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hauntingrabbits · 2 months ago

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Happy Batman day! Went back and finished the last batch of the MLP AU I had sketched way back in May.

Part 1, Part 2

More info under the cut!

Enigma/The Riddler (Edward Nygma)

Intelligence and puzzle-solving are deeply valued among sphinxes, and those who fall short of their standards are often ridiculed and cast out. Among some (prejudiced) Sphinxes, other sapient, non-Sphinx species such as ponies are looked down-upon or seen as fundamentally inferior for not putting as much stock in puzzles and the like as sphinxes do.

Enigma, though considered a prodigy for his remarkable intelligence and skill with puzzles even among his fellow Sphinxes, was ostracized when a pony unfamiliar with Sphinx culture (a younger Sundown traveling Equestria for his training), humiliated Enigma by unraveling a puzzle of his that was meant to be judged as his final submission in a prestigious event, permanently staining his reputation and wounding his massive ego.

After years of quiet ridicule from his peers and his own growing obsession over the event, Enigma eventually snapped and fled to Gotham for revenge. His contempt has since spread far beyond that of the original pony he wished to prove his superiority over, and he now makes all of Gotham the target of his obsessive schemes, constantly trying to prove his superiority and feed his ego by putting ponies through his elaborate puzzles and riddle-based traps. He sees Batpony’s skill and determination in foiling him as both an inherent challenge to and a slight against his own abilities, reminding him far too much of that original pony from so long ago.

Other notes:

-Apparently sphinxes in MLP have pony heads instead of human heads which makes sense I guess but it threw me through such a loop man.

-Whilst traversing the wiki I ended up with the same problem I had with chimeras in the first post where only one ever shows up in the series and there's no other info on them. So I made stuff up again.

- I imagine Sphinxes live a very long time, so the event Enigma was embarrassed at would probably take a long time to roll around again and he'd be forced to stew with his anger and wounded ego for far too long. I'm not sure what the puzzle was exactly or how Sundown dismantled it, but I imagine he did something extremely simple that a Sphinx would never have thought of (a la that software engineering joke), making it feel far more unfair and humiliating than if he'd solved in the intended way.

-His naturally crooked tail settles into the shape of a question mark, and the pattern on his arm is meant to look like a stylized question mark wrapping around his forearm (the "dot" is the white of his paw).

2. Miss Friday (Miss Tuesday)

Enigma’s teenaged assistant, Miss Friday seems to be the only pony the sphinx enjoys (or perhaps simply tolerates) the company of. Beyond her having met Enigma in Tartarus during their simultaneous imprisonments, the exact origins of her relationship to and exceptional status with her boss are a bit of a riddle in of themselves. Regardless, the two seem to have something of a mutual understanding, and Miss Friday’s mental prowess and dubious moral code are more than a match for Enigma’s own.

Other Notes:

-Yes this is a "The horse's name was Friday" joke. I'm sorry it was just too good to pass up.

-Miss Tuesday already sounded like a MLP name, but the horse named Friday thing was just too perfect for somebody who works under a guy who's whole thing is riddles. Also I relistened to the BTAA episode where she's introduced while coloring her and I noticed they reference His Girl Friday several times, so fun coincidence?

-The candy-striped leg patterns are based on her canon costume's striped pants & are meant to mirror the Riddler's wrapped leg pattern. The dark patterns on her face are supposed to be reminiscent of eye bags.

3. Mania (Bat-Mite)

Bat-Pony’s self-proclaimed biggest fan, Mania is a Draconequus embodying the spirit of obsession. Normally he watches the hero from his own dimension, but at times he tries to insert himself into the narrative or help Sundown fight, both to varying degrees of success. Though he genuinely adores Bat-Pony, Mania is usually more of a hindrance than a help, and can even be directly antagonistic at times when his obsession goes too far.

Other notes:

-Similar issue to Chimeras and Sphinxes, only two Draconequuses (Draconequui?) show up in the series, one being Discord (embodying chaos), the other being a comics-only villain known as Cosmos (embodying malice), but honestly what little we're given worked super well for the character anyway. Discord seems to come from his own unique plane of existence/dimension and Cosmos has similarly strange origins; both have penchants for causing mischief with incredible reality-warping powers; and both embody non-physical concepts. Bat-Mite being a reality warping 5th dimensional creature obsessed with Batman was surprisingly easy to adapt.

-He has the head of a pony, a ferret-like body, two front rat paws, mite antennae, an insectoid wing, a bat wing, a pigeon foot, a chevrotain (mouse deer) foot, and a monkey tail. I tried to have him mostly made up of animals that were very small, seen as mischievous, and/or seen as pests.

4. Poison Ivy (Pamela Isley)

Said to be more plant than pony, Poison Ivy is the self-proclaimed princess of the Green. Though once a regular Earth pony, she began to spiral after receiving her cutie mark and fully coming into her powerful natural attunement to plant life. Fleeing into the nearby forests on the outskirts of Gotham, she wasn��t seen again until many years later when Gotham’s city refurbishment and expansion efforts began to encroach on the forests borders, where she reemerged with strange new powerful magic and retaliated violently.

Though she isn’t recognized politically or physically as an alicorn, plants grow from the flesh of her body in the pattern of a horn and wings characteristic of those born into or bestowed with royalty, and the strange natural magic that accompanies them seems to almost rival that of a true alicorn’s.

Other notes:

-I dont really have anything to add to this one I just thought a false alicorn would be a cool concept.

-the whole alicorn royalty thing is very strange to think about isnt it? I feel like the ruling class having such insane amounts of physical and magical power probably has much more pressing ramifications than ever was, would, or should be addressed in a kids show but they are fun to think about.

-Her actual name is Poison Ivy, yes. It sounded like a pony name. I don't know what that says about her parents.

-The leaf wings are folded down in the graphic but I think they are flighted, or at the very least useful for gliding and expressing emotions.

5. Saltbrine (Oswald Cobblepot)

Short, stout, and flightless, Saltbrine’s moniker of “The Penguin” has its origins in the taunts of his peers from his youth. Though the title has persisted into the current day, it’s often spoken with far more fear and trepidation throughout the alleys and backstreets of Gotham than ridicule. Saltbrine owns two of Gothams most well-known businesses, one being the luxurious, high-class Iceberg Lounge…and the other being the organized crime syndicate the former acts as a front for.

Other notes:

-Again don't have much to add to this one. One of my favorite designs though, I love the giant beak face.

-The bird half is actually based on a puffin, because a penguin felt too on the nose for Oswald and too strange for a hippogriff (I couldn't get the wings or face to look right at all either). I feel like the title being an insult works a little better if he's not literally half-penguin.

-he's the same color my club penguin avatar used to be (RIP)

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m0llygunn · 1 year ago

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It Gets Worse (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

Part 2 to Same Old Song and Dance

Summary: As the rhythm of your never ending dance with Eddie speeds up, things change, but is it really for the worse?

Tropes: bully!eddie (kind of), mean!eddie (not rlly tho), enemies to lovers Warnings: 18+, mature language, pet names (princess), oral (male receiving), smut. Authors Notes: thank you to everyone who reblogged/interacted with the first part!! it was the second thing I ever posted on here so it was very cool for me. I hope you like part 2. Part 3 soon! wc: 6.2k

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“It was a poor lapse in judgment. That’s all. If he’s suddenly nicer to me, good. If he stays his same undignified self, fine.” You say, scribbling down the notes you missed.

You were ‘sick’ yesterday. After what happened with Eddie, you had to be.

“I think you’re missing one more option there.” Nancy says, eyebrows turned up in concern.

“I’m not.” You shrug.

“You are.” She persists.

“Fine, Nance. What am I missing?” You say, putting your pencil down and giving her your full attention.

“He gets worse.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie left your house pretty quickly after it all went down. Probably desperate to get home and ‘rub one out’ as he so eloquently put it.

You were fine after he left, still riding the post orgasm high.

It was only after you sat down, taking out your school work, that the worksheet from Mrs. Ward's class knocked you back down to earth.

You let Eddie Munson, the boy who has terrorized you since elementary school, finger you. And the worst part, it was good. Great, even.

So naturally, you were sick the next day. You enjoyed yourself an Eddie Munson free day from the safety of your bed.

Around 7 that night, Nancy called you telling you that Eddie was asking where you were at school. And of course, Nancy with her inquisitive— and extremely persuasive mind, got you to spill your guts. She knows all about your ongoing hostility with Eddie, but for some reason, what happened between you two didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

In exchange for the gory details of your afternoon with Eddie, she agreed to meet you on the bleachers before school started to borrow her notes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie sauntered into class as if he wasn’t late. He wasn’t phased as Mrs. Ward scolded him. With a muttered ‘Sorry’, he stepped into the classroom, eyes narrowed on you, with a buzzing excitement coursing through his veins and an extra pep in his step.

You had managed to avoid Eddie the whole day up until now.

His eyes burned into you from the minute he appeared in the doorway. The only thing you could do was sit up straighter and pretend like you couldn’t see him.

Even as he purposefully passed in front of your desk, knocking his fist on the surface as he rounded to his own seat, you pretended he was nothing but a pesky house fly that just barely got on your nerves with its ceaseless buzzing.

When a note landed on your desk only minutes after his arrival, you took your time opening it.

‘Where were you?’ was scribbled out in red ink. It didn’t deserve your response.

Instead, you gathered your hair in your hands, swirling it around your fingers, tying it into a tight bun at the base of your neck. Pulling out a few pieces of hair to frame your face, careful to make sure no strands were inherently ‘pullable'.

When Mrs. Ward dedicates the remaining portion of class to working with your partners, you close your eyes inhaling deeply before turning.

“Why were you asking Nancy where I was yesterday? Are you, like, obsessed with me now?” You say, beating Eddie to the chase. His eyes open wide, mouth dropping slightly, as his cheeks tinge pink.

“No.” He says quietly, eyes dropping to his desk where his notebook lays blank, page ripped in half from the note he threw at you.

“So what then?” You snap.

He shrugs.

You weren’t expecting him to give up just like that. You jumped the gun on an unexpecting target. The dance is only fun with two people.

Silence between you two, you set your worksheet down on his desk, swiveling your body to face him.

As you cross your legs under his desk, your foot rubs his shin and he doesn’t even make any of his usual stupid comments. He doesn’t even look up.

So you do it again. And again. You let your foot trail up from his ankle all the way to his calf as you scribble ideas down on your worksheet.

When you hook your foot around his leg you’re surprised when you feel fingers grip your bare ankle.

“Fucking quit it.” He hisses, lifting your leg higher until your knee hits the bottom of his desk in a thud.

“Eddie. I’m wearing a skirt. Let. Go.” You snap, trying to break his grip.

“Oh, but I thought you liked attention?” He scoffs, eyes set on you harshly.

“Let. Go.” You repeat, kicking your leg trying to free yourself but his grip only gets stronger.

“You like attention so much, princess, that your giant ego just assumed I was obsessed with you, huh?” He says, amusement rising in his blazen eyes as he watches the way your brows pinch.

You kick your leg again and his grip becomes impossibly tight, his fingertips nearly bruising into your skin.

“You’re hurting me, Eddie.” You hiss, your voice gaining the attention of a few surrounding students.

His grip loosens immediately, dropping your ankle from his hand, and he makes fast work of kicking his chair back and standing from the desk.

Mrs. Ward yells after him as he leaves the class but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

You don’t go after him and he doesn’t return to class either. The bell rings and you pack up your stuff, eyes flickering to the door waiting for him to come back for his notebook. He doesn’t though, so you close the notebook, stacking it on top of your own books before exiting the class.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You weren’t going to actively seek him out to give him his notebook back. You were just going to hand it to him in passing. The only issue is, you haven’t seen him.

“Hey. Your name's Gareth, right?” You say, walking up to the boy as he closes his locker.

“Yeah.” He says, smirking as he looks at you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“We know who you are.” Another boy, who you think is named Jeff, says from the other side of Gareth.

“Eddie’s not around. Was pretty pissed off, actually. Something to do with you, I’m assuming?” Gareth says, brows lifting as he awaits your response.

“Why would it be because of me? He’s the one with the problem.” You scoff, furrowing your brows angrily. Gareth's smirk drops immediately, turning timid under your fire.

“Hey, hey. Sorry. We just hear about you all the time, it’s exhaust—”

“Gareth.” Jeff cuts him off, shooting him a look.

“Dude, c’mon.” Gareth says to Jeff. Jeff shoots him another pointed look before they start silently communicating with each other through looks.

“Where is he?” You huff, getting annoyed.

“Your guess is as good as ours.” Gareth says with a shrug.

“Thanks.” You scoff, spinning on your feet, mad at yourself for even bothering to try and find Eddie.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The notebook’s been taunting you all day, especially now as you sit in your room trying to get your homework done. There it is peeking out from your bag.

Giving into temptation, you grab the book, taking it to your bed.

Flipping open the first page, it’s just doodles. Flipping another page, more doodles, another page, even more doodles.

Skipping a few pages you finally find some scribbled messy writing that you can just barely make out. Something about someone named mage? Something about… a dwarf?

You skip more pages and it’s the same nonsensical writing with something about a sorcerer until it clicks. You find a page titled hellfire and you realize it has to be that nerdy fantasy game he plays with his little friends.

You quickly get bored. You were hoping for something juicy, something that would provide you with ammunition against him. It’s mostly just a lot of drawings of tits and weird looking demon-y things.

You slide the notebook under your pillow before going back to your homework.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A knock at your window startles you, heart pounding rapidly against your ribs. When you see eyes through the gap in the curtain your heart nearly stops until you recognize them. Then your heart speeds up again.

You go back to reading your book, kicking your legs back and forth behind you.

He knocks again and you wave. He points to the lock and you shrug, going back to your book, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

A third knock. It’s much more aggressive and shakes the shutters making you jump. If your dad was actually home, that would have woken him but he’s not. It’s just you and you know Eddie knows it too because of the empty driveway.

“Jesus Christ.” You mutter to yourself, pushing off your bed.

You unlock the window and he’s quickly pushing it open.

“Notebook.” He says flatly, holding his hand out.

“Notebook?” You question innocently.

“Notebook.” He repeats harshly, making you clench your jaw. Who does he think he is, coming to your house and talking to you like that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, turning around and going back to laying on your stomach with your book.

“You have my notebook.” He states, still perching outside.

“Why would I have your stupid notebook?” You sneer, rolling your eyes.

“You have it.” He sighs, pushing the window open as wide as it can go.

“I don’t even see why you would need it at this hour, I never took you as a studier.” You say indifferently, flipping the page of your book.

You watch out of your periphery as he crawls through your window seamlessly, landing gently on the carpeted floor.

