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weemssapphic · 2 years

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Hey I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a Larissa weems X reader (smut with a corruption/marking kink). R is a new teacher and is very young (19-21) but is very smart and passionate about what they teach. The only issue is that due to them dedicating so much time and effort to completing their studies early it means they didn't have the typical college/highschool experience.

Larissa somehow discovers r is a virgin and makes it her life's mission to being the one who takes their virginity. Larissa starts flirting with r more which leaves r a stuttering/blushing mess. Eventually they both get what they desire and Larissa is patient letting r try both being the bottom and top. Featuring some nice cuddling afterwards where Larissa whispers to r that their hers and only hers.

Hers and Only Hers

thank you so much for the request, anon! i'm so sorry it took me so long to write this, the past weeks have been a bit busy and i wanted to do it justice. i hope the wait was worth it <;3 it also got a bit long, oops. ao3 link in title, as always.

warnings/content: nsfw/smut (oral, fingering), corruption kink, marking kink, bit of fluff and cuddling, age gap (teacher!reader is 20)

words: ~4.5k

tags for those who may be interested: @afeatherformills @sapphicsbeloved @scumppa @zephyr-is-tired

Back in school you had always been top of your class, skipping several grades before you had even made it to high school. Thanks to this, you had been able to finish college well before many of your friends had even started, and applied for an open position as the botanical sciences teacher at Nevermore Academy. You’d assumed that being 20 years old and barely older than some of the students would be an obstacle, but apparently you’d made such a good impression on the principal, Larissa Weems, that you’d been hired on the spot.

Your first few weeks at Nevermore had been nice, for the most part. You love being in the greenhouse, working with the plants. Your coworkers are welcoming and treat you like a daughter. Even the students seem to be warming up to you nicely.

But then there is Principal Weems. The woman who somehow manages to turn you into a stuttering mess whenever you see her. A tall, statuesque woman with silvery curls, cerulean eyes, lips always painted a shade of bright red to match her manicure. A woman whose smile always reaches her eyes, making your stomach do backflips whenever it’s directed towards you, bringing a blush to your cheeks and filling your dreams at night. It seems you’ve developed a bit of a crush on your boss.

Larissa is just heading out of her office to meet with Mayor Walker, blazer slung over her arm and keys jingling in her hand, as she hears your voice carry into her rooms from the hallway outside. Her ears perk up in spite of herself, she has been intrigued by you from the moment she first laid eyes on you. She had been impressed with you from the first time she’d seen your resume - such high academic qualifications at such a young age - and since having you on her staff, she had realized just how sweet, genuine and kind you were. She had to admit she was developing quite the soft spot for you.

“Keep your voice down,” she hears you hiss. “The last thing I need is for the students to hear you, I feel like they already barely respect me as it is.”

The voice of another teacher interrupts your own. “Aw come on, that’s not true, they love you! But Jesus, you really haven’t slept with anyone? Ever?”

Larissa feels an unexplained warmth in her cheeks, pressing her ear to the door as your voices drift away down the hall.

“No, I’m a virgin, okay!” Larissa can hear the annoyance and defeat in your voice. “I guess I was just always more focused on school than dating or anything like that.”

Your voice fades into nothingness as you and your coworker round the corner.

Larissa slumps back against the door, hands dropping to her side, instinctively crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs together for friction as a wetness pools between the apex of her legs.

You are a virgin. Of course you are. Larissa can’t explain it but the thought makes her core ache with desire. A low chuckle escapes her lips. You’re too sweet, too innocent. Suddenly a million thoughts fill her head: she imagines her lips on your neck, covering you in marks to show the world she’s claimed you as her own. She imagines showing you what you’ve been missing this whole time, taking your precious innocence, revealing to you the feeling of true ecstasy, making you writhe in pleasure beneath her.

Her lips quirk up in a smile, a plan forming in her mind. She was going to have you - and Larissa Weems always got what she wanted.

Shit. You slept through your alarm that morning and if you didn’t hurry, you’d be late to your first lesson of the day. You practically fly down the hallway, dodging several groups of students, and skid around a corner when you suddenly collide with something solid and fall back. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact that is sure to come, but it never does. Instead, you feel a pair of strong arms slink around your waist and catch you just before you hit the ground.

Your eyes fly open in confusion and you find your face inches away from that of your boss. “Principal Weems,” you squeak out, “I’m so sorry!”

“Please, darling, call me Larissa,” she whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, so close that you think you can feel her lips brush against your skin. The action makes you shiver, and you know Larissa feels this because she’s still holding you in her arms. A heat rises from your cheeks to the tips of your ears and you know you’ve turned beet red.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re blushing.” Larissa smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the outer corners. “There’s no need to be embarrassed.” She pulls you up swiftly and you’re nearly flush against her. You have to crane your neck back to look up at her - has she always been this tall? It takes your breath away to look up at her like this.

“I’m just late to class, I overslept this morning,” you twist your fingers together nervously, afraid you’ll be reprimanded by the headmistress.

“It happens to the best of us,” Larissa cups your cheek and shoots you a wink. You are so damn cute when you’re nervous, it takes all of her self control not to shove you against the wall and take you right then and there.

Your heart skips a beat and the air around you feels like it’s thinning. “I’d b-better get going,” you manage to choke out. T-thanks for catching me, Princip- Larissa.”

You don’t look back as you hurry off to the greenhouse, and it’s good that you don’t or you’d have caught Larissa staring at your ass as you’d walked away.

The next time you see Larissa, you’re standing in line at the Weathervane when you feel a looming presence behind you.

“So, what do you usually order?” A teasing voice purrs in your ear.

You feel your cheeks redden involuntarily - your boss should not be having this effect on you.

“Um, coffee makes me a bit jittery so I usually go for hot chocolate,” you pray this doesn’t make you sound lame, you know how dependent everyone seems to be on their morning coffee, but your statement seems to pull Larissa’s lips up into a genuine grin.

“Then you’re in luck, my darling, the Weathervane has some of the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.” The pet name makes your stomach flip and you swallow thickly, unable to do anything but nod as Larissa stares at you with a fondness in her eyes that you can’t quite explain, but that makes your heart ache with desire all the same.

“What can I get for you?” The barista’s voice snaps you out of your trance. Before you can say a word, Larissa replies for you - “two large hot chocolates please, did you want yours to go?” She looks down at you and you nod numbly. You reach for your wallet but she swats your hand away, pursing her lips as she pays for your drinks.

“Thank you so much, Larissa, you really didn’t have to pay for me,” you gush out as the two of you wait for the barista to make your order.

Larissa waves a dismissive hand in front of her face, smirking. “Please, darling, it’s no trouble at all, you’ll find a way to pay me back.” There’s a suggestive glint in her eyes and the way her tongue runs over her bottom lip, eyes trailing briefly down your body makes an unfamiliar heat coil in your stomach.

She takes her drink in her gloved hand and gives your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Perhaps we could come here together sometime.”

Her hip grazes yours as she brushes past you and exits the Weathervane, crossing the street to head towards Dr. Kinbott’s office, leaving you a dizzy, blushing mess.

“Alright class,” you call out as the students stuff their notebooks into their bags. “Don’t forget about the exam on Monday!”

“Oh come on, can’t we postpone it?” Xavier huffs.

“It’s not fair to have an exam on a Monday anyway,” Ajax chimes in, rolling his eyes.

A ripple goes through the classroom, other students murmuring their agreement.

“Come on guys,” you plead. “If you completed the study guide, you’ll do just fine. I will not be postponing this test. Do you complain like this to all your teachers?”

A series of groans reaches your ears and one by one, your students shuffle out. Enid shoots you an apologetic glance and mouths “sorry”, which you appreciate, and you wave her off with a tired smile.

You watch the last of your students file out the door, then turn to your open laptop to get a head start on some grading that needs to be done for next week’s classes when an email pops up in the corner of your screen. You open it and your stomach flips.

Dear Y/N,

I hope your first weeks of classes have exceeded your expectations.

If you have the time, I would love to see you in my office for a chat tonight at 7.

Please, do let me know.

Larissa

Your palms begin to sweat and your mind immediately jumps to the worst case scenario. What could Principal Weems possibly want from you? She’d seemed friendly enough in your last interactions. Maybe even too friendly. Maybe she felt bad for you?

You hold your breath as you type out a confirmation that you’ll be there, then turn back to your grading - not that you can focus on your work now.

6:59pm. You’re standing at the wood-paneled doors to Larissa’s office, holding your breath. You raise your fist and knock twice.

“Come in,” Larissa’s smooth voice sounds from deep within the room.

“Take a seat,” Larissa is sitting behind her desk, leaning back in her leather chair, a pensive look on her face. A fire burns in the imposing fireplace, casting a warm glow over her office.

You close the door behind you and step towards her, lowering herself into one of the plush armchairs facing her desk. Your heart is beating wildly out of your chest, you’re sure Larissa can smell how anxious you are. You rub your sweaty palms on the back of your skirt in a vain attempt to calm your nerves.

Larissa looks composed but within her, a fire burns. She can tell how tense you are and she finds it so very endearing. She watches you chew at your lip and presses her thighs together involuntarily. She wants to see how you come undone, wants to hear her own name tumble from your sweet, innocent lips. Something about watching you squirm under her gaze stokes the fire within her.

“You’re not in trouble,” she coos, and you visibly relax in the armchair in front of her. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. See if you need anything. You’re our only new addition to the staff this year and we haven’t had a chance to properly speak, just the two of us. I trust everyone is treating you with respect?”

