see the sun. Would you like that?"

You weakly nod, not daring to enrage him more.

"Good." He coos at you, giving you what you can only guess is a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, my little dewdrop~"

You weakly mutter back something similar, not meaning a word you said. However, he seems content.

You don't dare open your eyes as the pressure on you subsides. Nor as the wet cracks signifying Dandy's return to Toon form. Nor as the sound of Dandy's shop leaving fills your ears.

You only open your eyes when the elevator stops and opens.

You've never left an elevator faster.

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

maybe I haven't been looking at the sky

post-sonic 3 fic about stone. stobotnik too. oh yeah baby it's time for some pain.

word count is a bit under 3.6k

featuring: grief like so much grief, lots of hurt, a smidgen of comfort, second-person narration, so many goddamn timestamps, did I mention hurt, acknowledgement of shadow the hedgehog being like an actual teenager, shadow the hedgehog being kind of like a weird cat, the smallest hint of sonadow, and, of course, hurt.

have fun! >:3

p.s.: the title is from Maud Gone by Car Seat Headrest because I like that song and it fits too well

June 24, 2024, 3:26 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

It's still dark, and you can only just barely make out the hotel room ceiling above you.

You can hear the soft pitter-patter of the London rain against the window.

You spare a glance at the clock on the bedside table.

You know you won't be able to fall asleep.

Four hours of rest is enough, anyway.

You get up.

You take a shower.

Your reflection in the mirror seems to bore holes through your skull.

You brush your teeth, and you get dressed.

You work, because you have nothing else to do.

You go to get shitty hotel coffee and breakfast.

On instinct, you grab two cups.

You decide you don't want coffee anymore.

June 24, 2024, 12:58 PM

Your lunch is tasteless, and not just because it's British.

You think you would've laughed at that only 24 hours ago.

You don't think about if he would've.

You don't have much to work on.

Your hands itch. Everything feels so still. So static.

You try not to think about it. You try to think about anything else.

You think about how cold it is for a summer day.

You think about the smell of rain on the sidewalk.

You don't look at the sky.

You count your steps to fill your mind with something, anything.

It takes you precisely 673 steps to get back to your hotel from the lunch spot.

You don't think about how odd it feels to walk so slowly.

You don't think about how lonely you are.

You don't think about the Crab sunk in the Thames.

You don't think about him.

June 24, 2024, 7:31 PM

It's been 24 hours since it happened.

You feel empty.

You feel empty and sweaty and gross despite the wind chill and you shower again.

Your reflection stares at you again. It accuses you, blames you. It says it's your fault.

In its eyes, you can almost see something like him.

You cover the mirror.

You get yourself ready for bed, and you lay there under the hotel duvet, air conditioner blasting, and you shiver, but you don't get up to change it.

The Doctor prefers it cold, so–

You stare at the ceiling. It looks blurrier than usual.

You don't fall asleep for another few hours.

June 30, 2024, 1:08 PM

Montana is certainly better than London. At least, you'd say so.

It was a good idea to keep paying the lease on the Mean Bean. It's something you know.

You can't decide whether the familiarity makes you feel better or worse.

At least G.U.N. doesn't want anything to do with you, which you are more than welcome to.

Your “house,” if it can even be called that, what with its studio apartment style, in the back of the Mean Bean feels foreign to you, but the warmth feels nice.

The café stays cold.

You say it's to save money on the heating bill.

You were always good at pretending.

July 23, 2024, 4:23 PM

It's been exactly one month.

The hedgehog visits you today.

You know you should be plotting against him. You should be planning your revenge. You should be scheming to get rid of him once and for all–

But you're just so tired.

And in the end, he didn't want what happened, either.

He smiles at you as he orders a hot chocolate, but you can see the tightness in his face.

You bring up the other hedgehog, Shadow, and he falters for a moment.

You don't smile, not really, but your face softens as you come to an understanding.

You can't talk about him, but listening to Sonic talk about Shadow helps to dull the pain for a moment.

Before he leaves, Sonic gives you a sad smile, and tells you he's sorry about the Doctor.

Your throat closes up.

You stand still as the door opens and closes.

Your hands are shaking as you close.

August 16, 2024, 1:15 PM

Ever since he visited you the first time, Sonic has come back every other day for a hot chocolate and a chat.

The kid seems to always have something to say. You suppose he's hyperactive in many ways.

He's nice to you, and a part of you hates it, but you can't get yourself to get rid of the kid. Even if he says he stops by to check on how you're doing, you know it's helpful for him, too.

Deep down, you feel guilty for commiserating with the enemy. The guilt is something you opt to push down, though, because it makes you think of him.

You're interrupted when Sonic walks through the door with his human quasi-father in tow. Tom, you think his name is.

If you're honest, he looks like shit. His arm is in a cast and he's walking with a slight limp. The bags under his eyes are nothing to scoff at, either, but he gives you a soft smile.

He only orders a water, and drinks it slowly as Sonic chatters at his side about the shop.

You know he's been worried about Tom, and you're glad to see he's alright, but a twinge of resentment bites at you.

Why couldn't have you gotten a happy ending, too?

August 27, 2024, 1:00 PM

He's back again, and he brought his friends: the fox and the echidna.

You freeze for a moment when you see the fox. The conversation you had with him plays in the back of your mind and you relentlessly shoo it away.

The echidna is still annoying, but it's funny to see him order a shot of espresso and then immediately choke when he takes one sip.

When you're not trying to fight each other, they're good kids. You appreciate the effort they're making, at the very least.

It's nice to have noise to fill up the air. Helps quiet the thoughts a little bit, especially when the shop doesn't get much traffic these days.

Chatting with the alien children gives you something to do, too, since you can't do latte art anymore.

Your hands start shaking the moment you try.

So, you listen to them talk: teasing each other, making bad jokes, ranting about this or that.

When they leave, they all say goodbye, and while the silence is still suffocating, you're finding it slightly easier to breathe.

September 10, 2024, 8:01 AM

It's his birthday today, and you can't get yourself out of bed.

You can't even properly cry. Quiet tears roll down your face and stain your pillow.

You can't get back to sleep, either. You don't know if you would even want to. You don't know if you could bear to see his face in your dreams.

You stare at the brick wall, bare of photos or posters or plans, and you can't get yourself to look away.

September 10, 2024, 1:30 PM

The door to your “house” opens and you jump from your bed.

Team Sonic broke into your house.

You would be angry. You should be angry. But you can't muster up the energy.

Sonic says something that you don't register, and Knuckles proudly holds out a messily-made cupcake in front of him.

When you get a closer look…

Oh.

It's for the Doctor.

When you look up, Sonic is giving you that same sad smile he did the first time he came to the cafe. He says he knows how you've been going through a hard time, and that since today is the Doctor’s birthday, he wanted to do something special.

It takes everything in your being to not burst out sobbing in front of the kids.

You all sit around the cupcake and sing to it.

You falter on the name. They don't seem to mind.

You can't bear to eat any of the cupcake, so you stick it in the fridge.

The second those kids are out the door, you cry so hard you can barely stand.

September 12, 2024, 1:12 PM

Tails bursts through the shop door, startling you and the single customer sitting at a table in the corner.

He starts talking, so fast you can only make out a few words.

Before you can tell him to slow down, Sonic runs in after him, smiling brighter than the sun and presenting to you…

…Shadow?

You nearly short-circuit.

How is he alive?

You ask as much, and they all shrug their shoulders, minus Shadow who stands there staring at you without expression.

Apparently, Shadow has some sort of minor amnesia. He can't remember much immediately before…

Well.

But, still, he's alive.

And that sparks something deep in your chest.

You wouldn't dare to believe anything. You know he's… gone.

But a tiny, near molecular voice in the back of your head says what if?

And you can't give into it, but the voice, small as it is, nestles itself in between your cerebrum and cerebellum.

Back to reality, the alien children have decided that Shadow will stay with you.

Their home doesn't have the room for yet another anthropomorphic hedgehog in it, apparently.

You don't seem to have a say in the matter.

You can't say you mind too much.

September 12, 2024, 4:25 PM

You take him in and set up a futon in a clear area of your house.

You give him a tour, which really isn't much considering there are only two actual rooms.

He follows you around, nodding or shaking his head slightly whenever you ask him a question. He's quiet. Shy, even.

You make a simple dinner in silence, and he mumbles a thank you when you hand him his plate.

He falls asleep while you're working, and when you get a closer look at him…

…Did he always look that young?

Minus the 50 years he spent in stasis, he couldn't have been more than 15. Maybe 16, if you're being generous.

His brows furrow in his slumber, painfully familiar, and you're suddenly reminded of the fact that he is, in a way, a Robotnik.

You draw in a sharp breath and blink away the stinging in your eyes.

Maybe you'll sleep early.

September 23, 2024, 1:08 PM

Three months.

It's been three months since it happened, and the pain has only barely dulled.

You're starting to wonder if the coping mechanism of bottling everything up as much as you possibly can isn't working as well as you thought it would.

Shadow has opened up more, at least. He's still quiet and sometimes stares at you, wide-eyed and expressionless, but you've had a good few conversations with him.

You've shown him how to operate some of the coffee machines, even if he isn't quite tall enough to reach them very well on his own.

Every day you spend with him, the more it sets in just how young he is.

For the first week or two after… what happened, you resented him for being a part of it all. But now?

You just see a scared kid.

Team Sonic has been back to the Mean Bean a few times since Shadow arrived. He's incredibly socially awkward and is not one for idle chit-chat, but you've seen a hint of a smile on his face a couple times, and that's enough for you.

His memories have been returning slowly. Despite the voice screaming at you at every waking moment, you don't want to hold out hope. You don't want to be crushed again when the inevitable reality hits you that he is really gone.

You remember when it happened, when three months ago, you watched the Doctor dedicate his last words to you.

You remember going through every stage of grief and then some all at once.

You remember thinking you were done with that process, then, after it hit you like a freight train in all of 20 seconds.

You checked into a hotel, perfectly calm. You went up the elevator, fine. You unlocked the door to your room, ok.

Then you shut the door behind you and realized you'd accidentally gotten a room with two beds.

You remember the taste of bile at the back of your throat.

You blink and you're back where you were, alien children conversing at the counter in your coffee shop. You realize you've been holding the same empty mug and towel for a while.

When you set them down, your palm is indented from the fabric.

October 12, 2024, 2:00 PM

Shadow has warmed up to everything a lot more since he arrived last month.

You've seen him shoot back straight espresso like it was water, which drove Knuckles insane, and, for whatever reason, made you glow with pride.

He's slowly started asking for things directly: meals, things to do, what have you. You finally got to make that revenge guac for you both. It was great.

You had to try to not choke on it.

He's insanely excited for Halloween. It's refreshing to see him like this. He's usually a pretty doom-and-gloom type of guy, and there's a pain within him that you resonate with. But right now, he looks so happy, asking if you can decorate the cafe for the holiday. Of course, you do.

His memory is almost fully restored, too. You're happy about it, but it also instills an intense anxiety in you.

You aren't sure which situation it is that's making you feel like this.

Maybe both.

It'll be 4 months in a little under a week.

You don't think it's stopped hurting.

When you get a moment to be alone, it all comes rushing back at you, and suddenly you feel like you did when it first happened.

But the hurting isn't that bad all the time. Not anymore.

It settles in your chest when you're distracted by something, knocking on your ribs when you're reminded of it.

It's constant, like a bruise that just won't go away.

But it's manageable.

What is less manageable, however, is the voice.

Every day that passes, the voice gets louder, crawling further into your brain and making itself known.

Hell, it's even shown up in your dreams.

As annoying as it is, though, it makes you think about your grief beyond what you had been.

Whenever you have one of the dreams, you wake up and shower, and sit in the water and think.

Mostly, your brain has focused on his absence. The fact that he's… gone.

But, then you start to wonder.

Would this have happened if you'd told him? Would he be gone if he knew how you felt?

Would that have even changed anything?

You have to stop before you spiral too far. Asking questions is dangerous.

You convince yourself that it's just the shower water running down your cheeks, even if your eyes burn.

October 23, 2024, 1:02 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

The room is not silent. Faraway thunder rumbles in the sky and Shadow lightly snores from where he sleeps.

It's four months now, and you've suddenly forgotten how to feel numb.

Your hypothesis about emotional suppression seems to be correct.

You sit up.

You stare at your hands.

You can't breathe.

At first, you think someone is trying to kill you. That's the obvious answer.

But then you feel the tear drop down to the tip of your nose.

And then you break.

You lose all sense of time as your vision is flooded. You hiccup between sobs and you know you've always been an ugly crier.

What makes it worse is when you feel a hesitant hand on your shoulder, and look over to see Shadow looking at you with so much concern and understanding.

You don't want to cry in front of him. You're meant to be strong for him, for this kid that you've grown closer to, for this kid that you want to take care of.

But when he reaches up to hug you, all you can do is fall apart on his shoulder. And you feel so bad, because no kid should ever have to be the one to comfort an adult, but the tears keep coming and you can't make them stop.

You don't know how long you sat there, weeping on him, when it seems the well has run dry.

You try to mutter an apology to him, but he gets up and walks away. You stare at nothing in front of you and curse yourself for making this child have to support you, but he comes back with a glass of water, averting his eyes nervously.

You think back to the first week he was here.

He'd had a nightmare and woke up screaming and crying. When you'd gone to comfort him, you brought him a glass of water.

You had awkwardly stuttered about how crying can be dehydrating in a sad attempt to make him feel better, social skills be damned, and it had worked.

That was the first time he'd really smiled at you.

And now he's doing the same for you.

He says something similar about water and dehydration and you can't entirely understand what he's saying, but you smile as best you can through the tears in your eyes and take the glass with a choked thank you.

He lights up at the affirmation, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you realize that you are to Shadow as Tom is to Sonic.

You gently ruffle the top of Shadow's head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. He flusters at the action and tilts his head, almost like a cat, you think, sporting a ghost of a smirk.

You tell him you're alright now and to go back to bed, and you yourself fall asleep with the knowledge that you are this weird alien hedgehog’s weird quasi-father, and you don't mind it one bit.

October 31, 2024, 5:30 PM

Turns out Tom and Maddie made a costume for Shadow. Sonic had apparently told them about something Shadow said about it after one of his trips to the Mean Bean, and they'd decided to surprise him. Needless to say, he was ecstatic. Others may not have registered the level of happiness he was at, but you know Shadow.

You know your boy.

Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails somehow convinced Shadow to go trick-or-treating with them. You encouraged him, too. He seemed a bit nervous, and even sort of embarrassed, but he ultimately agreed, smiling as he waved goodbye to you.

This was the first time in a while that you've been really alone. The pain starts to catch up to you and for a moment, you feel incredibly empty. Your throat begins to tighten.

You take a deep breath as the grief curls up once more, resting for the moment. It makes you cold.

You make yourself a simple latte and draw a little jack-o'-lantern on the top. Your hands still shake, but it's not too much to deal with.

You doubt anyone else will come into the shop. You already planned to close early for Halloween, and the sign at the front tells as much to any prospective customers.

You turn to begin dealing with the back counter, cleaning the machines and putting things back to where they belong. You've grown fond of the routine.

Then you hear the door open, and turn around to see Shadow running into the shop. His eyes are bright, brighter than you've ever seen them.

He tells you that he remembers everything now. He says, excited—God, it makes you happy to see him excited—that his memory is back and he can tell you what happened to–

The door opens again.

You look up.

He's there.

He's alive.

You stand there for a moment, completely still, completely silent.

You almost scream.

You leap over the counter, running and tackling him in the tightest hug you've ever given anyone.

He smells horrible. Like smoke and sulfur and dirt and grime and he's alive and he's holding onto you just as strong as you are and the voice is cheering and exploding into fireworks in your brain and the pain squeezes your heart in its hands and he's alive.

You don't even notice when the tears begin to fall. You only notice his pulse, alive, his breath, alive, his arms around you, alive, alive, alive.

When you finally pull back after what feels like both an eternity and a millisecond, you get a look at his face, and you put it in your hands and holy shit he is alive.

He looks absolutely disheveled and it's possibly the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and then he smiles, wide, genuine, warm, so rare, so real, and then he leans forward and kisses you and you can't think anymore.

He tastes awful and you've never loved him more than you do now.

[holybibly]

More food play, bunnies? You wanted it, now you get it. Unholy thoughts of the day, bunnies: The idea of serving a luxurious dinner on a naked, hot body has never sounded so appealing, especially when the main course comes with sweet, wet pussy for dessert. Or dirty, perverted idols Ateez discover the exciting, sexy experience of Nyotaimori during their schedule in Japan.

Nyotaimori - often referred to as "body sushi", is the Japanese practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the naked body of a woman. 