“Shoes off.” You say but he ignores you, stepping further into the room. “Eddie, I said shoes off.” You repeat more sternly. He mumbles something that you don’t quite catch before he’s kicking off his shoes.

He moves to the side of the bed, standing with his arms crossed, fingers tapping on his forearm. He exhales through his nose in an almost growl and you happily keep your attention on your book as you get him all worked up.

“Princess, I know you have it, just hand it over so I can go.” He snarls.

“No.” You say stubbornly, eyes still glued to the pages of your book.

You see him turn, head darting around the room before landing on your bag next to your desk. He swiftly moves to the bag, picking it up, and before you have time to protest, he’s dumping the contents on the floor.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” You hiss, throwing your book to the side and jumping up from your bed.

He uses his foot to push around your bag’s contents before giving up since it’s not there. You lower to your knees, picking up your stuff hastily and putting it back in your bag.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you as you gather your things and you're waiting for a snide remark, you know it’s coming.

“You look pretty on your knees like that, princess.” He says, voice low making your stomach squeeze.

You look up at him with furrowed brows, and his eyes are set on you, looking down the slope of his nose, watching intently.

“Perv.” You scoff.

“Careful, princess. I wasn’t the one throwing myself at you in class today.” He says, laughing meanly.

“I wasn’t doing that.” You retort, feeling your cheeks burn hot. You focus your attention on fitting some loose pages back in your folder that he scattered everywhere.

“So what were you doing then?” He says amusedly.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You shrug your shoulders trying your best to hold onto your attitude.

“C’mon, princess. Don’t play dumb, I’m not into bimbos.” He scoffs, his familiar teasing tone slowly coming back and you do your best to hide your excitement at the prospect of Eddie rejoining this little thing you two do.

You pause your actions before flickering your gaze to him, looking up through your eyelashes as you sit a little taller.

“So what are you into then?” You question, your voice barely above a whisper, purposefully breathy. His eyes connect with yours before dropping lower, licking his lips in the process.

“Pretty girls on their knees for me.” He smirks, his freshly wet lips glistening, looking all too inviting and it almost makes you squirm.

“I’m only on my knees cause you’re a dick.” You mumble under your breath, zipping up your bag.

“Cause my dick- what, sweetheart?” He laughs.

“You are a dick.” You say louder, clenching your jaw at his stupid excuse of a joke.

“C’mon, princess. Lighten up.” He says, stepping forward. You lean back, his crotch being way too close to you, but then he drops, crouching to your level, his face only inches from yours.

You pause, waiting to see what he’s doing, but he just looks at you. His eyes are unmeeting of your own, choosing to flutter over your features before bringing a hand to your face, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Notebook, princess.” He sings softly, reminding you why he’s here.

“It’s at school.” You lie, raising your brows challengingly.

“No it’s not.” He says confidently.

“Yes, it is.” You argue, furrowing your brows at him.

“No, it’s not, princess.” He sighs and you feel his breath fan over your lips. It takes everything in you not to look.

“Eddie, how the fuck would you know?” You seethe, getting frustrated. You’re supposed to be leading this game, you’re the one on your knees.

“Cause I looked in your locker. I know it’s not in there.” He says coolly, unaffected.

“How- What do you mean, you looked in my locker?” You say bewildered, fists clenching at your side.

“I know it’s not in there, so it must be somewhere in here.” He says, ignoring your question, gaze moving around your room before settling back on you. He winks before standing, his crotch appearing directly in your face until he spins on his heels walking towards your bookshelf. “Gonna make me tear apart your pretty room looking for it, princess?” He taunts, starting to pull out books from the shelf at random.

“It’s not there.” You say firmly.

“Well maybe I’ll take a look just to be sure. Especially since we both know that you like to lie.” He says, shifting around trinkets on the top shelf.

“I don’t lie.” You huff but he ignores you, continuing to poke and prod at your things.

“Oh look, princess has a princess.” He teases, lifting up a ceramic ornament your dad gave you for your fifth birthday.

“If you break that I’ll kick your ass.” You threaten, standing up and moving to his side, watching him with crossed arms.

“Kinky.” He teases, putting the ornament down before opening your jewelry box.

“Your notebook wouldn't even fit in there.” You say, rolling your eyes. Now he’s just touching stuff to piss you off.

“You never know, princess.” He replies, rifling around, tangling your necklaces in the process before you swat his hand away.

He steps back, looking around your room again.

“Eddie, give it a rest.” You say, exhaling all the air from your lungs in a huff.

“Princess, give me my notebook.” He sings, before bounding to your dresser. His hand hovers over the top drawer and he looks back at you with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss.

“It could be in here?” He says innocently. “Everybody knows that the underwear drawer is the best drawer for hiding stuff.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“It’s not in there.” You state.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I took a peek?” He says, fingertips taping on the handle. You purse your lips, he wants to look at your panties so bad, fine.

“Go right ahead, Eddie. Live up to your perv reputation.” You say, jetting a hip out. He rolls his eyes, before turning, moving on to a different part of your room.

“I wonder what kind of dirty secrets the princess keeps in her bedside table.” Eddie taunts.

There are no dirty secrets in your bedside table but you’re sure even if he opened that drawer and found nothing he’d still spin it into something.

“Must be a pretty important notebook for you to be doing all this, Eddie.” You say, trying to distract him.

He turns to you, eyes scanning over you, sizing you up.

“You must like me being in your room princess, you know, considering you could just hand over the notebook.” He retorts, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“What? Don’t want me reading your precious notebook? That why you need it so bad?” You taunt.

“Princess, if you must know, I need it for something.” He says, lips pulled in a flat line, unbothered.

“Something? That’s not very specific.” You laugh.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in my life?” He says, perking up.

“I’m not.” You scoff.

“Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it’ll come true.” He smirks and you want to smack it right off his face.

“Well, you’re the one who was asking about me yesterday.” You spit, words rolling off your tongue.

“You were sick the day before, god forbid I have a heart and a conscience.” He spits back.

The way your own heart speeds up leaves you stumped for words and he picks it up immediately, choosing to double down on you.

“You weren’t sick though, were you? No. Princess was playing hooky. Who were you trying to avoid, hm?” He says, stepping closer to you.

“No one.” You say quietly, body turning hot under his interrogation.

“That sounds like another lie to me. It’s hypocritical, princess, to make me try and admit something while you can’t tell me one honest thing.” He says, voice all too daunting for your liking.

“I’m not lying.” You whisper.

His demeanor changes, all smirks and taunting eyes gone as he settles into something serious.

“Did you regret it? Is that it?” He says quietly, voice staying low but he doesn’t step any closer.

“Regret what?” You deflect, buying time for your heart to stop fluttering so hard.

He steps closer.

“Princess, what did I tell you about playing dumb?” You hear his voice vibrate from his chest, words striking something inside of you like a match.

“You said you like pretty girls on their knees better.” You coo, looking at him through your lashes. Keeping eye contact, you sink to your knees in front of him.

You watch as his eyes widen and it spurs you on. You’re holding the reins now, you’re in control again. Letting your fingertips hook through his belt loops, you pull him forward until he’s right where you want him.

What surprises you is the way he brings his hand to your cheek. It’s soft and almost tender. You could make the mistake of leaning into it, but you don’t.

“Princess, what do you want from me?” He whispers softly. His round eyes twinkle in your bedroom lights, captivating you entirely.

“I don’t want anything from you.” You purr, fingers still hooked in his belt loops keeping him in place. His hand on your cheek turns into a thumb running soft circles against your skin.

“Princess.” He sighs, his chest deflating.

“Do you want me to now?” You ask quietly, letting your eyes flicker to his belt line, referring to his words from the last time you tried to get on your knees for him.

“I didn’t come here for this.” He says, mouth moving in a tight line like he’s fighting some internal battle.

“Yeah, you came here for your notebook.” You state, raising your brows. “But are you gonna let me suck your dick?”

With his jeans tightening by the second his mouth still mulls back and forth, his thumb running soft circles on your cheek. He swallows and you know he’s made up his mind.

“S’all yours, princess.” He says, punctuating his words with a gentle tap to your cheek.

Unhooking your fingers from his belt loops, you walk them to the buckle, the jangle of metal filling the room as you work at it. He watches you intently, eyes staring heatedly when you finally get it undone.

“You gonna let me touch you?” You say with a teasing lilt, copying the same words he said to you. He catches your tease, lips turning up, smiling at you with amusement. “C’mon, Eddie. Use your words, I know you got ‘em in that idiot mouth of yours.” You add, digging in further with your mockery.

“You think you're teasing me, but that’s hot, princess. Keep talking.” He says, voice low and taunting as his narrowed eyes flickering over you.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about all those pretty noises I made for you, Eddie?” You coo with a breathy sweetness. His smile wavers but the amused sparkle in his darkening eyes remains strong.

“You don’t want to know, princess.” He replies carefully.

“I do, Eddie, that’s why I asked.” You let your fingers drag down his clothed thighs, he still hasn’t given you an answer, so you don’t go any further. “It’s barely been two days, how many times could a boy possibly cum?” You ask coyly.

“Got a high turnover rate, princess. Can pop one boner after another if something really gets me going.” He laughs and you let your lips turn up at his ridiculousness.

“You didn’t answer me, Eddie.” you say, trailing your nails back up the denim on his thighs. He shuts his mouth harshly before opening it again to speak.

“Anywhere between 2 to 10 times, whatever you think the best answer is, princess. You’re the smart one here.” You laugh and his cheeks tinge pink just enough for you to notice.

“Eddie, I meant my other question. Are you gonna let me touch you?” You say, dipping your head to look at him through your lashes again. His blush deepens as his eyes drink you in, absorbing everything from the way you look at him to the way you speak.

“Princess, I always want you to touch me.” He whispers, his voice small, yet genuine, and it makes your stomach flutter terribly.

“Is that so?” You say feigning indifference, fingers ghosting over the button of his jeans.

“Please.” He says breathily, swallowing thickly as his eyes follow your dainty movements.

To have him so willing at your fingertips. To have him say please. To have him. It stirs something in you that it’s never done before. None of the teasing, hair pulling, name calling, none of that has made you feel anything but red hot anger. But this… this isn’t anger. You’re still burning, but it’s not anger anymore.

His fingers smooth your hair, pulling you from your reverie, drawing your attention up to him. His eyes are waiting for you, softer than ever. It makes you want to scream. Makes you want to lash out. Stomp your foot. Throw something.

But you don’t do that. Instead you undo the button to his jeans and lower the zipper.

“You okay, princess?” Eddie whispers, breaking the silence.

“What?” You snarl, scrunching your face, glaring at him. Overcompensating with an edge. Hiding behind a thin disguise.

“You just went quiet. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says calmly despite the reckless edge you just threw at him. His fingers pass over the top of your head gently, smoothing your hair again.

“Eddie, I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.” You scoff.

“Jesus Christ. I try to be nice and this is what I get?” He huffs but there’s barely any malice behind it, just enough to rile you up.

“Eddie. You just fucking said I was the smart one here, don’t you think I can make my own decisions?” You retort harshly.

“I know you can, princess.” He says exasperatedly. “Fuck, I think I liked it better when you were quiet, can we go back to that?” He groans.

“Fuck you.” You spit aggressively, hands starting to tug down his denim. You half expected him to stop you but he doesn’t. Instead, when you get them down his thighs, he helps you, kicking them off to the side.

Left in his plaid boxers, you hook your fingers around the waist band, and look up to him for permission. With a nod, you pull them down, fabric pooling around his feet.

He bobs against his lower belly before settling in front of you. You try not to react, you can’t give him that. The mean part of you was hoping he’d be small just so you could use it against him, another part of you glows with excitement because he’s not. He’s perfect and you would never tell him that.

You take him in your hand and immediately his breath catches in his throat. Barely moving, a whimper rises in his chest. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

You spit in your hand, bringing it to his length, spreading it all over with both hands, making sure he’s nice and wet.

“Fuck.” He groans and you can’t help the amused smile that spreads on your lips.

“Eddie, I’ve barely even started, and look at you.” You tease, his cock jolting in your hands.

“Keep talking, princess.” He whispers, sounding almost desperate.

“You like when I talk?” You laugh. You start pumping slowly with your one hand, dragging back and forth over his hardness. “You just said you wanted me to be quiet.”

He shakes his head aggressively, eyes shutting.

“Like it when you talk, princess.” He moans.

You sit up straighter on your knees, bringing your mouth to his tip, licking just the head. His eyes shoot open, gaze immediately setting on you.

“You like that, Eddie?” You tease and he nods his head dumbly. “Want me to do it again?” He nods again.

You place a kiss to his tip, pulling back to watch his reaction but he doesn’t have any. In fact, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Eddie, you gotta breathe, can’t have you passing out just from getting your dick sucked.” You taunt. His mouth opens, sucking in a breath, his chest rising and falling harshly as he lets it out. “Look at you, such a good listener tonight.” You laugh, his dick kicking up in your hand again. You shake your head in amusement before placing another kiss to his tip.

You pull away entirely, pushing yourself off your knees, moving to your bed. He’s clearly not fit for standing right now.

When you sit, turning back to Eddie, he’s still standing in the middle of your room, hands brought to his face as he rubs aggressively.

“Eddie.” You call, getting his attention. He spins, pulling his hands away from his face, his bangs sticking up in all different directions. You pat the spot next to you and he’s quick to claim it.

“That’s better isn’t it?” You say as he lays down, hair spanning over your pillow.

“Better.” He says, voice cracking.

You settle between his legs, mouth watering as you take him in your hand again.

You dribble spit over the tip, letting it fall over the head before gathering it, spreading it with a twist of both hands up and down his cock.

“Gonna let me use my mouth now, Eddie? Or are you still desperate to hear me talk?” You tease, gaze finding his blown out eyes.

He nods but you tut.

“Wanna hear you say it, Eddie.” You coo, letting your eyes flicker over him. You stop your hand movements when he takes too long to reply.

“Princess, please put your mouth on my cock. Please.” He says, words practically a whine spilling from his lips.

You nestle closer to him between his thighs, dipping your face, licking up the underside of his cock before opening your mouth and letting it hit against your tongue.

You watch him carefully, reveling in the way he’s falling apart for you. His chest rises and sinks in steady pants, mouth set agape, as his wide eyes watch your every move.

Closing your lips around him, you let him slide in just enough for you to swirl your tongue around his tip.

“Fuck” He groans. You hum, not missing the way his thighs clench as you do.

His hand finds your head, combing your hair back, resting his palm against the side of your face. Most guys start pushing on the back of your head, but Eddie doesn’t.

Flattening your tongue, you take him deeper in your mouth, twisting your hands around him and meeting your mouth halfway up his length.

