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novantinuum · 28 days

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jen's "Hard-Light Hybrid Steven" headcanon dump

Okay so I'm just making this its own post, because frankly at this point... the original post is so hard to get all the pulp out of due to the headcanons being spread over multiple reblogs and half of it being in the tags.

So here we go. Self indulgent headcanon time. This is how I'm now personally interpreting things within the realm of my own fic work and the post-canon storylines that live in my mind. This is NOT, however, a work of meta- I am by no means suggesting this to be what I see as "canon," only having some fun playing around with ideas I think are cool on a speculative fantasy anatomy level. Take it as you will basically, lol. This is ultimately just for me.

With that stated:

"jen what the fuck do you mean when you say hard-light hybrid Steven, what are you even suggesting"

Essentially I am proposing that Steven becomes progressively more hard-light based in form as he ages. When he was born he was two almost entirely separate halves mashed together- organic and gem- and those two halves slowly but surely merge over the years (hard light replacing organic matter) until one day they are literally inseparable, and Steven is one permanently cohesive being... entirely hewn from hard-light, but with a level of anatomical complexity that still makes him a complete anomaly amongst Gems and humans alike. Instead of the innards of his body being solid light, he is still formed of cells- only now, those cells are entirely hard-light.

His gem is somehow mimicking the form of organic matter with a level of detail that's absolutely unobtainable by shapeshifting or tailored reformation alone. Steven has become the single most complex hard-light system to have ever existed.

Some more specifics on how I imagine this merge working:

Much of the "merging" is natural over time, basically his gem branching out new bits of hard-light circuitry within his body as it integrates within his system.

However, this process is sped up significantly by all the spills and injuries Steven deals with throughout his childhood... because his body's instinctive response to injury is simply to replace damaged cells with hard-light analogues. An almost instantaneous patch job.

Steven's component halves being so distinct early on is a large reason why he takes so long to harness many of his powers.

This is also why Steven's (mostly) organic half is so weakened during the split in Change Your Mind- at that point there's a lot about his anatomy that's been converted to hard-light, so it's basically as if White Diamond yanked the power source out.

(Same idea for why he's so weakened during the movie when his gem's on the fritz... his gem's connection with the rest of his body got partially severed for a time, which. Is not Good for someone who at this point is more hard-light than not hard light.)

At a certain point post-canon, it becomes impossible for Steven's organic and gem halves to be separated. They are so tightly integrated that attempting to remove the gem would only poof him.

Now, here's the thing though...

Steven does not realize that Any of this is taking place until the blunt reality of his strange new anatomical nature is put on display for all to see... when he actually DOES poof.

Here is how (in my own post-canon musings, which I have simplified here because y'all don't live inside all the intensive lore that jangles about my brain) I envision that taking place:

So, Steven would be in his mid to late twenties at this point. He's married to Connie, and they have an infant son.

Recently, there was a fairly severe Gem incident that left Beach City and Little Homeworld pretty damaged. Things are still being mopped up from that.

Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl head out on a quick mission one day to intercept one of the last few supporters of the Gem who attacked the Crystal Gem's hub of operation, and at first it seems like it's gonna be a straightforward trip.

Then, Steven sees the Gem in question pull a destabilizer wand on Garnet, and- unwilling to watch her to get ripped apart like that again- throws himself in between. He can take it, he thinks. These things never hurt him one bit as a kid

He cannot take it.

He poofs.

His gem unceremoniously falls to the ground, along with the clothes he was wearing and whatever he had in his pockets.

Cue the others going "what the actual FUCK" because based on everything they've ever witnessed and known about him no one had "Steven poofs" on their bingo card.

The insurgent Gem is captured and dealt with, but now... oh, boy. There's literally no playbook for this. Nobody knows what to expect.

Steven's gem is quiet for WEEKS. During that time, the Gems end up consulting the Diamonds on Homeworld to ask for intel on diamond reformation, but none of them are much help- Rose and Steven are the only ones who have actually poofed. Beyond them, this is completely unprecedented.

In a very vague sense, Steven is aware of what must have happened during this time... (even if a part of him wants to deny it, because How???)

He can pick up vague snippets of what's happening just beyond his reach... catching voices and what must be faint sensations of familiar people handling his gem, but beyond that he has no awareness of the passage of time, and he has no means by which to reach out to them mentally.

It takes almost two months for him to finally reform. When he does, his gem quickly shifts through its previous three forms and then just... outright h a n g s for a while on the new one... as if what's trying to "load" up is so complex it's goddamn buffering.

(my brain can only think of This image uyhjfsdbyuhjfg)

No one really knows what to expect but when he finally reforms, he... looks mostly the same? Still rather human in appearance, externally? The only notable difference is that his irises are pink now. (But with no diamond pupil- not unless he's going Full Power Mode.)

Steven also reforms WITH an outfit much like a Gem would.

The second he's back, he runs to embrace Connie (who is sobbing in relief) and asks how long he was out.

And he did NOT anticipate that answer to be two months.

As it turns out, he missed quite a few baby milestones while he was gone, and he feels horrible about it- it's not his fault of course, but he feels so bad that Connie had to go that long without his support, and that there's all those special "firsts" with his son he'll never get to experience.

This whole incident marks Steven's final "retirement" from participating in real combat- he outright tells the Gems to not involve him in any other combat situations unless the whole ass planet is under threat, basically. The potential risks are just not worth it now that he knows how long he'd be out of commission, should he poof once more. He can't put his family through that again.

Now, with all that outlined...

Ways that Steven is Weird now:

He looks rather human- his hair looks like hair and his skin looks like skin- but after he reforms, literally every "cell" of his body is fashioned out of hard-light.

However, if one were to theoretically slice him in half (which I PROMISE I am not going to do, this is only a thought experiment ahahah-), his internal anatomy would glow much like the Gems' do. (See below image for what I mean.) The "human-like" appearance of his skin and hair and other externally visible features does not extend very deep.

He "bleeds" pink now- but it's only surface, and is all just excess hard-light. No real blood.

His body would no longer show up on a radiograph- just the gem.

Many of his anatomical features (not all of them, though) are now vestigial in certain ways-? Like, various functions have overtly been taken over by his gem... he doesn't need to breathe or have any lifeblood beyond light pumping through his system, so his heart and lungs serve no necessary purpose anymore... but all of these organs still "exist" as like an echo of what once was, perfect mimics of their organic form but hewn from hard-light.

That being said, Connie enjoys the reassurance of his heartbeat, so he retains that function while conscious.

(Not to mention, "breathing" is literally just a habit for him by this point.)

HOWEVER, when he sleeps (another thing he technically doesn't Need to do but does anyways) his breathing and heartbeat stops entirely and it kinda spooks Connie out. The literal only evidence she has that he's still kicking during these times is the soft hum of his gemstone.

He does not have a biological NEED for food or water anymore and can fully operate on exposure to light alone, but he still really enjoys eating and drinking anyways. In fact, he's still able to absorb energy from food... so it's basically like he's over-charging his battery or whatever. He also still experiences taste (so still posesses some form of taste receptors) and instinctively feels "hungry" at meal times, so like... the running theory is that he must have hard-light analogues for all these receptors and neurotransmitters and hormones that communicate sensations like hunger in his system even though their function is entirely redundant with his gem powering everything.

Furthermore, his memories and sense of self and everything one might refer to as "the soul" is stored exclusively in his gem now. Which means, if one could manage to analyze his brain like one could with a human brain, there would be entire sections that simply... don't light up the way that others (such as the parts of the brain that govern motor control, as an example) do. This is because all the "data" once stored there has migrated.

He can fully shapeshift now, if he wanted to.

He can also still visually "age"- it's all based on his mental state, same as before.

But despite being hard-light in nature now, he can still interface with organics in fusion because his form is still so organic in shape and function. He's still the bridge between humanity and gemkind. I like to think that... theoretically... a Gem might be able to fuse with an organic too, but the sheer burden of trying to shapeshift and maintain such cellular complexity is what stops this from happening.

Steven, though? His very existence as a hybrid acted as a template by which hard-light could learn to understand organic life. He is still an intensely unique being, even IF he no longer consists of any actual organic matter.

I am sure I will probably add something to this later, but for now, those are all my musings.

Anyways, thank you for taking a brief visit to the deepest recesses of my brain, where I am chewing at the drywall and bouncing around the room like a cat who has just devoured the goddamn motherlode of catnip. Good night! !! :DDD

#su #su future #steven universe #jen rambles #or... jen thinks so hard about speculative anatomy that they get the zoomies for three straight days

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powderblueblood · 5 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FOUR — HOT SKIN and a HALL PASS

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summary: rules, you've recently learned, are for breaking– sanity is also, apparently, relative. after making a statement in the cafeteria, you play hooky with eddie in main street vinyl. content warnings: MINORS DNI tension you would need a chainsaw to cut through, farm-to-table snarking, do they even know they're yearning, nancy wheeler i'm sorry i shittalked you again (it will get better i swear) word count: 4k

Dear reader, do you ever feel like you’re completely losing your grasp on reality?

You’ve cruised through life almost seamlessly up to this point. Yours is a well-oiled machine, one you painstakingly built yourself. But do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time constructing something so carefully that it doesn’t make sense to you anymore?

Like you can’t see the forest for the trees, or the treason for the thrill.

Do you ever want to light your whole life up in flames, just to see what’s really fireproof?

“So, which is it?”

You’re standing at your locker, making a bad job of touching up your now-flaking under-eye concealer when a voice rings out from the other end of the hall. It bounces off the cool metal of the lockers, the tack of the linoleum. It makes your shoulderblades go tense.

“Has little Lacy been hiding a pair of brass balls this whole time, or is she on a suicide mission?”

You’d roll your eyes, but your face is aching.

“Showing up with me this morning would have been one thing, but sitting yourself at my little table of outcasts? At lunch? The most important social event of the day?”

Munson lets out a low whistle from where he leans, a couple of lockers up from yours.

The hallway is deserted save for the both of you; you, out on a forged hall pass and him, probably just ditching to ditch. You peer at him from behind your locker door. He’s standing slanted in a long, lithe line made bold and jangly by his carefully curated metalhead armor.

You, and this comes with a hefty dose of begrudgery, have to hand it to him– he leans great.

“Talk about blowing up your reputation beyond repair.”

You know he’s making fun of you– he’s not exactly subtle about it, nor is he about anything. It’s all in the lilt of his tone, how ridiculous he thinks the interwoven politics of the cafeteria are, how dumb he thinks you are for considering that in the least bit important.

Munson’s idea of survival in high school is attacking conformity with a nuclear bomb, whereas yours is a little more artful.

“I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Munson,” you sigh, and the sound rattles through your ribcage– you are tired, tired of him, “given that your understanding of object permanence has clearly been stunted at an infantile level, but the world does not revolve around you."

"No?!" he croons, sarcasm slicking out of him.

"I was catching up with Ronnie.”

“Right, because you guys have been such good gal pals up to this point,” Munson scoffs.

His face, framed by those wild waves, materializes in the reflection of your locker’s mirror, peering over your shoulder. You slam the door and pivot to face him properly, impact ringing out like a gunshot.

He does a little jump, a shadow of his shock at you on Harrington’s porch.

That reaction is like a shot of espresso straight to the veins.

Good. Be afraid. Asshole.

You're sure as fuck awake now!

“Lab partner love never dies,” you say, leveling his stare. “You’d know that if you showed up for Biology once in a while.”

“Maybe I need a tutor. I could use someone to help me brush up on anatomy.”

“Sorry. I don’t teach remedial.”

“Maybe you should start. Rehabilitate your image.”