Yunho first heard about it from his friend the last time he was in Japan during a break between comebacks. His friend described it as the most vivid, hot, and incredibly sexual experience of his life. And incredibly expensive too. But as Minhyuk assured him, it was worth every damn penny, and he would definitely go back to this special restaurant again to get supplements. And Yunho thought about it seriously. He even did some research and watched some porn on the subject and some hentai videos, and he has to say that it turned him on so much so that he had to jerk off several times in a row to completely empty his balls and quench his need to fuck.

His dick was so hard and pulsating rhythmically as he watched several guys on the screen eating sushi and sashimi from the naked body of a pretty busty girl with a tiny, slime-stained pussy and then fucking her hard in all the tight, wet holes. They were pulling her onto their big cocks, after which they cum all over her body, covering her completely with their sperm. And fuck, now this sweet, haunting image is permanently lodged in his head. 

Of course, his friends weren't left out of Yunho's new dirty hobby. At first he only told Mingi about it, and, as usual, his best friend supported him enthusiastically, and soon they were both greedily glued to porn videos of this style. Gradually, it spread beyond the two of them, and soon the whole group was somehow drawn into Yunho's hot, perverse fantasy of nyotaimori and dirty gangbang.

It got to the point where all the boys unanimously decided that on their next trip to Japan, they would definitely visit this special restaurant that Minhyuk had recommended. And so Yunho found himself in the dark reception area of Deep Dive, one of the most modern and hyped places in Tokyo. And for good reason, as this restaurant offered not only a deep culinary immersion into a variety of exquisite tastes but also into the depths of various sexual practices.

"So, Mr. Jeong, do you have a preference for a host for your dinner?" The woman in front of him looks stunning, but so does the shark looking for its prey.

Yunho clutches the list of preferences that the other members have written down regarding the type of girl they would like to see on the table.

"Ahem..." He clears his throat before he speaks. His cheeks are slightly flushed, but the thought that he is about to make his dirty dream come true makes his dick tense. "We'd like someone juicy..." God, it sounds so stupid, and judging by the way the woman in front of him raises a questioning eyebrow, he is not the only one who thinks the same. So Yunho quickly corrects himself. "I mean with curves, big and heavy breasts, a fat ass, hips, but petite."

"Okay, I get it; continue." The lady encourages him, making notes in her notebook.

"If possible, we want a more submissive girl, maybe into pet play and daddy kink."

"We can give you exactly what you want. What about sexual practices? Do you have any preferences?"

Such a frank, dirty question should embarrass him even more, but instead Yunho's eyes darken and his voice becomes confident and hoarse.

"Voyeurism, size perversion, deep throat, spanking, spitting, objectification, possibly double penetration and squirt, plus of course fingering, cunnilingus, and other classic practices."

"Yes, I understand." She writes something on the notebook again and looks up at him. "Do you want to role play with coercion or are you more attracted to enthusiastic consent?"

"Enthusiastic consent, please. We want her to want it too. Maybe even too much." Yunho bites his lip and drums his fingers on his knee, either from nerves or excitement.

"You're in luck, Mr. Jung; one of our new girls is really into group sex; you'll love her." A dazzling smile appears on her lips, and she looks straight into Yunho's eyes as she begins to repeat his order loudly and clearly. "So, Friday night at eight o'clock, we're expecting Mr. Jeong Yunho, Park Seonghwa, Song Mingi, and Jung Wooyoung at private booth number 8 for a tasting dinner. On our part, we guarantee complete safety and anonymity of your data. The NDA file was sent to you in advance by email.

The menu consists of twelve starters and one main course, which will be served by Miss Y/N, who will also be your host for the evening. Dessert is included. You have chosen the full immersion experience with special services (which implies a full-fledged sex scene). The cost of your dinner is one hundred million yen. Will you confirm your order?" The lady pushed the ATM towards Yunho and batted her eyelashes cutely, waiting for the beep to inform her of a successful transaction.

Yunho nonchalantly swiped Hongjoong's black bank card at the terminal and pressed the confirm button. As soon as the machine made a cute "ding," the receptionist extended her hand across the table for Yunho to shake.

"I hope your Deep Dive experience is truly memorable, Mr. Jeong. See you on Friday."

[bluebeary-jay]

Face to face

Din Djarin x f!Mandalorian!Reader

Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment

Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌

Word count: 3K

A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕

Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.

But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.

He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.

It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.

And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.

But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.

Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.

He didn’t have to wait any longer now.

It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.

You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”

You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”

You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.

He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?

“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”

You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.

“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”

He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.

“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.

“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. “We were supposed to do it together.”

“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”

“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”

You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”

“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”

You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…

And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.

A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.

The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?

Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.

Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.

“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.

“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”

“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.

“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”

You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.

“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.

“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”

“Don’t push it.”

You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.

He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…

Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.

…you were wrong.

Oh, how wrong you were.

There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.

The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.

You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.

He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.

You were a wonder. A miracle.

“Cyare?”

Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”

But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.

“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”

“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?”

No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”

The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.

But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.

He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.

“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”

You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.

Because Din was blushing.

The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.

The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.

“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”

Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.

You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.

A miracle.

“I’m looking at you.”

[noxiatoxia]

Komaeda Nagito, and His Tendency to Use Filler Words

I've talked about this here and there, but I want to make an in-depth post with examples.

So, something that's always bothered me about the Eng release of SDR2 is the fact that Komaeda...does not use filler words as much as he should.

Let me explain.

I'm sure you know words such as "uh" "um" "ah" "er" and suchlike. When you don't know something or are thinking, you tend to say something like, "Um...yeah, so..." or "My, um, appointment is tomorrow."

These words add no "value" to the sentence, and are only placed involuntarily while speaking because you are trying to think as you speak.

Japanese has plenty of these, too. Words like え���と(etto), あの (ano), ううん (uun), ええ (ee), and so forth.

But there's other "filler" words out there. Like our earlier sentence, "Um...yeah, so..." "Um" is not the only filler word. "Yeah, so" is also a filler word, as it adds nothing to the overall sentence. It can be removed.

Really, any word can become a filler word. "You know" and "like" have real applications, but if you, like, start, like, talking like this, it's, you know, kind of repetitive, you know?

I think the vast majority of people on Earth are guilty of speaking like this in their day-to-day lives. It's just easy to do. But when it comes to media, you'll notice characters rarely stutter or repeat words. When they do, even if it's a small amount, it's noticeable because the surrounding context is that nobody else is doing it.

With all this information in mind, let's talk about Komaeda Nagito's dialogue.

実はさ、ボクは入学前に、ネットでみんなの情報を調べてきてるんだよね。

さ(sa), is a normal sentence particle in Japanese. It's used for a myriad of purposes, although many people seem to liken it to the American "Valley Girl" accent when overused, especially with another conversation particle, ね (ne).

It is a misconception that sa is "masculine". It used to be masculine way back, but nowadays it's more or less gender neutral.

This will be the topic of the post. Komaeda tends to use sa and ne in a way that is seen as "filler". These particles can be likened to "you know?" and "like" in the sense that they are real words that serve purposes, but can be repetitive.

In the sentence above, I would say the ne is not being used in a filler-like way. Sa, however, is.

"So, to be honest, before I arrived at this school, I, um, did a little research about everyone on the internet."

In this way, sa, ne, or any other particle when overused (な na is another big one, and I see Souda using it a lot) can be any filler word. Some would argue that the sentence should maybe look more like...

"So, you see, to be honest, before I arrived at this school, I did a little research about everyone on the internet."

And this is equally as correct. It's more in-line with how sa as a particle is normally used, but when translating it as how it's being used here - as a filler word - "um" may sound more appropriate in English. Neither is incorrect however, and there's a myriad of other ways you could go about writing this.

"So, you know, to be honest..."

"So, like, to be honest..."

"...I kind of did a little research..."

"...I, well, did a little research..."

etc.

ううん、いいんだよ。複雑なのはボク自身もそうだからさ。

Here, I wouldn't describe sa as being a filler word...necessarily. It adds emphasis, but it's still completely optional. Thus, I wouldn't translate it as a word imperative to the sentence's meaning.

"No, no, I totally get it. I have pretty mixed feelings about this, too."

最初はね…恐れ多いって断ったんだよ。でも、どうしてもって言われてさ。

Here is an example of him using ne in a filler-like way. You've probably caught on that particles which stand-in as filler are used usually at the beginning of a sentence before a comma or ellipses.

Komaeda actually uses ne in this manner fairly often. One of his default voice lines is "boku wa ne..." - I am unsure how this was recorded in the English dub. Probably just "I..." but personally I'd go with "Well, I..." or "I, uh..."

And unlike earlier, I would say the sa here at the ending is indeed more filler-like (not entirely still, though. Akin to the usage above).

"Um, honestly, at first…I was humbled, but I refused. But, well, they wouldn't stop insisting on it…"

By the way, Komaeda is not putting himself down in this scene. Japanese culture emphasizes being polite in a way Western spaces do not. "I don't deserve it" is a very direct translation, but in English, it makes more sense to read it as "I humbly declined".

And all these examples are just in the first conversation you have with him! You can imagine how many more there are through the whole game.

Now, here's a big question I'm sure you're thinking: "Why was this left out?"

I don't know to be honest, because...they did it with other characters.

Such as Koizumi in the same game:

だってさ、なんだか変なヤツばっかりじゃん。天才だか超高校級だか知らないけどさ…

Although Koizumi suffers from some of the same translation choices made with Komaeda, hers appears to be more consistent.

Finally, we need to talk about Naegi Makoto. He and Komaeda share beyond a voice actor - they talk the same, too. They both use the same self pronoun and you pronoun, use the same script, and also have a habit of using ne and sa in excess...though Naegi maybe does it slightly less.

Also confusing, this sometimes gets translated, like here:

そうそう、こんな危険な学校だしさ、何があるかわからないでしょ？ だから…念の為にさ。

The only reason I can think it only happens sometimes or, in Komaeda's case, not at all, is some translators on the team either didn't feel it was important to include/didn't think about it, while other translators did. Game translation typically has more than one person at the helm. A lack of good management can lead to weird discrepancies like this.

Anyways, that's all I got for now. I hope you find it interesting, because it's one of my absolute favorite character quirks of Komaeda and I am so sad it doesn't get any love in English...

[idontmindifuforgetme]

hi cianna sorry for the really broad question but it really smart and ur soul is beautiful and i think lowkey if i asked this irl people would get very worried so i’m asking u. any advice 4 a girl in her late teens who’s just now coming out of a 4-5 year long slump of wanting to kill herself real bad and now needs to be a functioning person and pass exams and go to university next year ect. ?

Hi this literally happened to me in my teen years!! I was not suicidal, but I def had a major slump I had to pull myself out of by uni. Here are some things I think could’ve worked better for me - feel free to disregard at your discretion/based on your circumstances :)

Get therapy!! Teenage me would’ve benefited from it so much. There are therapists who’d be happy to give you student discounts. You’ll be going through a lot of change - re learning how to take care of yourself, discovering your boundaries, battling regret for wasting time etc etc… it’s just better to go through it w a professional who would show you compassion but also push you to improve. It’s not a substitute for real friendships, but it absolutely helps

Ignore people who will tell you they peaked in hs (lol). This will be a lot of people btw. You’ll get major fomo bc you’ll be like?? I didn’t do any of that. I was too busy surviving. I won’t have things to look back at the way they do. But that’s where the uphill battle of saying no to fomo comes in - you have to remind yourself that you’re at the beginning of your life, that you could completely turn it around in college, and peaking in hs is like actually sad and that what matters is the life you make for yourself moving forward

People (family and teachers) want to help. So let them

Push yourself but don’t overcorrect. The antidote to not having friends is not overextending yourself and saying yes to everything and having no boundaries and burning out. Pace yourself. Trying to become someone completely different is also a sign you don’t like yourself very much

You have to aggressively combat the self hatred and re affirm to yourself day by day that you deserve good things and that you are enough and that you don’t need other people to imbue your life and give it dimension. They are a nice bonus but it’s all in you

Hot take but be careful w self help content. It preys on people in vulnerable stages (like you) and is easy to get addicted to

I don’t know where you stand w your phone, but decrease phone time. It’s very personal to everyone how they can accomplish this, so research all the different methods and apply what best fits you / what you think you can stick by best!

Cliche advice is true - getting out of the slump starts w things like a simple skincare routine and an outfit you feel good in

Say yes to things more often. Try to approach people more often, even if it gives you rejection sensitivity. I wish I did this more tbh - I think I did put myself out there but was inconsistent. No “social fuck ups” will matter at your age so just try to learn as much as you can

You have to contextualize this hard time period of your life as a learning experience that gave you a sort of depth that is rarely seen in most people. It wasn’t all for nothing — it shaped you into you

You’re defined by who you are and the values you have — not the person you used to be. The imposter syndrome in you might be like “everyone knows I was xyz girl who didn’t talk to anyone and could not even turn an assignment in on time,” but what are you now? Are you trying to befriend people now? Getting a lot better at managing your time now? Doing really good in school now? That’s who you are.

Unconventional advice but get a cute job at a library or a cafe or something. It will re introduce discipline into your system and acquaint you w people your age

Exercise really really really really really helps. It can start simple but it has to be started

Research programs you want to get into. Make a game plan in accordance to that. Talk to your advisor about it

Join clubs in college :) talk to people but don’t overextend yourself if they don’t reciprocate - you have plenty of time to make friends :)

Journal more. It helps!!!!

The world is not out to get you

Cliche but true - reading helps so much. Even just one book at a time at your own pace. Luckily I was reading so much in my teen years but I’m telling u this in case it’s not really part of ur palette

What’s the hobby that really speaks to your soul?? Aggressively pursue it

Romanticizing simple things helps tbh

Do not hate yourself into getting better!! You were just a child who did the best they can w the cards they were dealt. Now you’re saying enough to passive living and making active effort to get out of your slump — and that matters more than anything. You will experience the FOMO and the regret and the “why didn’t I do xyz when I was younger.” Everyone does, but for you it will be exacerbated bc you’ll feel like you wasted an epoch of your life everyone else romanticizes. This is where therapy and radical acceptance come in — and also just brutally reminding yourself of the facts, including how you’re so very incredibly young. Time is on your side and you can do anything you want

I’m so proud of you for taking the first step — which is understanding the problem!! I know I wasn’t that brave at your age. Good luck with everything xx

[vivwritescrappythings]

ubi tu gaius, ego gaia

marcus acacius x fem!reader

part 1

The day of your wedding to Marcus Acacius finally has come. What kind of man is he behind closed doors?

a/n: this is part 2 to this lovely request! sorry it took me a while, i work full time and am getting a graduate degree

tw: fem reader, afab reader, reader is shorter than Marcus, reader has hair long enough to braid, social norms of ancient rome (my research may also be wrong, but i did my best), your imaginary dad is a misogynist, not proofread, Marcus may be poorly written, SMUT, p in v sex, riding, fingering, creampie

word count: 10k

masterlist

MDNI!

--

You were dizzy with anxiety. No matter how many times your aunt tried to soothe you, your thoughts were a boat that had strayed too close to Kharybdis–pulled into the watery depths of your inadequacy as you fussed with your hair and your dress and the flowered crown you weaved last night. It was hard not to burst into tears as you straightened it on your head, pinching leaves into place and pruning shriveled petals from the flowers. 

It settled nicely, the colors warm and inviting. You had gathered the flowers and greenery yourself, taking your time to pick the best blooms. A similar one was made for Marcus to wear, an errand boy having already taken it to his domus that morning. Crowns befitting a husband and wife—or at least you hoped as much. 

“You must calm down,” your aunt murmured, brushing her fingers over your brow to smooth the furrow. “You look beautiful, just as a bride should.”

You stared at the reflection of yourself, taking in the slope of your nose and the curve of your lower lip. The white stola was your mother’s, woven in one piece out of a linen so fine you knew she had spun it herself. You added a border the color of egg yolks to match your veil. A wool belt tied in the knot of Hercules pulled the loose fabric in at your waist. 

The belt was soft beneath your fingertips as you idly traced the shape of the knot. Marcus was the only person allowed to untie it–the knot of Hercules could only be undone by a groom on the eve of his wedding. 

It was hard to imagine. The wedding still felt elusive despite it being only a few hours away. 

Perhaps it was the notion that you would suddenly accomplish everything your father had ever intended that you found difficult to grasp. You would soon be a wife and you, much to your father’s delight, would be Marcus’s responsibility. It was the culmination of all your training.

What would be left of you then?

It had never occurred to you that there would be something after. An entire life left to live.

Would Marcus be as your father was: controlling and demanding with a clear image of what the matron of his house would look like? Or–perhaps the more frightening option–would he allow you to take your own shape? 

It was impossible to know.

“It is nearly time,” your aunt said as she stood behind you, affixing the veil to the flower crown and adjusting it to cover your intricately braided hair. The golden fabric hung down your back, just barely brushing the floor. “The omens were taken this morning, it seems you have chosen a favorable wedding day.”