��Oh. Yeah, everyone’s been really, really nice. I’ve had a bit of a rough day, but it’s nothing I can’t work out.” You sigh and force a smile, eyes cast downwards, fingers twisting absently in your lap.

Larissa stands and rounds her desk at your admission, leaning down in front of you and taking your chin between her fingers, forcing you to meet her eyes, which are full of genuine concern.

“Has something happened?”

“Not really. My students just like to challenge me every chance they get. I get it, I’m pretty close to their age, but it’s frustrating.”

Larissa nods her understanding. She’s inches away from you now and your breathing is shallow, the tension in the room now thick enough to cut with a knife. Your gaze flickers down to her cherry-red lips and when you look back up, you notice a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before, widened pupils staring back at you. Larissa’s thumb traces the hollow of your cheek, causing your breath to hitch, and suddenly she’s leaning in, brushing her lips softly against yours.

Your pulse skyrockets, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. It’s not that you don’t want this, of course you do, you’ve wanted it from the moment you laid eyes on the woman. You just hadn’t realized she’d also wanted it.

“Larissa?” You pull back, dazed, your eyes search hers. Her gaze is soft and reassuring, but there’s something else there. You’d seen it in movies, read about it in novels, but never had a look like this been directed at you before. Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust.

“Is this okay, Y/N?” Larissa whispers urgently, cupping your cheek and running her thumb over your bottom lip.

You nod fervently. “Yes. Absolutely.” Like hell you were going to waste your one chance with Larissa Weems.

Larissa moans and pulls you in for a searing kiss. Her tongue swipes at your lower lip and you part your lips, allowing her to explore the planes of your mouth as her hands drop from your face to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and flush against her. You aren’t sure if it’s the warmth of the fire or your close proximity but your entire body is burning, a pleasant tingling sensation settling in your stomach and moving its way through your limbs.

You pull apart and her mouth is on your ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me what you want, whatever you want, and it’s yours.”

You hesitate, frozen in place, fear bubbling up in your stomach and rushing through your veins like ice.

“Ihaven’tactuallydoneanythinglikethisbefore,” you mumble, eyes locked in a staring contest with Larissa’s black heels.

“Darling,” Larissa hooks a finger under your chin and forces you to make eye contact with her, which makes your cheeks burn - you’re sure your entire face is on fire now. “You’re going to have to speak up, I can’t understand you.”

You suck in a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

There’s a moment of deafening silence, but the hunger in Larissa’s eyes never dies. Instead, her pupils are blown wide, you can see her clench her thighs together out of the corner of your eyes, she looks ravenous.

You are surprised when Larissa offers you a hand and guides you to a door on the far right of her study, that leads to her private quarters.

“I thought we might be more comfortable here,” her voice drips with lust as she closes the door behind you, allowing you a moment to take in the sight of her lavishly decorated bedroom, complete with a massive, queen-sized bed at the center.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I want to,” you reply quickly, far too quickly, and you want to hit yourself for being so eager, but Larissa seems to find it endearing, as she smiles at you and guides you towards the bed.

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed and Larissa places a hand on each of your thighs, parting them gently and simultaneously pushing up your skirt, letting out a groan as she sees the damp patch at the center of your cotton panties.

“We haven’t even gotten started and you’re already so wet for me, hmm?” Her finger teases your core, which is absolutely drenched at the mere thought of her, and you stifle a moan, throwing your head back at the touch.

“Ah-ah, let me hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, okay?” Larissa coos. “Don’t hold back on me.”

You draw in a ragged breath and nod, already dizzy from the idea of Larissa inches away from your dripping cunt.

Larissa plants a trail of kisses along your jaw, moving down the column of your neck until she is at the base of your throat, swirling her tongue over your pulse point. She begins to suck, gently at first then harder, eliciting a soft moan from deep within your throat as she nips at your skin, leaving a small red mark behind.

Smirking at her handiwork, her hands come to a rest on your chest, fingers hovering over the buttons of your blouse.

“I’ve wanted you from the second I first laid eyes on you. Such a pretty, innocent little thing. May I?” The question is doused in carnal desire, Larissa’s voice low and wanting.

“Yes,” you whisper, your eyes following her fingers, long and slender, as they deftly work their way down your top, pushing it down your shoulders and then moving to the zipper at the side of your skirt.

You feel exposed, sitting on Larissa’s bed in just your bra and underwear, face and chest flushed, but something about Larissa’s tender gaze and soft touch make you feel safe. Her hands move from your flesh to her own, tugging at the zipper of her cream colored dress, and your eyes watch as she drags it down her curves at a tantalizing pace until it pools at her feet.

Larissa’s knees come up to straddle your lap, pulling you further up the bed with her until you’re resting against her pillows. She’s hovering over you now, one hand on either side of your head, your bodies pressed against each other.

“Are you comfortable?” Her lips brush against yours and you whimper, nodding into the kiss, which Larissa deapens with a groan.

Her hand comes down to your side, moving under your back to unclasp your bra and pushing it to the side to grant herself access to your breasts. She kneads at the soft flesh, flicking her thumb over your nipple until she’s satisfied with how hard it is, before moving to your other breast.

Her mouth finds your throat again, her tongue lapping at your skin, swirling, sucking, claiming you as her own with a series of marks you’ll have to find a way to cover in the morning.

You hiss as her warm tongue slides over the sensitive peak of your hardened bud, earning a grin from the woman above you. Her mouth moves lower and lower, inch by inch, an agonizing journey of open-mouthed kisses down your ribcage, stomach, hip bones, leaving a trail of red lipstick smudges and purple hickeys. Your back arches into the sensation, chest heaving.

Larissa slows when she reaches your thighs, hands coming to rest on your hips and gently tugging at the cotton covering what she has been longing to stake her claim on.

“Hips up,” she instructs and you oblige, allowing Larissa to pull your panties down your legs and toss them unceremoniously across the room.

Larissa stifles a groan when her eyes meet your pussy. You begin to push your thighs together subconsciously but Larissa’s hands stop you, spreading your legs.

“Don’t be shy, darling,” she coos, pressing her lips to your inner thigh, and you feel yourself drip at the action. “Look at that pretty little cunt, so ready for me.”

The coil behind your navel tightens as Larissa’s kisses come closer to your core, until - finally - her lips make contact with your center. Her tongue traces a path through your folds, from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices in her mouth. She moans at this first taste of you, you taste even better than she could have imagined. The scent of your arousal floods her senses and spurs her on as she begins to lap your pussy, enjoying the unfiltered moans that are escaping your lips.

“Fuck- Larissa,” you moan as Larissa’s tongue begins to circle your bundle of nerves. Your knuckles are white as you grasp desperately at the sheets, head tilted back in pleasure. You spread your legs wider, arching your back and rocking your hips into her mouth.

“Look at me,” Larissa demands. You force your eyes to meet hers, both of your pupils blown with desire. Larissa has never looked sexier, her lipstick smudged, chest heaving. Your juices glisten on her chin and the sight brings a blush to your cheeks. “Who do you belong to?”

The question alone nearly snaps the hot coil in your stomach, goosebumps erupting all over your body. You’re so desperately turned on by her.

“You.” The answer comes out in a breathed whisper, your hips twitch wantonly toward Larissa, you need her again. She takes your sensitive bud in her mouth, sucking gently. The vibration of her moans against your pussy have you bucking your hips up, desperate to get more friction, when you feel nimble fingers trace lazy patterns at your entrance.

“Fuck, Larissa, I need more,” you mewl, your hands coming up to rest on the back of Larissa’s head, pushing her closer to your dripping cunt. Larissa hums and you can feel her smile as she pushes two fingers inside of you, beginning a slow, steady pace. Your nails scratch at her scalp as you ride her face, pushing your hips forward to take her fingers deeper.

“Yes, right there, right- ahh- Larissa!” Larissa makes note of every sound coming from your mouth, how your body responds to every touch, enjoying how she’s able to make you come undone. She’s drunk on the feeling of you, the smell of you, the sound of you. So innocent, so sweet - moaning above her, screaming her name in a moment of pure desire. Knowing she’s the one to be able to give you this experience.

Your thighs begin to tremble as Larissa’s fingers curl inside of you, drawing a strangled moan from your lips as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm. Larissa’s tongue sucks at your clit, her fingers increasing their pace, your legs shaking as the coil in your belly snaps, rocking your hips into Larissa’s face as you ride out your high.

She flattens her tongue against your cunt and laps up the juices flowing from you with a satisfied hum, coming up to lay beside you and latching her lips onto yours, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue.

“You did so well for me, love,” she whispers, caressing your cheek. “Do you need anything? Water? Do you want me to clean you up?”

You appreciate the sentiment but the thought of stopping without being able to worship the goddess in front of you is disappointing. You hesitate a moment before reaching behind Larissa’s back and stopping your fingers at the clasp of her lacy bra. She’s watching you curiously and her breath hitches audibly at the touch of your fingers.

“May I?” Larissa nods, cheeks pink and pupils wide and you know you’ve never seen anyone more adorable or sexy. You undo the clasp of her bra and a moment later, your hands are on her matching panties and she’s helping you tug them down her legs.

“Show me what you like.” You need to know how to worship her right. Larissa whines, bringing her hand between her legs. She props up her leg so that you have a perfect view of her glistening cunt, absolutely drenched only for you. You can feel yourself getting wet again, your own cum pooling between your legs and dripping down your thighs. Your gaze is fixated on Larissa’s long fingers as they run through the length of her own folds to coat themselves in her slick. She reaches her clit, allowing her head to fall back as her fingers draw languid circles over the sensitive nub.