“Again, who died and made you my parole officer?”

His expression cracks; a gasp of a laugh. “Oh, so you remember all that?”

“My hippocampus is alive and kicking.”

“Your hip– what?”

Your lips purse, and just as you’re about to throw another verbal dart at him, the voice of Ms O’Donnell cuts through the both of you.

“I hope you two have a damn good excuse for loitering in this hallway– because if not, Mr Munson, I believe you’re less than one detention away from suspension.”

Munson’s got this terminal disease where he’s more smarm than charm, despite his warped perception of himself. There’s no way he’s going to handle this with the grace that’s necessary, because O’Donnell hates him anyway.

He keens his head in the teacher’s direction, ready to roll out some useless excuse.

Before he’s even got the chance to speak, you cut him off.

“Hall pass, Ms O’Donnell.” You flash the fake yellow slip at her, careful to obscure the names– you’ve usually got one of these forgeries to hand, just in case you need it, and teachers generally trust you enough not to check them out. It comes with the whole work-life balance you’ve been treading for the entirety of your high school career; you’re well-liked and you’re maintaining an impressive grade point average. They don’t give a shit what you do other than that.

“The Weekly Streak has run into a printer snag and Nancy Wheeler’s car is on the fritz. Eddie,” his first name, which you never ever use, feels weird and heavy on your tongue, “offered me a ride to the printers to make sure it gets worked out– it’s a big issue. What with the game this weekend and everything.”

O’Donnell’s eyes narrow. You nudge Munson right in his funny bone– hard enough for him to wince.

“Right?”

“Right! That big game. Front page news, Ms O’D. Gooooo Tigers.”

The teacher clicks her tongue against her teeth, her rock hard stare challenging the delinquent beside you– it’s entirely likely that Munson could have blown it for himself just by virtue of being alive and in O’Donnells sight line, but you know she’s got no reason not to believe you.

See, your reputation at the school newspaper precedes you; it’s just about the only thing that really holds your interest within the monotonous structure of Hawkins High. With your finger on the pulse of Hawkins’ student body, it only makes sense that you serve as a fierce and unforgiving editor of the Streak’s society pages– funnily enough, that hardline professionalism included never giving Munson’s infamously lame Dungeons and Dragons club a single mention in them.

Vetoed, you’d drawled at one of the more well-mannered members that had shyly approached you about writing a piece. Not Ronnie– she knew better than that.

How come? they’d whined, as their fearsome leader glowered near the lockers just like he was doing now.

On grounds of irrelevance. I’m not wasting valuable inches on a make believe board game club.

This activated Munson. Lacy, you wouldn’t know valuable inches if they rammed you in the–

“Make it fast,” O’Donnell decrees, and you feel her watch you as you take off down the hallway. With a snappy quirk of your painted fingers, you gesture for Munson to follow your lead. And you better believe he does, almost tripping over his ratty Reeboks trying to keep in step with you.

You both heave open the double doors, squinting against the unseasonable late autumn sunshine. Heels of your ankle boots clicking against the concrete, you make an unconscious beeline for the parking lot– for Munson’s van.

“So– what now?” he asks, dur-dur dumb as all hell.

“What now is I just got you a free pass to play hooky,” you say, little miss cactus flower, prickly with annoyance. You shield your eyes against the blazing light. “Weren’t you ditching anyway?”

“Yeeaaah,” Munson hums, scratching the back of his head, “But… the plan kind of was to smoke a joint and go to the record store.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complete waste of time,” you hear yourself saying before you realize it, yanking at the van’s passenger door. You pause, raising an expectant eyebrow at Munson. Isn’t this your cue?

Baffled, bewildered, but grinning despite himself, he extends that silver ringed hand and helps you haul your ass into his beat up chariot.

Completely losing your grip on reality.

–

It’s a fugue state. It’s an out of body experience– you’re watching yourself from outside your corporeal form and you have no logical control over what you’re doing.

That’s the only way to explain why you’re standing in Main Street Vinyl, elbow to elbow with Eddie Munson.

But that might also be the weed talking.

You don’t know where the hell he gets this stuff, but it’s strong– way stronger than the shit he’s sold to your friends ever since he started dealing. Well, you guess it makes sense that he’d keep the good shit for himself. You’d do that too, if you were him.

What if I was him, you idly wonder, peering up at him as he flicks through letters R through T in the metal section. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as his ringed fingers work though the vinyl, carefully considering each one.

This is what you mean by obvious– you, for one, would have the good conscience not to look so stoned while you’re so stoned.

You definitely don’t look stoned right now.

No one can even tell that you’re looking at him, up from underneath those thick lashes of yours.

He’s got thick lashes too, come to think of it.

Munson is actually not completely unfortunate looking– but again, if you were him, there’s no way you’d wear your hair like that. You’d keep it long-ish, though, you think. He’s got a point there; a nice curl pattern. Maybe to your ears. And the clothes obviously have to go– that denim vest is a patchwork disaster. Did he sew all those patches on himself?

A vision of him hunched over the thing with a needle and thread in hand flits through your brain, pricking himself more than he can pick up a stitch. He’s gone out of his way to make himself look like this– kind of similar to the way you pick up your skirts so they’re always impeccably just short enough.

Now, the leather jacket you could forgive if at least the collar was different. Maybe one of those Brando-style biker jackets, you could rock that. Or a brown leather number, to bring out your eyes– which are his eyes, of course, his crazy dark empty universes of eyes.

The kind of eyes with the kind of stare that nails you in place and makes you want to do crazy shit like ditch class and get loaded and stand dumbly in a record store. Those eyes.

That are staring at you. He’s staring at you. Right back at you.

“I can read your mind,” Munson monotones, unblinking.

You go flush, heat crawling all the way up to your ears. “Wh–what?”

Then he nudges you and snorts, breaking the spell.

“You have gotta stop thinking such dirty thoughts about me, ice princess. You’re gonna melt.”

You scoff, shaking your head– but the cartoonish move is more to ground you in reality than a reaction to him and his idiocy. You’re Wile E Coyote after blunt force impact with an Acme anvil, shaking the circling birds away.

“They don’t even have what I’m looking for here.”

Stalking around the stacks of records, with no clear direction in mind, you feel Munson’s laser stare follow you. “Yeah, they don’t usually file Madonna next to Motörhead, Lacy.”

They’re both filed under M, aren’t they? is what you want to say. “I don’t listen to Madonna,” you protest instead, all quietly miffed and earnest with a crinkle in your brow.

“Mm, don’t think that’s true,” Munson smirks, rounding on you around the rack. “You gave me a pretty spot on rendition of Like a Virgin– or does your hippocrampus not recall?”

“Hippocampus,” you breathe out, but it’s lost in the din of Main Street Vinyl’s quiet, carpeted atmosphere, “I don’t listen to her, like, recreationally. I can’t help if that song’s an earworm.” A beat. “I also can’t help if you’re a particularly serenadable virgin.”

“She’s gonna touch me for the very first tii-iime…”

“That was a threat.”

You make an active attempt toward tunnel vision as you slowly tread through the store, feeling the high starting to turn on you– this was the part smoking weed that you hated, the few times that you’d imbibed in it. That lack of control over the way you were coming across. For a girl trained in the art of saying all the right things, this was dangerous. Your tongue felt both loose and heavy in your mouth, like it could come out with anything and you couldn’t stop it, it’d just roll on out.

The malevolent presence of Munson and your pathological need to one up him wasn’t helping matters.

Ever since the parking lot at school, you’ve been stalking around like there’s a target on your back. Evidently, you’re not the kind of girl that chills out when you smoke, which is equal parts a relief and a disappointment to Eddie. He wonders what you’d look like, mellowed out and floating. Your eyebrow unarched and your lips not poised for attack.

He’s also acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with you then, either.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, a hyperfocus that he’s assuming is a symptom of his own buzz. Every little twitch and jump you do– it’s like it’s begging him to pay attention. Like if he looks away for even a second, he might miss something.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, eyes trained on you while you thumb through the records.

As much as you love music, and you do, you have a tough time describing exactly what you want to listen to. The notes in the songs that you revisit again and again read more like physical feelings, sparking off in your nerve endings. For example, listening to River by Joni Mitchell feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest. Listening to Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees feels like you have fairy lights at the end of your fingertips.

“I want something that sounds…” you say, noticing the distinct feeling of cottonmouth setting in, “Ticklish.”

“Ticklish,” Munson deadpans back at you.

“Something that sounds like someone’s running a xylophone mallet down my spine.”

He regards you for what feels like an excruciatingly long timewith this terrible, awful look on his face– brows ticked up over his glassy bloodshot eyes, pink mouth peeling into a grin, and this look, this look of wonderment. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re saying shit like this to him.

Join the club.

“... You don’t get stoned a lot, do you?”

“Ugh!” you groan, a little louder than you mean to– the cashier shoots you a glare as you stalk past Munson, stalk past him, cheeks flaring pink. “I know what I’m talking about. I know it when I hear it– I heard a record just like that earlier this year! It’s like, some band from Scotland or something? Totally incomprehensible lyrics, yeah, but that’s what it felt like. It was like… bone deep.”

You hear Munson emit the teeniest hehe! and you just about snarl at him over your shoulder.

Rounding on the alternative section, limited as it is, you feel a welcome sense of familiarity. You haunt this corner when you can, when you’re out of sight from prying eyes. There’s only one other regular purveyor of this little corner of Main Street Vinyl that you know of. You trace a thumb over the spines of the cassette cases–it’s mostly tapes, rarely ever records because tapes are easier to import and harder to damage, and it’s always haphazardly organized–and then you spot it.

Victoriously, you thrust it in Munson’s face, which is right over your shoulder. He’s frequenting that spot a lot recently. “Ha!”

“Oh!” he chirps, sounding almost pleasantly surprised and plucks the tape from your fingers. “... Cocteau Twins?”

You falter, eyelashes flickering as you look up at him. Dammit. He even pronounced it right.

“You know them?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He runs a thumb over the plastic casing, edging a little closer to you. That came outta left field.

“This shit… sounds like what a haunted music box would sound like.”

Aaand we’re back in the room.

“Okay…?”

“This is creepy, cursed doll music.”

And the room is filled with assholes.

“Alright.”

“This is what you hear right before you’re about to get possessed by the ghost of Tiny Tim. The whiniest little bitch ghost of all time.”

And all the assholes are named Eddie Munson.

“I get it.”

“You better be careful with this stuff, Lacy-Wacy,” he teases, mocking that fraudulent concern ripped straight from an episode of Donahue. He taps the cassette case against your forehead. “Music like this is a gateway drug. A gateway drug to hanging out with, like, Jonathan Byers.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, tugging his hand and that damn tape away from your face. You’re shocked to find that the skin under your fingers is blazing hot–same as you felt through his shirt when he helped you to the door in your drunken stupor.

Does he always run this warm? you wonder. Is it all that Satanic poseur poison coursing through his stupid veins?

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” you tell him, and you’re not quite sure why. Probably because every secret you swore would die with you is slowly but surely punching its gnarly hand from the grave, like fucking Carrie from fucking Carrie.

Munson doesn’t even express any overt shock, like he’s learning to roll with the punches of you revealing bits and pieces of yourself through sheer annoyance with him. He just cocks his head, challenging you with a silent, Really?

This chick. This blink-and-you’ll-miss-it chick.

“I ran into him in this corner a lot,” you explain breezily, tilting a shoulder up like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s never bothered you. “We’d always be standing next to each other at the listening booths, and I’d be listening to stuff I couldn’t take home and he’d be listening to stuff he couldn’t afford to buy and… We like a lot of the same music. We went out on like, one date if you could even call it that, and it didn’t work out.”