His other hand takes purchase on the mattress, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the comforter. It’s completely dichotomous to the gentle grip he holds on your face. It’s almost laughable.

You bring your head up and down before pulling off with a pop, spitting on the tip again, making sure your hands glide slickly along his length.

“Is that good, Eddie?” You ask before returning your mouth to his cock. Your added spit makes a slick, wet noise as you move your fists up and down on his length.

“Fuck, princess. S’really good.” He gasps breathily, his stomach tensing as your thumb wipes at the precum gathering on his tip.

You smile before parting your lips, taking him back in your mouth.

You take him further this time, his cock hitting the back of your throat and he whimpers pitifully. You do it again and his fingertips press in the slightest bit harder against your face, still not pushing you, just translating his pleasure through his touch.

You hollow your cheeks, sinking harder and faster, bobbing your head. His fingers weave into your hair gently and it spurs you on. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him slide right in until your lips meet your fingers at his base.

When you do it again, you push yourself a little too hard, gagging yourself, sputtering as you rise. With a deep, broken moan Eddie’s hips follow your mouth, only settling back to the bed when you pull off of him with a gasp as you catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpers under his breath.

You feel his cock pulsing in your fist, his hand tugging ever so gently on the roots of your hair and you start to think you might just like this too much.

You take him in your mouth again, all the way back to your throat, removing your hands entirely until your nose nestles against the wispy hairs above his shaft.

You exploringly let your fingertips tiptoe to his balls, taking them in one hand, massaging them gently.

“F-fuck. Fuck.” Eddie groans, stomach tensing sharply, his thighs squeezing against you.

You jerk your head on his cock, continuing to massaging his balls using the mess of wetness leaking down his shaft to help guide your skillful movements.

It’s not long before every bob of your head is being chased by the rise of his hips. He’s desperate for release, you both know it.

You flicker your eyes to him and he’s never looked more scattered. Bangs disheveled, cheeks rosy, brows pinched, half lidded eyes all dark and pleading, just for you. You do like it too much, you really, really do.

His gaze meets yours, flickering between you and your mouth.

“Doing so fucking good princess. Don’t stop. Please.” He whines. You hum contentedly, sinking onto him, hands still working his balls as they tense in your grasp.

His hand in your hair starts to sting as he pulls at it but he still doesn’t push you, he wouldn’t do that unless you told him to, you’re sure of it now.

His moans and whimpers rise, getting higher and longer, composing a symphony just for you. It comes to a crescendo when you take him all the way to his base again. His hips rise from the mattress, cock choking you, and you swallow around him, making him cry out a desperate moan that simmers into a broken whimper.

You know he’s close.

You hum to yourself, gulping him into your mouth, meeting his quick, uneven thrusts.

“I’m g-gonna cum.” He says in a strangled moan. His hand in your hair tugs impossibly hard, trying to pull you from him but you don’t let him. He doesn’t make your decisions, you do. He should know better.

You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and working him in your hands. The obscene, slicked noises coming from your movements fill the room, accompanying his moans, and he breaks.

For a moment, you watch him as he falls apart and it’s beautiful. Eyes rolling closed, face contorted in pleasure. It’s undeniably beautiful. You don’t let yourself drink in his beauty for too long though, that would be like admitting something and you wouldn’t do that so you refocus on the task at hand (and mouth).

Cum spurting to the back of your throat, you take him deeper a final time, swallowing it all down until you can’t. You pull up, feeling some leaking for the corners of your lips but you keep going, working him through his release as his cock throbs against your tongue.

He cums so hard that he’s babbling different versions of praises intermixed with your name. Your real name. Not princess, and it takes you by surprise.

“Fucking shit. F-Fuck.” He whimpers, hips sinking back to the mattress, stuttering. You slow your movements before pulling off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’.

His cock is shiny, the cum that didn’t get swallowed, gathering around his base. You flicker your eyes to him and he’s watching you now with a glazed over stare. Dipping your mouth to him one last time, you lick up the pearly shine and he looks at you like he might explode.

You pull away with a laugh, wiping your mouth.

His body deflates, melting into the mattress as he throws his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.

“Holy shit.” He groans.

You shift in between his thighs, hands disgustingly wet and sticky so you reach up, wiping both of them down the front of his shirt, leaving behind the glistening wet print of 10 fingers on the black fabric. You expect him to say something but his eyes remain closed, breathing still heavy.

With a gap between the two of you, you lay down beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes move up, taking in the rosiness of his face and the way it spreads down his neck. You even take the time to notice the delicate way his thick lashes lay atop his cheeks.

“You better not fall asleep here.” You sneer, shaking your head, forcing yourself to stop staring before he notices.

“Why not? Daddy’s not home is he?” He says, breathing still heavy.

“Don’t be a dick.” You retort. He pauses, sucking in a deep, steadying breath and letting it out.

“Pretty sure mine just melted off.” You see his smirk on his face, but his eyes remain closed.

“No, it’s still there unfortunately.” You say flatly, eyes flitting to his softening dick.

“Unfortunately?” He laughs.

“Yup.” You reply.

Eddie shifts the slightest bit, hand raising from his side as he blindly feels around the bed. When he touches your hip you try to swat him away but he grabs your hand, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Gross, stop trying to hold my hand!” You shriek, holding back your laughter as you try to shake him off.

“Princess, let me hold your fucking hand. You just sucked the soul right out of me, I need this.” He says with a laugh, grasp getting stronger with each shake of your wrist.

“You're so weird.” You say, hiding your amusement, trying to find any hint of malice to add to your words but it comes out meak.

Eddie lays there for a few minutes, your hand in his. You try to ignore his radiating warmth by thinking about the project you’re supposed to be doing with him but your eyes keep sinking to your hand in his.

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” Eddie says, turning to face you, opening his eyes finally. His question startles you, taking you aback.

“What?” You laugh.

“For school. What time should I pick you up?” He says again, speaking to you like you’re a child.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state. It’s not up for debate.

“You’re not playing hooky tomorrow, and if I pick you up, I can be sure of it.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight then tomorrow we can walk to school together.” He replies, tilting his face towards you and lifting his brows.

“You can't sleep here.” You object firmly.

“Princess.” He says warningly.

“Eddie.” You warn back. His eyes stare into you, making your stomach flutter with nerves.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my hands.” You say abruptly, pulling your hand from his.

“I’ll be here.” He sings teasingly.

“No. You. Won’t.” You reply stubbornly as you haul yourself off the bed and out of the room.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Nancy's words from earlier ring in your head.

‘He gets worse.’

The game you play is shifting. The dance is speeding up. It makes your heart beat too fast and your stomach flutter dreadfully.

Maybe she was right.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part 3 here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut

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dasnercaret · 4 months ago

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i had so much fun drawing this guy it's unreal. please observe siffrin from @protectorcraft's fic a bell chimes somewhere!! what a dude. what a lad. what a weirdo (positive)

some more details under the cut! (spoilers for isat and the fic under the cut as well!)

i imagine that since siffrin's creachur form has something to do with wish craft, it wasn't too far-fetched to say that his eye would be colored too, especially given how the sky kid focused on it. however since this isn't his wish to stay with his family, i thought it would be nice to make it a different color... something representing the universe........ Sky Blue It Is

it helps that i am also obsessed with shades of sky blue AND the line from the fic that the sky kid said that it had "everything" in its eyes

i didn't illustrate it, but i think it would be extra cool if creachur siff's eye color changed as per time of day. just because. he's like the eye color version of that one 'do you love the color of the sky' post

i like to imagine that siffrin still has a strange Light in his eyes even when in his human disguise. can't remember if the fic mentions it or not but he has a sky blue highlight in those eyes now in my design. because i can :3

speaking of human disguise, i like to think that even with his transformation he's still not that subtle. mirabelle picks up immediately that he's weird but also that he's friendly and VERY good at survival, and so isn't too bothered by his... quirks. this might end up being canon to the fic honestly but i just wanted to trot out my two cents regardless while i'm here

i'm hoping i managed to communicate some of that off-putting nature in his face! especially his eyes. they're almost unnaturally gray aside from that strange highlight

i originally wanted to make his eyes even weirder but then i thought that being Too Weird would kind of defeat the point, and the point of this is that siffrin kind of has to pass as a normal human which means no glowing pupils, unfortunately. i can totally Give Him Pupils though. gotta get that subtle horror/ creepiness in :3

he gets glowing pupils / tapetum lucidum in the dark though. or when he's angry (see top left). as a treat

didn't draw his in between state (between human and dragon) but i imagine it looks kinda fucked up ! his horn and ears grow, his tail gets longer, teeth get sharper, his whole face sort of. Distorts. in a distinctly uncanny valley way. the blue highlight starts bleeding into his eyes (and his pupils start transforming from round to slit to star-shaped)

continuing, this in-between form in my head is sorta like the dragonkin soldiers from elden ring, just in terms of 'this is a weird hybrid of human and dragon and it just Doesn't Work'. like human, cool, dragon, cool, in between? fucked

siffrin is INSANELY floofy. even with the fact that he hasn't bathed in ages and his floof is all matted and tangled from lack of care he's still crazy soft. i think his fur also has similar insulating properties to his cloak so he never overheats or gets too cold. always the Perfect Temperature

if i were more confident in my skills (and which way this fic is going to end up going) i would have drawn a big hero 6 style moment where everyone is just lying with their face buried in siffrin's fur, like how everyone lays on warm marshmellow baymax.

i originally meant for siffrin to be more cursed and body-horror-y, and then i was looking at the fic descriptions for him (as of chapter 7, so there may be more detail later that i didn't get to see as of writing this) and was like 'wait... he kind of looks like the dragons from BOTW doesn't he' and then the inherent majesty kind of. just. Happened.

i like the fact that he looks kind of majestic though! i think it's a good representation of siffrin's terrible body image issues in this fic where honestly he looks awesome but he just doesn't realize it because, hello negative self-worth

didn't color the last doodles of human siff at the top left. apologies. i got sleeby

in another life mirabelle rides his dragon form into battle and it is exactly as awesome as it looks like it would be

kind of shoehorned my own oc into here as well but i SWEAR aleph is so absurdly similar to this design it's actually kind of hilarious. if i had a nickel for the number of space dragon designs i've made i'd have two, which isn't a lot but

and the full page of doodles! just cause

#isat #in stars and time #isat siffrin #isat fanart #in stars and time fanart #in stars and time siffrin #siffrin #isat spoilers #kind of only for the readmore though #a bell chimes somewhere #dasner art

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prickly-paprikash · 1 year ago

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My favorite little character trait so far in Castlevania Nocturne is Olrox's possessiveness.

Once he marks something as his, it's his whether he even realizes it or not.

We are told, straight up by him, that he turned his lover into a vampire without his partner's say-so. Lenore mentioned the nature of Vampires—the ever-present hunger. This burning desire to grow and consume, consequences be damned. We see this in Erzsebet's obsessive need to become the ruler of all things in existence, so much so that she has fashioned herself as the Messiah. We see this compulsive gluttony in Carmilla and her all-consuming greed; she simply must have it all, because no one else is deserving of the world.

We see it in Godbrand's animalistic, sadistic tendencies when hunting his prey. Chō's demented need to make every kill, every transformation a perverse performance of her monstrous skill.

We definitely see it in Dracula. His anger and wrath, razing kingdoms and laying waste to societies.

There is a gaping maw seemingly inherent in all those turned into Vampires. Humanity's flaws taken to their most extreme conclusions once the Vampiric venom drips through.

Olrox is possessive beyond belief. What is his is his.

He claims he doesn't love Mizrak, but risks exposing himself to Drolta and Erzsebet the second Mizrak's life is in danger.

He cannot let go, just like Vlad. He must get even. With Olrox, at least this thirst for vengeance is balanced by his adherence to what he views as justice, which means he isn't the type to initiate a war in the name of his beloved. Olrox is "An Eye for an Eye" adherent.

It's something that truly intrigues me, because every single named Vampire exhibits this endless hunger.

Even Death, who is considered a type of vampire itself.

Alucard, I think, is free (or at least more in control) because of Lisa's own human nature—the ability to feel satisfaction, as well as her nurturing light. This is only developed further because of Trevor, Sypha and Greta.

Which begs the question: what is Tera's hunger? What is that idea or feeling that'll hook its fangs into her skin and drive her into reckless abandon?

Love for Maria and Richter? The feelings of betrayal against the Abbott? Her hatred of Erzsebet for the murder of her sister?

Another fucking reason why I need SEASON 2 NOW GOD FUCK NETFLIX STOP RENEWING EMILY IN PARIS YOU WACKOS.

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nincompoopydoo · 7 months ago

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CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

ALL THINGS MUST END — ; PART 10 / 10

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 4.7k SUMMARY: You and Theseus awaken in a place that feels all too familiar, uncovering that the truth behind Miriam’s intentions lies within the act of revenge itself. This is a tale of betrayal, love, and hatred, but it's also the story of how you learn to love again. A/N: This is it! I’m so so nervous for yall to read this, but I hope you like it!! I want to take a moment to thank everyone who has been here either from day one or at any time you found this series– thanks for sticking around. WARNINGS: Swearing. Angst. Injuries. Mentions of hurt. Mentions of being burnt (it’s not detailed), Mentions of death. Theseus being a simp (HAHA). No beta as always we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Augustus Warden was a tyrant, characterised by his uncaring, manipulative, and violent nature towards anyone who dared to oppose him. He held a firm belief in eradicating magic, viewing it as inherently evil, and saw himself as a saviour destined to rid the world of it.

Augustus Warden was also Miriam’s father.

Well, he could hardly call himself a father. He was never one to her. And was never a husband to her mother.

Augustus became obsessed with the perception of a saviour complex. It drove Miriam’s mother away, leaving her to deal with her father’s aggression and temper. Yet, Augustus's influence within the scourers' community grew, and The Gardenia Society landed itself in the thick of the chaos.

Again. Being hunted.

When your brother began showing signs of magic, your mother feared for his life. She had known about a distant ancestor with magical abilities for quite some time, though she hadn’t expected it to resurface in her only son.

Your brother was born at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

Your mother sought the help of Miriam, her closest friend. Almost a sister to her. She trusted her with her life. Nobody knew about your brother’s abilities besides your family and Miriam. It was a well-kept secret for the society's and your family's safety.

So, when word got out about your brother, your mother knew who had leaked the secret. Or so she thought.

The inhumane arrest of a boy. To be burned at the stake. Those were the words of the people. Just like their ancestors did. Hence, your mother decided to retaliate that betrayal of trust with Miriam for turning against her and her family. Miriam was then accused of being a witch and is the sole reason behind everything that happened to your brother.

She knew her father was insane but never knew he would ever go this far.