“I am lucky, then,” you breathed, nodding as you met her gaze in the reflection.

She took stock of you, fiddling with the folds of your stola and the way your jewelry settled against your skin. “You look so much like your mother like this,” she murmured wistfully, the sincerity in her tone nearly making you choke. 

It was becoming hard to remember what your mother looked like–you were so young when she passed away. Your father refused to talk about her and your brothers followed his lead, claiming that it was too painful to discuss her. The only memories you had of her were hazy: a soft voice singing you to sleep, a gentle hand running a brush through your hair. Always faceless. 

You only knew about her from the things she left behind–jewelry, clothing, tapestries. She liked gold more than silver, preferred red to blue. Almost every tapestry was adorned with images of the rolling countryside. Maybe she would have liked to summer there. 

And now you knew of her from her wedding attire that had been carefully boxed away, the stola soft around you–it was simple, as was the woolen belt at your waist. Simple and elegant. 

“What was she like?” you asked, hoping your aunt would not rebuke you as so many others had before. 

She guided you to sit before the mirror, producing the leather sandals for you to wear. “She was lovely. Generous and kind and intelligent,” your aunt said as she buckled the straps around your feet and ankles. “She loved music and debates at the Forum. Far too good for your father, but he was a different man before she died.”

You listened intently, greedily taking in any scrap of information you were given.

“She loved you so much,” your aunt said as she stood, pinching your cheeks to bring color to them. “She would have loved to get you dressed this morning and–”

Your father burst into the room with little care, looking flustered as he set his gaze on both of you. “The procession has arrived and your bridesmaids are in place, you must go now,” he said, hardly even taking in your appearance. You wondered if he even noticed that you were wearing your mother’s wedding attire.

Ultimately, it did not matter. He had already left the room by the time you stood, your aunt ensuring that the stola and veil draped properly as you took slow steps out of your room. It was nearly empty now, your things having been packed away in trunks that would be transferred to Marcus’s domus during the feast.

Your father’s home had been decorated opulently–tree boughs and flowers hung along the walls and columns, elegant tapestries providing additional color. Bands of wool stretched in elegant swags lined the hallway to the atrium where Marcus would be waiting for you.

Marcus.

The thought of his name made you feel faint. 

Your bridesmaids met you near the entrance to the atrium–a few girls you grew up with dressed in their best pallas wrapped around them and flowers woven into their hair. They greeted you with wide smiles, reaching out to squeeze your hands and pull you into embraces.

Their compliments rained over you, coaxing a shy smile onto your face despite the suffocating feeling of your trepidation. You could hear the witnesses murmuring just around the corner, waiting for you to arrive. 

Then, your matron of honor took you by the arm and brought you into the atrium, the other two bridesmaids following.

Marcus stood next to the impluvium, a priest of Jupiter at his side. The toga he wore was beautifully crafted, the cream color of the fabric entirely unblemished with a border of gold thread running along the hem. The white and gold cloak marking him as a general was clasped just below his throat. 

His expression changed when he saw you, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles, umber eyes crinkling at the corners. A warm drip of pleasure ran down your spine–making him smile felt like a feat of great difficulty. 

You almost forgot yourself, your look of apprehension wavering to a true smile for a moment. Roman brides were expected to be nearly distraught on their wedding day: devastated to leave their fathers while also eager to join their new husband. If a woman only was excited to marry, it reflected poorly on her family.

So you schooled yourself into a carefully practiced expression of perturbation as you worried your lower lip with your teeth for a moment, your steps on the smooth stone floor faltering for a beat.

The witnesses had parted for you–a mix of your father’s and Marcus’s friends and their wives present to view the ceremony. Your father and brother’s were among them, you could see the impatient set of your father’s shoulders and the curious gazes of your brothers. They had not set eyes upon you since you were a girl, but in a matter of moments you would be married to their commanding general.

You stopped in front of Marcus, facing him. It was hard to know what to do with your hands, so you clasped them before you as you glanced up at him. You only held his gaze for a moment before looking away, your cheeks warming.

The priest began, his voice surprisingly commanding despite his withered appearance. “Evil spirits are not welcome here, the omens have been taken on this auspicious day in favor of this union,” he said, causing the whispers of the witnesses to die off into silence. 

“We ask the lararium and Vesta for their blessings,” the priest announced, gesturing with wide, sweeping motions. 

Fresh incense had been lit upon the lararium, the altar to the household spirits gleaming from the thorough polish it received that morning. All three were represented: the genius for the prosperity of the family, penates for the prosperity of the house, and lares for protection.  

“Finally, may Janus guide each of them through the transition from their individual lives to pursue a life together as husband and wife.”

The matron of honor moved forward, joining your right hand with Marcus’s. His grip was warm and firm, his calloused thumb rubbing up and down over the back of your palm in a soothing motion. The stretch of his fingers almost reached entirely across your hand, your own almost disappearing within his palm. Your forefinger rested over his pulse, his heartbeat steady and slow.

He did not seem nervous at all.

You were to begin, you had rehearsed. As you are Gaius, I am Gaia. It could not have been more simple.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you murmured, demurely looking up at your soon to be husband. He squeezed your hand gently as you spoke.

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius,” he responded, his voice deep and smooth like honey. 

You could hear your father’s sigh of relief from where you stood. A bright smile stretched across your face, delight warming you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You had gotten the idea in your mind that Marcus would change his, that he would wake up and want to marry a Senator’s daughter.

The priest said something you could not quite hear, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

Marcus’s free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up toward his. The kiss he pressed to your lips was chaste, nothing more than a quick peck before he stepped back. It left you a bit giddy, your head full of air as he directed you to the two stools facing the makeshift altar to Jupiter that had been set up in the atrium.

The priest prattled on about respecting the gods in a marriage covenant and the duties of a husband and wife. You were impatient as you listened, wanting to lean into Marcus and hear the low tones of his murmur during the first of too many feasts.

“It is time for the couple to break bread together.” The priest presented a dish with spelt bread to you and Marcus, each of you taking one side in hand. 

You carefully broke off a corner with your fingers, tentatively presenting it to Marcus. His dark eyes were sparkling, a smile curving his lips as he parted them for you to feed the bread to him. Your breath hitched as his mouth just barely brushed your fingertips, your gaze stuck on the way his jaw moved as he chewed. He pressed a kiss to your palm before you pulled your hand away.

He was gentle as he moved through the same motions, feeding a portion of the bread to you. His thumb lingered for a moment on your bottom lip before pulling his hand away, watching as you slowly chewed the honey-sweetened bread. The way his dark eyes focused on you made you feel like you had been turned inside out. The weight of his gaze was inescapable, your eyes finding the marble floor. You heard him huff softly, the sound almost affectionate. 

Then he continued on his duties, breaking a larger portion to present on the altar for Jupiter. The rest was taken by a servant to be divided amongst the guests. He sucked the honey off his fingertips as he reached back to gently cup your elbow, bringing you forward to the altar with a gentle hand. 

He signed the marriage contract first, without hesitation. You looked down at his name with a wistful expression. 

Marcus Acacius. 

You wanted to trace the letters with your fingertips, but instead you simply took the reed pen in your hand. With a deep breath you placed the inked tip against the papyrus sheet, signing your name beneath Marcus’s. 

And that was all, you were a married woman.

Your father practically sounded giddy as he announced the feast in the inner gardens, taking up the new fashion of eating outdoors. Truthfully, there was not enough room in the trinclium to fit everyone without setting up a second. 

You preferred it, the smell of the lemon and orange trees perfuming the air and shading the long tables that had been set out. Marcus waited for you to take his arm, the muscle of his bicep warm and strong beneath your fingers. You entered the courtyard first, the corners of your veil draped over your arms so it did not drag on the ground.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured softly, head bent toward yours. You could feel his gaze travel over you, dragging from your feet to the crown of flowers and greenery holding your veil in place.

You smiled, your gaze dropping to your feet for a moment as he led you to the center seats at the high table across the courtyard. You were seated between Marcus and your father, your aunt and brothers to the right of your father and some of Marcus’s cousins to his left. 

“Are you pleased?” you asked as he sat down next to you, a huff of breath from you giving your nerves away.

Marcus leveled you with his dark eyes, twisting in his seat to face you properly. A big hand found yours, gently squeezing the delicate bones of your fingers for a moment. “Are you pleased, meum cor?” he asked, his deep voice curling over the term of endearment as though he had spoken it a thousand times before.

Your heart stuttered, the consideration of your opinion still catching you by surprise. But you found yourself nodding quickly–you were pleased. Even when you had imagined your wedding as a little girl, you never anticipated feeling so content. It had been hard to conjure the shape and character of your husband, but Marcus surpassed everything you had dreamed of by far.

“Then I am pleased as well,” he said, a hand curling around the nape of your neck and pulling you in to press a kiss upon your brow.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he did, the simple intimacy of the exchange warming you. There had been no model for how a couple acted in your life, your father had never sought out another wife after your mother passed. You never knew it could be that way.

“After all, I am married to a wonderful woman, how could I not be pleased?” 

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, leaning against the straight back of your seat. “You know, we are already married–there is no need to be so generous in your compliments,” you murmured, settling in your seat as you prepared to speak with your approaching father and aunt.

Marcus’s gaze lingered on the side of your face, making it burn. “I do not compliment you just to charm you, my lady, I hope you will come to realize that,” he said, curling his fingers around your hand and letting the entangled unit rest on your thigh.

Then your father and aunt were upon you, the first in a long line of congratulations you would have to listen to that day.

–

You watched Marcus leave from the atrium, his deep laugh echoing through the evening as he walked with his cousins. The feast had gone on until sunset, food continuously filling platters and wine flowing freely. You felt warm from the few goblets you drank, and Marcus’s cheeks were flushed when he took off to meet with you at the first crossroads between your father’s domus and his.

The atrium was loud with activity as you prepared for the procession. Your bridesmaids helped you drape your veil out of the way as the torch was lit from the hearth. The boys walking with you were chatting amongst one another, fighting over who got to carry the torch while the other two had to guide you by each arm. A camillus had arrived specifically for the procession, ensuring that you followed all of the proper religious rites lest you doom your marriage before it even had the chance to truly begin. Your matron of honor carried your distaff and spindle to represent your domestic life. 

The evening was erring on the side of cold, the beginning of autumn rearing its head as you stepped out onto the street. You watched the torch flame flicker before you as you walked, more focused on keeping steady on the cobblestone due to your wine-induced tipsiness. The rest of the procession was giddy and loud behind you.

You let the boys on either side of you lead the way to Marcus’s domus, your heart rate increasing with every step. A shaky smile still found a home on your face–you were walking to your new home. 

People on the street stopped to offer you their best wishes, some joining the procession despite not knowing where you were headed. You welcomed the company all the same. Their voices joined those of your wedding guests, singing songs that you had heard from other wedding processions. 

Marcus waited for you at the first intersection, bags of nuts and sweetmeats and sesame cakes distributed between him and the two men who had accompanied him on his errand. His gaze remained only on you as the procession approached.

You dropped one of the three coins you carried at the crossroad, offering a silent prayer to Janus. The two groups mingled, Marcus and his companions spreading their treats through the crowd.

“Now what would my wife like?” he asked, walking backwards to keep up with you. He seemed almost boyish despite the way his hair was graying at the temples and lines marked the corners of his eyes. Even his steps seemed lighter than air.

“A sesame cake,” you decided. He arranged it for you, waving over the man who carried them over and selecting one for you. 

Instead of giving you the cake, Marcus leaned in to kiss you. Unlike each time that day, he parted his lips, the kiss messy and clumsy as you both walked. But you were melting into it, your steps quickening as you pressed forward, letting your mouth open beneath his. He was shooed off by your bridesmaids, the girls tittering as he separated from you with mirth shining in his expression. 

“You have to wait until we get her home, Marcus!” one of the men shouted, laughs echoing up from the procession behind you. Your cheeks warmed, the wolf-whistles making you bashful as Marcus waved them off with a hand.

“The sesame cake, Marcus,” you reminded him with a giggle. He made a soft noise of acknowledgement, breaking the cake in his hands in half before feeding you part of it. It was sweet on your tongue, making you hum as you chewed. He ate the other half, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before going to mingle with the rest of the procession behind you.

You were still being pulled along by each arm, the procession eager to deliver you to Marcus’s estate and begin the next party of many. The sheer number of people that had joined in astounded you, strangers shoulder to shoulder with friends and family. They were all merry as they sang songs and shouted compliments and well wishes. Marcus distributed treats among them, some of the nuts getting tossed up toward you for good luck.

It was not much longer until you reached Marcus’s domus. Guards were at the entrance, only allowing wedding guests through. 

The boys had dropped your arms, lingering on the steps to the front door as your aunt wrapped her arms around you. “You are a very lucky bride,” she murmured into your ear, her chin hooking against your shoulder. The two of you swayed gently together.

“This house is grand,” you breathed, taking in the way the lit sconces and braziers shone through the windows. 

Your aunt hummed, her head barely shaking as she disagreed with you. “No… well, yes, General Acacius has a very lovely estate,” she amended, squeezing you gently, “but I mean the way he looks at you. You may as well actually be Gaia.”

Your hands covered hers where they linked above your navel. “I doubt it,” you breathed, turning to look at her for a moment. Her gaze was warm, kind.

“I believe you have my wife,” Marcus said, making both of you turn around. There was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leveled his stare upon you. He took a step forward, hands twitching at his sides. “It is due time that you give her to me.”

Your aunt denied him, as was custom. “You will have to rip her from my arms, General Acacius,” she said, her hold on you tightening marginally. You never understood it, the show of a husband pulling his wife from the arms of her mother. Perhaps if it was your mother holding you, you would understand.   

Marcus’s lip curled at the challenge. You pretended to desperately hold onto your aunt as he descended upon you, thick arms curling around your waist. Part of the game was pretending you were less than willing, that you could not imagine leaving the company of your family for this new life with your husband. You had seen other women tearfully clutch their mothers as their husbands wound their arms around them, earnest in their hesitance. 

You would have let go right away if it would not have reflected poorly on your father. Instead you yelped, one hand grabbing Marcus’s forearm as the other still clutched your aunt. It took him one, two more good tugs to free you from her hold, his shout of victory echoing as he held you close.

Marcus pressed a quick kiss to your brow before setting you on your feet. A big hand remained pressed against the small of your back, nudging you along to the front door. 

Bands of wool rested near each doorpost, a clay container of oil near the door. You had anguished over this portion of the ceremony, trying to practice smooth ways to unwind the wool before you had to do the real thing. You managed it smoothly, spiralling the red yarn over both columns to represent your domestic role in the home. The olive oil was warm on your fingers, the guests singing behind you as you rubbed the oil into the painted wood. You spread it across the edges of the door, the oil dripping down to your elbow until the door was relatively saturated to show the abundance you hoped for in your lives.

You wiped your hands off on a scrap of cloth looped through the handle of the jar, barely having time to properly set it down before Marcus lifted you into his arms. The screech you let out was unsightly for a woman of your station, but it only made him chuckle softly and he held you with an arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back.

“Are you ready to enter your home, meum cor?” he asked, maneuvering you just enough to be able to push the door open with one hand. 

You looped an arm around the back of his neck, buzzing with excitement. “Do not make me wait longer, Marcus,” you said, eager for him to put you down. All you could think about was the weight of your body in his arms.

He just nodded, crossing over the threshold into the atrium of his home–your home.

It had been decorated extravagantly, beautiful bouquets of fresh flowers perfuming the air along with colorful fabrics and tapestries hanging from the walls with fresh tree boughs laden with fruit. You could feel the pride exuding from him as he set you down.

“Marcus, this must have cost a fortune,” you murmured, your fingertips pressed to your lower lip as you tried to hide your delighted smile. No one had ever gone through this much trouble for you before.

He took both of your hands in his as the guests streamed in, admiring the decor. “And I would spend it a thousand times over to see your lovely smile,” he said, his head bending toward yours. “I am glad you find it suitable–I admit I left most of it to my cousin’s wives.”

“And they did a very good job,” you murmured, squeezing his hands for a moment before you reached out to take the torch.

The boy ran off as soon as he handed it to you, returning to his parents just as your other escorts had. You took the burning torch to the empty hearth, lowering the flame to the kindling. It took a few moments to light, the warmth washing over you as the fire crackled to life. You prayed to Jupiter, running over the words you had practiced a thousand times to ensure that your hearth and home would be warm and safe. 

You had no doubt that it would be. 

The torch was quickly extinguished, tossed amongst the guests to scramble over. The unburnt torch was said to be a sign of good fortune, blessing whomever was lucky enough to finally grab it. 

You paid the results no attention, hardly caring to find out who ended up capturing it as Marcus brought you to one of the one of the various tables laden with food, plucking a fig from the bunch. He turned the fruit over in his hand, scrutinizing it in the firelight.