“Because he’s a creepazoid?”

“Because he was hip deep in it for Nancy Wheeler,” you supply, a green monster gurgling in the pit of your stomach. “Like every other respectable member of the male species.”

It was the summer before junior year, a punishingly hot one even by Hawkins standards. You’ve never been good in the heat and that summer made your entire body feel ill-equipped, your skin ill-fitting. Main Street Vinyl had those big, big box fans right near the cash desk which was right near the listening booths, so you would spend the majority of your time there when you weren’t being forced to the lake or Skull Rock with your friends.

Jonathan would look at you with alarm at first, like you were trespassing. Then he’d spy what you were listening to and sneak these small, shy smiles at you that you indulged in– at first, because you weren’t copping a lot of male attention from anyone else that summer. Eventually, it was because his shadowy eyes were always ringed with this tenderness, with knowing. Like you two were sharing a secret. It made you be able to look past the greasy hair and crippling social awkwardness.

You know you rocked his world the day you breezed past him at the listening booth, leaned in and whispered, I love Linda Thompson's voice, don't you?

But still, the Love’s Baby Soft scented specter of Nancy Wheeler loomed large. You picked what you thought was a secluded spot in the park for your ‘date’, which included a conversation that was almost entirely cruise directed by you. Said conversation completely flatlined when you both spotted Nancy Wheeler cresting a hill, walking her family dog.

At this point, you and Nancy were most familiar with each other from the school newspaper– she, the peachy-cheeked junior, the rising star that was sure to make editor and you, the girl who knew where the parties were happening and where the bodies were buried.

The picture of coquettishness, she offered you and Jonathan an awkward, stilted wave. Jonathan spoke a grand total of three words after she left, zeroing in on the spot where she appeared like a man possessed.

You didn’t acknowledge his existence after that.

It’s not that you were particularly hung up on Jonathan Byers, but you didn’t expect someone like him to be able to elicit that cold sinking feeling you were used to experiencing at the hands of other boys and their ignorance. Maybe it hurt more because you thought you had something in common– something real, something that wasn’t shotgunning a can of Busch. Whatever it was, it made you sure of two things.

You hated Nancy Wheeler, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You wished you didn’t hate her. But you also wished she’d dissolve into a fine mist.

“Wheeler’s a priss,” Munson pulls you out of memory lane in a harsh left turn, face contorting into a half-grimace. It’s the general consensus on Wheeler– the shoes are too goody for everyone to be falling head-over-heels with her, if you want Eddie’s honest opinion. There’s no there there, not like with–

“I’m a priss.” It sounds like you’re defending her. In some weird way, you might be.

I know what guys like you think of me.

“No, you’re a bitch.”

His weight on the word bitch makes your knees feel unsteady. The way he says it. It’s not enunciated like an insult. It’s a dagger cloaked in velvet. It’s warm, like he is. It’s almost filthy. It makes you look at his mouth.

“You’re a stone cold killer bitch,” Eddie’s voice hums low in his chest. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wonders if you can feel it where your freezing fingertips are squeezing his pulse point, “and I think–”

“You two truant assholes gonna buy anything today or am I gonna have to call the goddamn dog warden on y’all?”

Heaved back into reality by the clerk at the cash desk. A trickle of cold sweat runs from the nape of your neck into the collar of your sweater. Heaved back into reality to see you’re still clutching Eddie Munson by the wrist, and he’s looking at you like you’re the last Popsicle. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day.

It gets so hot here in summer.

“I think,” you breathe as you unstick your fingers from him, suddenly aware that you’re parched and starving and your face hurts, “it’s time for me to go home.”

“I– yeah,” Munson stumbles, also perturbed by the interruption. His red-ringed eyes gain a little more clarity. He’s seeing something you’re not seeing. He shouldn't be letting himself see that. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go back to the van. Let me make you look at me like that again. Let me see if you’re cold all over. I can fix that.

“No, I gotta…” Your head pounding, your thoughts swimming– the sharp and stupid realness of this whole afternoon coming into perfect view. What are you doing? “I need to walk it off.”

He inhales sharply, a strangled chuckle– oof. That other shoe, that buckled heel of yours, clattering to the floor. He should have expected that, right? There’s no way you’d wanna… Because you’re you and he’s…

Eddie retreats back into himself a step or two; it looks like he’s gone all bashful, a little color dropping out of his cheeks. His hands clasping behind his back. His heart is in his big intestine.

“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down today, sweetheart. Keep it up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

Munson, get the fuck out of here before I ban you again! and Jerry, can’t you see me talking to somebody right now! explode in a cacophony, the boy and the keeper of the keys to the record store hollering at each other. You take this moment of interruption to nudge the door open with your shoulder. But you don’t start into the street without giving him one more look.

“Lacy.” He’s grinning this dumb grin, eyes gone soft at the corners.

He’s giving this one last nudge.

Your heart thumps. A reminder– this is really happening. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s the thing, though,” you say, attempting to smooth your expression out with a frosty smile. “I don’t like you, Eddie.”

author's notes: of course, my eternal eternal ETERNAL THANKS for all the love you have shown this story and the anons you've sent!!! writing is crazy so thank you for caring about mine. onto the fun stuff because you know i love a reference: - he leans great. a shameless my so-called life drop but eddie to me is a kind of stunning midpoint between catalano (left back twice) and krakow (would go down on you for days) - someone in the tags said ronnie and lacy should hold hands and i don't disagree. lab partner love never dies! - there's never a bad time to listen to ace of spades by motörhead - there's also never a bad time to listen to treasure by cocteau twins, which is the album lacy is referencing - i always fee like the zombie hand reaching out of the ground motif is unfairly accredited to the living dead franchises or something like that, but of course the most iconic instance to me is from carrie (1976) because women own horror - god, we really need to bring back listening booths in record stores! like we really need to bring them back lest romance die forever. - richard and linda thompson, also forever!!!!! my headcanon for this re: jonathan byers is this particular record is a joyce byers influenced choice. joyce and lonnie loved this record (when they were happy... lol) and played it all the time when jonathan was a baby. their original copy got lost (or destroyed) and sometimes jonathan will play it in the main street listening booth but he won't bring it home because he knows it's painful for his mom. - all my stone cold killer bitches in the house make some noise - jerry from main street vinyl you will always be rob from high fidelity in MY HEART (eddie is barry even though he doesn't work there lmao) - ok my hellcats! that's all the cultural education for this chapter!! thanks again for reading, reblog and scream at me in the asks because i so appreciate (and need) the support and i'd also love y'all to send me prompts! don't be shy! i love an in-universe blurb!

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x f!reader #e. munson by powder

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hockeymenarehot · 4 months

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haii luvely

i love your account so osososos much and i was wondering if you could do a 2007 tom being subbyy :)

thankkk u💞

Sub!Tom Kaulitz

yess! i can absolutely do this! <3

summary: exactly what it sounds like haha

warnings: fem anatomy reader, dom!reader, p in v, unprotected, u ride the d, begging, sort of edging?, you call him good boy lmfao, established relationship, sub!reader at the end

now playing: Get On Your Knees, Nicki Minaj ft. Ariana Grande

Your boyfriend, Tom, had always had the reigns in bed when it came to you. He liked the feeling of being in control, and he was super possessive towards you. You had always been so obedient and good for him, always feeding into his fantasies and letting him use you whenever he needed. You let him have complete control over you and your body in bed because you knew it made him feel good.

But lately you had been having fantasies of your own, imagining what it would be like if the roles were reversed. You were afraid to admit you were turned on by the image of him under you, begging with tears streaming down his face, just as he does to you. You were sure that he would immediately turn down the idea, but you wanted to test your luck either way. You were prepared to do whatever it took to see how pretty your boyfriend would look underneath you.

"No." Before you had even finished your sentence, you were met with your answer. "But please!" you looked at him with pleading eyes, doing your best to make him crumble with your puppy dog eyes. "I said no, you aren't gonna make me your little slut." He said, his gaze stern and trained onto your eyes. You huffed with defeat, but still your spirits were not entirely crushed. You came into this having more than one idea, of course.

For the entire week when you two had sex, you had tried to sneakily find your way on top of him, doing anything in your power to land a spot on top. But Tom was unrelenting. It always ended with him harshly slapping your ass, calling you a 'slut' and roughly fucking you into overstimulation. But you still hadn't given in. I mean, even if your attempts were in vain, he had been fucking you so good this week. It was fun to rile him up.

One day you came up to him with a bashful look, already making him put his guard up, having gotten used to your antics by now. "Please, lemme ride you Tom.." You looked up at him, your arms behind your back. You knew he was always weak to your gaze, and this seemed innocent enough, right? He stared at you for a few seconds, contemplating. You had been trying to pull shit on him throughout this entire week, so he had to be careful. Your offer did sound very appealing, though. Watching your tits bounce up and down as your struggled to ride him, tears streaming down your face, ruining your makeup did sound hot as fuck.

So he caved.

But what he was not expecting was how you were putting your whole heart and soul into taking his cock, not faltering or giving him time to catch his breath. He knew you knew the role you were meant to play, and you knew that he knew you were purposefully not doing just that. He had fallen into your trap, all because he wanted himself a good ride. He had failed to take into account just how well you could take his dick in reality, like you were made for him.

So here you were, tits bouncing in his face, your hands carding through his hair, and dirty words falling from your mouth. You felt and looked heavenly, and he was struggling to keep his mind in tact. He was trying to resist the pleasure, to maintain his dominance over you.

He should've known that the moment you sat on his aching cock was the moment he had succumbed to you, and honestly with the way your pussy was gripping him, the angles he was hitting in this position, he considered why he hadn't let you do this before.

He was trying his hardest to contain his moans and whimpers, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you were making him feel so good, especially when you were the one in charge. He didn't want to show you that you had proved him right, that sometimes it felt good to let go and let you do all the work for once.

He scowled at you "I-is that all you got? Huh?" You just laughed at him a little bit, looking at him with a lustful gaze. You could tell by his stutter that you were so close to winning. So, you leaned in and took the shell of his ear with your teeth, making him shiver by such a subtle touch. "Wanna say that again?" you whispered in a tone full of want, almost daring him to. Right after you said that, you completely lifted yourself off his cock, both of you wincing at the loss of contact before slamming your hips back down onto him. This finally got him as he moaned out a borderline pornographic moan. He looked so pretty like this, you thought.

After this moment you had total control over him, and you definitely used this to your advantage. You rode his dick like you would never feel him again, whines slipping from his lips as you clenched around him. It took a lot to hold yourself back as every once in a while his tip would hit a certain spot inside you, making your legs tremble and almost give out. You were determined to make him cum inside of you while you were the one in charge, and you also wanted to see how much you could get away with.

His hands found their way up to your tits, and you swatted him away, making him whine out a "Please- wanna touch you..." you gave him a look of faux sympathy "Hm? Do you really think you've been good enough for that? Do you think you've been a good boy?" You felt his cock twitch inside of you at the pet name, making your heart beat faster at the effect you had on him. It was then he truly let you treat him how he treats you, responding the way you would have. "No... P-please, wanna be a good boy for you. Show you how much of a g-good boy I can be.." You blushed hard at his words, and you could practically feel the hearts in your eyes as your stared at your boyfriend and listened to his words.

Feeling satisfied at his words, you picked up your pace, rocking your hips against his faster. He started to move from moans to straight up whimpers and whines, having lost all control. It felt so good to let you be in control. He moved his hands up to toy with your nipples, rubbing and pinching at them and making your head tip back as you rode him. "Ah!" he moaned loudly, and you could tell by his body language and how his cock twitched against your walls that he was nearing release.