A groan falls from your lips and Larissa’s sapphire eyes meet yours. She stops pleasuring herself and instead her fingers circle your wrist, gently guiding your hand to her center. She mewls as you tease her entrance, allowing her legs to fall open and pushing her hips towards you in a desperate attempt to get you closer, growing impatient with need.

You dip two fingers into her center, pushing gently, watching in amazement as Larissa’s eyelids flutter shut, her mouth parting to let out breathy groans of affirmation as you bring your thumb to her swollen bundle of nerves.

The moans she lets out begin to get filthier and filthier as you pick up your pace, eyes trained on her core.

“Does this feel good?”

“So, so good, Y/N,” Larissa groans, eyes rolling back in her head as your fingers find the spongy spot inside of her. “Deeper - right there, just like that.”

Larissa grasps forward to weave her hands around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. Her tongue moves against yours, her breathing hot and needy. She whines into your mouth as your fingers pump in and out of her, and her fingers find purchase in your hair, curling themselves in your tresses and pulling back gently.

Your eyes are wide with lust as Larissa’s arousal drips down your fingers, a pitiful moan falling from your lips as you feel Larissa begin to clench around your fingers as if trying to keep you there. Throwing caution to the wind, you add a third finger, eliciting a delicious gasp from the woman in front of you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come!” Larissa’s thighs begin to shake, hips thrusting up erratically to meet your fingers which are knuckle deep in her cunt, stretching her out, curling into her sweet spot. You watch in awe as Larissa slowly comes undone, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair as she shudders against you, her essence leaking out of her center.

Not breaking eye contact, you bring your fingers to your mouth to suck them clean, moaning at the taste of Larissa on your tongue. You have never tasted anything so divine. Larissa crawls over to you and sinks back onto the pillows with a sigh, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Come,” Larissa whispers softly, and you allow her to wrap her arms around you. You relish the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other, enjoying the warmth of her bare skin. Her fingers trace the bruised marks she’d made with her mouth, her touch light as a feather. She entwines her long legs with yours, rubbing your calves together gently.

She allows you to bury your head in her neck and you breathe in the scent of her, sweat mingling with musky perfume and the smell of her sheets.

“You did so well for me, my sweet one. Thank you for trusting me,” Larissa coos, rocking you against her, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Larissa ducks her head down, her breath on your cheek causing you to shiver pleasantly as she whispers her next words. “You are mine, darling. Only mine.”

“I am yours,” you whisper back sleepily, the adoration in your gaze mirroring her own as you snuggle into her chest, sighing contentedly. The pads of Larissa’s fingers stroke up and down your arms as she waits for your breathing to even out before allowing herself to follow suit, thinking to herself that she would gladly spend every night like this with your head on her chest and your legs tangled in hers. Your words echo in her head as she drifts off to sleep - you are hers.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x reader

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hazbin-a-helluvamagines · 7 months

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Bee, Ozzie (+ Fizz, if you wanna) and Loona with a shy, human male S/O who has metahuman abilities, specifically time manipulation (controlling the flow of time, such as speeding it up, slowing it down, moving it forward, moving it back, etc) and time alteration (changing the time around an object, either inanimate or living, and making that object into a different thing entirely, with living things still retaining their sentience, but are unable to move)

Sorry if this is long and/or hyper specific.

Ozzie + Fizz, Bee, and Loona with a Shy, Human Male S/O with metahuman abilities

Both Asmodeus and Fizzarolli think you're extremely cool! They're both really sweet to you, though. The last thing they need is for you to have a panic attack on them!

"Fuck, you can mess with time?! That shit's pretty scary~!" Fizzarolli would tease playfully in a sing-song voice.

"Can you show us how it works, baby?" Ozzie would ask you. Of course, he'll understand if you say no or refuse. He's just happy to give you the opportunity to talk about yourself.

Since you're shy, they'll be the first to open up all sorts of doors for you to interject your opinion into things, too. Plus, with you being human, Ozzie in particular would be incredibly protective of you.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! I'll destroy any motherfucker who tries to hurt my boyfriend!" Ozzie would shout after someone had been harassing you. And Fizzarolli would quickly join in.

"Yeah, our boyfriend is wayyyyy too good for a piece of shit like you," he'd say in that smug tone he always used on people he didn't like and wanted to taunt.

Honestly, they'd both want to kind of see you snap. You've earned it dealing with all the bullshit in Hell. Change that Karen into a pot or something, and let her be in agony stuck that way for the rest of her life in Hell. Or age her so much that her husband won't ever want her again (as if he even does now- 🤭)

A wholesome pair, certainly, but with their darker, more mischievous sides!!

They'll probably bring you to Ozzie's with them so they can better keep an eye on you. After all, they don't want to watch anyone try to hurt you without being able to stop it.

No, Ozzie learned his lesson after OOPS with Fizz-

Oh boy. You're in for a treat with our lovely Queen Bee.

See, it isn't necessarily that she's mean about you being shy, it's just that she doesn't quite understand it. After all, she's a total party animal, she can't understand people who don't enjoy getting scrappy and having fun!

She'd be the type to first offer you drugs to help you loosen up, insisting she can get you anything that your heart desires.

"C'mon, babe! Alcohol? Sugar? Fentanyl? Ketamine? Oxy? Chardonnay? Come on, anything you want, just lemme know! We gotta be ready to tear this shit up together!"

She's only being playful, of course. She's trying her hardest to understand, she really is. Once she understands it more of an aspect of your personality, rather than a problem she needs to fix, she's a lot more chill.

"Hey, hun, I know you're not really a fan of socializing at my parties. Wanna go to a private section of the place and just chill with me?"

She's also so sweet, she'll offer you any accommodations you may need! Comfort foods? No problem! Cuddles? You got it! Her attention? You don't even need to ask!

She's a lot less focused on your abilities than some of the others. But still finds them really cool, although more for just messing around!

"So are you telling me you could totally turn that plant over there back into a seed?! Yeah! Do it! C'mon, show me, babe!"

Probably finds it really hot how powerful you are, actually.

The Gluttony Ring is a lot more chill, so she's a lot more comfortable leaving you by yourself as a human there than in, say, the Lust or Pride Rings. Most everybody in Gluttony is sweet.

After all, nobody would really want to get on her bad side, anyway.

And yet, if you approached her with any sort of issues... i.e., someone tried spiking your drink, someone spilled a drink on you, you're being made fun of, etc., out comes the monstrous Bee form. It's their own fault!

"Which of you fucking bitches tried some shit on S/O?! I'll fuck you up so hard that not even all the ketamine in the world will numb your stupid ass!"

It's honestly amazing how protective someone normally so chill can be when their S/O is human.

You're shy, male, have powers, and above all, are human?! Oh no, no, no. Don't ever let her dad find out, he will be at your house the same day-

Aside from that, she pretends not to care much about your abilities. After all, she's more interested in you, not what you can do. And she finds your abilities impressive, and something she'll secretly record so she can remember how cool it was, but she'll avoid bringing it up. She never knows if it's a sore spot for you, after all.

Since you're shy, she'll take it on herself to tease an embarrass you in public, but only playfully and as much as you're comfortable with. All you have to do is say the word and she'll stop and never do it again. Kisses to the cheek, pulling you to sit on her lap (or vice versa), sickeningly sweet couple photos, you name it, she's already on it, most likely.

Of course, only she's allowed to do it. Anyone else who tries is already basically a goner, because they're going to be unrecognizable by the time Loona is done mauling them- Who's to say Hellhounds aren't loyal and devoted?

With that said, if someone ever messed with you,

She's pretty chill with you, though, just acting very normal and a little more sweet. Not quite as abrasive as she is toward Blitzø, for example.

"Hey, S/O. There's this thing coming up in the Greed Ring next week. Wanna go? You don't have to, it's just an idea."

Since you're human, and she both lives and works in the Pride Ring, which is full of sinners, don't expect to EVER be left alone.

She can't risk one of those awful creatures getting their hands on you and hurting you! No, she'll be at your side 24/7, insisting you call her just to be able to leave your house for the day. It may seem overprotective, something that apparently runs in the family, but she just doesn't want to see you get hurt.

"C'mon, S/O. I promise it's not personal. But Pride is full of shitty people with shitty personalities and shitty crimes that got them sent to this shitty place. 'Kay?"

She does care, even if she doesn't always show it all the time. <3

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

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"Bonjour, dear Headmage!" Rook's voice resonates before the hunter appears out of seemingly nowhere, like usual. "Don't mind me, I just couldn't help but need to sate my curiosity. After all, for how long you've been here, not much is known about you. Where you're from, what's the extent of your powers, ce genre de choses (things like that). I'm not the only one curious, even: a little rose mentioned something along those lines during an impromptu visit of yours truly to his Alchemy class."

I believe the asker is referring to a voice line that Riddle has when Crowley drops into Alchemy for a Special Lesson. He wonders what kind of magic the headmaster must use--though knowledge of this line isn't necessary to enjoy this interaction.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

It's odd, Rook had concluded, that he cannot discern anything meaningful about Crowley. It’s unlike the huntsman to be lacking in information, in details—but when it came to him, it became a jumbled mess. Unknown birthday, unknown home country, unknown past and powers. No records in any textbooks or formal documentation he could find.

All that was known was the name, occupation, height and weight. The bare basics. Hardly anything to work off of.