“The first time you came to this place you were hardly able to stomach an entire fig,” he murmured, taking a bite of it. He turned to you as he chewed, leaning on the table with his hip. “And you are now my bride.”

 There was a honey cake nestled amongst the rest of the food, sticky on your fingers as you selected it. “The stories of you are very intimidating, General Acacius,” you said, smirking playfully. You had been petrified of him at first, expecting a hardened, difficult general. “I thought you would be much more… strict,” you said, savoring the sweetness of the honey on your tongue.

It was his turn to laugh, his hand capturing you by the waist and pulling you in. He gently tugged at the woolen belt around your midsection, eyes flashing as though he meant to untie it then and there. “Strict? I can be strict if you wish it so,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, accepting the goblet of wine that he poured for you. “How about instead of that, we enjoy our party,” you suggested, tongue darting away to lick the droplets that clung to your lips. 

The motion seemed to catch his attention, his mouth dropping open for a moment before he caught himself, swallowing thickly. You lifted a brow, unsure what to make of his expression before he cleared his throat, umber eyes looking almost like obsidian as he met your gaze. “I think that is an excellent thought,” he said softly, taking up his own goblet.

You lifted your cup to his for a moment, taking a long drink of it before your matron of honor emerged to pull you into a conversation, separating you from Marcus once more.

–

It was late when you finally found one another again, your breath smelling like wine and Marcus’s cheeks flushed as he secured both hands around your waist. 

Midnight had long passed, the evening climbing toward the early hours of the morning as he dipped his nose into the curve of your throat. The strong bridge of his nose was a touch cold against your skin, making you squeak and shiver. But you remained in his hold.

“I think it is high time that I get my wife alone,” he said lowly, his voice more of a rasp than you had ever heard it. All of the talking and laughing was catching up to him, but you did not mind it.

You hummed, a smile finding its way to your face as you grasped his toga. “Alone? Then you should lead the way,” you breathed, anticipation starting to roil in your gut. You had received plenty of unsolicited advice on being alone with your husband, drunk matrons in attendance providing their opinions to you each time they spoke. Each conversation made your anxiety climb higher and higher as you became aware of your lack of experience.

It was expected of a bride to be less experienced than her husband, but you still found it intimidating.

Marcus guided you to his cubiculum, ignoring the good-natured jeers from some of your guests as he cut a straight line through the crowd. The sound of lyres and talking diffused as you ascended the stairwell to the second floor. A guard was posted at the door, stepping aside as you approached. 

“Do not let anyone disturb us,” Marcus instructed, prompting the guard to nod silently before Marcus opened the door and ushered you into the room.

It was larger than you expected, the bed the dominant piece of furniture in the room as you looked around. There was a tree partially obscuring your view of the moon outside the window. The walls were elegantly painted, murals of cities you did not recognize adorning each panel. 

Marcus pressed himself against your back, his fingers looping around the wool belt as he bent toward your neck. “I have been eager to get you here all day,” he mumbled against your throat, goosebumps running down your arms.

“You have?” you asked softly. He removed the flower crown and veil from your head, setting it on a nearby table. The weight off your neck was a relief. You sighed, letting your head roll back to rest against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut. The comfort of his presence was a shock, you expected to feel uncomfortable around him.

He made a sound of agreement, pressing his lips to your neck. “Of course I have, meum cor,” he said softly. 

You bit your lip, trying to breathe through the bubble of anxiety in your chest. The past few hours had been spent agonizing how your first moments alone together would go–you had gathered vague information about what you were supposed to do, what he expected. It seemed that all of the women at the party had advice to give, informing you about what their husbands enjoyed.

With a deep breath, you turned in his arms. Marcus’s deep brown eyes looked practically molten in the flickering light from the hearth. He cupped your jaw in the scoop of his palm, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. Your fingers twisted into the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He let out a groan, a hand finding the small of your back as he pressed your body firmly against his. His trimmed facial hair tickled your skin as you clumsily followed his lead. You parted your lips when he did, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he licked into your mouth. His tongue tasted like wine and figs, twisting around yours and running along the inside of your teeth. 

You pulled back, looking up at Marcus through your lashes for a moment.

Everything those women said kept running through your mind. You had to please him, to show that you were able to be the perfect wife.

You took a deep breath, teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you steeled your nerves. If you had anything less to drink you would have been frozen in place, but instead you sank to your knees, your fingers already having found the edge of his toga.

It seemed easy enough when they told you: take it into your mouth and suck until… until what? That part had been left out of your conversations, but you were sure you could figure it out.

Marcus’s hand found the back of your head, fingertips pressing into your hair. The stone was harsh against your knees, but you remained at his feet dutifully as you began to pull the folds of the crisp white toga out of the way. His legs were tanned and scarred, the wide muscle of his quads sporting a smattering of dark, curly hairs. You tentatively ran your hands over his skin, your palms smooth as your fingers curled over his knee and around the back of it.

Then he laughed. You felt your entire face get warm as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “What are you doing?” he asked, a smile on his face. He cradled the back of your head in his hand, tipping it further back so he could get a better look at you.

All of the air had been sucked out of the room, embarrassment winding around your chest. “Well, some of the women…” you said, trailing off as you pressed your fingers to your lower lip–a nervous habit.

He snorted, the sound making your face practically catch on fire. “Some of the women?” he prompted, crouching down in front of you. His other hand nudged your chin, keeping eye contact despite the fact that you wished the floor beneath you would open up and swallow you whole.

“Well, uh, they gave me advice,” you admitted, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It was mortifying to admit, the words sounding ridiculous out loud. You wrung your hands in your lap. The silence that hung between you forced you to babble. “I just… I wanted to be able to please you. You have much more experience than I do and I was worried that my naivety would disappoint you.”

Marcus smiled, his thumb gently touching the corner of your lip for a moment. “There is no chance that you would disappoint me, meum cor,” he breathed, so sincere that you could burst into tears. 

“That…what you were just doing, there will be time for that later,” he said, winding his arms beneath yours as he lifted you to your feet. He half carried you across the room, your toes brushing against the floor before you were deposited on the bed. “This night I want to be for both of us, alright?”

You gulped, nodding as you looked up at him. The nod was enough for him, Marcus’s hands unbuckling your sandals and dropping them to the floor. He gestured for you to move further back onto the bed, the wool soft beneath you as you did as he said.

Your wide eyes followed his movements as he removed the ornamental parts of his attire, his cape tossed haphazardly over an upholstered chair along with his sandals and the laurel wreath you had weaved for him. It was hard to breathe as you watched him remove his toga, left solely in his cream-colored tunic

He stalked toward you like a wolf hunting its prey, grabbing you by the ankles and yanking you toward him. You let out a yelp that turned into a giggle as you landed on your back, your wedding gown riding up around your thighs. 

“Tell me, my lady, what do you know of pleasure?” he asked, letting your legs fall to either side of his hips. He reached for the knotted belt at your waist–he was the only one allowed to untie it. 

To your surprise, your bashfulness turned into mortification. You wanted to lie, to tell him that you knew absolutely nothing–that was what any good bride would have done. What you knew was inconsequential, your information was only self-centered rather than knowing anything about a man and woman…together. 

“Do not be afraid, tell me the truth,” he breathed, the belt falling open. Your dress lost all semblance of shape and structure, the woven fabric falling loosely around your form as he began to pull it apart.

Goosebumps pricked over your skin, following the trails that Marcus’s calloused fingers left behind. “I, um, have… explored myself,” you admitted, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. There was a mosaic of the sun inlaid there, the tiles shining orange in the firelight. It was easier to study the colors they used rather than wait for his reaction.

He only chuckled, bending over you as he began to press kisses to your clavicle. “I am glad to hear that,” he said into your skin, the wiry hairs of his mustache forming to each word as he spoke. His lips trailed toward your sternum, the neckline of your dress splitting as he pulled away the fabric. “I worried you would be a bride that did not know up from down–it is a relief that you will be able to tell me what you enjoy.”

You tried to keep your breaths even, briefly squeezing your eyes shut as he pulled your dress down your arms. Your chest was bare, the press of his lips to the soft swell of your breast almost making you jolt. “Whatever you enjoy will be more than sufficient,” you said, tentatively threading your fingers in his thick hair.

His displeasure was hummed against the silken underside of your breast, dark eyes focused over the swell of it at you. You were pinned in place by the weight of his stare, gasping softly as his fingers brushed over one of your nipples. “I have been paying attention,” he said, wet presses of his lips finding the valley between your breasts once more, “and, while you have allowed everyone in your life to make your decisions for you, I will no longer allow that.”

“That is not true,” you protested, combing your fingers through his hair. His teeth nipped at the side of your throat, making you tilt your head to bare it to him.

“It is certainly true.” The words tickled, making you squirm. You could feel his smile against your throat. “Meum cor, if you want to do more than sleep in our marital bed this evening, you must tell me what to do.”

“Marcus,” you murmured, brow furrowing, “I cannot do that.”

It was hard to imagine asking for anything, let alone telling him what you wanted. No man had ever asked you what your needs were. No one had ever bothered wanting to know.

He placed a hand flat on the bed next to your shoulder, propping himself up slightly so he could look down his nose at you. “Then we will have a lovely night of sleep together,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss upon your brow before lying down next to you. 

Your brow furrowed as his arm curled around your waist, reeling you in against him. He was warm against your side with his chin pressing against your shoulder. Despite enjoying the closeness, you could not stop the feeling of disappointment as you considered what your wedding night should have entailed.

You took a deep breath, swallowing thickly before you spoke. “I…I liked when you touched my breasts,” you admitted with a whisper. You covered your face out of embarrassment, your cheeks warm from the wine.

“Is that so?” Marcus asked, his smirk clear in his tone. You nodded sheepishly, glancing at him with wide, hesitant eyes. He captured your lips, voracious and hungry as he opened his mouth to yours. You were so distracted that you hardly noticed his hand ghosting over your naked chest until his fingertips closed over your nipple. 

You whimpered as he tweaked the bud–it never felt as good when you tried touching yourself that way. One circle of his fingers had you keening against his mouth. 

“Like this?” he asked, pinching it softly between his forefinger and thumb. You moaned softly, your thighs squeezing together beneath the remaining fabric of your wedding gown. The other breast earned the same attention.

“And this?” The touch of his tongue to your skin made your eyes roll, his mouth sucking at the bud making your breath hitch. It was all you could do to nod, his curls soft as your fingers tangled in them.

He had you whining and whimpering pathetically as he rolled to hover on top of you, lapping and rolling his tongue over your nipples. The sensation made your sex pulse between your legs, aching like a wound as he made a space for himself between your spread thighs. 

“Marcus,” you mewled, squeezing his sides with your legs. “Please…” You trailed off before you could ask for what you really wanted, your hips tentatively rocking up toward his.

He chuckled, the sound muffled by the mark he was sucking into the side of your breast. “My lady, what do you need?” he asked, voice so sweet it almost made it seem like he was going to take pity on you. “You are asking me so nicely.”

Despite his pretend ignorance he started to pull away the rest of your wedding dress, sitting back on his knees as he yanked it down your legs and tossed it aside. There was not enough time for you to be embarrassed, his body pressing back down upon yours as the tip of his nose dragged in a line from your jaw to your collarbone.

“Marcus,” you huffed, petulant and needy. Your brows knit together, everything about you finding it near impossible to just ask.

He snickered, scraping his blunt teeth over your sternum. “You must ask, meum cor,” he reminded you, one of his hands grabbing the outside of your thigh and squeezing. The contact was enough to send shivers through you, your legs spreading in an attempt to coax his hand between them. “I will give you whatever you wish, lest you tell me that you want it.”

“I thought a husband was supposed to take what he wished on his wedding night,” you muttered, a bit frustrated. You tugged on the roots of his hair, just enough to earn a soft groan from Marcus. “Be the conqueror of the bedroom and all of those things.”

Another laugh, a slight shake of his head. “I have conquered plenty, my lady. Distant lands, foreign armies… I have conquered enough to last an entire lifetime,” his warm tongue laved over your nipple, “Now I wish to see you take in your own right. I am yours just as you are mine, there is nothing you could want that would frighten me.”

You wished his encouragement actually worked, but the words were still shackled behind your teeth. Instead you grabbed Marcus’s hand, fighting through your embarrassment as you brought it to your sex. You pressed his fingertips through the soft thatch of curls there to feel how wet you were.

Something dangerous made his expression light up. “You wanted me to touch you here?” he asked, already rubbing tight circles over the bud of your clit without prompting.

You keened beneath him, nodding through your light-headedness. His touch already felt drastically different than your own, an element of anticipation added to the mix. Each movement was a mystery, a divergence from the routine you had carefully crafted for yourself over many years of exploration. His calloused fingertips applied less pressure than you would have, moving in slow circles to tease you.

His other hand held your hips to the mattress, not letting you buck into his touch for added friction. Each time you tried his grip tightened. It took you a few moments to realize he was doing it on purpose, wanting you to tell him you needed more.

“I need more,” you breathed, your lashes fluttering. 

He immediately acquiesced to your request, the increase in friction was enough to make you dizzy. “You are so beautiful,” he cooed. You were too distracted by sensation to even shy beneath his stare, letting him observe the way your brow bunched and mouth fell open. Your whines were breathy, your knees falling away and toward the mattress. 

The only way you could describe how you felt was madness. Any semblance of control over yourself was quickly lost, or abandoned–you had no way to be sure. 

Your sex clenched around nothing, the emptiness almost painful as you twisted the rough weave of his tunic in your hands. His grip on your hip relaxed, letting your hips stutter up toward his hand–a pitiful attempt to get him to slide one in you without having to vocalize the need. You should have known better.

“Do you wish for me to simply play with your clit all night, meum cor?” he teased. You wanted to wipe the grin off his face.

It was so hard to set aside the lessons you had been taught throughout your life: women were supposed to be meek and soft spoken and subservient. Your father had demanded your supplication, had taught you that your husband would require much of the same. 

But Marcus was not what either of you expected.

He watched you sink to your knees in submission and lifted you back to your feet. You thought he would give you orders with ease, spell out exactly what he wanted from you without a detail spared. Instead he was asking what you wanted from him, begging you to make demands of him.

“I need…please, I need you inside,” you whimpered, the request making your cheeks burn. It was grating on your ears, your desperation unseemly.

If Marcus noticed, he kept it to himself. “We will get there, I assure you of that,” he soothed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was shorter than you wanted, just a momentary peck. There was not enough time to whine for more before a finger teased at your entrance before pressing deep.

“Marcus!” you gasped, eyes widening as you felt him reach deeper inside you than you had ever been able to reach.

He shushed you softly, head bending to press his lips to your jaw. His blunt teeth scraped over the hinge of it as you let out another harsh breath. Your toes curled, spine starting to arch away from the mattress as he found a rhythm that elicited a moan he liked the sound of. 

There was a spot you had no idea existed, the pleasure making your eyes roll each time the pad of his finger rubbed against it. Your breath hitched as his thumb stroked the swollen bump of your clit with the same dizzying pace. It was reminiscent of how you touched yourself, but his capable hands brought you to heights previously undiscovered.

One finger became two, the stretch a discomfort you welcomed. It was only for a few moments, your muscles relaxing into feeling full. 

You were soaking his fingers, the obscene squelch of them inside of you was loud enough to make your cheeks burn.  

But he was looking at you as though you were of the gods themselves, sent down from the heavens and into his bed. The thin rim of color around his blown pupils matched toasted hazelnuts, warm as they took in every detail of you. His stare was almost greedy as it dragged over every part of you he could see. It was caught on the way his fingers disappeared inside your cunt, wetness dripping onto the mattress.

Your voice broke as a third finger entered you, filling you up tight. Three was almost too much, your brows knitting together as your hips rocked, trying to accommodate to the size. The moan that came from you was pathetic.

“I know,” Marcus murmured, his free hand rubbing circles on the indent of your waist as he tried to soothe you. “You need to take three or I will not fit, meum cor.”

You could feel his cock pressing against the back of your thigh, but you did not truly make sense of the size of it until he said something. He did not miss the way your eyes widened, the brief expression of panic flitting over your features. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running over the apple of it as he leaned down to kiss you.

Teeth clashed together as you opened your mouth to his a little too eagerly, his fingers tilting your jaw to correct it as he grunted. You clenched around his digits, walls fluttering to accommodate them and the steady rhythm he set. 

“You are so close,” he muttered against the corner of your mouth, sounding almost desperate for you. You half understood what he meant, the tightening in your lower abdomen vaguely familiar. It was the point that you had always gotten frightened and stopped, thinking that you could not go any further.

Marcus had no such reservations, moving past what you thought was the point of no return with ease. You choked, your left leg starting to shake uncontrollably where it rested bent against his hip. 