But you wanted to play with him a little more, still feeling mildly unsatisfied. You lifted your hips off of him again, making him whine out. He looked up at you, confused. "Beg for it." His eyes widened a little bit, his face reddening. "W-what?" He didn't believing that you were asking him to beg. "Beg for my pussy. You really want it? Beg." He was so close to release, and he felt like if he didn't cum inside of you right that instant he was going to die. So he gave in. "Please! Wanna feel you around me, wanna cum inside your perfect pussy. Please, please, please..." Hearing him chant your name and pleas towards you made you heat up, God he was so fucking sexy. You decided not to prolong his torture, because you too wanted to cum.

You lined up with him again, slamming onto him. That time your legs seriously almost gave out, and the pleasure was starting to catch up with you. Your vision started to go blurry, but you were determined to finish the job.

You moved your mouth to his neck as you bit and sucked at the spot, painting it shades of purple and red. He groaned at your touch, his orgasm finally washing over him. His abdomen clenched as he came inside you, releasing a large load into your walls. His body shook with pleasure as probably the most intense orgasm he had ever had zapped through his body. His hand came up to card through your hair as your hips slowed, your mouth still latched to his neck, determined to mark him as yours.

After his orgasm washed through him his mind slowly drifted back down to reality as he realized what you had so mischievously gotten him to do. His hand came down to your chin, tugging you away from his neck. You looked at him with a sly smile "Soo...?" you were waiting for him to admit you had been right, that it did feel good to submit. Instead, he lifted your hips off of him and flipped you onto your back.

"Now you're really gonna fuckin' get it."

It was totally worth it.

#smut #tokio hotel smut #fanfic #x reader #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz

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restinslices · 5 months

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Yo, still waiting for that if Tomas was a sub one (canon tbh)

Cannot believe I forgot. Y’all can boo me

Imma just come out and say it. He's such a whiny sub

There are characters that give me dom vibes but I think them as subs would be fun. There are characters that give me switch vibes. Tomas gives me only sub vibes. I don't detect a dom in there. idk, that's just me tho

So needy and whiny it'd probably throw you off when you see him doing anything other than begging you to touch him

Cannot handle teasing at all. He's ok with teasing you but breaks easily when you tease him

Honestly he can't backup any of the shit he talks.

One of those subs who need attention at all times. Even if you're not interacting with him, he still wants you in the area

Kinks I think he'd have are barebacking, biting, humiliation (a HUGE one and imma stand on it), breath play, collaring (in private), impact play, sex toys and sensory deprivation

I just feel like he's a slut in disguise. Where's my proof? I made it the fuck up. I'm doing this for US

If you have female anatomy he's also getting pegged. IDC IDC

Humiliation is a big one for him because he knows it's still a safe space. You can taunt him about how he's a slut, write things on him, make him get off with something unusual, ect. but at the end of day you still love him and it's all for fun.

You can tell when he's needy ‘cause he's extremely close to you. He follows you around normally, but he's right on your heels

To torture him more you can pretend you have no idea what he wants. He knows you know and you know he knows, but watching him try to ignore how he feels ‘cause he doesn't wanna say it out loud is priceless.

He also has a tendency to say he can't take anymore but in reality he wants you to keep going. This is a big guy, he can take it.

There's two good punishments for him; Cockwarming and overstimulation

Cockwarming because he can't handle teasing. It's so simple but he can't stand it and doesn't know which is worse; when you're inside of him (actual dick or strapon, doesn't matter) or when he's inside of you. Either way, it doesn't take long for him to apologize for whatever he's done and beg you to fuck him already.

For overstimulation he gets turned on and cums pretty easily so it wouldn't take that much to overstimulate him.

These two go well together. Cockwarming then overstimulation as a “isn't this what you wanted?”

What would make this better is quizzing him on something. His brain stops working when he's horny so quizzing him on Lin Kuei principles or something else he for sure knows adds to it.

He knows he knows the answer but his brain is a fog. It kinda puts the punishment in his hands but that adds to the torture. If he could figure this out, then you'd actually fuck him (or you'd stop fucking him if you do this while overstimulating him)

As I'm typing this I thought of another thing that can be both a punishment but also something he enjoys. Dryhumping. Listen to me and listen to me well-

I can see him coming up behind you when you're alone and rubbing against you to let you know he's needy. And if you told him to keep going, he'd cum but it's not what he really wants to do.

So him being in trouble and being forced to rub against you but not be inside you or have you inside him would drive him nuts.

Aftercare for him would be showering together, cuddling and reassuring him you didn't mean any of the negative things you said. Especially after an intense punishment, he needs to hear you don't actually think negatively of him and you love him.

Also reading together depending on the day. Just something really chill to pull him back to reality.

I just realized he has the least amount of words so here are afterthoughts to fix that

I know I've called him whiny multiple times but I genuinely think sometimes he can't even form coherent sentences. All that comes out are noises

Tries not to pout but does so anyway

He can get off just from giving head

Loves you leaving marks on him as long as he can cover it up. He can't be scrapping and the enemy sees a hickey on his neck

Tries to sneakily break rules. For example, if a rule is “no touching yourself when I'm gone” he'll do it anyway and try to get rid of the evidence. He'll shower, change clothes, clean any toy he used and whatever else he has to do but you somehow always know.

Tomas is not the best liar and has some habits he does when lying, like tapping his fingertips together so you find out that way or from actually catching him and pretending you didn’t

The type to break rules on purpose if you haven't been giving him attention and then be surprised when actions have consequences

Will call you whatever title you prefer if you don't just wanna go by your name

Like his brothers, he for sure could just throw you off but he never does. It adds to the fun. He's a skilled assassin but if you said “jump” he'd ask “how high?”

The best sub to have if you want one whos so pathetically in love with you but can be a little shit sometimes

Even after his punishments, he keeps apologizing to make sure you're not actually mad at him.

Probably begs you to cum inside him anyway you can

I see him and start tweaking fr

#tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke #tomas vrbada mk1 #tomas vrbada headcanons #tomas vrbada x y/n #tomas vrbada smut #sub Tomas vrbada #Sub smoke #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #Mdni #feral for this man

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iamthekaijuking · 9 months

Note

suaropods on earth are the absolute upper limit for land vertebrates, but is it because they have four legs? cause i was working on a scifi spec evo idea where the endoskeletal vertebrate-analogs have eight legs and it got me wondering if it means their sauropod equivalents can be even bigger in a similar earth like gravity

If it was just about leg numbers then land mammals wouldn’t be smaller than the biggest dinosaurs

In reality you need specific evolutionary pressures, circumstances, and unique and efficient anatomy to get big.

For sauropods it was entirely due to their internal anatomy. Sauropods are saurischian dinosaurs, which have hollow bones with internal scaffolding that likely made them stronger than if they were solid, as well as a very extensive respiratory system that included numerous air sacks, many of which ran through their bones. This ultimately allowed saurischian dinosaurs to massively cut back on volume and allow them to cool off easier and have more efficient respiration. There’s things we still don’t know about sauropod anatomy though such as how their circulatory systems combated their sheer verticality. Dinosaurs also have unidirectional respiratory systems, which is more efficient than mammalian two way airflow.

For modern baleen whales it has more to do with the aftermath of the last ice age and how it impacted the location of their food (keep in mind this explanation of the evolution of baleen whale size is based on my current understanding and might not be correct). Baleen whales actually used to be much smaller, around bus size. But during and after the last ice age the ocean currents changed and krill populations became concentrated around the poles. Because of this, baleen whales needed a way to eat as much as possible in one sitting and travel long distances efficiently. The easy solution was to get big, which became easier as their predators the macroraptorial sperm whales and Otodus megalodon gradually went extinct. A thing to note however, is that because they need more resources due to their size, the number of baleen whale species is lower than it was several million years ago. Also also, blue whales are getting bigger.

On earth, 200 tons is more or less the maximum size for animals, as the biggest whales, ichthyosaurs, and sauropods got around that size.

There’s more things to note though:

No, higher oxygen levels don’t make things bigger. Not even bugs. Modern arthropods are actually on average bigger than their Carboniferous counterparts, and the oxygen levels were way higher back then. And griffinflies, very active flying insects, lasted all the way into the Permian, when oxygen levels were lower than in modern day.

It’s important to consider what the bones of animals are made of as well as their structure. Different internal structures can handle stress better, and different materials can handle pressure differently.

Eight legs might be too many, as having more legs, while very stable, can be more energy costly. Two legs might not be able to support as much weight as four, but it is more efficient.

A very big thing animals have to fight with when it comes to size is something called the square cube law. Basically as something gets bigger its volume (insides) increase way faster than its outsides (surface area). If you had a 1 centimeter cube and doubled its size, the surface area would quadruple but the insides would increase eight times. But there are ways of combating this such as decreasing volume with things like air sacks or increasing surface area by being very wrinkly (that’s how human brains fit so many neurons!). And because things with a metabolism generate heat, big animals have to combat overheating because they have a lot of insides. That’s why elephants have such big vascularized ears and why their skin acts like a sponge to soak up water.

Also I have no idea how perucetus got so big, that glorious fatass

#ask #questions #anon #anonymous #biology #paleontology #palaeoblr #speculative evolution #speculative biology #speculative anatomy #speculative zoology

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cleabellanov · 2 months

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Jet-Skiing through identity: a deep dive into Mobius M. Mobius (part 2) 🛥️

Even the kindest of hearts have a trigger point, a spot that can catch a bullet without bleeding; making it part of the heart's anatomy.

I'm only saying that because I associate Loki as Mobius's soft spot("I know you have a soft spot for broken things"), and Loki turning his back to that in s1e2 as the trigger point. Imagine you have that courage, to do something everyone around you thinks is wrong. Then, just as you were going to prove the opposite,our efforts turn to be in vain.

For Mobius's character, this means he has to turn around at 360, to where he came from; with inovative ideas not working, it all comes to accepting defeat.

He manages that excellently in front of Ravonna: caring more about reassuring her everything will work out rather than focusing on himself. Another example of how much Mobius cares about others, even when he should care more about himself.

Episode 4, season 1, is crucial for where Mobius's story is going.

We can see so many interesting things in his conversation with Loki, like the way he handles stress through amusement. Asif this emotion isn't worthy enough, but to be laughed at:

"You like her! Does she like you?"

After all, let's not forget Mobius was already (and even earlier than this episode) catching feelings for Loki. His own words put this straightforward: "Just kind of an asshole. And a bad friend". Notice how he doesn't use any word similr to "traitor". He still considers him a friend, albeit a bad one, after everything he's done. Mobius might do his best to hide it, but he's still forgiving deep down. And it's not even Loki's departure in time and space that matters the most to the analyst. It's his alliance with Sylvie, hinting once again at the jelaousy of his character I talked about in part 1. "It's ruining my reality right now!" in Mobius's words.

But when he is told by Loki that they're all variants, Mobius doesn't simply dissmiss the idea. He could, and should, given the position he is in. But the brightness of his mind, and that little flicker of hope he still has in his Loki makes the difference. After all, hope is what makes us believe: it's the desire of having something to believe in.

Watch his reaction when he is told all this:

He is masking it flawlessly in front of Loki and the hunters, but that raising hope makes him search: is the trickster out of tricks for once? What if, all this time, that feeling he had inside himself but hid away is actually a sign, gently whispering to him there is more he should know about? That is a bravery so different from live action, and battling with superheroes: the bravery of discovery. Loki telling the truth means Mobius living a lie - a scary thought of course, but not scary enough to stop him.