Rook regarded Crowley with curious eyes carved into emerald crescents. He provided his brightest smile, his warmest voice. He was a hunter laying out a nasty snare for his prey.

“By all means, I invite you to elucidate. I would personally love to learn more of our dearly beloved headmaster and his long and most illustrious career.”

“It seems as though my students have been gossiping about me once again… even my most studious boys!” Crowley mumbled to himself. (Rook’s hypersensitive ears had no issues picking up his words.) “Dear me, I’m too popular for my own good!!”

Then, addressing Rook in full, “I understand that you are all dying to know more about your dashing, intelligent, highly competent headmaster—however, prying into the personal matters of your teachers is not necessary to your pursuit of a magic education. I ask that you grant your instructors and myself our much-needed privacy.

“Adult matters are just that: adult matters! One day you will understand when you, too, get to be of that age.”

Rook's brows pinched ever so slightly. It's as though the briefest of clouds has passed by the sun, drowning out its light--but it returned, the momentary shift imperceptible to the naked eye.

“Je suis désolé,” he said, lowering into an apologetic bow. "I will mind my words when speaking to my superiors."

"Good, good! I shall be off, then. There are important snacks--" Crowley stopped and hurriedly corrected himself. "Erm, I mean important paperwork in my office which I must attend to. Enjoy the rest of your day, my student!"

The headmaster turned and started to make his way out of the courtyard. His back, exposed.

When the arrow came flying at his head, Crowley didn't flinch, didn't move--didn't have to. It froze midair, nowhere near its intended target, then dropped to the ground. A second later, a crystalline shield flickered into view, then vanished again.

Oh là là!

Rook's heart leapt with excitement. His interest, piqued.

Crowley craned his head back at him.

"Oops! Slip of the hand," the huntsman chuckled, not sounding so innocent with his excuse. He made no effort to hide the bow and a quiver he had somehow produced from his robes.

Bait left out to lure him in.

“Careful, Hunt-kun,” Crowley tuts, wagging a finger. “I may be a kind man, but even my kindness has its limits. I assure you, you do not wish to incur my wrath."

The headmaster--it was the same headmaster, harmless as ever, but... His shadow, it seemed to stretch along the path, taking on a new sinister shape. A monstrous raven, beak full of dagger-like teeth and blood-red eyes.

A chilling thrill bolted through Rook.

"That man seems so preoccupied with trivial matters," Riddle had once said. "It's difficult to believe he is a formidable mage."

Non, Roi des Roses. It appears that our headmaster is, in fact, quite the formidable mage indeed.

"... Bien sûr." Rook knelt, laying his bow and arrows on the ground. "You have my word. No more trickery or deception, fufu."

"Excellent! I'm glad we understand each other," Crowley chirped with the twirl of his cane. "Because I am so very generous, I shall overlook this transgression and allow you to be on your merry way."

He taped his lips together and whistled as he walked off. A cheery tune lifted up into the air like a bird taking flight.

Rook silently marveled at the beauty--and horror--of it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Dire Crowley #Rook Hunt #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #Riddle Rosehearts

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tatertotsafterdark · 4 months

Text

Teratophillia / Fem!Ghost x Fem! Reader Pt. 1

Description: Sick of not being able to find a date, you turn to getting a nightly work out in. You find yourself intrigued by a woman who occupies one of the benches at the park you walk at, though you never see her leave...

Got pissed off at the lack of of lesbian teratophillia fics so I turned this out :) Nothing too NSFW, but there is some very very light NSFW content at the end of the story (nipple play if you could even call it that). Ghost herself is based loosely on one of my friends, who recommended that I let her model for a story character. There's like, only one reference to appearance in this part though oops

NOTE: This fic has a large basis in working out though weight loss is not mentioned. I understand this may be uncomfortable for some readers though so proceed with caution!

Meeting people in this day and age has not been easy for you. You’ve tried dating apps, speed dating, getting dolled up and going out in hopes of being asked out... but nothing has worked. It’s been a constant struggle to form a connection with someone you find attractive and keep that connection going. So, you turn to changing yourself. Focusing on working out more, going out more, and learning a new hobby. If only you could figure out places you actually really enjoyed going to frequently and find a hobby that you actually enjoy.

The working out part has been somewhat easier for you, though. You live relatively close to a park, which has a lovely path around it and a little pond that you loved to stop and stare at. The geese were friendly in terms of geese, so you don’t get chased off when you’re taking a rest to stare at the pond either.

With your work schedule, you only have time to go to the park at night. You keep pepper spray on you, just in case, but it’s usually chillingly empty by the time you get there from your abode. You’ll sometimes catch a glimpse of a woman sitting on one of the benches around the pond, but she seems to leave before you can ever get to the pond. You never see her leave, but she’s never there when you manage to get across the park. You sit on the same bench she does when you take your little break. By the time you get to it, it’s cold, which you know is logical, but it almost feels too cold.

You’re proud of your consistency of working out, even if it is just a walk around the park, and you begin to tie the consistency to seeing that woman at the pond. You want to get to know her. You at least want to see her up close, and say hello to her in passing. You want to hear what her voice sounds like and see what her face looks like. So, you make your journey to the park, which is only a few blocks, and you try to quicken your pace around the path every night in hopes of finally catching her before she leaves.

Eventually, you’ve reached a point where you can consistently jog and sometimes run, depending on how tired you are from work. You just need to see her face. You just need to see if she’ll react if you ask her if you can sit with her. You need to hear her voice, engage in small talk with her about the geese.

You can tell that these wants don’t come out of just a desire for connection. They come out of a desire for connection with her specifically.

This particular evening, you’ve had a very slow day at work and ate a decent dinner. You have plenty of energy, so you manage to sprint for a good portion of the beginning of your workout. By the time you reach the pond, the woman is still sitting there. You’ve never seen her this close before, and there’s no way she can just disappear in front of your face, so you finally get to approach her.

Praying that you don’t smell like sweat or look like a total mess, you walk over to the bench.

“Good evening,” you say, a bit louder than you intended. The woman jumps a bit, turning in your direction and managing to show a smile. She nods in your direction, uttering a small greeting to you. Her face is soft and round, and she wears her hair in butterfly locs. The moonlight illuminates her face, shining in her eyes. She’s incredibly captivating.

“Would you mind if I sit here for a moment?” Your inquiry is overshadowed by your actions, as you’re already making the move to sit down.

“I don’t mind at all. I see you here every night,” the woman on the bench says. You could listen to her speak all night. Her voice has something almost smokey to it, and that sends a chill right up your spine. You sit in silence for a moment, unsure of how to start a conversation with her, unsure on how to speak to such a beautiful woman.

She fills the silence for you.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

You turn from her, to the pond, and back to her, tilting your head.

“How do I do what?”

The woman’s response is just a laugh. You think for a moment, figuring out she must be referencing your habit of getting a jog in every night.

“Oh. Well, I just practice a lot. Consistency is key.”

Your gaze is fixed onto her. She nods as you speak. You feel so calm sitting next to her.

“I could never. My body aches too much to be able to push myself the way you do.”

You feel your face get warm. Are you blushing? All she did was compliment you, you have no reason to be blushing. But you are. It feels nice to be able to blush at an interaction you’re having with another person. You smile shyly back, a little pit forming in your stomach. She was so pretty that she was making you nervous.

You turn back to the lake, spotting a goose sleeping peacefully by it. You focus on it, still listening to the woman to see if she speaks, hoping that looking at something other than her will help you ease the nerves.

She doesn’t talk for a few moments, and you assume that she’s looking at the goose with you. You turn back to her, starting to comment on how cute the bird was.

When you turn back, she’s not there anymore. You hadn’t felt her get up, which would’ve been next to impossible since you two were fairly close on the bench. She left without a word, leaving behind an oddly cold feeling. You stand up, spinning around, looking for her. She’s nowhere to be found. You sigh, hoping you hadn’t done anything wrong.

You continue on your way, a small ache in your chest. You decide to walk the rest of the way back to your apartment, hands stuffed in your pockets. As you circle around the pond, you feel a cold sensation directly on your nipples. You shiver, your knees knocking together. You close your jacket up, blaming it just on a breeze you hadn't felt. A small pinch to each now hardened bud causes you to quicken your pace, leaving the park dissapointed and freezing.

#teratophillia #ghost x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #mdni #ghost #paranormal #spirit #I feel bad tagging stuff as ghosts bc of the like five million medias that have ghosts or are named ghost #wlw #lesbian #lesbian fanfic #wlw fanfic #fem reader #fem ghost #happy pride :D #pt 1 #planned to be multi part but we know how flakey I am...

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chronologically-challenged · 6 months

Text

The Magnus Archives spoilers but I keep thinking about Jon and Martin landing in the ISAT universe when the fears arrive but like. Right after post loops. So it ends up like:

1) They save these two weirdly accented guys (where one of them clearly has been stabbed holy shit) only to possibly be immediately told that they just got a bunch of evil gods in their world (oops)

2) Jon's eyes absolutely have color when Knowing things or using Eye powers in general.

3) The loops 100% count as a statement and Jon is purposely trying not to be alone with Siffrin so he doesn't munch on their trauma

4) Triple ace solidarity ruined by the knowledge their world is doomed to be plagued by fear gods U.U

5) Martin: "Jon did the fears turn this world black and white" Bonnie:"what's black and white?" Martin: "what" Bonnie: "what" Isabeau: "No but seriously what's black and white." Odile: "I think they're implying that colors exist in their world." Jon: "I see. Colors are apparently unnatural to this world." Martin: "Like that one Lovecraft story?" Jon: "what". Martin: "You know colors beyond our comprehension and what not?" Jon: "I- I suppose??" Bonnie: "Hey! Could this Lovecraft guy be from our world?" Mirabelle: "Wait no. These two just arrived here??? Unless time messed up too???" Jon: "Trust me you do not want to claim him."