It seemed like a badge of honor to him, a breathtaking smile on his face as you withered beneath him. There was no way for you to speak properly, broken words spilling from your mouth as your mind went slippery with desire. Your hips moved as though they had a mind of your own, jolting with the motion of his hand, one, two, three times before it felt as if you had been struck by lightning.

“There you go,” he said, his voice as sweet as honey as he worked you through your entire body convulsing with euphoria. You squeezed your eyes shut with ecstasy, your cunt clenching around his fingers rhythmically as your world shattered.

Your mind was entirely elsewhere, moments feeling like hours as you desperately clung to Marcus. The wet smear of his lips against your throat revived you, blinking into the world like a newborn as his bedroom shifted into focus. His body held you steady through the aftershocks, your chest heaving as you tried to make your breaths even.

“Marcus,” you sighed, satisfied as you ran your fingers through his hair. He had not moved away yet, cupping your sex comfortingly.

You knew there was more, that more had to happen to truly consummate your marriage. Perhaps now the tirade of making you advocate for what you wanted would end, the focus having been on you for long enough that he would take what he wanted.

He pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion, removing his underclothes quickly. You were astounded as you stared at him–the thick muscle of his body were all the proof of a life spent laboring rather than someone chasing an aesthetic. You were practically salivating at the sight of him, fingers twitching as you languidly moved to your knees, grabbing for him in an attempt to pull him back to bed.

“Come here,” you breathed, hands finding his shoulders as you stretched up to capture his lips.

A breathy laugh was smothered against your mouth, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he knelt on it. He grabbed the fat of your hips, maneuvering with you so he was seated at the head of the bed. You were pulled toward him, shuffling closer on your knees. It was hard to hide the way your stomach flipped as he looked at you like you were the most delicious thing he had set his eyes on.

“You come here, meum cor,” he murmured, voice sounding rough as he squeezed you beneath the wide spread of his fingers. 

“What is it that my husband wants?”

That seemed to pour pleasure into him, his grip marginally tightening as he pulled you so close that you nearly sat astride him.

“I want you to take what is yours,” he whispered, head tilting back so you could watch the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. One hand ran over your hip to the globe of your ass, giving you a swat that was more affectionate than harsh.

You looked between your bodies, a bit intimidated by his request. But you had been told that you needed to do everything your husband asked on your wedding night–you just had expected that he would have taken control.

Insecurity made itself an unwelcome guest in the room as you swallowed, looking down at his lap. His hand cupped your cheek, moving your gaze back to his. “You can handle it,” he murmured encouragingly, so earnest that you started to believe him. “I want to feel you around me.”

You nodded slowly, letting him guide you over his lap and position you properly. The press of the fat head of his cock made you shudder. You grabbed his biceps, an attempt to steady yourself as you began to lower yourself onto him.

It was a slow process, Marcus’s hands squeezing the thick of your thighs as he helped you. It made it hard to breathe, your mouth dropping open as you eased down every inch of him. It was hard to imagine a life where you were used to the size of him. Three fingers was not enough to properly prepare you, his cock stretching you wider and reaching deeper than you could have anticipated. 

You whined as the backs of your thighs finally settled against his lap, his cock fully seated inside of you. It was like his cock was all the way inside your throat, making you choke. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, your eyes squeezing shut. You could feel the hair on his thighs against your bare ass.

“You are doing so well, meum cor,” he praised as you tried to adjust to the feeling of him so deep inside of you. Your head was spinning, nails digging into his skin as you attempted to find a comfortable way to tilt your hips. His big hand smoothed over the small of your back, pressing so you rocked forward.

“S’too deep like this,” you groaned. He squeezed your thighs hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises left behind, his jaw clenching beneath his beard. It was almost too intense, part of you wanting to lift off of him just so you could catch your breath.

“I know,” he mumbled, his voice impossibly deeper. “It will feel good in a moment, I swear.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with him. The stretch was not painful, only making you feel uncomfortably full as you did your best to settle. He rocked you in his lap a few more times, the coarse hair at the base of his cock catching against your clit as he did. A gush of arousal dripped down his cock, making both of you let out a harsh breath.

“It feels good,” you sighed, holding onto his arms as you slowly lifted yourself up a few inches before sliding back down. You relished in the hollowed-out moan you earned from Marcus, his dark eyes squeezing closed.

It started slow, the grind of just an inch inside of you until you got bolder, sliding up and down Marcus’s cock. Your breasts bounced with each movement, matching the slap of your ass meeting his lap. His gaze could not find a place to land, cutting between your face, breasts, and watching his cock disappear between your thighs. Either way he was enchanted.

The feeling of being in control made your stomach twist, the press of his hands encouraging you to experiment between different motions and tilts of your hips. He was patient as you found what you liked, the muscles in his arms rippling beneath the skin as he assisted you until you found something you liked.  

He grunted unabashedly, each broken sound lending you just how infatuated you felt. The sounds he made were deep, rugged. Huffs of breath and deep sounds in his throat as he started to thrust up to meet each bounce, your sweat-slicked skin slapping together.

“You are so tight around my cock,” he choked out, the deep creases between his dark brows visible as he tried to keep his composure.

“Mhmm.” You nodded, mind blank.

Each plunge of his cock carved out a space inside of you, making you let out a soft exhale as all of the air was forced from your lungs. 

You only had a moment of warning, gone too far in a place of hazy, honeyed pleasure to recognize the tightening in your belly. It spiraled up through you like a knife, slicing you from root to tip with its heat. Your eyes sprung open, you were gasping and scrabbling to hold onto him, each movement frantic. “Marcus–” the rest of the sentence was lost to your moan.

Your legs shook from pleasure and the strain, thighs burning in a way that almost felt pleasant. It was impossible to do anything aside from fall forward, your head falling into the curve of his neck as you panted. His hands shifted your weight on his lap, thrusting up into you from below.

“I truly have the loveliest wife,” Marcus grunted through grit teeth, letting you melt in his lap as he planted his feet against the bed to fuck into you. You could tell he finally was moving how he wanted, his pace quickening as his groans and breaths became shallower, less restrained. The walls of your cunt fluttered and pulsed around his cock as you rode out your orgasm, shivering with each drag of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, your name falling from his lips. He forced your hips down against his, grinding into you.

It drew your eyes to open, lifting your heavy head back onto your shoulders as you found his gaze in the firelight. You touched the tension at the corners of his eyes with soft fingertips, the veins of his throat throbbing and sweat glistening over his brow. The dizzying need to tell him you loved him came over you as one hand smoothed over his throat, feeling his frantic breaths beneath your touch.

“Make me pregnant,” you mewled softly, the request bubbling from you before you could properly think it through.

It was enough, he groaned and went rigid beneath you, rutting up against you like a man possessed. He sounded like an animal, the moan barely contained in his throat as you felt his cock jerking inside of you. Each pump of his spend into you was hot enough to almost burn, filling you up until you were gasping.

He gathered you as close as possible, your skin sticking together with your sweat as you nuzzled into him. You fit like you were meant to be there, head beneath his chin and listening to the frantic beat of his heart.

You could see how the sky was just beginning to turn blue, the sun would be rising soon. 

Marcus moved both of you, laying back against the bed with you sprawled over his chest. You pressed your fingertips over a scar across his ribs, imagining the sword that had slashed him. There was a lot you did not know about your husband, that you still had to learn. 

He fell asleep first, letting your gaze trace over his profile unabashedly. The sun would rise over Rome, shine on the first day of your marriage as you attended another party of many to come.

You would finally enjoy a life you chose for yourself, Marcus at your side.

[colorlessjay]

Concept: S16 Dean got really, REALLY into photography while retired. Why? Well he realized far too late he had barely any pictures of Cas, so Dean is making up for lost time once Cas came back. And like, Cas’s beauty is hard to capture with some dinky phone camera and so he does some research and learns about lighting and lenses and depth of field, etc

And of course Dean is an old fashioned guy so he of course uses an old school film camera and has a dark room in their marital home and of COURSE Cas is his favourite muse and model.

Does he take 1000000 glamour shots of his gorgeous wife? DUH. Does he take even more creeper CANDID shots of Cas? double DUH. Does he also force Cas into doing dumb couples shoots with him like awkward prom pics or whole family portraits with terrible matching sweaters? What do you take him for? of course he does

(He also loves taking pictures of Jack and Cas together, and he has an active and willing collaborator in Jack. They once did a silly shoot for Jack’s 5th birthday where they have him do a baby->Kindergardener photo shoot but as his fully grown self and it’s hilarious to Dean and no he doesn’t then almost start crying right along Cas at the set ending with Jack standing on their porch, wearing a backpack, a spider-man t-shirt, and holding up a chalkboard with “first day of school!” Dean DIDN’T start crying then because he was already crying at the picture of Jack all blanket burrito’s and swaddled up with a “welcome home jack” à la baby’s home from the hospital style pic lol)

Sam tries showing Dean his new phone’s super high end camera and Dean is sooooo annoying and dismissive of it and scoffs at the results, especially what he learns it’s got that post processing AI shit on it. Bah.

(Claire makes his break out his rapid shot gear to get some sweet pics of her fighting a vampire to send to Kaia. Dean promises he’s staying out of the fighting part cuz he’s retired and this is Claire’s hunt but he does get a twinge of FOMO when she is the one with a machete and he’s got the telephoto lens to stay out of the way. But him catching the money shot of Claire doing the final beheading? That’s more exhilarating that the last 10 vampires hunts he went on before retirement combined. The pictures turn out AMAZING considering the lightning conditions at night! And the blood splatter! No Sam this isn’t disturbing and serial killer shit this is art!!)

Dean’s 2nd favourite model is of course Baby, he ends up getting some gig work are a car photographer from fellow old heads that also want glamour shots of their old classic cars on real film. Jody teases that it’s like Dean is directing a porno for the cars with how he talks about “lighting the contours” and “we gotta highlight this lady’s curves just right”

(And speaking of porno’s, yeah Dean’s taken many, MANY erotic nudes of his favourite model. Often on or in his 2nd favourite model. And yeah the cowboy gear gets used a LOT in these. Why do you think Dean asked Rowena for a spelled locked box that OBLY him and Cas can open? It was a lovely birthday present from the Queen of Hell that was only happy to provide!)

I love this idea so much I'm gonna write smut about it

Anon, idk who you are but DM me more of these ideas

reblog

[dottowos]

desiderium.

synopsis: Omega desires you in ways he cannot have you, so he has to make do with what he’s given.

includes: dottore (omega) w/ fem! reader

notes: Omega touches himself while fantasizing about you - so none of this actually happens, he just really wishes it would. Established relationship, oral (reader receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, lots of teasing, posessiveness, he makes you beg and cry, he's a lil freak tbh, reader uses no pronouns, mdni (tell me if I should add anything.)

It wasn’t really a secret that you were the object of the Second Harbinger’s affections. Frequently it would be witnessed by shocked agents the depth of attention you were given by not only the Doctor himself, but also his segments. Hell, you were the only one who could ever interrupt their experiments!

If you asked the Omega segment, there were numerous reasons he could list as to why he found you so endearing. First, your mind was ever so interesting. He loved to pick at it, discover new ways to make you tick or blush. Not to mention how he loved to do research with you. Your perspectives could be quite helpful, especially when compared to the agents who feared opening their mouths.

Moving on, he loved your expressions too. When your eyes crinkled gently, full of love, and when a great smile stretched across your face. Or when you were pouty and ignoring him because he didn’t give you enough attention, though he always knew how to get back on your good side. And your voice, it was refreshing to hear after ungodly hours spent in a lab.

And you - you in general, you were attractive. He had only seen you nude a few times, but he had every spot and curve of your perfect body mapped out and memorized in his mind. Sadly, it was more of a see, don’t touch situation.

It was evident only Prime Dottore had that opportunity. 

Your… nightly activities with Dottore were rather obvious to the other segments. There weren’t many explanations for why you would walk around the lab the next day a bit sore with numerous marks around your neck, despite your attempts to cover it up. Prime didn’t need to say anything - his message was clear.

Still, that didn’t stop Omega from desiring you. This was one such moment he found himself fantasizing about you. He had been working continuously for a long time and hadn’t seen you much, so this was a much-needed moment of respite. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair and began to palm himself. 

Omega knew you’d feel just as good as you looked - his hands twitched, trying to imagine your skin against his, and so did his cock. He made quick work of his zipper as he imagined how you’d look under him, a common scenario.

He had always wondered how you’d act. There were so many possibilities he could think of, all of which sent a thrill throughout his body. Knowing you, you’d probably be shy about it. 

“Omega,” you whined, as your hands half-heartedly tried to stop him from undressing you, embarrassed by his forwardness. For some reason, you didn’t think he’d want you in this way too. “A-Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he purred, intent on seeing you laid bare and all needy for him, his hands already set on squeezing and playing with your soft breasts as you softly moaned. He had only ever heard such cute noises in his head, unfortunately. But he would continue to draw them out for as long as he could, mercilessly teasing you and refusing to touch you where you really wanted him to.

But regardless, all of these scenarios ended with you obediently taking his cock. However, as much as he wanted to be inside of you, he couldn’t forget about how much he wanted to taste you. Yes, your taste, he thought as he licked his lips and pumped himself again. 

“Ah, ‘Mega, please…” your breath hitched as he experimentally rubbed his finger over your clothed cunt, your wetness seeping through, “don’t tease,” you fruitlessly demanded as he ignored your plea. Omega would take his time with you, savor your sweetness like he would with one of your baked treats. He was a very patient man after all. (You? Not so much, but you would have to deal with it.)

Eventually, he would slip a finger, and then another, and then one more inside your aching pussy and hold you down as your back arched, pinning your hands above your head as you were insistent on trying to cover your mouth. Your moans were one of the loudest and most accurate proofs of the effect he had on you, and he refused to let them be silenced.

“Now, now, what did I say about that? Try to do that again and I’ll stop.” You could only let out another choked moan and look at him helplessly as he curled his fingers inside of you, and then sped up his pace until you finally finished all over his hand. It was almost filthy how he began to suck and lick on his own fingers that were drenched in your essence, concentrating on tasting every last drop. You wanted to look away out of embarrassment, but you were entranced by the scene, probably because it was just that hot.

Of course, that would only be the beginning of it. There was no way he would be satisfied with just that. Barely giving you a chance to recover, he pried your legs open further to lick and suck at your cunt, relishing in how your thighs squeezed around him - he’d make sure to mark them up some more later. Your hand was tangled in his hair, alternating between trying to push him away from coming too much or pushing him further down on your needy pussy. He didn’t care, either way, your juices would be smeared around his lips as he made sure to lick it all up. By the time he was done with you, you’d be struggling to even call out his name, eyes hazy and too far gone.

As Omega thought about you more, he stroked himself faster until he was almost close. But he had yet to bury himself inside your tight cunt. 

It was all too easy to tease you, reveling in how your eyes darted around nervously at the sight of him pumping himself as he prepared to enter you. You licked your lips and swallowed as you briefly wondered how you’d take him. Ah… your mouth too… Omega decided he could brush his cock against your supple lips another day.  

The segment nudged his tip leaking pre-cum against your cunt, on the verge of slipping in until he pulled out just at the right moment, teasing you as he delighted in your frustration. He would only ever give you what you wanted if you begged for it, his favorite subject.

“Use your words, darling.” You gripped the sheets harder at his stupid insistence.

“P-Please… please, I want- need you inside, Omega,” your plea came out as a ragged breath, desperately needing some relief already. Unfortunately, your lover only hummed, seemingly unsatisfied with your response, and continued to hold your thighs steady, still pressing himself against your pussy. You huffed in slight irritation. 

“Please Omega, just fuck me already,” your words came out speedy and rushed as you sniffed, a tear rolling down your face at how intently he was staring at you with his singular red gem. Finally, a content grin appeared on his face now that he had gotten what he wanted. Perhaps there was still some work to be done, but now even his patience was wearing thin, especially when you had declared your neediness for him so blatantly.

Lining himself up with your entrance, Omega began to push himself in slowly, wanting to drag out both your and his pleasure, and also having the uncharacteristic consideration to make sure you weren’t too overwhelmed. Your walls fit snugly around him, offering him pleasure that he could have never reached by himself. Your legs were hooked around him, tightening as he finally buried himself completely in you.

“Omega… Omega…” you breathed out his name, adjusting to the sensation of being filled with his cock. You moved your hand to intertwine with his (because of course you did, you were too sweet for your own good) and he quickly did so, locking his fingers with yours. Pulling back out, he moved to kiss you which you reciprocated, before slamming back in, your scream muffled by his lips on yours. From then, he pounded into you without mercy, making sure to give every other part of your body attention too, from licking your tears to sucking and nipping at your breasts.