This all drives Mobius to finding out what actually happened with hunter C-20. And the rest is history.

There is a certain honour in telling Loki he was right from the beginning. This new approach, this insight Mobius now gains over everything give him not only a rush of adrenaline, but also the confidence he didn't allow himself before. Therefore, he wasn't just working half a measure. The limits that were set were not part of his perimeter, but of the TVA's. Now that he sees that, he can also break those limits.

He is also free to speak his mind. And Loki is so deserving of these words that this scene right here is one of the most precious in the entire series. Their wonderful dinamc certainnly gives extra points to that.

Now Mobius isn't just an analyst anymore. He is a rebel, betraying the only thing he believes in, the one institution that shaped his entire existence. This rebellion isn't just external, but internal as well. Ultimately, only one part of the internal conflict won, but the other still exist, like two sides of the same coin, spinning and spinning. But he still has the hope that he'll find something better on the other side, and doesn't stop just because it's a hard thing to do.

If it was easy, everyone would do it. (Loki in Thor The Dark World)

I wanted to write more but this is already getting too long (like damn I'm fangirling hard) so see you for part 3!

#if you liked this reblog so it can reach more people?#marvel #loki #lokius #character analysis #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #mobius #mobius my beloved #writing #writblr #variants #mcu #marvel fandom #comics #the tva #cinema #sorry if I did any mistakes English is not my first language #💛💚

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bitchin-tubs · 3 months

Note

Your Charlie is adorable. Does she have a demonic form, personally, before the disappointingly boring reveal of it, I thought she was going to be a cerberus demon. What did you have in mind?

Thank you! I wanted to keep that cuter look from the pilot intact and I do actually!!

I must admit I’m not planning on adding really “demonic” characteristics to her since, even though she’s Hell born, she is not technically a demon. She was born from a puppet which Lucifer bled into and Lilith gave life to with her flame. She’s still a very powerful entity though as her royal title suggests, but demons and angels have these explosive transformations because their full power is too much for their physical forms to the point it seems like it’s spilling out Stolas for example, while Charlie’s is securely confined into her wooden body. So instead of turning her into a known folklore creature I’m just enhancing the fact she is a puppet. I also gave her a sheep/goat motif when I first redesigned her back in the pilot days so some of her features twist into animal anatomy but over all she’s still a wooded doll

I also like to think that when she’s irritated she chatters her teeth which would sound like tapping wood and when she’s really mad she grinds her jaw which groans and creaks like wooden floorboards

And I don’t think I’m surprising anyone when I say this design was very lack luster

Specially when taking into account how many times they teased her full demon form which already revealed what her face and horns looked like so in reality her full FULL demon form is just that plus a tail :/ nothing grand

My headcanon for my Charlie is that she never goes full power in normal settings, even if she’s really mad. Most she’ll do is grind or chatter her teeth and her angry look would be the blackout eyes. The legs and horns are definitely the most eye catching features so those are reserved for the fight.

^ an idea of Charlie’s dress before getting (slightly) torn from the fight

#my art #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel redesign #bitchin replies

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sketch-mer-6195 · 7 months

Text

Scare Tactic (Earthspark Megatron x gn!Reader)

My very first gender neutral reader for all who love this handsome mech! It is a bit of a shorty but, I'm glad how it ended up! Word Count: 666 (by the allspark we're doomed) Warnings: Fluff, sfw, lots of cybertroninan anatomy terms...if that's a warning?

Anywhizzlepop, enjoy the funny!

You think that you're so funny, right? Scaring the former Warlord and Leader of the Decepticon's half to death and making him think he actually squished you beneath his peds.

Well it was kinda funny for a moment.

You had Dottie take you to Ghost Headquarters as you had several close calls with Decepticon's since your move to Witwicky. In reality, you wanted to see Megs and catch up a little bit since he had been swamped thanks to Agent Croft. So, when you got the opportunity to find him in the halls reading over a communication pad. It was just perfect. Hiding behind the large pillar that supported the walls, you waited till he got close to where you were until you let out the most Energon curdling screech you could muster.

Poor Megatron jumped a good 12 feet in the air hearing your scream. He knew it was you. His spark about ready to go into supernova if he knew he was the one who actually hurt you.

But as he began to think of what you were going to look like under his ped, the sound of your laughter was soon replaced. Making the titan raise a brow in utter confusion, he looked down to see you rolling on the floor and clutching your midsection because of your laughter. Your feet kicking in the air as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes as your laughter continued. Megatron was deeply relieved that you were perfectly fine and let out a heavy ex-vent he had no idea he was holding. But what was once relief in his ruby optics were soon replaced with slight annoyance with a hint of mirth.

"(Y/N)! What in the Allspark do you think you're doing? Deceiving me into thinking I severely harmed you." He lectured you.

As your laughing fit soon fizzled to giggles, you sat up and wiped your eyes and cheeks. Looking up at your beloved 'Con, you knew you weren't going to get out of this so easily.

"I'm sorry, Megs. But… it was just too easy to not pass up the opportunity!" You explained as you stood and brushed off the dust on your pants.

With a slight glare, Megatron offered you his servo to which you happily accepted and perched yourself into his palm. With his thumb securing you around your waist, he lifted you to his chassis only to see Elita-one and Optimus running down the hall.

"What's wrong!" Elita exclaimed.

"We heard someone in distress! We came as fast as we could." Optimus said before laying optics to see the only culprit.

“Apologies, old friend. (Y/N) here came to visit and surprised me.” Megatron replied as he carefully lifted you to his shoulder plating. “Come to think of it, I was thinking of showing them my latest simulation.”

Turning on his struts, Megatron had a smirk on his own dermas to which Prime had no intention of figuring out what his plan was. You on the other hand were not planning on what was about to happen next. In the training simulation room, Megatron activated the system with a simple command where a pillar formed and rose to his eye level before plucking you off his shoulder.

“Ah! Hey!”

“This will teach you not to scare me.” And with a simple wave of his servo, the pillar rose an extra 15 feet into the air with Megatron chuckling.

“Megatronus! Put me down this instance!” You ranted only to hear your lover chuckle and soon begin to full blow tanks-laugh.

Again, it was funny. And in the end, it was worth it. Even if you scared the Spark out of him. He forgot about work, laughing and relaxing with you. Which you ended up laughing and him bringing you back to his level so you two could have a little stroll through the halls and talk about each other's day.

Now… what’s next to get your ‘Con lover?

Tagging: @robot-horde @mysticboombox @nilawii

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #tfes megatron #megatron #earthspark megatron

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usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

The Nightmare on Hawkins Street +18 (Request)

Dom!Vecna x Dark!Virgin!Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey this is a request I took from a friend who loves the idea of Vecna as I do so I decided to write this. I made Vecna a kind of hybrid of Peter and Vecna so that it’s still has that monsterfucking aspect along with some human properties as i do not know Vecna’s full anatomy (also i just love jaime’s face)☺️ This will be like a diary entries of an anthropologist who slowly descends into a path of darkness.The diary will be first person but after it’ll be second point of view. Also I use the words “vines” and “tentacles interchangeably. Part 2

Summary: Banished to the world that has now became “The Upside Down”, Peter/Vecna marks his first victim an anthropologist with morbid curiosity. But when she shares his same philosophy, he finds himself wanting her by his side.

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: mention of murder(s), morally ambiguous reader, loss of virginity, blood kink, use of tentacles (sexual), anal sex, choking, pain kink, spanking, vaginal penetration, corruption kink, spit as lube, degradation kink, doggystyle, drooling, tummy bulge, breeding kink, creampie, uses of names like “sir”, “master”, “king”, cum eating

June 16, 1983

Dear Diary,

I’ve seen him again today. Vecna. That’s what I call the monster that haunts my dreams. I’d accidentally fallen asleep from exhaustion for a split second and next thing I knew I was back in his lair. Whenever I’d close my eyes, he’d be behind them. Waiting. I’ve fought to stay awake ever since. He’s threatened to show me my “true nature” or so he puts it. Somehow knowing my true self scares me. I know I’m not like other my age. I’ve always had a fascination for things that are strange which only increased the moment I saw him.

Vecna looks pained. Like someone’s hurt him in the past. I found myself wanting to know who could have hurt monster like him. Yet from what I understood he was once man. A man who had his on motivations and his own ideals that were slowly ripped from him and banished from human society. Now he was a former shell of himself. Part man, part other worldly being seeking revenge and power. It’s like I could feel his every emotion. Like I know his story. I dare say that I sympathize with the entity.

June 20, 1983

Dear Diary,

I’d managed to close my eyes again. I don’t fear being dragged into his reality. I’ve embrace it. I’m still alive. I assume there must be some reason why he wants me alive. Maybe I could find him. Any chance I’d get to be in his world, I would commit every detail of the strange dimension, The Upside Down, to memory. I’d draw the details and displayed them on my wall. I’d stay up late nights going down a rabbit hole researching and looking into random experiments done in Hawkins hoping it’d mean I’d find him soon. I think he’s finally taken ahold of my mind. I welcome him.

June 30, 1983

Dear Diary,

Strange things are frequently happening in Hawkins. Murders, people disappearing, sightings of cryptid creatures. I know it’s him. He’s getting powerful. I could feel him getting powerful. It…excited me. I’ve never been so interested in learning about a person’s life the way I do now. To think that a human could be so powerful? Would be considered human at all since he’d been born with these gifts? I’d like to think that he could feel me, too. That he understood my devotion to him. That I’d only ran away and kept myself from sleeping because I was scared to know who I really am. But he’s shown me that gradually over time.

None of the research I’ve done in university could ever match what his existence. I want to know him now more than anything.

July 1, 1983

There it was in front of you. A gate to The Upside Down beckoning you to enter. It’s a hidden hole in a tree surrounded by a wet sac. You enter not even thinking of the consequences. This will be the first time you’ll get to see him physically so consequences be damned. You break through the slimy barrier. The cold wetness of the unidentifiable substance coating you and your scantily clad red dress.

Once you made it through, an immediate chill goes down your spine. You know he’s close. You explore the grounds, taking note of every sight. It looked just like your worlds except dark. You speculated that through this shadow world this was how he accessed his victims.

You walked through the streets searching for the street where your home lies. Not surprisingly, your home was in fact there. You walked through the doors. The atmosphere eerily still. Looking around, it’s like nothing changed. You notice a light under the door frame of your room upstairs. It grew bright. Tiptoeing up the steps, the floorboards creek underneath your bare feet. Your heart racing.

Once you’ve reached the room, you lower yourself down attempting to look under the door frame. No movement, just blinding light. You stand up, grip the knob, take a breath, and then slowly turn it. The light flickers as you walk through the room.

You notice your diary rested on your bed. You pick it up, flipping through it’s pages. It’s all of the entries you’ve written since the beginning of his mark on you. It’s practically duplicate.

Suddenly, the air shifts and you were sure you were alone anymore. Wet, heavy footsteps thumped against the floorboards. You don’t dare to turn to look. Even as the slick appendage wrapped around your neck, you remained still. You hear his rumbling growl.

“Y/N.” He says, turning you slowly to look at him. His voice, an overlay of a growling beast mix with a hint of his original innocent voice. His facial features part man, part creature. You could tell he was handsome with enticing lips and bright blue eyes. The other part of him was of this strange world. Dark, wrinkled wet skin almost reptilian and flesh in texture. He donned white clothes that had been torn and darkenedfrom what appeared to look as if he were struck by lightning. Several tentacles extended out and around him like extra limbs. Both sides of him were gorgeous and you could feel yourself weak at the knees at this discovery.

“My king.” You moaned.