6.a) Jon looks at least 10 years if not older than he actually is. He also probably can get along better with Odile anyway. Plus with different universes as backgrounds, the lack of general knowledge around his age wouldn't be obvious. Cue the moment where Jon is asked how old he is and the absolute AWKWARD silence when it's clear that both Jon and Martin are basically Siffrin's age, give or take a few years.

6.b) Bonnie: "Is 30 years old different in your universe? Are you about to die?" Jon: "From embarrassment, perhaps."

7) General discussion/argument/existential dread regarding the Fears and how they interact with this world. Honestly the gang may never forgive Martin and Jon for doing this to them. Even if they do everything they can to help them. They get more sympathy once they find out about the Eyepocalypse and the absolute hell Jon in particular went through. Doesn't mean they have to like it.

8) Siffrin finding out about Jon's knowing powers and asking him if he can Know the name of the island in the North. Jon tries. Then he starts screaming. His eyes are red. Siffrin doesn't ask again.

9.a) The horror and dread knowing that not only is their mission not done. It can't be ever again. And this time, especially if Jon and Martin's story is true... well, the King wasn't easy, but at least he was a person. You can't exactly fight a distorted universe. Their happily ever destroyed forever.

9.b) I could see a physical confrontation happening... if Jon didn't look so absolutely devastated. If he didn't say "do what you will with me, but please leave Martin alone" and Martin yelling at him for being a self-sacrifical idiot. It just sucks so much all around. But it would have been easier if Jon and Martin were bad people. But they're not. Just... broken people doing their best in a broken world. And to do their best to save their own world, the family has to work with them.

9.c) Jon and Siffrin are also idiots with martyr complexes that refuse to talk about their feelings solidarity. Shame that Jon can't help but want to eat Siffrin's trauma cause they probably have a lot to talk about.

10) Funnier note, the slow realization that Jon and Martin in an rpg world. Martin figures it out first and Jon is just. Flabbergasted. Especially when they find out the magic system is rock paper scissors.

11) "rock paper scissors transcends the multi-verse. Neat!" (Later Martin asks Jon if gun is secretly a fourth hand symbol. He does not know and will not Know. He refuses).

12) I think at one point they're gonna have to deal with the fact that statements don't exist in this world. Either Jon gets too close to taking Siffrin's statement or he's going to tell Martin the facts: there is very little way Jon can survive without being a predator. He is an avatar that needs something to fuel his existence. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else ever again. Unless Siffrin wants to write their statement down or someone else does... even then there's no guarantee it's going to be enough.

13) Perhaps wish-craft can save Jon. Maybe. Maybe not. But. The party tells them about wish-craft anyway. It's the one hope they have to fight against this new horror. Maybe it can help Jon too to get out. (Everyone deserves that chance).

I have no fic with this, my fixations are simply crossing over briefly. Hope you enjoyed the ramblings.

#tma #tma spoilers #isat #isat spoilers #this is entirely self indulgent dont mind me #yes there is an implication that Jon and Martin lost their colors in the transition between worlds #in stars and time

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Hi~ I just wanna ask you, how do you think/feel about Eli & Heather's relationship and their 'history'? Like some people said that Heather took advantage of Eli's innocence, some people said that it was Eli's mistake.

Ok anon. I have my thoughts but I reread the arc just to try and articulate them better. Fucking forgot Darius Hong was in this. And no one needs more Darius Hong in their life. Anyway.

Eli Jang/Heather Relationship rambles

In this essay...

Damn. This is rough. Please note I may be the least well informed person to give my thoughts on this. Happy for anyone to disagree.

Sigh. I think a lot of times we think of things in black and white, whereas almost everything is in shades of grey.

Eli Jang & Heather's background

First off, Eli has experienced a lot of trauma when he was first introduced, and clearly going through a lot mentally. He's also stunted in a lot of ways and 'deprived of an education'. Literally everything that he has known was abuse. Ran away from home at the age of 10. And whatever fucked up shit was going on with Tom Lee too.

I cannot stress how clear all of this is.

With Heather, the only real thing we know about her is she's 15. Both parents lawyers and very overbearing.

Eli Jang's 'recovery' from trauma

But by chapter 237: Eli Jang (6) a month passes and they have both met. Eli, from how he is portrayed, has already improved a lot. Healed a lot. Not fully. I think we need to remember that the passing of time and progression differs massively in Lookism than in real life.

If this was real life, nope. Lookism, ehhhh. Literally please suspend your belief.

This is in part a big reason why I don't blame Heather for her actions that night.

The huge fucking question mark over consent

I can also never fully agree with anyone saying that Heather groomed Eli. To me, she acts very much like a 15 year old girl with a crush. Less nefarious than what grooming implies. Could she have been better informed and set boundaries? Hell yeah.

From what we can see in the panels, Eli reciprocates her feelings. Sure there might be other things going on, but if there were insidious intentions I feel like PTJ would show it more front and center.

To me, looking at the storyline and art, it just feels like 2 people with a crush.

At the same time, if we apply real life morals to this, then yeah it's all pretty messed up. This isn't real life though.

(Sex education is a whole other kettle of fish I don't want to get into. Where I'm from, we have free contraceptives, free medical care, sex education. But oops, teenage pregnancies still happen an awful lot.)

Here's where people might disagree because I'm giving consent to people on their behalf - though we're talking about fictional characters here and all we can do is speculate.

My opinions on this are:

If we ask Heather if she believed Eli consented that night, she would fully believe so.

Similarly at the time, Eli would probably say yes he did.

I have little reason shown by PTJ to doubt that he would withdraw his consent present day as well.

As for Eli's mistake?

Uhh. Assuming they are both able to consent, and let's just say yes for the sake of simplicity, then I don't see how the night together is his mistake?

The whole mess afterwards and the poor communication and martyr thing going on I would say is his mostly his fault. Yes, he has his reasons for it. Two things can still be true.

And fucking Olly Wang.

But Heather was right there. Eli could have cleared the air with her. Said wtf I didn't message you those but he didn't.

Heather lashed out, which I think is a very human response to her situation and the sudden insane amount of pressure placed on her shoulders, however unfair her words are. She didn't have the full story though, whereas Eli did.

So like I said, I place more of the ownership of this situation on Eli even though I can also see where it all stems from.

In Summary

This goes back to what I said before about there are so many shades of grey, and this situation and relationship is absolutely not black and white. To me, anyway.

We can also imply all we want with things happening off-screen during any of the arcs though it's better to stick with what we can see or clearly read between the lines.

Taking in my thoughts above, honestly? I just think it's a tragic story about 2 kids that had unprotected sex one night and then it fucking spiralled. I don't see the blame lying with either one for their actions. Based on my reasons above.

This situation feels too nuanced here for me to say yeah Heather fucked up or Eli fucked up because there are so many details at play here, mostly to do with Eli Jang's background but also to do with the pacing of time and recovery in PTJ-verse.

TL;DR: No-one sucks here. Too many nuances. Sad af situation.

#hopefully this isnt too offensive to anyone #happy to delete if so #please just let me know #holy shit this is more nonsensical than my last one tho #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #eli jang #jang hyun #lookism heather #wannaeatramyeon

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softguarnere · 9 days

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Please share more about Chiara. She looks really cool😎

Aaaaahhh, thank you, Anon! 🥹🫶🏽 I enjoy putting her into situations, so I hope other people will enjoy her, too!

Some Chiara origin story/fun facts below the cut 🤭

So me being me, of course this is another Indigenous OC, because representation is important and I'll never ever shut up about that :)

Her full name is Chiara Kahhori St. Claire because I'm OBSESSED with that episode of What If . . . ? and I think Chiara and Kahhori would be so much fun together. In this essay I will --

A member of the Mohawk tribe, she was born and raised in upstate New York by her mom and grandma. Mostly by her grandma, because speaking of her mom!

Chiara's mom, Monica St. Claire, is a super successful lawyer who's pretty much always traveling for work

Monica may or may not have worked for Stark Industries as a legal advisor back in the day. She also may or may not have had a secret enemies to lovers back to enemies relationship with Tony Stark during that time. She may or may not have quit and fled back to New York when they broke up. And Tony may or may not be Chiara's biological father -- who's to say, since no one has been brave enough to run a paternity test?

(Slightly off topic, but sometimes I mess around with an au in which Chiara is raised by her father instead of her mother, and that shit is WILD lmao. They are a complete disaster and I love that.)

ANYWAYS

Chiara can be a menace. Are her actions cries for attention? Absolutely. Still a menace, though!

This girl basically terrorizes the Catholic school she goes to growing up

Ex: At age twelve, she refuses to do confession because "I literally have Saint in my last name, I'm basically already halfway to canonization." Age thirteen, she begins referring to the priests solely as "Pops" and/or "Daddy-O." And of course, at age fourteen, the final straw that gets her kicked out is stealing wine before Communion with some older kids.

Also at age fourteen!

Everyone forgets Chiara's fourteenth birthday. She's devastated. That night, she sees a shooting star go overhead and offhandedly makes a wish that she were important

The next thing she knows, she's got very villain-coded powers. She can manipulate/animate shadows, travel though them, take the light out of rooms, etc. Oops.