From the way your nails harshly dug into his back, he could tell you were close. He knew his mind couldn’t sufficiently replicate how lovely you’d look once you came on his cock, but he had to try anyway. Picking up the pace, he continued to ram into that one spot and rubbed your clit. He wasn’t far behind - if he had not met you, the segment would have continued to think that chasing such a high with another person was a waste of time. But now that he had you in his grasp, a part of him could understand why the desires of humans overtook their common sense. Logic had no place right now, for you were completely intoxicating. 

Snapping his hips into you with one final thrust, he felt your walls squeeze around him as you came hard, his name only a half moan as your throat was sore from too much talking. The feeling had Omega holding back his own noise as he came too, still keeping up a mostly unaffected demeanor although that was far from the truth. Omega remained inside of you for a little while, stroking your cheek as you caught your breath, before pulling out and watching his cum ooze out of you.

A perfect sight. A perfect mark. A perfect claim.

As he came to, Omega sighed at the mess staining his hands. It wasn’t as nearly as satisfying as his little fantasy, but it was something nonetheless. 

Couldn’t you see? See his selfish need for you, see how his gaze burned into you at particular moments, or how he traced your collarbone for a few moments too long? If only he had a chance, he could give you pleasure beyond what his creator could give you, he’d make sure of that. Any way you wanted it, he’d make sure you’d be blissed out.

… Well, regardless of his desires, Omega had to clean up and get back to work. Maybe if he was lucky, you’d break into his lab despite him telling you he was busy and cuddle on his lap, unaware of his previous pastime.

[blueflamebimbo]

DEW KISSED

TIGHNARI X READER

Tighnari likes knowing things. Tighnari likes mushrooms. Above all, Tighnari likes you. The feeling, thankfully, is absolutely mutual.

A/N: I saw a lot of Genshin smut on here, so I wrote something wholesome out of spite. I also said I wasn't going to put a lot of effort into it and ended up researching rain forest preservation systems. My bad.

Dedicated to: @husbandograveyard Warnings: Brush your teeth. This shit sweet. Word count: 1,070

A small smile pulled at the sides of your mouth as you watched the breeze flow through the grass, making it lean into the most serene sea of greens and flowery whites. The wind wasn’t as strong as it had been the past few days, and though clouds still brought a chill to the spring afternoon in the fields of East Sumeru, the sun was finally out again, making the fields glisten.

Your walk from home had taken only a short while as you made your way to the edge of Avidya Forest. The bark felt rough against your skin as you sat down on a fallen tree trunk, a favourite spot of yours that looked out into the depths of the forest. It was the perfect spot to watch forest critters scurry about while enjoying both the warmth of the air and the shade of the trees that towered above you, casting shadows at your feet as the sun travelled from East to West.

There was a familiar tingling sensation in your gut as you eyed the rustling leaves ahead of you. Tomorrow, you would embark on quite the adventure. After spending years with your nose hidden in pages upon pages of information that were carefully tucked away at the Akademiya, your first research project away from home was finally about to start. The thought brought tension to your neck, and you reached up to soothe the sore muscle.

From between the leaves, your favourite project partner emerged. Tighnari set down his satchel in front of you, his gaze never leaving you, but his initial grin faltering slightly at your visible discomfort.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” he murmured, getting down and sitting back on his haunches. One of his big ears twitched in concern and a dew drop flicked off, hitting the tree trunk.

You nodded sheepishly and let go of your neck, settling both your hands behind you on the bark, letting you lean back slightly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled at him reassuringly and let out a soft sigh. “Is it foolish of me to be nervous about tomorrow, though?"

He laughed. Not the gentle, friendly laugh most people knew and appreciated, but a full, cheeky laugh; one that pushed at his cheeks and made his eyes disappear into green crescents. “Don’t be silly – it’s your first research project, honey, of course you’re allowed to be nervous,” he shrugged. “I won’t have you be worried about any of it, though. You’re so well-prepared. I was there every step of the way, watching you learn, watching you grow into the scholar I know you are.” He paused, “And, even if you do doubt – that’s okay, too. I’ll be right there to help. You’re not in this alone, but I have faith in that big brain of yours.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, the compliment nestling deep inside of your chest and blooming as you watched his eyes peer up at you with both wonder and adoration. It was almost too much to be the subject of the forest watcher’s affection, but it also never got old, not even after this much time had passed.

Looking out into the depths of the forest, you let the soft breeze hit your flushed cheeks and pondered the many truths you would uncover with Tighnari, starting tomorrow.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” you wondered, “How something so vast and mysterious can be so perfectly balanced.”

Tighnari knew where this was going and sat back into the grass, mindlessly pulling forest specimens out of his satchel before handing you an almost perfect looking common mushroom – his favourite.

“Forests barely have any nutrients in the ground,” you continued, choosing to momentarily ignore the way Tighnari was beaming at the way he had handed you the perfect prop for the speech he knew so very well by now.

“It’s only really the top part of the soil that’s filled with helpful sources: fallen leaves, dead animals, decomposed plant matter…” you trailed off, grinning. “That’s where the good stuff comes from, huh? All for these fun guys to enjoy.” You held up the mushroom and showed off its simple shape. “Mushrooms use the tree roots to absorb all of the delicious nutrients and enter mycorrhiza, the coolest symbiosis of all, which then makes it easier for the tree roots to actually absorb the nutrients and, in turn, the mushrooms get carbohydrates from the tree. How amazing is that?!”

By now, Tighnari looked so proud, it wouldn’t have surprised you if he teared up. But no – surprise was always an option when accompanied by the botanical scholar, and it was evident in the way he got to his feet, cupped your cheeks and planted a gentle kiss to your lips. You could taste the dew drops in his kiss, and it tasted like spring, and adventure, and trust.

When he pulled away, he looked almost smug. It was the look he would give anyone when they contested anything he said, and he would tell them to look it up. Tighnari was rarely wrong.

“You’re so ready that I doubt you’ll need me at all, honey,” he sighed, his eyes bright and excited.

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, and you won’t be joining me after all?” you teased. You got up from the tree trunk and stepped closer, gently reaching up and letting your fingertips caress the tip of his ear. A ladybug that had been hiding in the fluff of his fur made its way down your hand and then flew off.

At the intimately tender touch, he closed his eyes for a moment. A soft blush coloured his cheeks. He took a moment to bask in the proximity and then slowly shook his head, curling his arms around your waist. “Absolutely not,” he responded as he opened his eyes once more and resumed his proud gaze. “I’ll go wherever you go, my botanical little genius. I’ll follow you to the corners of the world and discover all of its secrets with you, if you’ll let me.”

And that’s where the doubts about the wild unknown melted away. Even though there was a lot to learn about the world, there were a lot of certainties for you as well. One of those certainties took you by the hand and led you home, ready to embark on your greatest adventure yet. 

[rubylovessharks]

floyd leech x fem reader x jade leech smut warning: this has some yandere details and this is smut. kinda dark (?) reader is fine with it though. this didnt start with an established romantic relationship with the twins but did end with one. from my (very short) research i have found some stuff about how moray eels get to the point of mating, which is to have enough food, for the water temperature to be warm and if i remember correctly the ok sign for them to mate is their mouth being open (?) so ive been thinking of this scenario for the past few days. this was longer then intended :(

You were in the Monstruo Lounge with your friends after you all finished all of your tests for this semester, you all wanted to celebrate together. So here you are talking and waiting for your orders but you feel eyes on you. I mean it makes sense because you are in a dorm full of scheming guys, so you can never tell what any of them is thinking. Yet the unnerving feeling of being watched doesn't seem to end. Little did you know that a set of twins were looking your way from not too far preparing you and your friends order.

"Ughh I just don't get why shrimpy hangs out with those guys! Like are they better then us? no!" The taller of the two pouts his face as he talks with his twin. "Now now Floyd, there's no need to worry. I know she prefers us a lot more then her..." he pauses for a moment there as to find a better word then the one he is thinking, "friends." his signature smile on his face as he finishes making your food. "how about you help me get these orders to the customers and then we'll call our lovely pearl for a little..talk?" "ohhh~ that sounds sooo much more fun then handing out orders!"

And here was your food. Delivered by the Leech twins. Their smiles uncanny yet charming, you think to yourself. It really was true that you like them over your friends. Your fantasies just as twisted as theirs, you wouldn't even mind if your food was spiked just so they could take you down into the depth of the sea.

"I hope you all enjoy your food and drinks." Jade says with a smile. His head then turns to you, "i hope you won't mind if he had a chat after you finish your dish? Me and Floyd had something we wanted to talk to you about." It wasn't everyday you were called to a one on two chat with your crushes, you nod a bit to fast with a smile that was too wide. "We hope you enjoy your meal! We worked reaaal hard on it, we even got you extra!" Floyd says as he waves to you while he and his brother walk away.

You finish your food quickly as you were excited for your interaction with the twins. You bid your friends farewell and walk to the Monstruo Lounge bar table to find the twins, instead you are greeted by Floyd. "You actually came! Saves me work. C'mon Jade is waiting in our room!" He tells you, seeing your confused look he adds, "what you didn't think we wanted to talk here. With all of those hungry eyes on you."

as you walk over to their room Floyd takes your hand roughly, squeezing it. He is also tagging you a bit but other then the rough treatment nothing really happens on your way to their room. Although you seem to notice that Floyd's eyes are on you and not the way ahead. Once you get Infront of their door Floyd slams it open, not enough to break it but you are sure they'll need to fix it later...

In the room Jade is standing there with a bunch of different stuff mostly food and bottles of water, and there's even more on their tables. "I brought them!" Floyd takes you as if showing his brother a prize he won, big smile on his face. "Floyd i am sure you are leaving a ton of bruises on them...You should let them go a little." Jade says as he finishes putting all the stuff he had in his hands on the table and turns back to the both of you. "oh come onn.. We are gonna leave marks on them anywaysss! Why not start now.." Your face turns to one of confusion after what Floyd said, what did he mean by 'we are gonna leave marks anyways'...?

"My Floyd you are scaring the poor thing." Jade gives Floyd his usual calm face. "Do not worry pearl, it won't hurt too much." he looks at you now, yet his words don't help you understand the situation any better. "I do hope you ate all of the food we gave you. We would be very upset if you didn't." He gives you a hurt face "yeaah we worked so much just to keep you from bein' hungry in our lil' session~" now you are even more confused.. "Oya? It seems she doesn't know what we are talking about. My did you not tell her brother?" "huhhh? Was I supposed tooo.."

"Alright then, dearest I hope you noticed the temperature this season. Eels don't have an actual mating cycle. We get to mating when the water temperatures are warm, that there's enough food to eat and we have all of these conditions." Now you get it...All that extra food, that talk about marks.. All of it was their natural instincts. Wait- what does that mean that they took you for that?!

"ahha! Red fits you well shrimpy~!" "It seems our little prey has understood their situation." You weren't actually listening, still trying figure out how you got both of your crushes to pick you as their mate you don't even notice as Floyd pushes you over to his brother who pushes you on the bed. "Do not worry pearl, we will take good care of you." Jade smiles at you as he starts taking your uniform off. "Can't we just rip it though?? Like she won't need it anyways if she is gonna be staying here.." "my brother where are your manners."

You try to ask what is it that they mean by that and you immediately feel small after asking. They laugh at your question, your stupid, stupid question. "My shrimpy you are so silly!" Floyd gets closer as he says that, "you won't need to go outside when you are our mate. All you need to think about is being a good lil' wifey or us, yeah?" "Floyd's right dear. The outside is no place for you, with all of those hungry, hungry people just wanting even one bite out of you! You are a lot more safer here with us." they flash a smile at you, one that should be considered creepy yet you aren't afraid at all. Instead you give one smile of your own, maybe not as creepy and sadistic, yet still a smile that says a lot from how you feel about your situation.

"Oh what a cute smile you've got there shrimpy! I just wanna squeeze you to death!!" Floyd falls on top of your body as he says that and immediately starts to touch your squishy parts. You guess that he isn't a huge fan of your clothes as he starts to claw at them trying rid of them. "Oya oya Floyd no need to claw at her clothes." The shorter twin tries to calm his twin down yet to no avail as the taller one broke the fabric with his unkept nails, scratching a bit of your skin in the processes. Seeing as he already got to break down some of your uniform he continues until he finishes destroying the piece of clothing off your body, leaving you naked and easy for the taking.

"See! I told you it'll be better if we just cut her clothes to pieces!" Floyd tells his brother, big smile on his face. His brother looks at you before answering Floyd, "my, I guess you were correct." As you look at Jade Floyd gets to work on your body, his not so human tongue all over your neck and some of your chest, licking and licking until he puts his mouth on your body.

Sharp teeth nibling on your body threatening to draw blood, as he gets closer to your most sensitive spot and he bites it. And he bites it HARD. You let out a small scream as tears well up in your eyes and you immediately feel a set of fingers on the top of your head. "shhh. As I said before this doesn't hurt too much, please try to endure for us love." Jade pets your head trying to keep you from thinking too much about the pain. You try to keep yourself from making any more pained sounds as Floyd's mouth lets go of the spot, Jade shoos Floyd to let him comfort you further as he licks the wound.

"Hey hey shrimpy now even if someone sees you they'll know who you belong to! Ain't that funn~?" You nod at him as your hand reaches to Jade's head as he still licks your wound from Floyd. "YEAH!? Greatt!! I'm so happy to know we both agree this is for the best" his smile grows wider by the second. You suddenly feel a soft kiss being placed on another sensitive spot of yours, Jade loooks up at you from his spot before speaking. "Now I want to warn you before I mark you as well love, I promise to be gentle just bear with me, alright?" you nod at his words preparing yourself before the second assault, and as Jade promised his bite is indeed more gentle then Floyd's yet it still hurts a lot.

"Heyy shrimpy how 'bout you jerk me off as Jade continues to mark you up?" You look over to Floyd as he already has his pants off and his dick out. So now you have one hand that is clenched on Jade's hair and the other is jerking Floyd's cock. You take time to take in the details of his privates, a lot more girthy then long, it gets more red as it gets to the head it would probably hurt to take into your mouth. Yet you don't think you will be against it. The closer Floyd is to orgasam the louder his noises are.

You feel Jade stop what he was doing and his head's direction turns to Floyd. "Don't you want to have your first orgasam of the session inside of her Floyd?" "ugh get off my back I can paint both her outside and insides white. It doesn't matter!" Even though it is clear Jade doesn't approve of his twin's way of thinking, he can do nothing as Floyd releases his come over your stomach and chest.

"Heyy Jade think lil' shrimpy could take the both of us in the same time?" Floyd looks over to Jade with a sadistic smile, "my not with her dry her flods are!" your privates are in fact not dry at all, how wet do you even have to be to properly take them?! "Oh don't worry love. I'll make sure you can take us both as soon as I finish eating you out." "whatt? I was hoping I could eat her out first!" "you can take her mouth if you'd like. I'm sure it's just as fun."

Right when they finished arguing they both got into position. They lay you down on the bed so your head would stick out for Floyd to have easy access to your mouth, and for Jade to have an easy access to your privates. Jade's own mouth is skilled enough to please you to orgasm after a short while of just some licks and tongue fucking, while Floyd abused your mouth and throat already getting close to his second orgasm.

That's what your few next hours looked like. Sucking on Floyd's cock as he throat fucks you and as his balls slap against your face. Having Jade in between your legs fingering you, sucking on your clit and of course, tongue fucking you. You came so many times by now you have lost count! Of course Floyd isn't any different.. Stuffing and messing your throat, mouth and face with his sticky cum.

"Don't you think she is ready to finally take us both?"

[come-see-our-show]

I saw an early screening of the Mean Girls movie last night, so here is a summary of my thoughts, comparing the movie musical to the Broadway musical, which I was lucky enough to see live in 2018!

Changed that I liked:

The usage of social media in the Broadway show made it very clear that it was written by adults who didn’t know much about Gen-Z. It was probably one of the worst parts of the show in my opinion. But Tina Fey must have done her research since 2018, because the way the movie uses TikTok, memes, vlogging, and FaceTime to push the story forward worked VERY well. I think there were some influencer cameos, but it didn’t feel they were included to show how “young and hip” they were, It actually added authenticity.

The diversity within the cast and changing last names to reflect the characters’ backgrounds (Karen Smith ➡️ Karen Shetty, Janis Sarkisian ➡️ Janis 'Imi'ike)

Cutting down “Meet the Plastics.” It’s a very exposition-heavy song and doesn’t need to be super long, even though the full version is quite catchy and fun.

All of the new jokes landed so well, probably because Tina Fey’s writing style is better suited for the screen as opposed to the stage.

This is more of a comparison of the musical vs. the original film, but a big change was The Plastics’ weaponized wokeness (which I talk about here).

The production design for most of the songs was very different. The stage musical has a lot of rock songs, which were changed to a pop sound for the movie. I personally prefer rock musicals, but it was a good way to give the movie a separate identity from its predecessor so it doesn’t risk becoming a carbon copy. It worked on some songs (“Someone Gets Hurt” and “World Burn”) but not on others (“A Cautionary Tale” and “Revenge Party”).