He looked as if he was psychoanalyzing you in his head, trying to pick you apart. Were you here to serve him? The answer was yes. You were his to use. You spent years wanting to figure out the nuances of humanity and once you realized it, it only made you want to seek something new. Exciting. Morally corrupt. He was exactly who you needed.

“King?” He questions with a head tilt, releasing his grip from your neck.

You take this as an opportunity to show your worth to him. You fall to your knees, bowing your head and hands flat on the ground. You look up at him with admiration. “I understand. I know what you feel and how you think. For years, I’ve studied humanity. I’ve seen the things we’re all capable of. We are not perfect. We are destructive, cruel, irredeemable. That is why I give myself to you and will hang on every word you say. I want you to teach me to be in your light. To serve by your side and fulfill your every wish. I want to be perfect for you. Please claim my body as yours to use however you like.”

He takes a step closer to you, tilting your chin up with an elongated finger. “Such a needy little thing you are. Typical of you humans. Always wanting regardless of if it’s bad for you,” He pulls his cock from his confines. It’s hard and the tip leaking precum. It was large in length smooth, slimy, reptilian skin but appeared like the average male anatomy. “Go on. Show me how you’ll serve me.”

You take his harden member in your hand taking in its beauty. You’d never seen a man like him. You settled with the idea that he would be the one to take you precious flower. He was worthy of corrupting the purity you’ve tried to maintain.

You swirl your tongue around his tip, sucking hard. You earn a grunt from him. This makes you want to hear more. Lowering your mouth down to the base, you swallow around him. He looks so beautiful above you, watching you take his down your fragile throat. He couldn’t wait to rip you apart on his dick and show you how to be taken and trained properly.

A tentacle slithers between your legs. You spread them wider wanting to show your submission to him. He just under your panties. You could feel the slimy suction of the feeler caressing the inside of your thigh. It light goosebumps against your skin at its texture. You gag around him, taking him deeper and deeper.

“Mm, you’re so greedy for me. I’m sure you wouldn’t care that I’ve killed before. Your life could be in danger right now and yet you still lust for cock. You’re such a greedy, fucking whore.” He slaps a tendril-like limb against your ass hard, the wetness causing the contact to sting even more. You choke against him.

The limb between your leg teases your clothed pussy before pushing the soft cotton of your underwear to the side. He flicks your clit back and forth, the suctions on the vine catching it over and over.

Your eyes roll back. “Thank you, sir.” You mewled, stroking his cock while you moaned out and ground against the thick appendage.

He pulls you by your hair and yanks your mouth back onto him. “Did I tell you to stop? Now I’m going to rut into your throat until it’s raw.” Wrapping two tentacles around your hair like pigtails, he drives your mouth down his length over and over. You’re forced to continue to breathe through your nose. His hips moving into your mouth so rough you could feel him in your esophagus. The limb playing with your clit rubbing harder against you. It was borderline painful.

“Look at how wet you are,” He pulls himself from between your legs even with the wet texture of his skin, you can evidently see your creamy slick against the dark blue tendril. “You enjoy being treated so poorly. I can let all my frustrations on you and you’d take it.” He pulls your mouth off him by your hair. Groaning when he sees the lines of saliva connecting his cock to your tongue, break off and drip down you chin and chest.

“Yes, master. I love to be used and ruined by you.” You say with a gasp. He shoves himself down your throat once again while thrusting the vine inside you. You cry out. You hadn’t expected penetration so suddenly. He was just at the barrier if he thrusted further you’d officially be his.

“Sit.” He commands you.

You adjust yourself, shifting at the knee so that you could take him deeper. You’re mouth yanking away from his cock once more. The barrier is finally broken and you stutter out a groan. “F-fuck!”

He maneuvers in and out of your quivering pussy, groaning at its tightness. You look down between your legs watching the extender inside you. There was blood trickling down your thighs. He was fascinated by the sight, pulling himself out of you and tasting the salty, warm liquid. His eyes glimmer with a newfound interest.

He tears off your dress and panties from you in one swift tug, your body completely bare. You instinctively cover your breasts. He couldn’t help but notice how innocent you looked under him. Like a little lamb put up for the slaughter. But you had offered yourself to him. You asked for this. So how innocent were you really?

He rips your hands away. “Do not hide yourself, little one. You belong to me.” His vine coils around your neck lifting you off your feet and slamming you against the bed. You were like a rag doll in his grasp, biting your lip at the feeling of being manhandled. You’re flipped over, forced on your hands and knees. You can hear him fumbling with his clothes. You peep over your shoulder to witness his full body which also bore resemblance of that of man and creature.

“You’re so beautiful, master. I can’t wait to have you against.” You moaned, rolling your hips in anticipation.

He smacks your ass once again then entwining an extended limb around your waist and pulling you against him. He plunges himself deep into your walls, bottoming out in one swift move. You wail, gripping the sheets in front of you. He forces your face down into the mattress while your ass remained high in the air. It was angled just in the right position for him to pummel into your wetness over and over. His grunts above you mixing in with your whines.

“So fucking tight. I’ll ruin this cunt so that no other man can have you.” He growls, smacking your ass once more. You can feel the extenders slithering all over your body caressing every part of your skin and tweaking your nipples. The suctions on them lighting goosebumps against your skin. He spits at your puckered hole rubbing a thumb at the entrance then you recognize the familiar slimy, wiggling of the tentacle penetrating your anal cavity.

He thrusts in and out of it in time with his hardness driving into your pussy. You rise up on all fours again, your tongue sticking out, panting and drooling at the pressure of being filled in both holes. “Holy fuck! Yes, yes, yes. Just like that.”

He mercilessly pounds into you, pulling you closer to him so that your back was flushed against his chest. “This is your role now. You are to take everything I give you. Everything. You’ll serve as my queen. Never to question me. Do you understand?” He whispered into your ear. He sounded so fucking sexy. His voice strained from the moans he held back so that he could speak his commands explicitly.

“Yes, master. Yes, my king. I will take it all.” I throw it back against his cock and the tentacle. They stretched both holes with a mix of pain and pleasure. You want to prove to him you can handle it with ease.

“You’re such a fucking whore. You’ve come here searching for trouble. You beg for me to take you. Then you sacrifice your whole life up there just for a taste of my cock. You’re despicable.” He smacks your ass.

“I’m filthy, sir. A fucking degenerate. I want to be whatever you want me to be. I want you to mold my whole world into your liking.” He pounds harder and it’s as if he’s got even more inches of himself to give to you.

You can feel him sloshing around inside, knocking at your insides and forming a bulge at your belly. You press it causing the two of you to hiss at the action. He swivels his hips making certain that he hits every square inch of you. His length nudges at the small, fleshy button inside you repeatedly. It felt as if he’d touched that part of you from both entrances, the tentacle flicking inside you back and forth.

Your drawn out groans are now, short gasps of air. “I’m gonna fucking cum. You’re so amazing, master!”

He rubs at your clit, the suctions pulling at your clit. You were beginning to feel delirious at this point. It was all so much and you knew that you’d finally lost any sense of sanity, you once had. A wave of bliss takes over you and you can feel yourself gushing, the evidence of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs and his cock.

“Mmm,” He moans, witnessing your creamy slick and blood make a mess of your lower bodies. He pumps sloppy, long strokes into your pussy. “Would you like to be filled to the brim, hmm? Make you drip with my cum.”

“Please fuck your babies into me. I wanna be round and full and take all of it inside. I don’t want to waste a single drop,” You fucked back against him faster, ruining his pace. You were set on him cumming in you and you could feel another orgasm beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. “Hurt me, master. Just the way you like. I know it’s what you need to cum. I’ve studied you. All so that I know how to please you. Please hurt me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He knew you could take the pain. His thrusts returned to the same force that crossed the line between pain and pleasure. He bites at your shoulder, choking you simultaneously. Your air supply had been cut off; you were getting dizzy. Your orgasm was approaching soon and you crawled at the tentacle that constricted your throat. He pounds into your sweet spot once again and a cry rips from his chest and you both tremble against one another. You both arrived at the same time. You felt as if you were dying the orgasm that shook through you so powerful, your wetness shot out like a sprinkler, wetting the bed.

His cum is hot as it paints your walls white inside you. He continues his thrusts to the point of overstimulation wanting to make sure his essence remained deep inside you. Vecna lets go of your body and you immediately collapse against the mattress. Your face down and ass still in the air as you heaved for air. He stares down at your quaking core which had been coated with a mixture of your blood and juices as well as his cum that began to seep out. He takes a finger gathering it and you turned your head to the side to face him, sticking your tongue out. He runs his finger back and forth against your tongue until you clasp a finger around it and sucked.

He removes his finger, patting and rubbing you on the head. You accept the warm embrace, nuzzles your head into his hand. “I knew you’d be the perfect queen. You understand.”

“Yes, my king. I’ve always known I was meant to serve you. I don’t care if you hurt others. You do it because you want you humanity to be better and recognize its deplorability.”

“You wouldn’t turn against me if I were to ask you to carry out an important mission?”

“No, sir,” You sit up, resting your butt on the bottoms of your feet. “I will do anything you say. I meant every word.”

“Then, there is someone whom I need you to bring to me?”

“Who?”

“Bring me the girl, Eleven. Alive.”

Tag: @stygianoir

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dwellinginsilence · 2 months

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Just my favorite screenshot of this guy. 🔞Under the line is my version of Sebastian's NSFW Alphabet. MDNI🔞

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) His main concern is you, especially when he’s been particularly rough and needy. He gets you water and makes sure you drink it. He massages your shoulders and back, rubs lotion into your wrists (or wherever there may be some kind of rope burn). After that, if you’re not too sleepy, he’ll prepare a bath for you where he cleans you. When it’s time for sleep, he wraps you in a warm blanket, curls up next to you, and plays with your hair until you fall asleep, refusing to sleep until you do. The entire time he presses soft kisses to anywhere he can reach and praises you for doing so well.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His favorite part of his body is his hands. They’ve always been sensitive since he plays music. Since they’re so sensitive, touching, even the simplest of ways, stimulates him (not just sexually). He loves touching you everywhere, all the time, and constantly has his hands in your hair. If asked, he’d tell people he loves your hips. They’re wide and soft and he loves digging his fingers into your flesh when he mounts you. They also bring out a possessive desire to get you pregnant (whether or not you both want children). In reality, his favorite part of your body is the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. Every time he hugs you, he automatically buries his nose in that spot. He can smell your scent strongest there and feel your pulse which brings him peace. He also loves your eyes because you can’t hide your feelings and he loves your lips because…and your hands…he could go on and on and on….