Now at age fifteen, she's been moved to Queens for a fresh start after getting kicked out of her last school, and she's trying so so hard to hide these weird-ass powers because they lowkey terrify her, and she's pretty sure that her "importance" is supposed to come from being some sort of villain -- because no hero would have such dark powers . . . Right?

There's definitely more thoughts, but at the risk of accidentally making you read a whole novel length list of ideas, I'll exercise some self control and end here for now

#anon thank you thank you thank you for giving me the chance to talk about my girlie #I am nothing but a vessel for Chiara lore these days #me and my wips about her against the world >:)#anonymous #asks #oc chiara st claire

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egginfroggin · 8 months

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(Tags from this reblog) (so, so late in responding to these, ouf)

Yeah, it is a horrible time for everyone!

(This got super long, so full rant is under the cut)

Ingo was raised to believe that his powers, like Emmet's, were a gift from one of the Dragons.

He's has been under the impression that his powers -- while unusually strong -- should be able to be controlled, and believes that he is at fault for his own lack of control.

In actuality, bonds are needed to temper the uncontrolled ice that Kyurem cursed him with at birth. The powers grew with age, and unfortunately, Ingo was cut off from the very thing he needed to have any hope of controlling them.

On Kyurem's side of things, however, it sought to spread the same agony of isolation that it felt to the humans that scorn it. Its curses, throughout the ages, always end in tragedy -- the cursed child is either killed, or goes mad and winds up dead by force or by choice.

Ingo is the first cursed child it has ever met, and it was intrigued by him. Here's this isolated, lost soul, deprived of the warmth all children should have, and yet he isn't mad. He's more sad, than anything, and desperate to keep his twin and kingdom safe.

So, curiously, it shares the secret of controlling its powers -- the warmth of bonds -- and forms a connection with Ingo. Ingo gets some control over his "gift," and Kyurem gets a bond for the first time in centuries, if not the first time ever.

So they both get solace and find a level of understanding in each other, and then things go wrong, and Emmet finds Ingo. Cue interaction and separation (may have dropped him down a chasm, oops), and Ingo's emotions becoming once again volatile and full of guilt.

Kyurem chooses arguably the worst time to confess that it cursed Ingo, because Ingo is already full of guilt and self-hatred for hurting Emmet again, and the Kyurem basically tells him that he was never meant to control himself.

Ingo was, as per Kyurem's interference, essentially born to sow misery in his family. Kyurem, when it cursed him, wanted him to be miserable, and to spread that cold hatred to those around him, because Kyurem couldn't do that itself.

Control wasn't ever anything Ingo was meant to have.

Needless to say, the abrupt realization that, frankly, none of this is Ingo's fault simultaneously lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders and incited the worst, most vicious wrath Kyurem has ever been on the receiving end of.

I remember mentioning that bonds need to be reciprocated and upheld. The bond between Ingo and Emmet is all but broken, and while Emmet keeps offering his end, Ingo never picks it up and ties it to his own, completing the connection.

Ingo breaks their bond just about immediately, which leaves them both worse off than they were before, because Kyurem can now properly mourn its isolation, and Ingo properly embraces his own (symbolized by his eyes adopting a sulfur tone and his skin turning pallid, almost gray, visually matching with Kyurem).

So... yeah, betrayal is a good word for it. Ingo has been trusting Kyurem and eagerly accepting its tutorship in the hopes of bettering himself, and then he finds out that... basically, it was this or death, and was always meant to be death.

Everything about Ingo's existence at that point in the fic is a happy (read as: miserable) accident set in place by Kyurem.

And Kyurem didn't even tell him, didn't even think to tell him, until when? When he tells it that he almost killed his twin again? When he's a mess of emotions? When he's already poured everything he has into their connection, worn his heart on his sleeve and confessed every bit of self-blame he's ever felt to it?

It tells him that it was all unnecessary?

It couldn't have said as such earlier, so that he'd have had even a tiny, modicum of a chance at making things right?

No amount of regret can fix this.

#iced tracks #eggin's writings #submas #subway boss ingo #kyurem #kyurem doesn't even really try to apologize it's just. yeah.#the problem with forming a bond is that it softens people in a way #kyurem came to care about ingo #and so it feels the loss that much more strongly #also! ingo is the only person who knows where kyurem is incidentally #so when he winds up back at the castle kyurem is really alone #I'd like to point out that ingo does plan on making amends with the legendary #because he does kind of still need to fix what he did #but he needs to cool off first or else he doesn't know what will happen #and unfortunately he never gets the chance #because that's when drayden and ghetsis (especially ghetsis) find him #so! bad times :>#thank you for the tags!#edit: just realized how long this is so I put in a read more

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leovenuslatina · 27 days

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Hii, I would like to participate in your game. ^^

I would like to have some general channeled messages from my fs. 18+ messages are okay too since I'm eighteen.

Something I like from your blog are your PACs. The messages are always clear. I like your aesthetic too, it's very cool. :)

thank you for going and your patience and including your age ‼️‼️‼️

‼️‼️18+ MDNI ‼️‼️

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

your messages

- oop why is ur FS like hella rough 😏

- they definitely like a challenge and a bit of a rougher sexual experience

- like spitting spanking choking (if you’re not into that that’s no problem they won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with)

- i’m getting a predator/prey dynamic here

- maybe when you first met them you’re like not interested or just not as reciprocal as they’d like but that’s what made him wanted you more ??

- your FS is into a whole power dynamic here they like to do you ass up face down usually hand around ur neck just hammering into you crazy like

- doggy is definitely frequent for you two

- may even have a HUGE daddy kink

- the two of you make a huge mess after all the time too

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#i’m feeling unhinged clearly #answered #18+ mdni #1k ask game

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klonoadreams · 1 year

Note

From what I remember mako has already met many important characters including 2 future strawhats and a powerful straw hat ally.

Assuming that not too much changes by the time the main story starts. How would these Chracters see mako as meeting her again. Like say meeting a grown up sanji and Law along with th baroque work robin? For me I would at least think sanji and law would be like big brothers to her.

Also any spoilers on who her dad is? Or who mako would be shipped with?

Not much is really different, just that Mako has been alive and in existence for like one more year, making her a year older than what she was originally, but it's also a bit of a mess since like, idk how to tell you, but Shanks is like barely 21 when he has Mako instead of 22, so oop, some things might end up changing, but also god dang, Yassop, you barely knew your own son and now you're just taking care of this rando Shark girl with the others ahahha.

No but seriously, this just means the Red Hair Pirates have Mako longer and that means further disaster because Yassop Daddy experience only goes for like a few months and Mako is half fishman, SO WHOOPS NEW TERRITORY.

So yeah, Robin and Sanji would be ecstatic to see her again, especially since the two of them went their separate ways to pursue their dreams, since Sanji won't get good experience as a cook with Shanks, and Robin, while absolutely delighted to know she is loved and considered important, knows that she has to leave the nest because she can't do what she wants with them and try as they may, they can't help coddling her a bit because Robin mcfucking did not have a good childhood, cmere, you get a hug.

Meanwhile Law would just be happy to see his friend again after so long, to the one person that taught him, alongside Robin, that even monsters deserve to live.

Seeing her thriving and also throwing a wrench in the world government's agenda by just casual exposing cover-ups in order to let the truth shine through....yeah, he’s happy to see her. Genuinely, no joke or nothing. Especially Robin and Sanji, though how the turn tables. He would've thought Mako would've been her own captain to a crew, but nah, she's content letting Luffy do it while being the resident lifeguard cuz she can swim. And also fish. :V

Her dad isn't actually anyone we know but an OC, like a rando mako shark fishman who effectively got picked out of the bunch to pair up with a Kuja Pirate who wasn't exactly considered a good wife for a Celestial Dragon (aka, dude was sterile, or at the very least got poor kid making skills), so curiosity plus pettiness and a bet equals Mako into the mix. Which is very bad.

That said, Mako's bio dad is related to some existing characters. And I will say this, Arlong won't exactly take to well to ever seeing her, because she serves as a constant reminder in a cog to a tragedy.

(Hint: it involves Koala going home - you can figure it out there, but yeah, Mako's uncle is pretty famous :V)

(He also had a hand in how Mako's mother was able to escape and while Mama was hoping to go back to Amazon Lily, she at least was in a safe place amongst Shanks crew when she gave birth to Mako)

Originally, i didn't have romance in mind, but honestly, I'm at a whatever happens, happens, because Mako's circumstances are so unique and complicated, that her situation allows her complexity, given how 17 seems to be the age at which people are considered adults or at least allowed to drink, and being a pirate just adds to it, mixed in with being someone who has a bounty.

Romance isn't off the table for her, so keep an eye out for it. Dont expect anytjing until after the time skip tho, she’s a little like Luffy in that it's the last thing on her mind lmao.

But also she's got a storm coming her way come Whole Cake Island because Big Mom wants Shanks's daughter for connections so...

Lucky son Katakuri got picked by my friends, so that's gonna be a "bruh wtf"

Aka, we got two weddings to crash. Except Mako isn't getting killed, but she still wants out of it, nope nope nope

Anyways wedding dress mako kicking ass. :V

#ask #one piece #one piece (oc)#mako (oc)#gone fishing (fanfic)#feel free to ask about mako

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characteroulette · 1 year

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A study on prosecutors -- (previous) (next)

Simon Blackquill, the Twisted Samurai.