Her father. He showed no mercy.

“You dirty witch.”

Those were the words of the people, it rang against her ears.

Miriam remembers the fear etched in her throat. How her heart was beating out of her chest as she screamed, pleading to Augustus that this was all on pretence.

Yet, it seems that Augustus had been searching for a way to get rid of Miriam and finally found the opportunity.

A ball of flame in the darkness lit on a matchstick.

Augustus Warden stands tall and looming as he creeps from the shadows. He holds the little match with a grim twist to the edge of his lips. No sign of remorse. No sign of guilt.

“You did this to him … So long, witch.”

He tosses the matchstick.

Flames engulf Miriam.

Your family fled from the village with the help of The Gardenia Society and several Aurors, landing yourselves in the heart of London where the Warden would never find your brother. Since then, you had your memories erased.

But nothing ever stays permanent. And nothing ever truly dies.

–

Darkness.

Theseus struggles to grasp reality, feeling his presence as the memories from moments ago flood in.

He remembers … you. On the ground. Bleeding.

Immediately, he’s wide awake.

His surroundings are a blur, in the process of recollecting his thoughts when all that fills his head is you. Theseus then realises he’s seated; it’s cold, solid against his back and causes his slumped figure to lay straight on its surface.

A pungent smell suddenly fills his senses. Gasoline. He smells gasoline.

Merlin’s beard—

As he regains his sight, he recognises the room he is in. It’s circular, lined with seats to portray an amphitheatre. It’s a courtroom, though its structure tells a different story. Frescos held by its walls were heavily worn with time, abandoned, and unseen. This may be a ministry courtroom, but no longer operational.

The courtroom is filled with members of The Restoration Movement, all eyes on him. Among them, Morrigan and Mulberry stand sentinel, their scrutiny unyielding.

This is also when Theseus realises he is missing his wand.

Why on earth would Miriam bring him back to the ministry?

Before he could even begin to question it, Theseus spots you lying unconscious on the floor before him, in a pool of liquid. You’re drenched in gasoline too, he’s sure of it. It sends a sudden surge of shock to his heart, and there’s an immediate sense of urgency in how he moves to you, yet he stays unmoving in his seat.

Theseus glances at his arms and notices they have been bound with chains attached to the seat’s armrest. Eyes now wide, they return to your unmoving figure on the ground and all he thinks is to pull and pull and pull. Still, he can only watch you from a distance.

“Look at you. Helpless. Desperate. Seems like she changed you for the worse, Theseus.”

Miriam appears before him, you lay at her feet, tone laced with sarcasm as it booms through the courtroom. Strong and relinquished. Her expression wild, flashing with anger, hurt, and betrayal—hardened without an ounce of fragility and mercy in sight.

“Why are you doing this?”

There’s a tone of desperation tinged in his voice and it shakes him to his core. Theseus has been afraid plenty of times—during his training, the war. He has seen unspeakable things, but never has he been in the position of seeing someone he cares so tortured and bruised.

It clicks in his head. The ministry is the last place anyone would find them. Miriam is no fool.

Theseus heaves a silent prayer, hoping that despite the impossibilities of the day's events, both of you would make it out alive.

His gaze returns to you, catching a glimmer in your eye. You’re awake. Barely, but you are. Your body remains frozen, yet your eyes convey a silent assurance, hidden from Miriam's sharp scrutiny. It's a subtle promise that you'll endure. That you’ll be fine.

Miriam’s smile widens as her expression morphs into a cynical, surprised look, mocking his question.

“I laid out all the clues, and you still haven't figured it out? Perhaps you weren't as intelligent as I thought.”

Despite the gravity of the moment, Theseus restrains the impulse to roll his eyes. Of course, he quickly discerned the laid-out clues: the open door, the photograph, and the brooch. Yet, certain questions remain unanswered—how did his brother become privy to Miriam's existence, and how did he predict Theseus's unravelling of the hidden messages in the letters?

Perhaps, Miriam doesn’t know why either.

“All I want is to destroy her. The Gardenia Society. Everything her mother ever loved.”

Miriam speaks in a manner of delusional confidence. A false sense of belief that her actions are deemed righteous. That whatever she intends to do is all for justice.

And it all ties back to your mother and the Gardenia Society.

Theseus watches the way her eye twitches, a flicker of sheer annoyance.

Something feels wrong. Or missing?

“Yet, you, dear Theseus. You always had a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and now I have no choice but to take you with her,” Miriam declares, her tone laced with frustration.

Theseus merely scoffs. It sends Miriam boiling.

"You’re a hypocrite, Miriam. You revelled in meddling in everyone's lives, in my family's lives. Tell me, Miriam, did you truly believe we wanted you around?"

“Shut up –”

“We only did because we felt bad for you. After your husband passed –”

“I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING PITY.”

Her voice tears through the room, booming against its very walls. Miriam's eyes blaze with fury as she strides toward Theseus, and in an instant, her hand connects with his cheek in a resounding slap that leaves it stinging.

Unbeknownst to anyone but Theseus, you are wide awake, silently observing his calculated provocations aimed at pushing Miriam to her limits. With each jab, you understand his strategy, sensing the gears turning in his mind as he buys time. Knowing Theseus, he probably had a plan in motion before he came for you.

Through her distractions, you take it as an opportunity to survey your surroundings, noting the dilapidated state of the room. Amidst the debris, a broken piece of wood catches your eye—it looks like a post that came apart from a railing. Its edges are sharpened after being torn apart. Something you could weaponise if you needed to.

Immediately you exchange a fleeting glance with Theseus. He’s looking right at you, though almost unnoticeable. You aren’t sure how you could tell, but there’s a silent understanding that develops between the of you.

Something is about to happen.

Just then, a sudden thud echoes from beyond the courtroom. It comes from the room’s entrance.

Miriam's attention snaps toward the sound, prompting you to feign unconsciousness once more. As she directs one of the men to investigate, the pieces fall into place.

Theseus just hopes the plan is set in motion.

He takes a deep breath before fixing Miriam with a steely gaze “You know, Miriam. Something doesn’t quite add up.”

Miriam's jaw clenches in response. “And what is that?” she retorts, her tone edged with defiance.

“The fact that I’m the one who’s in this chair, instead of her … This isn’t just about revenge on her mother isn’t it?”

He sees it. Only a flicker. Her facade slips ever so slightly.

“I’m not stupid, Miriam.”

A beat. The air thickens.

Theseus watches intently as she takes his words in. Then, she steps back, creating distance from him once more. As if she’s almost afraid he’ll be able to detect any sort of falter or weakness in her.

Her once furious eyes are now almost solemn.

“Oleander was … ambitious, hard-headed, and strong-willed man.” Miriam begins, her gaze distant. “Despite all his faults, I loved him. He promised me an escape from my father's tyranny, a chance for us to be together at last.”

Her eyes flicker towards you, still prone on the ground, and a tumult of emotions washes over her face—a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Then, her mother accused me of betraying the very secret that shielded her brother," Miriam continues, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I became a pawn in their game, a scapegoat to be sacrificed. Oleander vanished, leaving me to face the consequences alone.”

So, it’s all for love. Or more for the betrayal she felt.

"I discovered years later that it was he who leaked the secret. Turns out he was an Auror, undercover. He seduced the daughter of a Scourer to infiltrate my wretched father's inner circle. When everything went awry, he led the operation to save the members of The Gardenia Society," Miriam pauses, regaining composure as she continues, "But not me."

Then, Miriam turns to him once more.

"You remind me of him, Theseus. A little too much. All you seek is justice, yet you have no qualms about destroying lives in your path. You deem some unworthy and strike them down, all in the name of righteousness. Just like him. I will not stand by and let history repeat itself."

Fishing something from the pocket of her coat, Theseus discerns its shape in the dim light—a matchbox.

But, Theseus isn’t afraid. Not anymore.

It instead conjures a smile from him—all in rebellious smite.

“You won’t kill me.”

His tone is mocking. It elicits a frown from Miriam.

“What makes you think I won’t end you like the rest? I’ve killed muggles. I've killed her entire family without hesitation. I’m not afraid.”

“But you won’t kill me. Well, you can’t kill me,” Theseus counters with confidence as he clocks movement in the background.

“What?”

“All things must end, Miriam.”

Just then, a sudden flash of blue streaks across the courtroom and hits Morrigan in the shoulder. She collapses at impact.

Immediately, chaos erupts in the courtroom. Aurors flood the room, emerging from every corner of the amphitheatre as the surprise attack begins. Flashes of blinding blue, green and red bolt across the expanse as the attack began.

Theseus sees Travers in the crossfire, Mulberry collapsed on the ground at his feet. His expression is solemn, it’s a reflection after knowing the truth, but also a silent recognition and gratitude to Theseus that if he did not make it in time, this whole place would be in flames. It was risky if anything were to happen to him, but thankfully, his Patronus found Travers and knew of his current location. It was the right call.

Through the impossibilities of today, a miracle did happen.

Miriam’s face splits into pure horror and she loses her concentration amidst the onslaught. Before she can react, you spring into action, wielding the broken piece of wood you had your eye on with fierce determination. Instantly, you strike Miriam on the head with a forceful blow that immediately sends her to the ground, rendering her unconscious.

Miraculously, the binds that held him to the chair disappear, finally able to get to you.

Well, that certainly works.

Breathless and weary, you stand on the edge of exhaustion, your body protesting with every step as you find yourself teetering on the brink of collapse. Despite your efforts to remain upright, your knees finally give out, sending you to the ground. With palms outstretched, you strain against the weight of fatigue, muscling all your strength to keep yourself from falling.

You then feel him. His grip finds the curve of your shoulder and your arm, supporting the weight of your own. It's warm, gentle, desperate yet assuring.

Theseus stares down at you with panic in his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

The words hang in the air as you grapple with the question.

Are you really alright?

“... She killed my family.” you choke out, your voice strained with grief as you struggle to contain a sob. Immediately his hand finds your cheek, fingers against cold skin. They are soft. Grounding.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly.

You feel the gentle drag of his thumb just below your eye. It’s only then your blurred vision from the welling of tears, cheeks stained with the desolation and hurt that begins to settle within you. It hits you, gradually, but the pain is turning unbearable. It’s the physical pain searing through your back and the emotional hurt from everything that’s happened.

All you wanted was for this to end.

And now, when it is, where does it leave you?

Theseus’ careful touch remains on your cheek, his other hand firm against your shoulder. He can see the way your mind begins to spiral.

He says your name. You finally bring your eyes to meet his.

Furrowed brows, charming eyes, cheeks tinged with a little colour of red, vaguely tousled hair.

A small smile plays on his lips.

“We should get out of here, don’t you think?”

–

2 MONTHS LATER

My dearest,

I hope this letter finds you in consolation and comfort, though I must admit that my own heart is heavy with the weight of the news I bear of the fate of your brother.

Contrary to our belief, your brother did not meet his end on the battlefield, as we were led to believe. Instead, he orchestrated his demise when he sought information on your mother and The Gardenia Society. Through our research and Miriam’s testimony, we gathered that your brother was intentionally recruited into the Restoration Movement and allied with Morrigan. He had every intention to seek Miriam and avenge your mother’s death. He was part of the operation until Miriam sensed his true plan and decided to eliminate him. No matter the situation, Miriam would’ve killed him in the end, but she intended to use him to get to you first. This was when her plan started to fall apart.

This is all we know thus far. I shall keep looking for more. Your brother was a brave soul. He saved your life.

With that said, I hope this brings you some peace.

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months. Though I understand your need to be alone at this time, nothing can ever describe the unthinkable things you have been through.

But perhaps, if you wish so, we could meet at St Mary’s Gardens in Woolwich. I hear it’s near your current home. I’ll be there on Sunday at 10 in the morning, should you choose to join me. It’ll be good to see your face once more.

Yours,Theseus

You’ve read this letter a hundred times since a certain familiar owl dropped it on your windowsill, just like the other times it had done so. Letters from Theseus were merely part of your days for the past two months, your desk in your bedroom filled with parchments of handwritten letters, signed by the very man that saved your life and sought to protect you.

Despite this, you never once gave a reply to any of his letters. Truth be told, you had been avoiding Theseus, a subconscious decision to try and distance yourself from everything related to magic. You never wanted to push him away, but you didn’t know how to separate yourself from the events with The Restoration Movement and Miriam without being in his presence. Theseus reminded you of all you’ve lost, though you seem to have forgotten the one thing you’ve gained.

You never saw him when Miriam was put on trial. When the ministry convinced you to step in as a witness, to give your testimony. In return, a deal was made—you get to keep your memories but sworn to secrecy. You somehow suspected that Theseus is the very reason the Ministry is so willing to work with you.

But it was overwhelming. Especially at the start. To talk about everything.

You pushed him away but It didn’t stop Theseus from writing to you. Update after update. He understands your grief better than you would expect.

Theseus never gave up on you. And for a moment, you wonder why you ever gave up on him.

A gust of wind whips through the deck of the Woolwich Ferry, tugging at the letter from your fingers. For a moment, it seemed like it would slip from your grasp, lost to the currents of the River Thames. Your heart leaps as you tighten your grip, fingers curling around the paper as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

You clung to every word like it was a lifeline. His words were the first thing you reached for in the morning, the reassuring touch that helped you muster the strength to face another day alone.

Though certain words made your heart thrum a little faster than usual.

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months.

You know how you feel about Theseus, but now, it’s clear as day.

Perhaps you don’t have to be alone anymore.

The ferry comes to a halt by Woolwich Pier, and your hands start getting clammy. From your position trailing behind a line of people as you step off the ferry, you can spot the gardens, a small gathering of trees amid the urban landscape.

However, you’re distracted, your mind lingering on the words that filled Theseus's letter.

It’ll be good to see your face once more.

The passing scenery catches you off guard and grounds you back to reality when you realise you’re already at the entrance of St Mary’s Gardens. Towering trees with arched branches and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze that shines golden against the morning sunlight. The trees cast shadows on the ground, dancing along the lush yet overgrown grass.

And there, you see Theseus.

He seems anxious, movements betraying a nervous energy that mirrored your own. One moment, he’s seated; the next, he’s standing; and another, he’s pacing as if unable to settle into one spot for more than a moment.

You watch him for a moment, somehow unable to move.

God, you miss him.

Then, as if he had sensed your presence, he’s turning around only to meet your gaze. In an instant, a wave of relief washes over his face, melting away the tension that had gripped him moments before. His expression softens at the mere sight of you. His expression splits into a smile that lights up his entire face.

Theseus says your name, and you feel the sudden warmth that floods your chest.

“Theseus.”

He carefully ambles to you, halting just about a foot away.

“You look …”

Tired, distraught, awful—

“Beautiful.”