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves making you cum and he strives for multiple orgasms every time and isn’t satisfied until you’ve cum at least twice. Making you squirt is his favorite even if it doesn’t happen nearly often enough, it makes him feral. Cumming inside you is his favorite, although he won’t turn down anything. He gets off on watching his cum leak from you. It shows he owns you (but you own him just as much and he’s the first to admit it)-which connects to his…

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) After he cums inside you and gets his fill of watching it drip out, he likes going down on you. Tasting himself on your sex is the ultimate show of his ownership of you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He doesn’t have much experience before you, at most a couple make out sessions with some clumsy fondling. He remembers how much his father doted on his mother and promised himself he wouldn’t have sex with someone until he felt like that. With that being said, he listened to older boys talk and eavesdropped on girls whispering in the corners and read not only anatomy books but romance novels, so he doesn’t have practical knowledge but he uses what he’s gathered and listens to you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) It’s a hard choice because he loves watching your face when you come undone, but he’d have to say doggy style. The depth he reaches, the way he can hold your hips for leverage, how hard he can pound into you, and the sounds you make…it all makes for a very heady combination.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Sebastian’s greatest joy is seeing you laugh and smile, besides he’s naturally mischievous, so as serious as sex is because he’s serious about you, he likes having fun, not to mention he loves the way your body tightens around him when you laugh while he’s inside you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Groomed neatly, not completely shaved. The idea of a razor so close makes him uneasy. On you, he doesn’t care. He wants you comfortable and he’s infatuated no matter what.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) His greatest concern in everything is you. Regardless of his playful nature, you’re his love so he always makes sure you’re comfortable and never does anything too harshly. Even when he is rough, he leaves little kisses where he can reach and praises you. As far as other times, he’s a toucher. It’s his love language and he really likes to show you his love. Between cuddles, nuzzles, hand holding, and (his favorite) big hugs he’s always being physically intimate.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Before he found you, it was something he did regularly, usually not imagining anyone specific, but the general shape and feel. He’s a Victorian man, respecting women has been pounded into him. Besides, he has a sister, and he’d be most displeased to know someone thought of her that way so he can’t bring himself to do that. Until he meets you because no matter how hard he tries to think of anything else, you’re there, always. Once you become intimate, he rarely does it unless you’re watching because he’s much rather be inside you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He doesn’t embarrass easily but it takes him a while to share his kinks and fantasies with you. Being a Victorian man, he feels like anything other than utmost respect isn’t loving to you. But he has a dark side, even if he tries to hide it. So when you confide you like how it hurts when he holds your hips too tight when he loses control and you wonder how it might feel for him to spank you, he loosens the strings on his own secrets. He never wants to harm you, but breath play fascinates him and he thinks he’d like both of you to try it. Whether or not he likes it, if you do then he’ll keep doing it. He likes tying you up, not just wrists behind your back, but full body rope. He feels like a kid on Christmas morning getting to open the present he’s been waiting all year for. And his most secret kink, that he takes a long time to divulge and still isn’t even sure he wants to indulge in, is his friends watching you two. As much as he’s loathe for another man to see you naked, it ties in with his desire to own you and there’s no mistaking you’re his if everyone can see him claim you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Other than his fantasy of his friends watching, he isn’t much of an exhibitionist, but there’s something about taking you in the Restricted Section of the library in Hogwarts that gets him going every time he thinks about it. And when you're exploring caves and what not, he gets worked up fighting by your side. Watching you fight and be violent makes him rather impatient to have you. Otherwise, a bedroom. He likes taking his time and doesn’t want to be rushed because you’re doing it in public areas.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You. He doesn’t need more than that. But your laugh does get him hotter than anything else. And seeing that look in your eye that tells him if he bent you over he’d find you wet already.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) NonCon even Consensual NC is a no go. The second “no”, “don’t”, “stop”, or anything similar comes out of your mouth he’s done and he’ll be hard pressed to touch you at all for the rest of the day. Growing up abused he often felt helpless and even though his abuse wasn’t sexual, it’s too close in his mind and he won’t subject you to it. Feet and all body fluids and excrement (except sexual ones) are turn offs. He just can’t get his head into that space. No multiples. You’re his, he’s yours. Period. There’s no chance he’ll let anyone come into your bed.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Loves it. All of it. All the time. He doesn’t usually like to cum in your mouth for previous reasons, but he loves you going down on him for a little while. Watching you take his entire length makes him dizzy every time. If he does finish in your mouth, before you swallow he likes to see it. Going down on you may be his favorite thing. The noises you make are unlike any others and he loves the way you pull his hair. On top of that he loves the way you smell and taste and knowing it’s all for him makes it even better.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) There’s a time and place for everything and he’s incredibly in tune to your needs, so as long as he gets inside you he doesn’t care how you need it. If you have no need that day, his personal choice is usually fast and hard. Not because he doesn’t like to savor or feel every sensation but he is usually out of patience by the time he gets inside you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) As mentioned before, he’s not huge into quickies. He likes taking his time with you and some of his kinks and fantasies need time. Sometimes if it’s been a while since he’s had you or if you look particularly tempting in the morning and he doesn’t have time, between classes or lunch he’ll take a quickie to get him through the rest of the day. Usually they don’t satiate his hunger and he’s even more ravenous by the time evening comes.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Other than the library and his fantasy in front of his friends he isn’t into public sex. He’s up for trying anything at least once (except for his few hard limits). If you want it, he’ll do it even if it’s not his favorite.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He refuses to cum before you. He just won’t. Once he does, he’s perfectly content to continue pleasuring you. And it usually doesn’t take him long to get ready for the next round. If you’re up for it, he’ll be ready.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Not a huge fan of toys. He likes to be the one pleasing you. He does enjoy light bondage, so he has a variety of ropes. But even for spanking he’d rather feel the sting in his hand than use a paddle.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He rarely teases. He wants you to cum and he wants you to cum a lot. If anything, he enjoys overstimulating you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He’s a damn animal. He likes hearing you so he doesn’t shy away from letting you know what you do to him. He moans, growls, hisses, constantly praises you and whispers absolute filth in your ear. The louder, the better.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Dirty talk gets him off. He loves getting dirty notes left for him. Or a quick “I can’t wait to feel your cock deep inside me,” as you pass each other. The first time you said “cunt” he lost his damn mind. On the opposite side of the spectrum, he may enjoy calling you a dirty slut while he’s buried inside you, but afterward you’re his beautiful girl and he loves you. He is forever telling you how good you are and how proud he is, how you impress him, make him fall all over again. When he’s not actively trying to make you cum he worships you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Freckles, everywhere. They used to embarrass him until you spent an entire night trying to kiss each one. He’s tall, but he isn’t lean. Being a beater while at Hogwarts toned his body and his career keeps him in the same shape (unless he’s a professor, but then he enjoys helping the Slytherin team practice and likes to beat bludgers when he’s had a rough day).

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Constantly. He’s always ready for you. Even when he was younger, he was easily aroused. You may not be able to have sex as frequently as you’d like with crazy life but all you need to do is whisper his name and he’s ready.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He’s makes sure your taken care of, so he won’t fall asleep until you do, but then he’s out quickly and sleeps like the dead.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #wizarding world #sebastian sallow x mc #Sebastian Sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

Note

Hi, can I ask for a romantic scenario with Knock Out from Transformers: Prime and a human darling?

Damn do I love Knock Out ❤ (Which is funny because I love Ratchet too 🧡) Sure! I hope I get his character right. I wanted this longer but I didn't have many ideas :(

May need a part two if I can find an idea of what way to bring the story. I just wish I made this longer as I really do love Knock Out.

Midnight Drive

Yandere! TF:P! Knock Out with Human Darling Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Transformer/Human, Stalking, Kidnapping, Knock Out watches you sleep at one point, Slight violence, Forced Relationship implied, Knock Out still sort of sees you as a pet.

You loved to take late night drives. It gave you time to clear your mind after a long day. For the longest time... it helped bring you peace.

However, you've been noticing a certain car following you lately. It... put you on edge as it was always the same car. You had no idea why you saw it everywhere.

It was a nice looking car. Shining red finish with golden wheels... you applauded whoever owned it. You just wished they stopped following you.

Now your midnight drives became unnerving. Everywhere you went... the car followed. Gas stations, neighborhoods, anywhere.... You thought of calling the police but the car leaves by that time.

You were starting to be scared....

The first time you met the car was at a street race. At first you went to street races to watch them. Yet you decided to participate in one only once... and that gave you your stalker.

Soon it wasn't just your late night drives. You'd see the car parked outside your home too. They were just sitting there... waiting.

You began to take pictures of the car whenever it parked by you for the police. You had to be even more careful when walking on the street, as you swore you saw the car in the corner of your eye. You wished you never raced that one time... they won and you were second so why are they so obsessive!?

You had no idea what you had gotten yourself into.

That car that's following you is no car. No... you're Knock Out's latest obsession. A human who caught his interest by chance.

Knock Out frequented Earth even though he didn't care much for humans. Although... when he watched you ever since that night he thought it would be a nice side project to learn human anatomy. He normally held a disinterest for the creatures.

Yet you are a human he finds quite... cute.

Knock Out spent his free time following you around. Starscream always threw a fit about it and he was often asked what he was up to by Megatron. However... he simply would say the usual.

In reality he was satisfying his strange human obsession. Knock Out spent night after night watching you and picking up on your habits. You often liked to take drives late at night... that was the biggest hobby he kept track of.

Knock Out also kept an eye on your route to work and home. Admittedly... Knock Out waits until you sleep at times to watch you through your window. You are so adorable when you're unaware.

Knock Out knew he had to take you at some point. He's been thinking of it for awhile now. The Nemesis will be your temporary home... that or he can find a way to tag you with a tracker so you can't run from him.

He knew he'd find a way at some point... for now, he just needed to wait for your next drive.

---

You couldn't shake him tonight. You did every trick in the book and the car still followed you. Even the one where you fake him out with the blinker.

It had gotten to the point that you were going to just drive to the police station. The nearest one would take some time to get to due to you driving far away from home, but you'd get there.

You thought you would, at least....

You were driving fine, checking to see if the car was still behind you. Then you feel something shoot out your back tires. Was this guy insane!?

Screaming in panic for a moment you try to stop the car and prevent swerving. You find yourself go off the road into the Nevada desert. Once the car stops you take a moment to calm your breathing.

You were panicking.

Carefully you pull out your phone to call for help. While unlocking your phone you see the red car slowly pull up to your own car. You feel your heart drop.

"Now come on, dear. Don't you want to come out? I don't have all night to waste."

"Hell no-!" You yell, fear clear on your face. "You're going to kill me! You've been stalking me for months!"

"Kill you? No, dear... I'd never! You're much too interesting to squish... but if you're not getting out..."

You watch in fear when Knock Out transforms out of vehicle mode. The phone couldn't ring fast enough.

"I don't mind prying your tiny body from that vehicle of yours."

The Decepticon was true to his word, using his sharp metallic fingers to tear into the top of your car. Your vehicle was opened like a can of sardines... red optics scan things over until he met with your phone. He makes a clicking sound with his mouth before plucking it out of your hands.

"You won't be needing this, trust me."

Like garbage your phone is tossed. You stare at Knock Out in complete shock, feeling cornered as the large Con leans over your broken car with a cocky grin.

"Even up close you're a cute human...."

You scream to no one for help when Knock Out lightly grasps your smaller body his in large hand. You're disoriented when Knock Out transforms and places you into the front seat. You try to shake yourself back into focus but barely have time to react.

Knock Out quickly locks the doors with an audible click. You go to move out of your spot but seat belts quickly restrain you in place. Still struggling due to panic... your eyes notice a strange electrical device pointed towards your eyes.

"I wish you a nice rest. The drive will be a long one, human."

There's a zapping noise and your struggling stops. Knock Out had put you to sleep to keep you docile the whole ride. He will admit... it was an odd feeling to have you sleeping in his vehicle form.

He didn't mind it much.

Securing his target, Knock Out starts up again before driving back onto the road. The night stars still blanketed the sky while Knock Out drove. His first stop was The Nemesis.

If the Decepticons ever had to leave Earth, he'd take you with him. Yet, for now, Knock Out thought of one thing....

There he would be able to apply a tracker on you.... Maybe after that he'd return you to your home on Earth. You could never get rid of him with the tracker on you anyways....

He should take his human on one last midnight drive before he begins "training you".