Simon was actually a bit of a hard sell for me, much like his contemporary. I'm not really into Dual Destinies or Spirit of Justice (and therefore I'm not able to remember all the details as well as I can the other games oop so sorry if I get some things wrong here), but there are things I enjoy about them. One of those things ended up being the prosecutors!

It's thematically appropriate with the whole "dark age of the law" setup. A prosecutor who's on death row is allowed to take on trials to help with the workload the prosecution's office is dealing with. (Don't mind the fact that there's enough wiggle room for Klavier to go out for an event.) We hear from Fulbright about this prosecutor and Athena seems to recognise him. The absurd of why are they letting an inmate have any legal sway whatsoever doesn't matter so much. This is the dark age of the law.

Then we meet him and he's appropriately a grumpy jerk.

We're not given the details of his crime really, just whatever we can glean from the animated cutscenes. (It involved blood and a sword.) But Blackquill's mannerisms are harsh and unforgiving. He's a psychological suggester, able to run circles around the judge and drag us along for the ride by the ear. I think this part of his schtick is kind of annoying to deal with, mainly because of how obvious it is that he's messing with all of us, but it definitely does make for a fun character. He really showcases how easy it is to become intimidating in this world of dumbasses when you're able to keep even a single braincell advantage. (The less forgivable act, to me, was his shutting Apollo down at every turn. He is so mean to Apollo! It's not like Apollo can help that his eyes are magically tuned to other people's body language, and yet Blackquill calls it cheating and cuts him down for it. Then he allows Athena to do her mood matrix things with very little argument! This was a huge jarring point for me for a long time and part of the reason why it took me so long to actually finish this game.)

The setup is there: something about this guy is performative, is softer when handling Athena. Yet he masks it all very well with his abrasive attitude and trickery. He forces us into a corner, forces the hand of our client, and we have to head back out into the investigation.

It's easy to explain away most of his attitude, in actuality. He's been in prison for seven years. He mentions constantly the different mates he's met in the clink. Fulbright may act like his only friend and supporter, but there's too large a gap between them considering Fulbright holds too much authority over him.

Blackquill has become unsociable from his time in the clink. His refusal to admit to the truth has him leaning into his belligerence, has him constantly acting the part of the bad guy. (When did it start to become a part of who he is? Perhaps he's always been a little twisted. It never rings false to anyone besides Athena, after all.)

His situation is intriguing and so we're hooked into wanting to know what the hell happened to make him like this.

Also, I gotta give a special mention to his talking sprites. All of them are really good, from him slamming the desk as he laughs (which is just how I see him in my head by this point) to his eye flashing as he glares down at you. He plays with a lot of the usual conventions, too, turning his back towards you and never actually having a full point. I may not like how his objection sounds (and this is a me problem, I only like about 20% of the actual objections in this series whoops), but his "Silence!" is pitch perfect. That really conveys more of his character than anything else, devs and his va did a damn good job with that one.

Anyway, second day of the trial. It's actually pretty fun to see Blackquill on the ropes, having him act as if we're the ones cutting him down instead of the other way around. He's just as annoyingly ruthless here, but it's easier to deal with when we can actually gain some ground on him. For all his posturing and intimidation tactics, he can't keep up the act while we're shutting him down.

Once we pull off our victory for our client, he's back to being a cool customer. He's a pretty graceful loser compared to so many other prosecutors we've seen. Compared to Gaspen, even. There's still a lot we don't really know about him and his situation, but he's made his character loud and clear for us to see. For that, I gotta say it's understandable if you started liking him by this point.

Case 3 is kind of a mess during the trial segments due to everyone trying to confess to the murder. Blackquill may be facilitating a bunch of this nonsense, but he's as along for the ride as we are. That makes things more fun and tolerable than it could have been, so hey.

It also showcases his softer approach with Athena; again, the hints are being put down. You can't quite pick them up yet because you don't have the full context, but you can notice Athena mention that she's fighting so hard in order to save someone not our client. (And Blackquill even addressed her as directly about it as he can, saying that she should know it's useless trying to reach him.) When Means puts Athena out of commission for a minute, Blackquill doesn't mock her or even take advantage of the situation. He doesn't help, either, he can't do that without giving away the whole game, but he allows her the time to come back. That's probably the biggest hint we get as to who these two are to each other and it's a subtle thing, too.

His dynamic with Athena is probably the most enjoyable, also. She's a real spitfire in court, owing to her youth and her energetic nature, while he's a steel wall with trickster energy. They work surprisingly well off one another, trading jabs and him always seeming to be a step ahead but never fully leaving her in the dust. He recognises her inexperience and she recognises his humanity; neither want to hold back against the other and yet their blows aren't as harsh as they could be.

He was, after all, made to be her opponent on some level. Seeing their dynamic work so well off one another, it's easy to stop finding him aggravating and start finding him endearing. A rough around the edges older brother type rather than a hardened criminal trickster type. (Though he is very much still both.)

An aside on the DLC case, I think it's very funny how Blackquill was the only prosecutor willing to try this case against an orca. Sure, he saw the underlying actual murder mystery beneath it all, but it's so easy to imagine him being presented this case, laughing his ass off, then agreeing to prosecute it. This man's as insane as Phoenix!! And that goes a hell of a long way to endearing him to us. To me, specifically. His mannerism against Phoenix is kinda not fun, considering Phoenix is hardly ever fun in this game, but it's such a wacky little character detail about him that I just adore. His devil may care attitude may come from a dark place, but it lends itself to such a fun time.

Of course, we then reach the fourth case and even more mysteries are thrown in our face.

For one, Blackquill is just as on edge and vicious concerning this case. We understand some of Apollo's beef, he knew the victim and is emotionally invested in his client, but Blackquill being just as invested is definitely strange. It definitely raises some alarm bells to keep in mind, right up until the courtroom is blown up and we're forced into a time skip.

Meeting Blackquill's older sister adds another piece to the puzzle. She's really nasty especially to Athena and you make a note of it, but still can't quite make out the whole picture. It's an easy detail to overlook, even, if you aren't really paying attention to the names, since there isn't a big fuss made over her being his older sister. It connects him to this space station, but not in a way that matters. Not yet.

Another piece is Fulbright's odd behaviour. They really have to work hard to start building enough clues for Fulbright's turn to make sense, but the important thing for us concerning Blackquill is that he seems more worried about Blackquill's rehabilitation than before. Fulbright himself is struggling in what he should reveal to us, where his sense of justice lies, and Phoenix presses him to share enough with us for the next day of the trial.

Of course, Blackquill continues the trial with his added fervour. It really feels he has more of the pieces to this puzzle than we do at this point, but we at least manage to hold our own until Fulbright returns with the decisive evidence to prove Starbuck's innocence. The problem then is that it implicates Athena.

And Blackquill goes into absolute panic mode.

This is what he's been trying to prevent! He can't have Athena accused of another crime, he can't defend her this time like how he did before. He's doing his best to hold his uncaring demeanour together, but he's slipped too much for it to be convincing. He's run out of time and his sister refuses to accept that.

This leads us into the final case and our impromptu trial to figure out just what exactly happened for Blackquill to land himself on death row.

How Blackquill guards himself while absolutely falling apart here is so heartbreaking. He's doing his best to protect Athena, to save the girl who's his mentor's precious treasure, and him and Athena going back and forth on whether or not the whole truth is worth exposing, no matter how painful it is, is excellent. I really feel Blackquill's desperation here, aided by one of the sickest Mood Matrix segments ever. Learning that Edgeworth asked Phoenix specifically to become a lawyer again to help Blackquill, having Edgeworth act as prosecutor on this trial, everything about this is so good. All of it really lends to showing us the player why we should care about Blackquill. It definitely got me good.

Only once we prove Blackquill and Athena both innocent does that weathered shield finally fall. Blackquill gets to show off a bit of his less guarded self, gets to have some fun as we leap into the next segment of the trial. He gets to finally, finally dig up the truth behind that terrible lie he's been keeping for the past seven years and confront this Phantom himself. If the Phantom reveal wasn't so slapdash, this entire segment would be a lot more powerful, I think.

All of it, though, is in service of the straight up satisfaction we get when seeing Blackquill at the end, able to live his life again. Seeing how he actually calls on Athena's help in the next game, then hops onto the bench with her to help her out is so good, there's so much growth that happened there. He's still his smarmy trickster self, but he's willing to show a bit of his caring older brother side! I love seeing it.

Anyway yeah hopefully this conveys how much I love Blackquill, wish he had that little extra oomph to his narrative to make him truly great.

#Momo writes stuff #Ace Attorney #Simon Blackquill #Spoilers #dd spoilers #Essay time for Momo #Love my edgey bastard of a man #Blackquill is such a fun character #Character analysis be like #Wish he had more actual connecting moments with Athena than the one case #Sighs

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fukuokanodivision · 3 months

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BRING IT ON [Shuiro Solo]

[Mai-] [Grow up? Nah mean!] [Track, Giga!] [Shuiro rock da house, Let’s go!] [Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey!] Rettou Joutou, BRING IT ON! [Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey!] Apex point, Highest city! This “kids game”, My true Mathematica These “adult” tricks? Too obvious Besides, I have no pride to show! Playing the “officer” are you? Grand indeed Deciding to play it safe? Boring~! Let’s raise the stakes, Bring it! This boredom needs some excitement

Momma, After all I can’t end it in a place like this It’s only lukewarm, That’s driving me insane! Say goodbye to the “plays” and “pretends” Staying like this? [Move on already!] [Chorus-] Dan-Dan-Dan, Nows the time to grow up! Figuring out the bitter and sweet Pa-Pa-Pa, Time flies so quickly It’s not terrible, Is it? Past, Sins, Punishment, All of it I’ll live through it all and go beyond it!