Your heart picks up speed and pulls a bashful smile from you. You can’t even look at him without going red.

“Thank you. You look …”

Handsome, charming, the most beautiful man you’ve ever encountered.

“—well too. At least from the last time I saw you.”

The two of you were at St Mungo’s. Theseus had his arm around your waist, bearing the weight of your weakened frame as you stumbled, the sudden nausea overwhelming you after apparating to the hospital. In the reception area, you doubled over and vomited.

Just like old times.

Then, you were separated ever since.

Theseus mirrors your smile, similarly coy.

“I was beginning to think you were ignoring me for good.”

Your heart breaks a little at his words. “Look, Theseus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just …” you trail off, unable to finish your words. You feel guilty.

“No, it’s—you don’t have to apologise. You needed space, I understand that.” Theseus says with an edge of anxiety. As if one wrong word, you’ll go running. He purses his lips and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

Your heart stutters. Theseus has always been so caring that it’s almost overwhelming.

He senses a shift in the air. He knows to be careful and patient. You need time. And he’s willing to wait as long as you want him to.

“If you would like, we could meet again. Same place, same time?”

“I would like that a lot, Theseus.”

–

Your Sundays were then days that truly felt brighter. Theseus works through the week at odd hours, yet ensures to keep his weekends free. Every Sunday, he’s there at St Mary’s Gardens, to give you an update on the investigation.

You find out how your mother passed in America at the hands of Miriam and how your brother may have been a seer, though unproven. It was the only explanation as to how he predicted you would even meet Theseus.

You buried your family. Three empty caskets.

Those times were the hardest. The realisation that secrets had been kept from you left you feeling helpless. Yet, through it all, Theseus stood by your side.

Weeks drift by, the case closes and Miriam and her followers are put behind bars. Still, Theseus ends with the same words:

“Same place, same time?”

So, Sundays turned into Fridays. Then, Wednesdays and Mondays—Theseus always found a way to weave you into his life, despite the hectic life of being an Auror. With his career on the rise from his hard work with your case, it’s hard for him to make time, but he makes it a point to see you, to hear your voice, to check up on you ever so often.

Theseus carries a certain air of enthusiasm when he’s with you. It’s carefully placed, disguised behind his calm demeanour, but you hope he knows how much you share that same enthusiasm whenever you see him. Whether it’s traversing through Hyde Park or sharing meals, these little times tend to be the highlights of your week. It revolves all around him.

Your love for Theseus doesn’t come careening in like an arrow pieced to your heart or a shock to the discernment of your feelings for him.

It’s gradual. And it grows larger and larger with every passing day. With every passing second.

And here you are, leaning against the railing that overlooks the River Thames, brushing shoulders with Theseus as you finish your ice cream. The river glimmers under the setting sun, and a gentle warm breeze sweeps through as the two of you watch Tower Bridge light up in comfortable silence.

“I saw Mr. Shacklebolt the other day,” you chirp suddenly, gaze trailing the ducks by the shore. The skies begin to turn dark as the crowds diminish, but you feel safe. Especially with Theseus.

Theseus turns to you with a curious furrow of his brows. “Who?”

You hum. It’s soft and contemplative and it causes a small smile to creep on your lips. “My old employer. He fired me months back. Before, you know, everything that happened –”

You catch your slipping and immediately halt your sentence, back to munching on your almost-gone ice cream cone.

Before I met you.

He recognises the implication and the sudden shift of your expression. It’s so vague, but he sees it. He always does.

Theseus takes a pause and decides to not address it.

“Really? So, did you clock him in the jaw?” There’s a hint of mischief in his tone and it causes you to laugh. Theseus’ eyes crinkle at the sight.

“I would have. He was right across the street. But, I decided not to. Not because he was with his children and I didn’t want them to see their father get knocked out by a lady –”

It’s Theseus’ turn to laugh. Your face splits into a grin as you continue. “I realised I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t fired me that day.”

A beat. You’re mustering up some sort of courage to make your care for Theseus known. To put it under the spotlight for everyone to see. From the corner of your eye, you can see him staring at you, taking you in, clinging to every word you say.

“And I wouldn’t have met you.”

You huff, feeling incredibly restless as you turn to face him.

“Theseus, I don’t think I ever thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life, and you never gave up on me. I thank you for that.”

He goes quiet in an almost bashful manner now tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he replies, “I try my best … or are you just saying that because I bought you ice cream?”

“Oh piss off!” you snap back at his tease with ardent humour, jabbing him in his shoulder with your finger.

You watch him squirm away with a casual laugh, beaming at you like you’re the sun. At this moment you decide you’re not waiting anymore. God, you don’t even know why you waited this long.

Theseus falls silent, his gaze still fixed on you with a curious beam that ignites a sudden surge of courage within you—courage you never knew you had.

In an instant, you’re surging to him, closing the distance between you where your lips meet his. It’s clumsy, graceless and so quick that it’s almost dreamlike in its brevity. You’re looking at him with wide eyes as if you couldn’t believe what you had just done.

You kissed him.

And Theseus looks like he’s about to explode.

"It seems that you just beat me to it," he breathes, his own lips tingling with the burning imprint of yours.

His words elicit an airy laugh from you, and as you mirror his grin, Theseus feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. Of all the times he’d known you, he had never seen you this light, this warm, this … happy.

He can’t explain it, but an impulse drives to reach for your hand, fingers tangled in your own as he brings his other to the curve of your cheek, warm to the touch. Vacant from tears, but lined with crinkles of laughter and smiles.

He feels the same way when with you.

At that moment, Theseus leans in to press his lips to yours once more. It’s different from before—more gentle, honest, and grounding.

It’s beautiful.

You’ve lived your life full of discrepancies and contradictions, but Theseus is the one thing you were so certain about. It’s a final profound sense of clarity.

Entwined with his fingers, there’s a sense of contentment that settles within you. As if the happiness you always sought has finally found its way into your life.

TAGLIST: (i really hope i got this right ;-;)

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

@aterriblelangblr

@yournewmommy

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@eternallyvenus

@poolnoodlerescuer

@mads-weasley

@decrepit-bees-knees

@eternallyvenus

@lanespeaks

@127djarin

@iceman-kazansky

@probabydeadbynow

@lunalov3smoony

@rinisfruity14

@orchiidflwer

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander imagine #caught in a crossfire

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meistwentyinchheels · 17 days ago

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having many thoughts about percy (he drives me insane) idk what the kf devs put into this man, but i swear i'm addicted. like the more i learn about him the more obsessed i become,,,i think i'm mentally ill

anyways since i think a lot about him (and my kf mc, may. might actually drop a lore post on her at some point) i will now be sharing some of those thoughts. also have a strong feeling this post is gonna end up pretty long just as a heads up lmfao

also a lot of this is just speculation on my part and me trying my best to analyze the little amount of information we have as of the moment. just as a disclaimer, anyways!

out of the three love interests i genuinely think percy might be the angstiest route for the following reasons (under the cut):

like first off, the devs have mentioned in the past that one of the routes will have a forced breakup to serve the greater narrative (this was mentioned a really long time ago tho so it might've been subject to change, but since we have nothing that proves otherwise i am running with it.) and i do not believe in any way that it could be elio,,,unless the devs decide to throw us a curveball lmao jamie is still an option and he was my first thought when i found out about the breakup route, butttt i doubt it'd be him. so from process of elimination that only leaves percy. he's also the only one out of the lis that has been in relationships before and judging from past asks i'm assumingggg that those past experiences most likely still affect him.

second, every single mention of his family has been vague at best and there's been ZERO mention of his mother. in the asks only his dad has ever been mentioned and also in the studying event if u go off with percy and elio, go to check out the polo club and choose to stay back with percy he'll mention that he moved to the states with his dad. normally people would mention both parents, but percy didn't so it's likely his parents divorced at some point? also i had a whole ass supposedly sound argument here, but it got disproven bc apparently his step-dad also came with them to the states??? like yes it does still prove that his parents r divorced, but it can also imply he has 2 dads. that's so funny i love it. okay moving onto my actual point!!! since percy is a child of divorce it's likely also affected his view of love and romantic relationships. possibly in a skewed way, but who knows so that does add to the angst factor QUITE a bit

finally, percy's avoidant and deferring nature. during the festival event if you split up and then go to check out the festival games you end up running into percy, which is when the game tells you that he tends to defer to what others want and seems to be perkier exploring the games by himself. there's also a few occasions in-game where if the mc tries to ask percy about himself he tends to either A. brush the topic off or B. push the attention onto someone else (usually elio?). so i'd assume that he dislikes talking about himself? which would mean it would take him a good while to open up. which isn't inherently a bad thing, but it can also cause communication issues so. sigh.

is this flimsy evidence? yes! but do i care? no! also i would do a deeper dive into this if i was actually good at analyzing character behaviors,,,and if not for the fact that at the time i'm writing this it's 1am on a school night. there's also so many other things i could have talked about!!! like his name!!! maybe some other day. so like. do with all this information what you will. bc i certainly will!!! i have so many ideas!! many angsty notes!!! be prepared.

#keyframes vn #perseus tozaki #percy tozaki #author ely's shenanigans #if i'm wrong on any of this then PLEASE tell me #also ty to the discord server for correcting me bc i would have 100 percent embarrassed myself on here if they hadn't lmao #anyways!#i think a lot about percy #need to gently hold him in my hands #then squish him

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gremlinmodetweeker · 2 months ago

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okay okay, it's a lil silly but hear me out konig + phantom of the opera au

man's got it all; need to cover his face, obsessive tendencies, and the need to be a secretive lil (big) weirdo *chef's kiss*

NO NO NO HOLD ON YOU'RE COOKIN. NOT SILLY AT ALL.

Now look here, I dunno if you know this, but I am a sucker for classic literature. One of my top three favourite books of all time is Frankenstein by Mary Shelly. That woman ate when she wrote that book and I will listen to nothing else. I also really want to write an essay about how Frankenstein is Mary Shelly discussing the inherent horror of motherhood in those times and how the lack of a mother figure shapes an individual. I think it's an extremely layered book, but I like to see the parenthood lens of the book.

Now now now, this is about Phantom of the Opera. I do know a bit about the original phantom, and I don't like to think König or reader dies in the end (just personally, I can't write a tragic ending. I really need a happy ending, not for the reader, but because I need a happy ending). So, let me introduce the idea that this is a version where the phantom wins.

This is one where the phantom was fucking right and actually, freak of nature as he is, maybe he had a point!!! Maybe, reader shouldn't be dating someone twice their age. Maybe, though König is a bit older for sure, he's actually not that old and a more appropriate age. Albeit, though now recovered, König still suffered a case of leprosy after being exposed during a war. He considers himself hideous, but maybe reader would be able to look past his sickness?

Now, is König appropriate as a lover? Probably not. He's obsessive, jealous, and a borderline stalker. He's determined to kill off the man who's trying to seduce her ('How dare you try and take my little songbird away from me!!!') and will do anything to keep reader to himself. However, he's also saving reader from a far worse fate with someone worse than him.

Reader is enchanted by Makarov of course, but König knows better and is determined to show her the light. He desperately wants to just talk to her and explain everything to her, but at this point he's committed to what he's doing and social anxiety makes him unable to just knock on her door and talk to her like a regular person.

Once again, like every incredible story in the English language, if you guys just talked everything would be fine but nobody knows how to be an adult.

Anyways, König loves reader dearly. Watching her perform makes his heart ache. His one saving grace is a beautiful voice he uses to enchant her. If his face is nothing but sickness, let him sing to his little songbird and help her connection to music. He'll do what he can to cling to any connections he has to her. He's desperate to hold her, and he'll do whatever he needs to to get to her.

IMPORTANT EDIT:

König with the phantom mask but he has two long red ribbons coming out the bottom of the eyes and the rest of his face is hidden under a dark hood. Consider it.

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sepublic · 3 months ago

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Shoutout to my obscure faves, the Demon Hunters; I like how they're objectively pretty terrible people, attempting to steal someone's home and kill their house demon and kids for it.

But at the same time, Eye Patch is seen rooting for Eda's escape from the petrification ceremony because solidarity, and is later chill with the protagonists during the Bonesborough Brawl.

The BATTs rescue Good Hair from the covenscouts (because solidarity), which is obviously framed as a good thing. Good Hair joining a coven anyway out of fear, and her near-death from the draining ritual, a bad thing. Prim became a friend to Eda at some point and her joining a coven was also tragic.

My point being: They don't have to be perfect victims to not deserve genocide, the demon hunters don't deserve to be persecuted for unjust reasons. The people of the isles as a whole don't have to be morally perfect to not deserve genocide; Lilith did some terrible things but her abuse in the coven was unjust, as another example. As an individual, Adegast was a jerk who had it coming by people he actually wronged, and acted independently of the coven; But to judge an entire group for that is inherently absurd.

This is also why I love Boscha having her moment in For the Future, because unlike other characters, we've seen her be pretty awful, fully of her own volition and enjoyment without anyone really forcing her to, even advising against it in Amity's case. We know Boscha had no excuse for the stuff she did prior to meeting Kikimora; And indeed, she still managed to become leader of Hexside before that, and one could say her listening to Kiki's tyranny was kind of the natural evolution of Boscha's own bullying and obsession with domination.

But not being a perfect victim doesn't change the fact that she IS a victim in this situation, she's a minor with no other adults to rely on, being manipulated by an adult who is fully okay with murdering kids and has learned abuse from the best. And I think that's a good lesson for kids watching who DID do some bad things and might regret it, or question if they 'deserve' to get better because of that; But they want to, so they can and should!

This and the Demon Hunters means that for whatever conflict people might have, they definitely have a vested interest in protecting one another from a bigoted state, even if not from each other haha. There's not really a scene where an antagonist gets their comeuppance by being arrested, because if they were already targeted by the state for unjust reasons, then this would just validate its tyranny. Fittingly, the prison we see in Latissa is replaced by a hospital, which encapsulates the shift from retributive to restorative justice here.

#The Owl House #Demon Hunters #The Owl House Eye Patch #The Owl House Good Hair #The Owl House Prim #The Owl House Boscha

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joelswritingmistress · 11 months ago

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 16

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Warning: Brief mention of S.A.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Five-thirty in the morning. Monday. It had been the day I had been dreading since I’d been whisked away to Dr. Miller’s castle of mystery on Thursday evening. The crushing weight of my feelings overpowered the unanswered questions and the part I tried to ignore - the red flags. I was completely seduced by everything my professor had to offer, from his body to his perplexing home, to the way he looked at me and all of the secrecy involved. Magnetic was the only adjective I had in my mind that could accurately describe how things felt.