#yandere transformers #yandere transformers prime #yandere tfp #yandere tfp knock out #yandere knock out

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lover-of-mine · 3 days

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it's also not lost on me that the people acting like those who don't care about bucktommy want buck to never have been with another man, are now turning around and saying that eddie should be alone for the rest of his life if he doesn't end up with buck...just say you hate characters of color if they don't exist to serve as props for the pretty white boy and go lol

I mean, literally, people don't even want Eddie to have loved his wife because that would make it so he didn't always exist for Buck. If he's not a prop on Buck's story, he's nothing for some people and that's very telling. Buck needs to fuck all of LA but Eddie needs to be the sad widower forever. Just say you hate Eddie and only shipped buddie because it was the only option and go.

But, anon, darling, since I'm going controversial right now because I don't give a fuck anymore and I'm just tired, I'm gonna use this to say my most controversial Buck/Eddie thought ever. I think narratively, you can introduce a love interest for Eddie, man or woman, that would be a satisfying endgame relationship for him in a way you can't do with Buck. Obviously, it wouldn't be as satisfying as if he ends up with Buck, I think that buddie is the natural progression of the narrative for both Buck and Eddie. And I desperately want that payoff. That being said, considering the way that what stops Eddie from pursuing actual happiness in a romantic relationship is pretty much his status as a widower, the way he can't let go of what he thinks he could've had with Shannon if he had made different choices, and this idea of what he needs to provide in a relationship that goes against what he actually needs, to have him realize that and meet someone who helps him be happy that he is alive again could work. To suddenly give him that spark he keeps saying he wants and let him settle into it could work. It would have to be constructed carefully, but it can be constructed. Buck on the other hand, his endgame relationship needs a level of construction that would take an amount of work the show just doesn't have the time to build anymore. Unless the show is gonna have 20 seasons and give grey's anatomy a run for its money. Because considering the way Buck keeps letting himself be chased because he wants stability but he's too scared to actually do something about it and end up making the wrong choice, he needs a friends to lovers arc for it to be satisfying. Buck needs that initial level of partnership outside of the physical connection before he gets into a romantic relationship in my opinion. Even more considering Buck's relationship with sex, his own body, his sense of self worth, I think he needs someone who will see him fully before wanting to add romance into it and that's Eddie. They don't have the time to introduce someone who will take this spot in Buck's life and have it naturally progress into something romantic because that spot is already filled. Buck has been consistently shown as someone who jumps into the physical aspect of a relationship first, from groovyheels to Tommy, so I think that the only relationship that would feel truly satisfying for Buck to end up in, is one with someone who loved him without the physical first. And that's always gonna be Eddie. There's no way to add a second best friend for Buck at this point of the show. So someone else is never gonna live up to this need Buck has to be understood beyond what he can offer. To be loved anyway. For Buck it's always gonna be Eddie. But I think Eddie could learn to be loved by someone else if the show really wanted to keep them apart. I don't want it to happen, I want both of them together, I think it's the best ending for the story they are telling, but in a reality where buddie is not on the table, I think it makes more sense for Buck to end up alone than Eddie. It would be tragic. But it would make more sense than Buck with whoever and Eddie alone.

And also the people who want Eddie to be alone need to go. Along with the people who want Eddie to die so that bt can raise Chris. Along with the people who think Eddie is a prop on Buck's story. Along with the people who can't seem to see Eddie beyond what he can offer Buck. Along with everyone who can't seem to understand Eddie is also a main character. Anyone who doesn't see Eddie as his own character needs to go.

#does this make sense? probably not #but i dont care #911 #i really need a tag for asks #anon 😌

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void-ink-studios · 4 months

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The Existential Horror of Prismo the Wishmaster.

This has been buzzing in my brain for a week now, and after a discussion with a friend egged it on, I need to inflict in on the rest of you.

Also, this thought is at the very least cannon to Wrath of the Wishmaster.

I have so many Thoughts about Prismo, and his relationship with Old Man Prismo. How it seems that Prismo the Wishmaster and Prismo the Old Man are completely disconnected, but threaded together in a weave that simply can't be unraveled. The two don't seem to share memories, but Prismo clearly recognizes the sleeping old man as his mortal body. He knows he's staring at himself, and he seems pretty uncomfortable to acknowledge it.

So, the discussion expanded on it.

Because something I noticed is that Scarab as a projection was pretty much just one to one with his real personality. It was just Scarab in a different form, down to realistic proportions, anatomy, and physics.

So, I propose a thought: What if, once upon a time, Prismo was like that too?

What if, when first put to sleep, Prismo the Wishmaster and "Young Man" Prismo were pretty much identical? That Prismo was pretty much just an extension of his sleeping body.

But, while Scarab has only just been put to sleep, Prismo has been asleep longer. Much, much longer. Hundreds of thousands of years longer. Potentially millions of years longer.

Prismo is ultimately the dream of (presumably) a human. While it's clear Old Man Prismo can't seem to die of old age, he is noticeably aging (look at Prismo pointing out he's hairier and balder than last he checked).

Not to mention, in the brief moments we see Old Man Prismo awake, he's very clearly confused. He mistakes the Lich to be his son, asks where his wife is, and immediately wants to go back to sleep. While this could be due to the fact he just woke up after lord knows how long, I assert it might've been deeper than that.

And it was that rewatch that I had a thought. What happens to a dream that goes on far longer than it's ever meant to?

I think the Prismo we see, in the modern age, is not just a dream. He's a dream of essentially an Alzheimer's patient. He's abstract and gigantic and wraps around in impossible ways because his host's sense of reality and self-image has pretty much been turning to mush in his deep sleep. He's not just a dream, he's the half remembered abstracted idea of what Old Man Prismo might've been like in his much younger years. Prismo the Wishmaster is a memory locked in time, but one that's been put through Google translate several times and told back to the viewer by someone who just woke up and barely speaks English.

It struck me what Prismo reminded me of.

This series of paintings:

A series of self-portraits done by a man (William Utermohlen, btw) with progressing Alzheimer's, based on what he remembers himself to look like.

So, my friend and I are left to ponder the horror of Prismo's situation. He's a mortal brain, that has been faced with an eternity that mortal brains aren't meant to begin to comprehend, much less live through. He's put under sleep young, probably with the understanding that it'd be forever (And the fact OMP references a wife and son leaves him agreeing to that with upsetting implications), and his dream is of himself, as he was when he was put under.

But then the years and decades and centuries and millennia go bye. The human mind begins to atrophy, but the dream still persists. The dream experiences life on its own, and his mind of origin begins to fail and rot.

Thus, we get Prismo the Wishmaster. Prismo who can no longer access any of his old memories, just left with the vague impression of something lingering in the dark corners every once in a while. Vague ideas that something's familiar, but he can't explain why.

It's no wonder he seems uncomfortable at the look of his own body. That man is practically a stranger to him. And yet, achingly familiar. Like looking in a fun house mirror. You recognize the reflection as you. But it isn't you. Not anymore, at least.

Would he recognize himself, if he saw the version of him he was when he was first put to the task of Wishmaster? Maybe, maybe not.

And then, the Lich kills Old Man Prismo.

And all that's left is a dog's memory of the current version of Prismo.

Which means that the original man Prismo once was is gone. Forever. Irreparably. If our current Prismo is a story, this is a story who's original copy was burned, and has been passed down to us thousands of years later, with all the translation errors, additions, subtractions, revisions, censorship, restorations, retellings, and reinterpretations that entails.

What does that do to a mind, to know you're a copy of someone you used to be, but never can be anymore? To know you're not your own person, but the person you're an extension of simply does not exist anymore?

Reminds me a bit of the clones from "The World of Tomorrow" by Don Hertzfeldt.

It's probably for the best if Prismo doesn't think about it too much.

#prismo the wishmaster #scarab the god auditor #adventure time: fionna & cake #speculation #discussion of alzheimrer's #wrath of the wishmaster

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damp-gravelove · 5 months

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When it comes to weed, I feel as though the whole Toxicule would be partaking, but in unique ways that play off of each other! They’d rarely smoke alone, at most two smoke while one is hanging out sober (likely as a designated driver if they have to go somewhere).

Andrew would strike me as a very casual weed smoker, a blunt and a beer is probably enough for him to smoke on his own. He smokes most weed without care for strain or quality aside from indica or sativa. It’s not that he has a low tolerance or hates more elevated highs, it’s just how he relaxes. Without hesitation he’ll take a bong rip if Ashley offers, and some edibles if Julia has some cooked up, but left to his own devices a single blunt is all he’ll take independently. If you’d ask him, it’s because he doesn’t like to take in a whole lot, but in reality he just loves having the weed fed to him by the other two. Shotgunning hits from Ashley until he gets so woozy and giggly that he happily falls into line when a shotgunned hit turns into messy make outs as they grope each other, much to the visual delight of Julia (if she doesn’t decide to join in by wiggling between the two to soak up some of the attention). Not to mention he’s always game to try some of Julia’s edibles, especially when she feeds him some super potent ones, left perfectly serene and pliable so Julia can take in his scent, smelling him up and down before fucking him slow and steady, listening to his whimpers as his body aches for more, desperate to be filled, but with too clouded a mind to form words. To Ashley’s delight though, his tongue is still very useful.

Ashley would be the certified pothead, no doubt about it for me. If the other two need some form of paraphernalia, they ask her first. From wax and dabs to bongs and grinders, concentrates to bud, she’s got at least a bit on hand at all times. She’s typically in the mood for certain strains, but isn’t picky. She collects bongs especially, not only because they’re her favorite method, but because she loves the artistry in it, ESPECIALLY heady rigs (her prized piece is an AKM Anatomy Rig). And she puts the pieces to work, smoking far more than the other two combined in volume. She has to almost be forced to take breaks to allow her tolerance to die down, but she relents usually. When she’s super high, touching at just the right spot can send her into a tizzy. Andrew’s Tdick can make her melt in seconds, and she by the end she always has a hard time recalling how many times she orgasms (that’s probably just the metric ton of weed in her system though. Probably). Julia loves teasing her, especially with surprise gropes. Ashley’s squeak transforming into a moan is Julia’s favorite. If she’s really wanting some action though, Julia knows she’s just pressing a few of the right buttons away before Ashley’s bent over the couch arm, wet and half teasing/half begging Julia to use her. Ashley also loves to tease Julia at how much she’s sniffing her hair, but when you’re having your back blown out being bred by your girlfriend, it isn’t easy to get a word in.

Julia is likely the cannabis scientist of the menagerie. She loves the process of growing and crossbreeding strains, having a grow room in the place they live. She looks into strains to see side effects good and bad and has her bud sorted by what they do. Andy and Leyley find it hard to parse sometimes, but Julia gets all giddy discussing it so they do their best to follow along, even if genetic lineages are complicated and they have no idea what terpenes are. Julia actually smokes the least by a decent margin, instead dedicated to making edibles, though she does smoke with the other two. She’s made a good array of edibles, of course the classics like gummies and cookies and brownies, but she experiments a lot and usually the results are quite good! Andrew and Ashley still have not a damn clue how someone makes garlic bread edibles, but it was good! Whenever Julia’s particularly high, her love of scents is exacerbated and their effect on her is tenfold, to the point where getting off may not even require stripping. Andrew is especially potent for this, and if he lets her sneak into his sweater and into his armpit, she’ll be clawing at him and drooling as she makes a mess in her panties, shivering and throbbing as she fully imbibes him, and while Andrew doesn’t get off to this more one sided act, he absolutely finds it hot. Ashley loves to be more bratty about it, teasing Julia for being a freak with how much Julia gets off to smells, but when they’re both staining underwear with grinding on each other, Ashley can’t hide how cute she finds it that Julia loves her hair. One time Andrew and Ashley ambushed her with tank tops they worked out in after she was nice and high and they had to stop her from falling with how weak her knees got. ~<3

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