Cutting the joke about Regina’s ass being big. It was a very low-brow joke, which I’m not a fan of, and was just really immature. Thank God that was changed to her falling, which still shows her being embarrassed without her body being the joke.

Explicitly making Janis a lesbian! (It’s only implied in the stage show with “It’s not even true… I only have one butt”) And she goes to prom with a girl while Damien dances with a boy! ALSO THERE’S REJANIS LORE AND IT’S SO HEARTBREAKING I LOVE IT

megan thee stallion just… being there

Miss Norbury and Principal Duvall being a couple and owning a dog together!!!

As a low mezzo, I appreciated whoever decided to lower the key for “I’d Rather Be Me.” I felt very represented 🩷

Having Cady be raised in a single-parent household so it focuses in more on her relationship with her mom. Jenna Fischer was so motherly and sincere and brought a warmth to the movie. Their scene together near the end made me emotional (you’re never too old to ask your parent to stay with you until you fall asleep) (also this is my request to make jenna fischer my mom)

Changes that I didn’t like:

Cutting BOTH of Damian’s solos??? (SHE’S LEAVING!!!!!!!! JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Cutting “More Is Better.” It wasn’t necessarily a memorable song, but it did give both Cady and Aaron more depth, both as separate characters and within their relationship.

While cutting some of the songs helped with pacing, cutting HALF of the score made me forget that it was a musical sometimes, which sucks because I really like musicals!!!

Other stuff:

The movie was marketed horribly. One of my friends didn’t even know it was gonna be a musical because there were no songs in the trailers 💀 (Also, this isn’t just a Mean Girls problem. The Color Purple also didn’t have any songs in the trailer. I didn’t even know Wonka was a musical until I saw it in theaters, so that was a bit of a shock.) If you’re producing a musical movie, maybe your focus groups should be musical fans, because that’s still a HUGE market.

Auliʻi Cravalho’s voice is STUNNING! She and Jaquel Spivey had great chemistry and their friendship felt so genuine!

The opening and ending transitions from the garage were everything to me

The EDITING

Angourie Rice is a great actor and fit Cady perfectly… except for her singing. Out of the entire cast she was easily the weakest in terms of vocals and it was pretty disappointing since she’s the LEAD. I could barely hear her in the new song “What Ifs” because of how quiet and breathy she was. I think it’s a better written song compared to “Roar” though.

Jon Hamm cameo!

Ashley Park cameo!

I cannot stress enough how funny this movie was. I was probably laughing louder than everyone else in the theatre.

I lost my shit during “Meet the Plastics” when Regina unzipped her jacket and Cady was staring at her boobs. She’s just like me fr 🏳️‍🌈

I know that Regina is a horrible person but I couldn’t find it in me to dislike her in the slightest. She just served too much cunt 😩

Christopher Briney is a good actor, but I don't think he was the right choice for Aaron Samuels. I would hate to ridicule anyone for their looks, but it still plays an important part in casting. Aaron is supposed to be a somewhat naive, wholesome, hot jock (and Regina has high standards, so he better be a fucking model). Briney is definitely a cutie, but gives off “smoldering badboy with a secret sensitive side” energy, which isn’t what Aaron should be.

The fantasy sequences (Stupid With Love, Revenge Party, October 3rd). I LOVE when movie musicals USE the medium to tell stories in a way that they can’t on a stage!!!

THE CHOREO!!! Everyone freezing then shaking in “Someone Get Hurt” AHHHH that entire number was HYPNOTIZING!!!!!!!!!!! My friend told me the choreographer’s name is Kyle Hanagami, so shout out to him. (also reneé rapp was so fucking hot while singing that oh my lord)

I will be calling my pimples “face breasts” from now on (avantika ilysm)

DAMIAN’S FRENCH COVER OF THE ICARLY THEME SONG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

why was there a 0.5 camera shot of cady during revenge party 💀

“I’d Rather Be Me” was so much fun and I felt so fucking empowered. And the transition from the song to the bus was just *chef’s kiss*

“donut worry i am still your freend” 🥺

Lindsay Lohan cameo!!!!!!!!!

NOT ENOUGH RENEÉ RAPP 😭😭

Overall, the movie was not perfect, but the Broadway show already had plenty of flaws, so it’s understandably how that would affect the adaptation. I still a LOT of fun and would definitely see it again. Go stream Snow Angel by Reneé Rapp. i love women 🥰🥰🥰

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[ravens-two]

PAC: Your Next Romantic Relationship

This reading includes:

the person you'll be dating next

The extended reading includes:

when and how you'll meet this person

what the relationship will be like

any 18+ messages

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone. Also, this content is 18+ only!

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Who are you dating next

Eight of Cups, Moon, Tarragon - Regeneration

The first thing I'm getting for this person is that they could be a scientist or work in research, maybe even as a teacher. They seem like really deep thinkers and people who are very well-read or that tend to read a lot. Besides spending a lot of time and energy on their work - that seems to be their passion - they also look like they really enjoy traveling. Some of them may have to travel for work (and now I'm seeing that some are archeologists or something like that), but most seem to travel for pleasure. No matter what your next person is someone who has travelled a lot and has seen a lot of the world - and even if they haven't travelled "that much" it could be that you haven't travelled much at all so that's why it seems so much.

Your person is also a very deep thinker. I'm getting something very specific about them which is that they like to get to the depth of any subject. Let's say that you're talking about your favourite dishes, your person wants to get to the bottom of the subject, they want to analyze why you love those dishes, the memories you have of them, how hard or easy they are to cook, then they may get into the culinary arts in general or the history of food or something like that. Do you know what I mean? Once you start talking about something with them it's like they unravel the subject as if it were a ball of yarn.

Your person seems to be an introvert. They don't really like crowds and tend not to go out or party too much, they prefer to keep to their friend group or to small groups in general. I feel that this is also related to how much and how deeply they like to talk, it's better suited for smaller groups. For some of you it might also surprise you that this person is more spiritual than you thought. They might not practice anything in particular (including religion), but they very much believe in something bigger than them and are very open to the spiritual side of things. This is also someone who has been through a lot and has had to reinvent themselves multiple times. I feel like your person is very wise and has a lot of life experience specifically because of this - they've just been through so much shit that would have broken down any other person.

When it comes to their appearance I'm seeing pale skin - and depending on skin tone you can even see their veins - and dark hair. Mostly black and brown hair, but I'm also seeing red (dyed I think).  In general, they seem to be taller and leaner. Even for the men they don't like they are very muscled. I'm also seeing that some of them have dark circles under their eyes. So what I just heard was that they "look a bit like a fucked up Tim Burton character come to life" lol. I do think that they are good-looking but in that Timothée Chalamet type of way. Also, I think that your person has huge eyes!

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Pile 2

Who are you dating next

Three of Wands, Strength, Marigold - Positivity

The first thing I'm seeing for this pile is tanned skin and defined muscles. Your person looks like they spend the whole day under the sun. I'm literally seeing them wet as if they had just come out of water. An interesting detail I just got is that they have body hair, especially for the men they seem to have hair on their chest and tights. I feel like for most of you this person has really dark eyes, the lightest color I can see here is a darker shade of hazel eyes. No matter what they have warm and very expressive eyes. It's the type of eyes that you feel safe just looking at them, honestly.

Speaking of warmth and safety I think that your person just radiates those vibes, especially if they're a man. They seem/are someone who's reliable and handy, basically someone who you can call at any time of day or night and you know that they'll find some way to help you. They also seem the type of person who really cares about the safety of your friends, not just yours. This is very specific to some of you, it doesn't really apply to everyone, but your person also has a bit of a himbo energy. Like they have a really good heart, very good looking and strong looking too, but not much going on in their pretty head. But, again, this is just for some of you! For most of you this is someone who is pretty smart and very aware of the current political/social climate.

One of the main things I'm seeing is that your person is very hopeful and definitely an optimist. They try to cheer you up whenever they feel like you're feeling down or when you need just an extra push of motivation. The thing that keeps coming up though is that isn't just for you it's for your friends, their friends, the people around you two. It makes me think of those guys who only want to buy a drink to the girl they're interested in instead of the whole group and it's the polar opposite of that. If you're hanging out with your person and your friends, your person will make sure to treat your friends well and make them feel welcomed.

For some reason I feel like your person might be a firefighter or EMT, I'm not sure why, but it seems like more of a physical/manual type of work. This person doesn't look like they're sitting behind a desk the whole day. They might work the night shift too. No matter what they do, their work is a source of satisfaction for them and their "way to contribute to society" so it's important that their work aligns with their values. This person has a bleeding heart and they're always trying to help whenever they can. They might do volunteer work or community work of some kind, but this is someone who really cares about their community and the world around them. A bit random, but your person might cry very easily, just like watching a commercial or something like that. It seems that they are very emotional. A bit like pile 1 in that sense, but I also feel that your person has been through a lot and that's exactly what made them kinder and made them worry more about the people around them. Very, very specific but I think that hunger and poverty is something that really "hurts" them if that makes sense. It would be the thing that they would just erase if they could.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 3

Who are you dating next

Sun, World, Sweet corn - Ritual

Okay, the first thing I'm seeing is that your person loves eating and cooking and feeding people to be honest. They see meals almost as a sacred ritual that helps to create stronger bonds with other people. I feel like they're really good cooks, especially because they have a good palate. Your person also seems like the type of person that is really close to their family, like calling/texting them every day, sharing a meal together every weekend, that kind of stuff.

This person might have OCD or something like that, but their daily rituals seem very important to them. They are someone who loves routine and feel a bit anxious when things don't go as they had planned. Honestly, that seems to be the biggest issue for them they get really disappointed/annoyed when they plan something and it doesn't happen, even in simple things. Let's say that you two plan to go watch a movie and eat popcorn, but when you get there there ins't popcorn. Well your person is devastated. It's only for a couple of moments, but yeah it really hits them strong.

With the Sun and the World though, this is a very successful and hard-working person, but also someone who is very happy go lucky. Like they genuinely believe that life is beautiful and a miracle and they will romanticize even the smallest things. They seem like the type of person who will just tell you "it's going to be fine" even in the face of something absolutely tragic and that couldn't possibly "be fine" (somehow they may end up being right though).

They seem to have a very child-like and radiant personality too if that makes sense. In a way it's because they really attract other people's attention just for being themselves, but also because they just seem so genuinely happy and joyful. When they laugh it makes other people want to laugh as well. You may get an instinct to protect them at times, because it seems that they are too innocent for this harsh world. They're definitely dreamers and they think that even the smallest action can change the world. They have strong beliefs about what they think is wrong with the world and what should be changed.

When it comes to appearance I'm seeing blonde or light brown hair, maybe even some ginger here too or maybe a brass tone. In general, I'm seeing really long hair, especially for the women, and mostly wavy or curly. Although I think that the shorter your person's hair is the curlier it is. For their eyes I also lighter eyes here, even the brown eyes are more of a honey shade. The most striking thing though is that your person - no matter what they look like - is very beautiful. They get other people's attention precisely because of how physically striking they are. I feel like they tend to be very symmetrical and their bodies are very good looking too. It seems that they tend to be taller and curvier, both men and women.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 4

Who are you dating next

Two of Wands, Ten of Wands, Peppermint - Success

While doing the reading for this pile "Ocean Eyes" suddenly came up so I really feel like your person is probably going to have blue or green eyes, maybe even hazel too. I also feel like their eyes have this very emotional quality to them, it's like you could get lost them in them because they're so expressive. Honestly, I get a very big Ian Somerhalder vibe here like with the dark hair and very light eyes and that contrast. I think that in general your person is a person of contrasts, of light and dark and even contradictions.

Do you know that Walt Whitman's poem "Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself / (I am large I contain multitudes)"? I think that they really embody these lines. I'm also getting Fernando Pessoa's "I am nothing. / I shall never be anything. / I cannot even wish to be anything. / Apart from this, I have within me all the dreams in the world." Your person is very, very poetic pile 4. Maybe they're into literature (especially the classics) or they really love reading/writing poetry. This person is very deep, but again, filled with contradictions. They are hard to understand because they seem to be many things all at once. It's a very Gemini energy to be honest.

Apart from this your person is also very successful. They may come from money or they worked really hard until they got to where they are. No matter what though they dedicate a lot of their time to their work, to the point that they can't even rest properly because they can't take their mind off work. Some of them might also have some personal project or a business that they feel very passionate about and are just waiting for the right time to "launch" it. They're someone who makes a lot of plans, but not like in pile 3, more in the sense of making a plan to break down the steps that they need to take. This is for organization not control, if that makes sense. They also seem to really enjoy traveling, but either don't have much time for it or they end up getting tired in the middle of their trip. They feel like the type of person who has wanderlust, but also gets homesick easily. 

They are introverts for sure, and although this doesn't mean that they're antisocial it really does feel like they spend more time at home or by themselves. To me this feels more like they never really get the company that they crave. They really need mental stimulation, and the people around them can't really offer them that. Something that's coming up is that they might struggle with the little demon and angel on their shoulders sometimes. I feel like the little devil sometimes really wants them to cause some mischief or chaos and they try to control this. Honestly, what I'm getting from this is that they may annoy you on purpose, for their own amusement. I don't think that this is toxic, it's more meaningless stuff that will make you laugh rather than really annoy you.

What I can tell you pile 4 is that your person is very, very unique. I think you'll know it's them as soon as you meet them because you'll think that you've never met someone like this.

check out the extended reading on patreon

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Robert Eggers Count Orlok Backstory: An Overview

Robert Eggers doesn’t want us to know his Orlok’s backstory but I’m a Art History and Heritage researcher and I said challenge accepted. Who was Count Orlok before raising from the grave as a strigoi? And what clues do we have about 16th century Ellen?

[How much research into the period did you do when you were writing the script?] Massive amounts of research. There’s no way for me to fully invest in the world and be able to communicate it to an audience without understanding it to the fullest of my ability. So I did tons of research on my own, and that was put into the script, the dialogue and the style of the language. […] I like building worlds; I enjoy the act of doing it, and I like learning about other eras. I get enough of today today.”

Exclusive Interview: Robert Eggers Re-Visualizes A Classic Vampire in “Nosferatu”

Castle Orlok: all exterior scenes were filmed at Corvin Castle (Hunyadi Castle or Hunedoara Castle) in Romania. This architectural wonder was build Gothic-Renaissance aesthetic, and is one of the largest castles in Europe. The courtyard scenes were filmed inside the castle walls of Pernštejn Castle in the Czech Republic.

“And the overall look was to establish Orlok as a once-real person with a life, with money, with wealth, with entitlement, with attitude.”; “But with Orlok, Robert was always very, very clear that he is a Transylvanian Count from around 1580 […] at the time that Orlok would have been a young, vital, you know, “I’m a sexy, handsome, gorgeous, rich beyond belief man.” Linda Muir, costume designer; “How Robert Eggers Added Rockstar Mystique to “Nosferatu”; “Nosferatu - Interview with Costume Designer Linda Muir

Casting [Bill] Skarsgård as the hideously ancient, mustached, layered-with-prosthetics Count Orlok was about keeping the demon sexy. “It was important to have a young, beautiful person underneath that,” said Eggers, “maybe that’s a good thing for Lily-Rose [Depp] but there is something seductive in this powerful figure. Bill’s a good actor. But Orlok, before he was dead, was probably a handsome guy, a harsh face, but a beautiful face, too.”; “To have the attraction to this figure… I think he was probably a beautiful man at some point, but now he’s covered in maggots,” the director said. “That’s interesting to me.” ‘Nosferatu’: How to Make a Robert Eggers Movie, with Help from Mel Brooks and Chris Columbus; Nosferatu director needed Bill Skarsgård’s vampire to look like a creepy corpse

In my in-depth analysis of this topic on my blog, I mention this; I’m perfectly aware Robert Eggers said his Orlok was 55-years old at the time of his death, but, I’m taking that information with a grain of salt, actually. That was definitely his first idea back in 2016, but casting an actor in his 30s and the costume design tells me he changed his mind. He’s also being very secretive about his Orlok backstory, and he's very invested in historical accuracy. A 55-year old man in the 16th century wasn’t “young” in any way, shape or form. He would be an elderly man, living past European life expectancy rates (30-40s). Him having white hair in his current state isn’t an indication of his age, either, because decomposition removes pigment from hair.

This is most likely how Count Orlok would have looked like at the time of his death, when the dawn begins to remove the decay from him (symbolizing the curse of Nosferatu is being lifted).

With the analysis of Count Orlok’s iconography (sigil; coat of arms; appearance), historical context and set design (world building), the conclusion is that Robert Eggers really took “Renaissance man” to the next level with this character. Orlok being a “16th century warlord occultist” is a very simplistic way to put it. He was a sorcerer-warrior, a Solomonar enchanter, an alchemist, a occult scholar, and a count with feudal and military responsibilities.