When my alarm sounded off, waking both of us, Dr. Miller turned it off and cuddled me close for another extra second or two, holding me from behind.

“I’m going to make you breakfast,” he explained, kissing the top of my shoulder. “Go take a shower.”

I turned to face him and our noses touched as I spoke. “Okay.”

Dr. Miller kissed me and my hand naturally moved to his face. Why did this day have to come? Would I ever get the chance to come back here? Were his words in the heat of our passionate weekend truthful, or just said in the moment?

“I’ll drop you off at work.”

It suddenly dawned on me that I had left my car on campus all weekend. Before I could say anything about it, Dr. Miller spoke, again, like he could read my thoughts.

“I had your car towed to your house,” he informed me. “It’s paid for. I just didn’t want anything to happen to it all weekend unattended.”

I opened my mouth to speak but then stopped.

“I hope that’s okay,” he added. “If there’s anything wrong with your car I’ll personally-”

“No,” I shook my head to let him know I wasn’t displeased. “Thank you.” I couldn't believe I hadn't even given a single thought to my car. And I couldn't even wrap my head around Dr. Miller having it towed to my house.

“I’ll pick you up from work, too,” Dr. Miller offered, and then added, “If you’d like.”

I smiled at him now, beginning to truly feel that the obsessive, little thoughts that had creeped into my brain were mutual. Dr. Miller wanted to be around me as much as I wanted to be around him. He was doting on me and making sure I was happy and content. I loved how he took care of my every need.

He pecked my lips and I took his face in both hands now and kissed him hard. Dr. Miller reciprocated, kissing me back with just as much intensity as he moved partially on top of me. After a whirlwind romance from Thursday night through Saturday, Sunday had been far more low key after the odd all-nighter that still left me uneasy during any downtime where I had too much time to think. I was ready to get back to the whirlwind.

Dr. Miller parted his lips from mine with a deep breath. “Save it for later.” He dove back in for another kiss, “You’ll be late for work.”

“So what.” I giggled and he kissed me hard again. “We have ten minutes to spare.”

“Mmm..” he grunted the word and I could tell there was a hint of playful frustration that lingered in his response. Dr. Miller’s hands locked mine down onto the bed and he moved fully on top of me. “You don't play fair.”

“Neither do you.”

I made it to work on time that morning - barely. When he dropped me off near the main entrance of the building I was thankful no one I was close with was around to ask questions.

Dr. Miller left me with a steamy kiss behind the tinted windows of his Mercedes and tapped beneath my chin with his first two fingers.

“I'll be back at three-thirty,” he assured me.

“Okay.” Our lips touched again and he waited until I was inside before driving off.

Things almost felt foreign when I walked in through the doors of the building I had been working in for so long. It wasn't the surroundings. I felt different.

“Feeling better?” One of my coworkers greeted me with a smile as I entered the office.

“A lot better.” I smiled back., “Thanks.”

All day behind my desk I went through the motions, but my mind was elsewhere. Thankfully everything on my plate that day was routine and I didn't have to think too hard about what I was doing.

My mind flashed back to all the highlights of the weekend. If I was being completely honest with myself, it was the best weekend of my life.

But where did he go Saturday night?

I knew, in time, I had to ask. I had to know.

The hours ticked by like molasses in winter. Each time I paid attention to the clock it had only ticked by in small increments.

Am I being toxic? I wondered. Is my current obsession truly unhealthy, or is it normal to feel this way about someone early in the relationship? Am I Dr. Miller’s girlfriend? Am I just some random girl to him? I didn't think the last one was true. I wasn't the most intuitive person out there, but I knew I couldn't be reading this wrong. The man dropped me off at work and offered to pick me up. He could've politely suggested I go home at any point in our long weekend together but he didn't.

I breathed and looked at the clock again, suddenly wondering where I would be sleeping that night. Another wave of excitement and anxiety washed over me at the thought. I truly felt like my brain chemistry was being altered from all the dopamine releases as of late. I wasn't complaining, but I hadn't exactly relaxed or turned my brain off for an extended period of time for well over a week - possibly a little longer.

“Hey (Y/N).” My coworker, Olivia, wheeled her chair across the low, blue carpet.

“Hey.” I smiled. “What's up?”

“You're taking classes down at Woodbridge, right?”

There was the adrenaline shot again. Anything that had to do with Woodbridge or Dr. Miller instantly put me into that hyper alert mode.

“Yeah.” I nodded nonchalantly, masking it all rather easily.

“How crazy is it about those girls who were killed?”

“I know.” I shook my head. “I was in class nearby when they found the first body. There was a whole crowd gathered around and reporters and stuff.”

“Wild.”

“I know.”

“At least they have a suspect in mind.”

“What? They do.” Olivia had my attention now.

“Yeah, it was on the news this morning. The police even raided his house this morning but he wasn't there.”

“Who is he?”

“Some guy named Alec Pryor. Registered sex offender, confessed to some seriously messed up shit in the past.”

I shuddered. “That's so scary.” I cringed. “And he was just lurking on campus.. waiting.. ugh.”

“Yeah apparently he got released back in, like, April.”

“They should never let those guys out.”

“Right!” Olivia nodded. “Sexual assault is the lowest kind of crime you can commit. The absolute worst. They should just kill those guys. Get rid of ‘em.”

“I know.” I scrunched my nose and shook my head. “So, where is he then? Did they pick him up somewhere else?”

My work friend whipped out her cell phone and began typing furiously with her thumbs before staring at the screen. She scrolled for a moment and adjusted her circular glasses before pausing as she read up on something.

“This article says..” Olivia angled her body toward mine. “They have yet to find him.” She made a face that broke the tension and made me crack a faint smile. “But they're on the hunt for him, currently.”

“Yikes.”

“Don't go anywhere alone when you're near that campus,” she advised.

“They'll catch him,” I said, only slightly confident that that was true.

“I hope so.”

“So crazy.” I repeated the name to myself. “Alec Pryor.”

“Looks like a creep.” Olivia turned her phone around and showed me a picture of the scowling, middle-aged man in a former mug shot.

“They should post his face all over the place so people are aware,” I said.

“I think they are.” She scrolled some more, “Oo, this one is calling it a ‘manhunt’.”

“That means he's on the run,” I said and added, mostly to make myself feel more secure. “He's probably hours away by now.”

Olivia shuddered and rolled back to her desk. “Be careful. That's all I'm sayin’. This is exactly why I have two German Shepherds.”

“I don't blame you.” I sighed, welcoming the interaction. It was a perfect distraction. I needed it to get my overdriven hormones somewhat back to neutral.

A little female bonding did just that, helping the work day move along a little faster.

When the day finally neared its end, I caught a glance of the Mercedes out one of the many windows in the office. I smiled to myself and hurried to finish up the last of my work and respond to the last few emails.

The time between three-fifteen and three-thirty felt like hours. As soon as the minute hand aligned vertically with the number six, I grabbed my coat and headed out the doors with a quick farewell to everybody.

I didn’t know if anyone was looking when I hopped into the passenger side of Dr. Miller’s car. I didn’t care. All I cared about was the man sitting behind the wheel.

“Hey, baby.” He flashed a cool smile in my direction as I climbed in and I slammed the door behind me.

“I love it when you call me that.” I leaned over and we shared a smoldering kiss. Again, I was thankful for the tints. I was breathless when our lips parted and settled beside him in the vehicle. Dr. Miller rested a hand on my knee as he put the car in drive and cruised out of the parking lot.

“Why don’t you let me drive you home,” he said.

I swallowed hard when he didn’t say anything more. Home? I had to go home and sit there and think of him and what he might be doing? I had to sleep without him? I had to-

“I’ll help you pack some things and then you can..” Dr. Miller shrugged, “Decide how long you want to stay at my place.”

Fuck. I calmed down immediately from the insanely frantic thoughts he caused by the dramatic pause. There was the push and pull of emotions again.

“How long am I welcome for?”

“For as long as you decide.” Dr. Miller glanced over at me as we drove and we both smirked.

“Well, then I better pack heavy.”

Dr. Miller’s grin widened as he stared out at the road. “Suit yourself.’

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17

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patrasche-enjoyer · 1 year ago

Text

I suppose it is neither unfair nor untrue to say that Subaru craves connectivity to other humans, something that was certainly fostered by his youth, which was plagued by loneliness and isolation due to his more than complex relation to his father, his imposter syndrome as well has his anxiety disorder, all of which came to their worst climax in his high school years.

Of course, as soon as he is reincarnated and can "start from zero" as the title of the series would imply, he takes the opportunity to reconnect with others, as many of us would do too. However, due to the inherently isolating nature of RBD, he quickly falls back into his old habits of searching for connectivity without actually baring his true self to others. Of course RBD isn't completely at fault for such behavior, Subaru still carries wounds from his past, he never confronted his issues nor did he unlearn harmful habits, even with a "fresh start", it was impossible to truly get better.

[Side note: I do really enjoy that re:zero does not just take into account Subaru's previous life, but also the hardships he had to face back then and doesn't make them seem like lesser struggles in comparison to his newer problems]

Of course, caring about someone deeply and them forgetting about you entirely, as would be the case with RBD, could, at its worst, break almost everyone. So it is not strange, in fact, that Subaru, who is already starved for connectivity, would come across as near obsessive over the people he cared about, especially from the perspective of others who do not remember him from previous loops.

My man Otto doesn't have that fucking excuse tho, he saw Subaru for like a minute and was like "hey is anybody gonna obsesse over that?" and not wait for an answer, my man is ready to kill not just himself but eradicate entire fucking countries for Subaru, there is clearly something wrong with him and being around Subaru clearly unlocked some awful part of his brain

#re:zero #natsuki subaru #otto suwen #this isnt actually supposed to be some analysis i kinda just wanted to sound smart to make the punchline hit #it isnt wrong persay #but if u did any amount of character analysis in school u would know that im basically just stringing together bullshit #also im kinda operating on 2h of sleep here so if this doenst make sense yes it does <3

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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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im sorry if this is a lame ask, but i just had the idea and thought i would share it to see if it would strike any inspo! of course on this blog you’ve talked about all the things our beloved troupe members are into, but have you ever considered what their absolute turn offs are? like things that pull them out of the mood almost immediately? or kinks that would seem to fit certain members, but end up not being their thing for one reason or another

Ooh yes anon this strikes inspo !!

This is a good point - it's all fine and dandy to imagine sex with your yandere as being so bad but so good, as if they know every secret, dirty kink and fantasy you have. (That's because they do know, whether through extensive stalking, pouring through your search histories, or raw, natural sexual chemistry with you. They all think they've got that last one, but normally any positive sexual encounters between the two of you will be a consequence of the former two rather than the latter.)

But of course, everyone has turn offs, and while your yandere would be willing to do pretty much anything to please you, even the most obsessed, unhinged yanderes have a few hard, fast exceptions.

I'm assuming you meant just hxh yanderes for this, so let's proceed moving forward with that in mind! If you meant for another fandom, please let me know and I'd be happy to discuss those yanderes too <3

Let's discuss !!

(Tw for petnames, watersports, recording, anal, pegging, crying, hitting, and other smutty things)

Chrollo Lucilfer is pretty hard to frazzle in bed, and is one of those who have done extensive, eager research into both your own personal sexual preferences, and made educated guesses on kinks that seem to correlate with ones he already knows you possess. That said, Chrollo himself isn't especially risky in bed - he'll indulge you, sure, but he doesn't have a strong desire to try anything especially crazy unless you're a big fan. And while he'll let you have your fun (particularly in the beginning of your sexual relationship, just because promising you that he'll choke you or dominate you or whatever else you may like just to get you into bed with him and somewhat willing, just because he needs to pleasure you and get you warming up to him) , most of the time sex with him is quite vanilla. He's open to listening to whatever you want, with one very, very large exception: there is no amount of pleading or bargaining that will let you peg him. He doesn't inherently believe that men should always be dominant over women, but he does believe that he should always be dominant over you. And if you were to peg him, this power structure would collapse, allowing you too much control over both his pleasure and him. He doesn't mind being in a more physically submissive position (he'll never deny you when you straddle him and tell him that you're in charge for the evening, the only response you get being a twinkle in his eye, a soft smirk and a hummed we will see, my love), but the idea of you fucking him just rubs him the wrong way. He's more vulnerable with you than he is anyone else, but Chrollo has his limits. (Besides, the idea of absolutely falling apart for you is both alluring and terrifying, because the moment you discover his prostate, he'll be a gasping mess, his cheeks tinged a light pink and his grip on the sheets below him very, very tight. It would be embarrassing, and he can't allow you to see him in such a weak position - it would derail all the hard work he's done to convince you that you need him.)

Feitan Portor really detests being called Daddy. He thinks it's weird, and even if you - sweet, perfect, irritatingly attractive you - were to say it, he still wouldn't like it. There's just something about it that rubs him the wrong way - it feels too paternal, and while he doesn't remember having a family in any biological capacity, it still just makes his skin crawl. He won't get soft immediately upon hearing you say it (he's always just slightly hard when you're in his vicinity, so rarely ever is he truly flaccid around you), but he'll need to pull out and take a breather, mentally trying to erase the sound of the petname rolling off your tongue. He can deal with other petnames - he'd be okay with sir, if only because he's always kind of had a thing for roleplaying, or at least having some sort of overarching power dynamic present during sex, and being called sir would place him in a position of absolute authority, meaning he could do whatever he wants to you and you'd just obediently obey. (You already kind of do, too scared to say no to him, but it doesn't feel as authentic - he feels less comfortable, more vulnerable and exposed and raw, and he doesn't like that.) You could even call him master if you really wanted to - similarly, it feeds his desire for playing a powerful, dominant role, but he doesn't have any sort of particularly liking towards maid costumes or anything of the sort, so it wouldn't do too much for him. He's good with nearly anything else you could throw at him, but never Daddy. Frankly, he really just prefers his own, actual name - it just sounds so damn good when you gasp it, the sound going straight to both his cock and heart.

Phinks Magcub's brows always get pinched and his lips quirk down when he thinks about the idea of you bleeding during sex. It makes his hands itch, this protectiveness welling up inside him that makes him antsy and nervous and jittery, the energy all pent up and needing to be released because god, he doesn't like seeing you hurt. Even if it makes you feel good, your moans increasing because of the pain twinged pleasure, he's unwilling to indulge you - he couldn't bring himself to purposefully make you bleed, and while he does occasionally (often) leave you bruised and incredibly sore after having his way with you, that's a whole different thing from seeing that crimson color against your pretty skin. It just makes him uncomfortable - if you asked nicely enough he'd consider maybe lightly slapping you or getting rough with you (though he's already pretty rough when he gets lost in the moment - finger shaped bruises litter your body and hickeys dance along your collarbone and neck), but he'll draw the line at drawing blood. (Similarly, he doesn't really want to bleed himself either, but he'd be more willing to be in the position of pain than putting you into that position of pain. Besides, it might help him last longer, the pleasure warded off by negative stimulation - and god knows Phinks needs all the help he can get in delaying his orgasms.)

Uvogin is pretty adventurous in bed, all things considered, but even he has a few hard turn offs, one of which being degrading you. He doesn't mind calling you needy or possessive terms of endearment, but anything with even a slight negative connotation is always preceded by a 'my', so that when he's calling you a slut it always becomes my slut. Even then, he doesn't like doing this - his natural default when he's naked with you is to be praising you, because those are honestly the thoughts running through his mind when he's got his hands on you and he's feeling your soft skin against his. He genuinely only has good, lustful, reverent things to say about your body and the fact that he's getting to touch, kiss, squeeze, and fuck you, and he's not shy about telling the truth. And so, if you were to request for him to degrade you a bit in bed or be a little meaner, he'll oblige, but it'll feel just slightly forced, his words not holding their usual deep, growling timber that always sends shivers down your spine. He ends up compromising by mixing praise and degradation, but absolutely destroying you with his thrusts and well placed circles on your clit, channeling all the harsh, humiliating energy of verbal degradation instead into how he assaults your body with an overwhelming amount of pleasure. He just doesn't like the idea of lying to you, even if it turns you on in this context, because it just feels wrong to tell you that you're only a hole for me to fuck, and holes don't talk. You're not - you're so much more than that, and he doesn't want you to think otherwise. Hell no, not with all the work he's put into making you get comfortable with him and want him. One roll around on the liviing room floor (he'd gotten impatient and didn't feel like making the thirty step journey to the bedroom) isn't worth reversing months worth of warming you up to him. Not even if you leave his back scratched up or end up so stuffed full of his cum that you're literally leaking.

Nobunaga Hazama is, frankly, just thankful and elated that you're touching him. He's delusional, compeltely out of touch with reality, and fucking weird, but he's also a major sap and literally gets heart eyes everytime he sees you. And so, in the bedroom he wants everything to be as close and sensual as possible, and for every bit of pleasure and love shared between the two of you to be expressed in full. This, of course, includes any and all noises he draws out of you - that is, Nobunaga has to have you gasping and keening and moaning. He's loud himself, and he expects sex to be full of wanton cries and a cacophany of sound; one that you are expected to eagerly contribute to. And if you don't deliver? Well, Nobunaga will just try harder, licking at your faster or thrusting harder or pinching tighter - anything and everything to get you to make a damn sound, to give stop him from having to confront the reality that you aren't enjoying this nearly as much as he is. He gets turned off when you're quiet, which is a real bummer if you aren't naturally loud - you have to be, because he won't quite until you are, even if that takes hours and hours and hours.

Alternatively, Franklin Bordeau can tell when you're faking it, and he doesn't like that. At all. He doesn't want your forced moans or fabricated shaking or anything that isn't real - he wants you, your genuine reactions to his touch, and your genuine personality in bed. He doesn't want you to sound like some pornstar - with your moans constant and high and shrill and more pained than pleasured - for two main reasons, the first of which being that it's just annoying. He's never understood the allure of a woman screaming during sex, and even in the context of actual, real pleasure, it still makes him uncomfortable. It's too close to the sounds he hears when he's working a heist - he doesn't want you to sound like them, because he has no intentions of hurting you and just the mere thought of you bloodied is enough to get him soft immediately and clutching onto you like you'll disappear any moment. The second reason why he doesn't want you to be forcing anything is because although he's decently confident in his sexual abilities, he knows he isn't making you feel that good. He's sure him fingering you isn't capable of getting you gasping and whining his name constantly - sure, it feels good, and you'll probably moan and sigh, but still. When he's fucking you, he's hopeful that you'll cry out his name, but he knows you shouldn't be screaming and rythmically, shrilly moaning. He values honesty, and hearing your real, raw reactions to his touch and his presence feels a thousand times more pleasurable than anything you could ever forcibly manufacture - especially your orgasms. He can always tell when you're faking, so don't try it. Don't.

Honestly, it's pretty difficult to get Shalnark turned off. He's kinky, adventurous, and misinterprets a lot of your responses during sex - he likes to think you're just as wild as he is, and even when you clearly don't like something, he still thinks seeing you struggle is just as arousing. (Besides, most of the time he will get you to orgasm - and seeing the internal dilemma of hating what he's doing alongside the pleasure you can't hold back is absolutely delicious.) That said, there are very specific situations that Shalnark doesn't find any attraction in - specifically, he absolutely is not willing to be cucked. Having another person in the room while he fucks you hard enough to make you cry isn't a problem at all - on the contrary, he's very, very interested in that idea, because having another man watch him claim you makes both his possessiveness and nostrils flare, his palms getting sweaty and his pants feeling tight. Cucking, on the other hand, implies that there's someone else touching you - another person sullying you, getting their disgusting hands on your perfect skin that's all his his his, and that's just simply unacceptable. He didn't go through all that trouble of kidnapping you and keeping you in a secure location just to have you touched, fucked, loved by another man. It doesn't matter if it's a stranger or someone Shalnark trusts with his life - you will not be getting intimate with another soul for the rest of your life, simply because he firmly sees you as his property, and him yours. So don't even bother bringing the idea up - he'll fuck you in front of the stranger, no problem, but they're prohibited to strictly watching. (Or, maybe, they'd be good at helping get those camera angles that are really tough to capture - right up in your face, or right zoomed into where his length - flushed red and swollen - is sinking into you over and over, the home video the perfect thing to watch tonight as he cuddles you to sleep.)

Alternatively, Machi Komacine can't stomach the thought of doing anything public. It's not that she fears getting caught, but rather that it makes her uncomfortable that anyone could see the two of you. Someone could just pass by and happen to get an eyeful of you - your pretty skin and curves, your lovely body that her eyes always seem to get stuck on, watching, wanting, yearning. She's not spontaneous in any way when it comes to sex, and she just doesn't see the allure of the risk or danger involved. She's too possessive; it takes her so long to even allow herself to see you naked, and to have a stranger do that and even see your face while she's pleasuring you, while you're coming? The thought makes her nen flare up, the urge to wrap you in her arms and keep the world from even catching a glimpse of you only growing stronger. Even aside from her possessiveness, the idea of doing something where others could see you makes her nervous, too, because Machi isn't entirely confident in her abilities to actually please you in the bedroom. Sure, she understands female anatomy and has a good sense of what you like from all that stalking, but actually doing it? That's a different thing entirely - and the pressure of pleasing you coupled with the pressure of other people potentially watching her struggle makes her feel uncomfortable, a foreign, heavy sense of self doubt settling heavily in her gut. It's just not for her - sex belongs in the bedroom, or perhaps the couch or kitchen table. Not outside of your 'shared' apartment, and certainly not where someone else could get an eyeful of what's hers.

Pakunoda will still jump on the opportunity to pleasure you and be pleasured, but in general she'll be hesitant if the both of you are still fully clothed. She doesn't see the appeal of clothed sex - she wants you completely bared to her, utterly raw, your body on display for her to worship and touch and mark. She thinks keeping the clothing on is not only impractical, but diminishes the intimacy between the two of you. You'll get all sorts of sticky, hard to clean things staining the clothes, and because she can be a little snobby about materialistic delights like luxury clothing, she's not exactly keen on getting your slick all over her nice clothes. (Although, she wouldn't be entirely opposed to having your slick all over her skin, like you're leaving a mark of possession on her. Just not the clothes.) Clothes stop her from being able to fully explore your body, and, as much as she'd never admit it, when you have your clothing on it makes it much harder to use her nen on you. That is, while it makes her feel a little dirty and slimy, she will be using her ability to dig into your memories for any information on your kinks and fantasies, just because she wants to make sex as perfect and pleasurable for you as she possibly can. So shed the layers with her - it makes things so much better. Plus, the sight of you bare and squirming underneath her, looking all pretty and submissive and cute is certainly a drool worthy sight.

All things considered, Shizuku Murasaki is actually kind of picky about sex. She likes things to be her way or the highway, and as her darling you'll be forced to go along with all of her preferences and wants. And while she loves all things oral, there are a few things she's absolutely unwilling to do. Namely, while she worships you and cherishes you as much as a mass-murderer can, she will not indulge you in anything involving your asshole. It's a cleanliness thing for her; she knows you're clean (she'd just bathed with you this morning and personally hand washed you, paying very, very careful attention to your cunt), but she has a mental block against having her mouth anywhere near that part of you. She's always felt this way with every partner she's had - she just doesn't understand the allure of anal, whether that be fingering, oral, or penetration. She'd much, much rather pay attention to other areas of your body - your pussy, your thighs, your breasts, your mouth. She'll always shy away when she's got her face between your legs, but unfortunately for you, this courtesy does not extend to you too. She doesn't expect you to do anything with her ass, but she certainly won't stop you if you're getting too close, or if you get the desire. She'll just blink at you and tell you to be careful, then pull your head in by your hair and get you closer and closer and closer, enjoying the experience despite herself. Shizuku is a little hypocritical in a lot of aspects in sex, but this is one particular area where she's absolutely unfair.

Hisoka Marrow is a freak in every sense of the word. Genuinely, there is very, very little you could do that would cause him to fall out of the mood, or to rid him of the insistant, raging boner nearly everything you do gives him. He'll try anything once, and he firmly believes in keeping your sex life interesting and varied. That said, he certainly has preferences, and one thing that sits quite low on his list of preferred bedroom activities is to be worshipped. It's not that he doesn't want your attention and praise (he does, urgently), but rather that there's something about the position of being the one drowned in compliments and confessions of love that makes him a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it's because he's not used to being in such a submissive, vulnerable position, or maybe it's because he doesn't feel like he's got enough control of the situation. It doesn't really matter, because Hisoka will always send teasing remarks your way when you get the courage to be the dominant one, and that will almost always derail you enough to get you steering away from any territory that gets dangerously close to becoming too vulnerable and real for him. He loves you in his own twisted, strange way, but he's not ready to open himself up fully to you, to let you take full charge and just take care of him. He may never be ready, really, so any dreams you have of fully dominating him and reducing him to a trembling, fucked out mess will have to remain just that - dreams.

In general, Illumi Zoldyck will try most things you suggest. It's not that he's especially adventurous in the bedroom, but rather that you're the first person he's ever had any sexual contact with, and everything with you feels good, so he wants to try it all. He has very few boundries when it comes to you, and so consequently, there aren't too many things that turn him off. However, he does have two surefire things that he'll immediately and vehemently outright refuse. Firstly, he will absolutely not wear any protection. He turns his nose at the thought of condoms, and will only laugh in your face if you suggest using them for obvious reasons. He will be entering you in the most natural way possible, and he will be finishing as deeply inside of you as he can manage. Secondly, he absolutely will not allow another person to be involved in your sex life. There will be no third person in your bed, no other person for you to be pleasuring and be pleasured by. There is only you and Illumi - it's your sex life, and it makes his possessiveness flare up to dangerous proportions to imagine another person seeing you in such a vulnerable, intimate position. So really, don't even bother bringing up the idea - he won't even consider it, already shooting it down before you're finished getting the sentence out. (And after he finishes lecturing you about how another man or woman has no place in your bed, he'll promptly fuck you right then and there - no matter where you are - just to prove his point. He's all you need, after all.)

Sex with Kurapika Kurta is soft and sensual. It can be a little rougher if he's had a particularly bad day, or if he's recently had a run in with the Troupe, but for the most part he makes love rather than fucks. And because of this, he really, really doesn't like seeing you cry during sex. It makes him uncomfortable, his instincts begging him to comfort you and eliminate whatever caused your tears. He associates crying with the early days of when he'd kidnapped you, back when you were still terrified of him and much too scared to even stand to look at him, much less allow him to touch you. And particularly in the context of sex, he does not want to be reminded of all the horrible things he's done to you - things are good now, happy, and you've finally come around to the idea that he loves you, that you'll spend the rest of your life with him. And so, the moment there are tears beading at your eyes, he's immediately going soft, his palms cupping your cheeks as he stares wildly at you, asking in a rushed, still breathless voice if you're alright, if you're hurt, if you're upset and who he needs to kill to right this wrong. He overreacts, and it always, always turns into either self hatred aimed at himself for ruining your happiness, or a bloodthirsty desire to kill whoever is upsetting you. The only exception to his hatred of you crying is when it's done because you're too overstimulated, the pleasure too much for you to even process. When you're so fucked out from the pleasure he gave you, then the tears are acceptable. He still doesn't like them all that much, but it's at least a sign that he's treating you well, that he's able to make you feel good and pleasured, and it makes pride swell in his chest. So in general, try not to cry in front of him - he goes flaccid in mere seconds, his protective nature ramping up and any semblance of sexiness gone immediately.

When Leorio Paradinight has you in bed, he's almost in a state of utter awe, almost unable to really process what's going on. He's just so incredibly aroused by you, even if you're just laying beside him with your clothes fully on, and because of this he's game to try pretty much anything you want in bed. He's genuinely just so fucking excited to be with you that he'll do basically anything you want, no matter how degrading or gross or off the wall. That said, however, he doesn't really understand the appeal of pet play. He doesn't harbor any fantasies of you donning a set of bunny ears or a tail or anything of the sort, simply because he doesn't really like fantasies that change you, even if it's something as trivial as your ears. He thinks of you as perfection, and that includes every proportion of your body, every freckle, mole, hair and blemish you could have, and he doesn't want to pretend that you aren't exactly who - and what - you are. Besides, he just doesn't see the appeal; he wants you to talk and moan for him when he's touching you, not have you purr or whine or any other animal noise. He thinks it's a little weird, if he's being honest, and while he'll begrudgingly agree if you beg him to try it out (he'll do anything to see you smile, after all), his orgasm won't come as pathetically easily as normal. This extends to pet play where he's the one dressing up as a pet, too - he's more likely to enjoy it this way, but there's something humiliating about the butt plug tail and the fox ears, and it's humiliating in all the wrong ways. He's just not too big of a fan - now if you wanted to get some sort of ownership roleplay going that didn't involve pets or animals, he'd be all over that - the moment you refer to yourself as mommy or his mistress, he's practically creaming his pants, getting on his knees for you and begging for you to touch him. (And maybe even step on him, depending on how needy he's feeling that day.)