Robert Eggers has revealed his Orlok is an old soul, predating the Roman Empire, he’s of Dacian origin (ancient people of nowadays Romania and parts of nearby countries); has known reincarnation throughout the centuries (at least two we know of: ancient times and 16th century);

He’s of Székely ethnicity (Hungarian), and his castle/county is located in the Eastern Carpathian Mountains. The independence of the Székelys lords was granted in exchange for military service to the Hungarian kings;

Somewhere in his life he studied at the Solomonărie school (germanization Scholomance), an underground school in the Carpathian Mountains, to become a Solomonar. Eggers is using a academic thesis which links the folkloric Solomonari with Zalmoxis cult. In this story, Orlok learned from a reincarnation of Zalmoxis the secrets of life and death, and immortality, alongside magic, mysteries of nature, the language of all living things, control the weather and “ride dragons” (Solomonari weathermaker or Dacian cloud traveler). As his final assignment to become a Solomonar he had to copy his entire knowledge into a “Solomonar book”, which would become the source of his power (the Solomonari codex of secrets we see in the film);

Why he became a Solomonar is one of two options; either he was attracted to them because of his Dacian origin (Zalmoxis was the main deity of the Dacians) or he was chosen (in some legends, a old Solomonar chooses boys to become Solomonari and be trained at the school);

His occult interests involved Solomonar-Zalmoxis cult, Sex Magick and Enochian magic (angels and daemons);

He lived during the Ottoman rule of the Balkans, and since Transylvanian nobility has led some rebellions against the Ottomans he probably was involved in some of these wars;

His historical Slavic hairstyle, might indicate some sort of affiliation between Orlok and the Ukrainian Cossacks. He might have made contact with them during war time, since they were involved in many conflicts against the Turkish and Tatar invaders in Moldavian territory (Eastern Carpathians), during the 16th and 17th centuries;

He was involved, in some way, in the religious turmoil of Protestants vs. Catholics in Transylvania in the late 16th century. Probably used a Protestant facade to practice his true “religion” (Paganism);

He was “demonized” as a “Devil worshipper” (unclear if during his lifetime or after his death);

Did he got caught up in the witchcraft accusations and executions paranoia in Transylvania in the 1580s? The rats symbolism might indicate he did;

Died somewhere in the 1580s or 1590s. Most likely cause of death was by suffocation; hanging, drowning or strangling.

In the script, we have two of Count Orlok’s contemporaries mentioned: Henry Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim (one of the most famous occultists in Europe in the 16th century) and Dr. John Dee (Enochian magic; the incantation Professor Von Franz performs to compel Ellen to speak, as he conjures both angels and demons). Both who got into legal trouble because of their occult pursuits. As did many figures across the 16th century; which saw the birth, imprisonment and execution of scientists, scholars and occultists who defied the supremacy of the Church.

The Countess: Orlok and His Wife

He was married and had a family; both present in the set design: multiple sarcophagi in the castle crypt and the bedroom he attacks Thomas (which he selected for him in advance).

What happened to Orlok’s family? His entire castle seems to be “frozen” in time. The furniture present all belongs to the Medieval period and early Modern era, which seems to indicate no “modern” occupation. While many noblemen kept family heirlooms, rich nobility families did “updated” their castle furnishings to symbolize wealth and social status. This castle is the center of a county, which is not only fully deserted by the 19th century (when Thomas gets there), but appears to have been for a very long, long time. Thomas did not hallucinate the furniture, which tells us the castle was left as it was since the late 16th century. Orlok’s family either died around the same time or pack up and left.

At the prologue (based on the novella Robert Eggers wrote about his characters backstories), we have sexual pleasure (masturbation), and Ellen and Orlok associated with a garden of lilacs. It was confirmed by Linda Muir, the costume designer, that lilacs remind Orlok of his human life, and also connect both these characters (visual storytelling). This establishes Orlok as symbolic of nature in Ellen’s character arc (while Thomas represents society). But we have Orlok’s top secret backstory inspiring the prologue; and they also symbolically return to their garden of lilacs at the end; which indicates Orlok and 16th century Ellen had a connection with a garden of lilacs somewhere, with implications of sexual encounters involved. Since 19th century Ellen swears herself to Orlok in this garden, maybe he proposed to her (marriage) in a similar setting in the 16th century, too?

Most 16th century nobility marriages were arranged, and made with the purpose of political alliances. A minority of noblemen did marry out of love, but this was extremely rare and not the common practice. Marriage was considered to be about companionship, but many arranged noble marriages eventually turned out to be successful and evolved into love. Either way, this last option was Orlok’s and 16th century Ellen’s case. Orlok will hold on to her heart-silver locket and treasure the lilac scent on it (Olfactory memory), in association to romantic and sexual memories (as he bitterly says to Thomas he’s fortunate in his love; and he asks Ellen to remember how they once were after she accused him of not being able to love).

Then we have Ellen mixing up her 16th century incarnation with her current 19th century one. She’s absolutely certain Orlok took her as his lover “then” (even though he was no more than a shadow at her window during her teenage years), including some sort of sex dreams (which Orlok, being a strigoi, could never compell her to have, he can only create nightmares, terror and fear in his victims). We also don’t know for how long have these dreams have been “plaguing” Ellen because the first time she actually saw Orlok (his physical appearance) was the night before this scene, at the Harding household.

Ellen labeling her and Orlok as “lovers” can indicate these two were romantically and sexually involved before any talk of marriage, in the 16th century. While this was highly scandalous and frowned upon throughout History, it wasn’t so rare as one might think. Many brides were already pregnant by the time of their weddings.

Then we have the "possession scene", where Orlok possesses Thomas when Ellen is starting to "remember", which gives us more clues to what sort of couple they were: "You could never please me as he could."

Then we also have the “public” and “getting caught” theme going on between these two. Ellen’s father caught her masturbating, and she has a “hysterical fit” in public after seeing Friedrich and Anna Harding (the mirror pair to Ellen and Orlok) displaying sexual desire in public (“Friedrich, in public?” / “I cannot resist you, my love”). During this scene Ellen has her hand on her hat mimicking Friedrich’s, and the pattern on Anna’s dress is also the same as Orlok’s mente cloak coat; to really drive home this connection.

Now, this will be wild speculation from my part, but since Robert Eggers did tons of historical research, I might have discovered his inspiration for these “public” or outdoors rendezvous, and it’s a 1545 court case in Transylvania; between a father who claimed a man sexually assaulted his daughter (pregnant out of wedlock); while the man claimed they were lovers for five years at that point; with several witnesses to this fact. From the woman’s part, after the graphic details of her sexual encounters with this man in a grain field (which also involved masturbation) were described to the jury, her only remark was that she did nothing wrong. From a historical perspective, these things are not easy to analyze and that’s the conclusion the author of the paper comes to, and I won’t waste time here explaining the complexities of this. If was truly a sexual assault case or if they were lovers and the father opposed to the union.

If Orlok and 16th century Ellen were going at it in a garden of lilacs, and someone saw them (like a servant, for instance), no one would say anything about it, even if they weren’t married. Which was apparently the case between the two “lovers” in the trial, until she became pregnant and the father took the case to court. It was unlikely a wealthy count would be taken to court for this kind of thing, especially if it happen during courtship/betrothal period. Either way, Orlok and 16th century Ellen got married, and within marriage every passion was allowed during this time period.

Some historical sex facts about the Renaissance (since this story is so rooted in sex and death):

While 19th century doctors believed women had no sexual desire whatsoever, in the 16th century women were seen as more sexual than men. This was also motivated by patriarchal views, of course, with women being seen as sexual wantons who exhausted their husbands with sexual activity (especially by the church);

While the 19th century declared war on “female sexual pleasure” and “passion” in general (viewing it as the opposite to “love”); in the early Modern era, midwives believed both male and female orgasms were necessary to produce a child;

The Protestant Reformation (16th century) brought some changes in how sex was perceived within marriage. While Catholics saw sex as a sin and a necessary evil to have children, Protestants saw marriage as salvation from sexual sin. The Reformation encouraged ideas of marital love, mutual pleasure and desire, and sex as an enhancement of marriage. Although moderation was still advised, and premarital sex was condemned, sex became a key element of the emerging “romantic love” concept, where marriage was based on romance rather than on family interests. This sex-positive attitude started to change during the 17th century;

Wild historical fact: anal sex was common between heterosexual married couples as a way to prevent unwanted pregnancies, and the Church even had to intervene to put a stop to this practice (especially in Catholic countries). Folk medicine (herbs, etc.) was also used to prevent pregnancies.

This cabinet saw things no cabinet should ever see, I bet.

“Memento mori” detail; who skull is this? This also gives me “Hamlet” vibes (Eggers’ father is a Shakespeare scholar and his “Northman” was loosely based on this play). Interestingly enough, we also got a father opposing Hamlet and Ophelia’s courtship.

From her part, 16th century Ellen could still be of "German" ancestry, since the Saxons were one of the main ethnic groups in Transylvania at the time. Which would mean she came from a Lutheran family; establishing another parallel with Anna Harding, who, according to Emma Corrin, comes from a conservative Lutheran background: “Yeah, mine [character novella] was detailed in a way that you weren’t ever going to use that information explicitly in the film. But they were just these sorts of amazing facts. I remember mine saying that she was Lutheran from a conservative household. And there was a whole bit about how Anna meets Friedrich at a ball, and how their eyes meet across the room to this particular piece of music. And Robert put a link to the song in there, and I listened to it a few times and that suggested quite a bit about, I guess, my characters sensibilities. But it was very detailed, and I think that was a nice little flourish.”

Female presence in Count Orlok’s castle:

Photo source: “Putting “authenticity into a legendary vampiric folktale” (SDSA - Set Decorators)

Four-poster canopy bed: this type of furniture was a favorite among European aristocracy in the 16th century, a symbol of wealth and status. Only the highest ranking members of a castle (the lord and the lady) had the luxury to retire to a bed behind curtains, while the staff (servants, knights, etc.) usually slept in common areas. Canopies were used to provide the lord and the lady with warmth during cold months and privacy, and because it was customary for one or two servants to sleep in the room with them. Drapes were rich, heavy and made from luxurious materials, like velvet or brocade. The canopy was often more elaborate and expensive that the wood bed itself. Bed were more than “places to sleep” during medieval and early modern age; marriages were consummated, children were born, postpartum mothers recovered and people die in bed.

Then we have this hand mirror ("looking glass"). Historically, mirrors have always been associated with women. From the 12th century forward, it was fashionable for respectful ladies to use small mirrors as jewelry, around their neck or waist. Which makes a connection to Ellen's heart-shaped silver locket from the 19th century.

During the early Modern era, mirrors were small in size (enough to reflect the owner's face), typically handheld, and portable and convenient for personal use. These mirrors were often encased in ornate and intricate carved frames (made of wood, metal, precious stone, etc.); these frames were meant to reflect the wealth and social status of the owner of the mirror.

Mirrors were essential grooming tools, to help with personal care before social interactions. Symbolically, mirrors were also connected with spiritual proprieties like divination and the supernatural, and were often used in religious ceremonies and rituals, as portals to communicate with the spiritual realm

Renaissance mirrors

This particular mirror is meant to be used in this setting (chambers), obviously. With this lighting is hard to make out the figures in the gold frame: it was two dragons on the top alongside what seems to be human-like figures, and some decorative flora around the frame.

That's seven years bad luck, mate.

19th century Ellen is associated with mirrors, as we see her standing in front of a mirror, twice:

What kind of couple?

The Protestant Reformation also changed as women were seen, socially: Luther primarily saw women as potential marriage mates and sexual partners, but Calvin defended that women could be indispensable companions and helpmates to the husband. Since 19th century Ellen doesn’t want to be trapped in the domestic sphere, and has a connection to nature, everything seems to suggest her 16th century incarnation shared the same views. Especially when we have “Wuthering Heights” by Emily Brontë as the main inspiration in this story, as Ellen’s 19th century childhood being so similar to Cathy’s.

Make no mistake, women in the Modern era still didn’t had the same rights as we do today, and their lives were controlled by patriarchal authorities (fathers and husbands) as they did in the 19th century. We do have several examples of women who were able to pursue their aspirations due to the support of their fathers and husbands (which they otherwise couldn’t). For his part, Orlok declares love/Thomas/Victorian society is inferior to Ellen because she’s an enchantress, and a medium (“not of human kind”). Him being a enchanter himself, indicates they most likely shared their occult pursuits.

Now I want to bring back the Dr. John Dee inspiration. He had a “work” partner for his spiritual endeavors, a medium called Edward Kelly. Together, they performed several conjuring sessions of angels, spirits and even demons, and developed the Enochian magic system and language (“language of angels”). They were both accused of being necromancers; dabbling in black magic to resurrect the dead.

Which is what we see Ellen doing at the prologue of the film. She also displays tremendous spiritual power, being able to conjure Orlok using words and sexual energy (her “hysteric fits”), while Herr Knock has to assemble an entire ritual room. Professor Von Franz also tells Ellen she could have been a great Pagan priestess, which indicates she probably was. If we go with the Enochian theme here; Orlok could have been a sort of Dr. John Dee, while 16th century Ellen was his Edward Kelly, the medium with the gift to actually communicate with the spiritual realm.

Since Orlok had military duties to fulfill, it was probably his wife who managed the county in his absence; which wasn’t uncommon during this time period. In Transylvania, women sometimes took possession of the family estate in the eventuality of their fathers and husbands’ deaths, too.

What’s the “dark trauma” between Orlok and 16th century Ellen?

I’ve analyzed that topic in other posts:

[illuminiscentboba]

akaashi 2, emotionally unavailable reader 1

romance was something you are so over by this point.

you couldn't help but be being overly critical of every mans actions, over analyzing the interaction to try to find an error in his ways or should you say a red flag enough to ward him away to convince your friends to stop encouraging you to let things progress and give him a chance and to convince yourself that he's no good for you. has anyone ever been good for you?

but him...akaashi keiji was as good as it gets in fact much better everytime you learn something about him. he's tidy, and he smells good the aroma of fresh laundry and coffee almost embedded in his skin, observant, actually remembering things you mention to him in passing and wishing you good luck for exams you mentioned to him a week or two ago, he makes sure to greet you whenever you guys see each other, constantly lightening your load when you head places together.

It's nice to be taken care of and you can't completely conceal your smile and appreciation when you notice him doing these things for you. and while you want to give him a chance to get to know you more, you thought the same about someone a few crushes ago and it was as if you flipped a switch in that man by saying you wanted to know someone in depth before doing the deed. He claimed to know you well enough, mentioning shallow surface level information, asking if there was someone else that occupied your mind. you shuddered to think about the deep and charming voice of akaashi sounding cold and his words turning short and bitter.

In fact there he was a few rows ahead of you, seated with his friends, listening halfheartedly to the banter of his friends. It was no secret to akaashi that you closed yourself off from romance. whenever it would come up you would grow quiet, a conflicted expression on your face. What had happened to you for you to disengage from the scene altogether? He wanted to ask...he wanted to know and if he were to be so bold, pursue you and replace those bad memories with good ones if you were open to it?

He paused glancing around the room, didn't he share this class with you? before you could turn away, his ocean coloured eyes found yours and he gave you a smile and it was as if he passed on his warmth to you because you found yourself smiling back, doing a small shy wave of your own.

class proceeded to go on, until finally, you guys got a break. with how depleted your focus was you had to step out your friends accompanying you on your little walk. similarly, he stepped out during the break heading to the washroom lost in his head trying to coordinate seeing his friend at a different university despite his busy schedule when he heard his name.

"I like him but what if it's too good to be true? someone like that in OUR generation? and they like me?! what if we're all wrong or he's secretly evil then what?"

he held back a chuckle at your last remark. the way you flipped between reason and nonsense was adorable to him, and he honestly didn't blame you. hearing the way some of his peers talked about their partner or the women of their lives made him sick to his stomach.

but wait...you like him back? he could no longer focus on the not so private discussion he heard echoing off the walls of the girls bathroom as he stood outside the boys washroom.

he thought you wanted nothing to do with romance? but then again he was also acting too careful and scared to get hurt as well. he constantly found himself holding back his thoughts and being careful with actions to not scare you away. scared of his feelings and losing you. he already did research on emotional unavailability and is aware that people with it may avoid intimacy and get defensive and he loathed the idea of your adorable smile and laughter being replaced by silence or you avoiding him.

but you like him. he hummed, a big tightlipped smile that was a little too giddy to be written off as regular akaashi behavior, completely forgetting what he went left the classroom for. he headed back, already looking forward to seeing you again and being bold. you gave him just the right amount of courage to stop overthinking, and to make his feelings more known. oh right, and to prove he wasn't the sinister man you seemed to secretly suspect him to be.