Razor, despite sometimes losing control in bed and getting a little rougher than he means to, will never willingly hit you in bed. He doesn't like the idea of slapping you. He might gently pat your ass when you're bouncing on top of him, but it's only just enough to make you yelp, only enough to make a slight smack noise of skin against skin. Hitting you - even in the context of sexual pleasure - reminds him too much of his younger days, back when he was a criminal and was much less controlled, much more dangerous. And really, that's the last thing he wants you to see him as - he wants you to take comfort in him, to want him to hold you and touch you, and he's sure that even if you want him to get rough with you and manhandle you, to smack your cheek and tell you to behave for him, you will start associating him with pain and violence. And he just can't have that - not after all the work he's gone through to prove that despite kidnapping you, he's not the monster you think he is. (Besides, there's just something more meaningful about softer, sweeter sex - he's fucked more women than he'd care to admit, but you're the first one he's gone slow with, the first one he's really taken his time with. And while it might be stupid, that makes you different in his eyes - like he's saved something special for you, like the passionate, romantic side of him that comes out when he's got you naked and stretched out on his fingers is something only you'll ever get to see.)

Another man who tries to keep things a bit vanilla in the bedroom (not for the same reasons as Razor, but rather because he just genuinely prefers more intimate and tame sex) is Knuckle, who can't stand the thought of recording your intimate times. He does objectively think the idea is a bit hot, but he's too worried that somehow the recordings will get leaked, that somehow other people will get their hands on precious recordings of him making love to you, of him making you moan and sigh and fall apart on his tongue and fingers and cock. He views the time you both spend together in the sheets as being almost sacred, like something special that's reserved only for the two of you, and having a camera rolling would just make everything feel too impersonal. It would make him nervous, too, because he'd want to rewatch the tapes with you just so he can see your face the whole time (he tends to lose himself the closer he gets to his orgasm, and always buries his face in your neck to try and make himself last longer, so he misses seeing your facial expressions when he's finishing inside you), but he'd be worried about the way he looks, about whether he looks attractive to you, dominant to you, sexy to you. However, despite his reservations about recording himself fucking you, he will photograph you in the pretty, feminine lingerie he buys for you. He'll get a new color or cut, and have you try on the set, posing for the camera while he takes a few shots, his pants visibly straining around his swollen cock because god, you look good. He'll keep the photographs in his pants pocket and never, ever share them, always looking back at them when he's away on missions and missing you. He's a bit hypocritical, but the moment a camera gets trained on him, he's turning red and clamming up.

Morel is another one who's very flexible in the bedroom, and would be difficult to completely turn off. However, one thing that Morel just simply can't get behind is watersports. He'll try it, if you really beg him to, but he just doesn't like it. It feels unsanitary to him (and god, the mess), but even beyond that it just feels a little degrading, and not in a good way. If you really, really pushed him on it, he'd give in and do as you please, reluctantly forcing himself to release onto you, but the entire time he'd be feeling guilty, discomfort eating at him because isn't it horribly disrespectful to be literally pissing on you? He loves you, and it just sits wrong with him. He'll refuse after that first time, and while he's not particularly into it, if you really, really wanted to, he'd let you reverse the roles. He's not particularly eager to have you wet yourself or piss on him, but that's better because now at least you're the one in the position of power. Plus, you're begrudgingly a little cute when you get all embarrassed about it. But still, it's most definitely not something he desires, and while he'd entertain your fantasies once in a blue moon, it certainly won't be a regular occurrence in your sex life together.

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pinkandpurple360 · 2 months ago

Note

Hey pink did you saw the new 4chan leak?

https://desuarchive.org/co/thread/145383112/#145394767

But the main thing for me was that Leviathan is a queen obsessed with fashion, and in principle, Envy is based on fashion(i already love her omg slay queen 😔)

We can’t assume these are real. So let’s talk in hypotheticals.

Leviathan sounds like “Him” from PPG. Using a drag queen who is evil, to embody jealousy is…a choice. A choice that could become queer phobic at light speed. I think the sins are more important to the story and world building, than stolas and his entire Bridgerton family bullshit only a few stolitz stans care about. And really, everyone is gay in hell? Everyone?

I think the idea of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ sins is childish. But especially sin embodiments who are pure good and didn’t at least work to get that way, is plain oxymoron. Sloth Lust and Gluttony are not better than Wrath Envy and Greed. One half is focussed on self indulgence, the other on harming others directly. BOTH are bad.

I wish she did a little more research into how hierarchy and power works. But this is a millionaire we have to remember …

There are no good monarchs, drug lords, and factory owners, if there is an oppressed working class and caste system. Even ‘nice’ gentle personalities can be part of the supremacist caste.

It makes a lot more sense to me if they are all morally dubious. Beelzebub and Asmodeus are both favourites, making them “nice” just because they’re faves, requires explaining their role in oppression as “they can’t help it” that writing is cowardly?!

“Asmodeus didn’t have a choice but to build fizz robots in his factory, and didn’t profit off it!” -> but that’s ridiculous. He’s not a helpless woobie. He should’ve had agency and decide to willingly work with mammon and sin openly, then changed when he grew close to fizz.

“Beelzebub hates the caste system and pounds but she can’t change it!” -> she feeds off of her subjects, keeps them happy and drunk, can’t handle negative emotions. She caused Ver to become an addict and enables her. The hell pounds is the same as a government leader not understanding how bad the foster care system and not prioritising it. She was the biggest potential for a morally grey character.

Why are you throwing out moral ambiguity and extremely interesting story elements??? !!

The only one that does make sense is Belphegor. This demon has been described throughout as an inherently neutral entity. One that refused to pick a side in the hell vs heaven conflict.

If I can add alternative.

Lucifer - a deadbeat leader too obsessed with himself to see the damage he has done and how his nation is suffering. he becomes malicious if questioned. Callous Neglect. He is malicious.

Beelzebub - The epitome of an addict. She is too engrossed in feeding off of energy like a parasite to enact her duties as a leader. She ‘cares’ about her subjects when they foul her mood and don’t feed her. Her addiction causes her to blackout frequently and forget years of memories. Her nature prevents reel growth. But she quickly removes and discards them. Like most government leaders she doesn’t prioritise having any improvements made to the foster care system, or more closely hells equivalent to puppy mills. She likely allows the system because she has no idea how to handle hellhound overpopulation. Think of her as being a teenager in charge of a bunch of babies and children. She lacks the maturity required. She’d rather sneak out to the club and give her baby a piece of bread to gnaw on while she’s gone.

Bee is the sin with the most gray morality potential but Vivienne medrano is terrified of moral greyness, the closest attempt is Alastor and Blitzø/imp. Bee is not malicious and dangerous. But she is not good either. As she is immortal, she doesn’t understand mortality and the fear around it. Marie Antoinette is actually a perfect figure to invoke, she was interested primarily in indulgence, while not the most malicious of the royals, not pure evil, but she was complacent and deeply classist in a polite seeming way.

Asmodeus - Because lust is a social sin, requiring interaction, it makes perfect sense that Oz would want his citizens to mingle with each other beyond castes and with himself for maximum pleasure. Lust also thrives off subverting power dynamics. I think him being non malicious but obsessively lustful and defensive of his sin, makes perfect sense to me. Like Bee, he cares only about having a good time. Any malice is hidden so the citizens don’t flee. But like porn does to the mind, it numbs it, erodes someone’s integrity emotional intelligence and their decision making skills. It really irks me that the Vees are a far better “sin of lust” symbol than Asmodeus who has become quite pathetic?

Basically, his “Ozzies” characterisation would be perfect if it wasn’t a facade.

Beelzebub - She’s a drug Lord. Enough said. She’s the embodiment of the evils of the Pharmaceutical industry. She’s also too lazy to be confrontational and violent. The real bel is like this.

#helluva boss critical #Beelzebub had a lot of potential what a waste

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melpomenismask · 4 months ago

Text

Vedic Astro Thought,

(Warning: i do not edit these and I will NOT be trying, so just read please lol.)

I’m starting to suspect serpent yonis need to stick together. As a girlie with a rohini mars chart ruler, and having learned about the myths surrounding rohini and mrigashira, that curse of attention for serpent yonis is genuinely unbearable. I thought it was a Venusian or Nodal condition, but neither of them have the sense of vulnerability and danger of a serpent yoni’s ability to intrigue and attract attention without even trying. Imagine you’re a snake in the park, enjoying the grass and nature, wanting to have a nice little day, maybe eat a mouse or two, who knows, you’ll figure it out. Then you slither into a family barbecue, and suddenly everyone’s screaming, trying to stomp you, etc, or maybe a small group of people find you and are fascinated, so fascinated they poke and prod you, maybe they’re a bit rougher, and you have to lie there because if you even react slightly they’ll attack because they’re afraid of you, and all the while you’re just a tiny little snake!

I thought of this because of Hidden Octave’s Rohini video on YouTube, which I absolutely relate to, but I felt a bit out of place because I’m not someone who’s actively courted or sought attention, it was inflicted on me by everyone around me. I was abused, bullied, attacked for no reason but grown adults, and object of peers sexual interest as a child, and it seemed like if I asserted myself even slightly, I was suddenly the most terrifying thing in the room when I’ve been “playing dead” the entire time. I’ve found this has made dating impossible for me because I am so traumatized by how people react to me that I can’t even be myself anymore (trying to get back to it though) because I now automatically doctor myself to NOT provoke, because all it brought is danger, drama, and mess.

I have also been the provocateur in cases though, not because I was desperate for attention, but because I took difficulty connecting as REAL potential because that person didn’t inflict all their reactions and fears that had onto me immediately until I sought them out further, then I realized I had just found a milder version of all the people who mistreated and misunderstood me before—but the one person that stuck with me as someone I genuinely felt a connection to was a fellow serpent yoni: our rohini mars conjuncted. The moment we met and it became even vague knowledge we had interest in each other, drama from everyone around us ensued and it bled into our already unformed but genuine connection because we were both victims of the same burden of the inherent ability to intrigue and provoke. Unfortunately the guy was also saturnian and lunar, so he was very internally unbalanced and I have had to move on for my own sake to find someone I deserve, because he has a long was to go before he realizes the drama isn’t a part of him, just a reaction to him. It’s hard to unlearn, but only another serpent yoni really gets it. You’re not even doing anything, and everyone seems to watch every move you make while also being repelled if you come too close.

Which brings me to my point. In America, there’s a famous couple from a sitcom called The Office; their names are Jim and Pam. The actor Jim was a national heartthrob in his heyday as the character and has went on the make pretty good movies, the actress for Pam pretty much did that show and nothing else really big happened for her, but she did well, but she hasn’t really moved on from the glory days from what people seem to say about her—even alleging that she’s a bit obsessed with Jim’s actor in real life to the point he had to publicly “shut her down”. Jim’s actor is a Rohini, Mrig, and Magha (hence his “glory”) guy, while Pam’s actor is Dhanishta, some Jupiter influences, but not that much serpentine energy, just a rohini mars. I find the lunar aspect of rohini so compelling because when that energy holds you, you’re genuinely in some different reality, but because of how that serpent yoni energy intoxicates you. Of course if you’re also serpentine, it also violently rubs salt into the wound of how hard it is to find someone you genuinely connect with, but hey, I digress, I swear I’m totally fine and not having an existential crisis about love right now.

I find it hilarious how that reactionary pattern just KEEPS happening in different octaves; apparently between them as cast members, then Jim’s actor as the heartthrob boy next door in love with the married girl (rohini and its love triangles), and the married girl stuck in a marriage that she is miserable and used as an ego crutch in. I mean, sure, Pam is great, but it wasn’t her longing, her clinging to something that just felt right that made the story so romantic, it was all Jim from the start keeping it alive, because if Pam didn’t luckily love him back that boy would’ve been stuck. He “moves on” in the show, and does it easily because he can, and he enjoys the company, but it doesn’t matter because it’s so empty. He’s so kind and loving for Pam because he feels safe and at home, but he can’t just sit around for a woman who turned him down, right, so the serpent has to find another place to hide in. He clicks well with anyone because that’s what serpent yonis do. We can react with you and mirror but that’s just because we’re conditioned that way because of how the world treats us from a young age, not because you’re special. And it’s hard to watch him try to move on when he so clearly just can’t detach—think of two serpents intertwined, that’s the way I think we serpent yoni types want to love. An eternal, safe, vitalizing embrace. Snakes are cold-blooded but they are creatures like the rest, but for some reason unbeknownst to it, the other creatures don’t seem to agree, and all the snake wants is to find a little home, hunt, and live in peace.

This ISN’T to say we don’t know what we’re doing when we’re doing it, but when we’re not doing anything, we’re still somehow “doing it”, specifically for Rohini because Lunar influence is rife with confusion and illusion. All you want is to be out of the darkness, to know that the shadows aren’t scary, that you can come out too and be yourself in all your snake-ness, but it never seems to be over, the curse of attention, and the madness just seems to follow you. Whether it’s from the world or the budding madness in yourself from never finding solid ground to just see everything clearly for a moment and make sense of things. It’s a hellish trap of constant reaction (which I personally hate, hence why I consider it hell).

I was also surprised by the YouTube comments and the intense shift in sentiment around Jim and Pam from the show. It used to be THE dream romance, people wanted their own Jim, people wanted their own Pam, people wanted to be Jim and Pam. NOW, people seem to hate them. Now they’re pretentious, uppity, the worst ones out of the show for their light transgressions while all the insane people are still acceptable to make space for. They’re literally just the “normal” characters in a sitcom with a sweet love story, and people lose their fucking MINDS about them, when they are literally not even that special. They just love each other deeply, and that simple truth creates a labyrinth of envy and intrigue, and I see that pattern for rohinis and serpent natives often. They are just themselves, it’s very nice, and no can seem to handle it normally.

Jim and Pam are sweet. Jim is sweet with normal human character flaws, but it seems everyone (even in the show lol, go watch) is hellbent on making him something more provocative, chaotic or malicious than he actually is, which is just extremely rohini. Hi, Norma, hi, Marilyn. We never get a break until it kills us or we find our “charmer” we can trust and love without fear of the curse rearing its ugly head again. Sometimes it just kills us.

In my opinion, serpents need their snake charmer, who can dance with them without fearing their differences, or a fellow serpent. Considering the state of humanity right now—maybe look for fellow snakes instead of a magical “charmer”, someone “normal” and grounded like Pam is for Jim in that example, or like the non-flashy guys Marilyn Monroe married. We want to be seem and understood, but I think we can only understand each other. If you’re a serpent yoni maybe keep out an eye for people with that nakshatra energy in their chart, because they won’t be as oddly disturbed and provoked by you like the others probably are. It’s hard enough out there, so use cheat codes. Life is shit and we make it better out of luck, faith and perseverance. And love, of course. 🥰

From a friend. :)

#vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #rohini nakshatra #rohini #serpent yoni #mrigashira #vedic astro observations #personal #astrology #witchcraft #spiritually #me

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