[Mai-] Yeah, No doubt I’m taunting Always tending those ‘Forsaken’ Come on, When’s my turn coming? Grade my skills, Where did I go wrong? Drinks, Money Oops! I’ll comply Chill alright? Learn to take a joke Stuck in purgatory, I want out Trapped in, I don’t have enough fingers! [Hands up!] What’s up loser? You were always one, [Heh!] BRING IT ON! Whats the point in calming down? Till I’m dead, I’ll yearn for it! Stronger than before, A promised kiss to my hometown Highlight reels rolling in, Get ready! [Chorus-] Dan-Dan-Dan, Let’s grow up together! Taking our division back by force Swift and elusive strikes Nobody can read the future, We’re still tied up in it Bugs, Losses, Mess-ups, All of it I’ll live through it all and surpass it! [Mai-] Always the small stuff I can’t let go of Get it? It’s my aesthetic My weakened body is the ace up my sleeve Inferiority rings, “I’m out, Peace!”

This is far from over, You know!

[Chorus-] Dan-Dan-Dan, Nows the time to grow up! Knowing all the bitter and sweet This future as I drown in radiance I’m not a kid anymore, So at least know that much! Ages, Opportunities, They never wait around I’ll live through everything, BRING IT ON!

This age of love!

[Mai-]

It’s time I take my leave, Bye~!

#hypmic oc #happy belated birthday mai 2024

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hangesbrattyapprentice · 1 year

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Chains in the Sand

Zeke has complex plans. His captive opts for quick and simple.

Chp 1 here!

cw: allusion to canon-typical violence, injury, and death, angst, kidnapping, manipulation, yandere behaviour, zeke being messed up in general, mentions of miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, nudity, eventual smut.

Dark content in general. My dead dove radar is very skewed so I can't really tell how dark this is but please read at your own discretion and MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

I finally finished editing chaper 2!! This has taken me forever but I'm so excited it's seeing the light of day. Really hope I'm getting Zeke right. The man is funny and I'm german not.

Walking into the small pharmacy, Zeke stood out among the dust motes caught in the afternoon sun, his towering form commanding the cramped space, golden hair catching the dim light, almost glowing. He was a sight not easily forgotten, even when he was trying to be inconspicuous.

He sidled up to the counter, leaning on it casually. The surly, middle-aged pharmacist barely glanced up from his ledger. It was only when he noticed the Marleyan crest on Zeke's arm that his gaze finally travelled up to meet the infamous Beast Titan's eyes, round lenses flashing with reflected sunlight.

"Can I help you?" he asked, the words more a grumble than a polite inquiry.

"Ah, yes indeed. You see," Zeke began, producing a slip of paper from his pocket and sliding it over the counter. "I have a prescription to fill."

The pharmacist looked him up and down disdainfully as Zeke smiled cheerily, eyes crinkling. Then he looked back sceptically at the forged prescription that the chief warrior had just handed him.

"Antibiotics…painkillers…” he mumbled, reading off of the list, “What do you even need all this for? Don't you titan shifters just heal right back up? Can you even feel pain?" He added a muttered "abominations" under his breath.

Zeke had been prepared with a lie about his grandmother’s health, but it didn’t seem necessary. Not for this bore of a man.

"Can we feel pain?" Zeke repeated slowly, smile growing contemplative. "Let's find out."

He brought the edge of his nail to the back of his hand and drew a sharp line of blood along his skin. The pharmacist followed the movement with widening eyes.

A golden spark crackled along the broken skin of the hand he held up, momentarily accentuating the sharp-toothed grin lurking just beyond it.

The pharmacist whimpered in horror, hands coming up to shield his face.

"O-oops," Zeke chuckled, the spark disappearing. He examined his now flawless hand with feigned surprise. "Look at that! No scar, but it stung like a bitch. Guess we feel pain after all. Now, about that prescription...”

His tone was as light as ever, but there was a new edge to it now, hinting at the power that lay beneath the jovial demeanour. The pharmacist, with trembling hands, filled the prescription without another word.

“Many thanks,” Zeke murmured, taking the bag from the pharmacist and heading towards the door. Just before he left, he turned back, a wide grin on his face. "You know, we may be abominations," he said, "but we do know how to take a joke, eh?"

As Zeke emerged from the stuffy confines of the pharmacy and re-immersed himself into the textured thoroughfare of one of Marley's more disadvantaged districts, he found himself drawn into a world that breathed life in ways entirely different from the neatly trimmed military headquarters that he was used to. Hell, even the internment zone wasn’t this shabby.

These streets wore their narratives openly, visible in the hardened grit underfoot and the scarred facades of the buildings that leaned into each other like old gossips determining a victim’s fate. Armband somewhat obscured by his satchel, he moved with an easy grace down the streets that would ostracise his kind most of all, and were all the same too caught up in their struggle to survive to notice another stranger. It was here, in the midst of this raw, indigent tapestry that Zeke had concealed his captive, the secret pawn that would launch his endgame.

The Warriors were unnerved, their confusion palpable. Reiner, especially, seemed to be teetering on the edge of distress, looking like he was just one more cryptic remark away from a meltdown. Zeke hoped the man would hold up for another few years. Having to deal with eager little Gabi now would be tedious. His team all questioned his decisions, his motives, wondering why he would go to such lengths to save this woman and, worse, keep it from General Magath. Their eyes searched for answers each time they glanced his way, looking like a bunch of toddlers trying to solve a puzzle. But the wheels of his mind had always turned in directions the others found inscrutable. He remained tight-lipped, confident in their loyalty even though he had no intentions of revealing his plans.

With the Paradis mission having failed so spectacularly, he didn’t see Marley renewing their efforts anytime soon. Zeke needed to personally open up negotiations with Paradis as soon as possible. Given his reputation, the Islanders weren’t likely to roll out the red carpet for him. She was his ticket – a valuable bargaining chip when the time came to convince Paradis of his ‘benevolent’ intentions. After all, what better way to gain their trust than to play the knight in shining armour to one of their own? It all fell together rather brilliantly.

Mila, Reiner had told him her name was. Scout and wife of Levi Ackerman. He shuddered at the thought of that man. That inhuman shadow that had almost singlehandedly cost them the battle and the entire Paradis mission. That savage who had stuffed a blade in his mouth and then asked him if he had no manners. The thought made him scoff indignantly. How uncouth.

What a stroke of luck, though, that his pretty little wife had fallen right into Zeke’s hands. Why any woman would agree to put up with such a gloomy man was beyond him but then again, she was full of mysteries, this Mila. Two days had passed since he had brought her to the shack at the border of this district, acquired with Yelena’s help. Each day since was punctuated with moments snatched away from his military duties, discreet visits, and an assortment of tasks that fell considerably outside the purview of his usual routines. Bathing her, treating her burns, feeding her, all while she hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words. She was rather like a doll. His pliant, taciturn, life-sized doll.

But rather than feeling inconvenienced, Zeke found himself drawn to his new role. He would never admit it if asked, but there was an almost perverse gratification to be derived from having someone so utterly helpless and dependent on you. The fact that it so happened to be this woman was just the cherry on top.

There was something beyond that. Something captivating about her demeanour, her acceptance of his ministrations coupled with an aloofness that bordered on indifference…

He had thought it would be different, thought that once the sedatives wore off, she would resist, fight, try to escape. Maybe he had even hoped for it a little. But she was nothing like the fiery rebel he had expected from Paradis.

No, she was different. Her rebellion was her silence, her refusal to grant him any insight into her thoughts. It left him feeling oddly…challenged.

He knew that her quiet submission likely stemmed from the belief that her comrades and her husband – not to forget their unborn progeny – were dead and that the war had been lost. The spark that he’d seen light up her eyes as she confronted the Cart was now reduced to dying embers, mirroring the loss she must feel deep within.

He was willing to bet that if she were to discover Levi's survival too soon, if she were to find out that her husband lived and her people still fought, the untimely revelation might just stoke her dwindling fire into a roaring blaze, one that could threaten to burn his plans to cinders. He might even be forced to extinguish her flame permanently.

Fortunately for him, that morsel of information was currently under his discretion, waiting for the right or, perhaps, wrong moment to be unveiled.

The fact that she did not remember him, didn’t associate his face with the monstrous Beast Titan who had wreaked havoc on her world, was another blessing in disguise. He was, to her, a benign caretaker, a distant figure who tended to her needs, his shifter alter-ego safely concealed behind the façade of humanity, albeit from an enemy camp.

Well, maybe “benign” was a stretch after how he’d had to leave her that first night. She was in no state to run away but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Hearing the clinking of the chain he would use to keep her restrained, her face had shown the first hint of a reaction. Panic painted thick across her features, she had tried to bolt right away, leaping up from her seat on the trunk. He had easily caught her by the ankle and dragged her, facedown, back over to him. She’d landed an impressive kick to his jaw, but the fight in her was nowhere near a match for him. He’d looped one end of the chain around her ankle and locked it tightly in place. The other end of the chain was secured around the ceramic stand of the sink, just long enough to allow her to move between mattress and bathroom but not reach the door. The impact from the fall couldn’t have been easy on her but she didn’t cry or even struggle after that, only falling back into her defeated resignation as he treated yet more scuffs on her skin.

The memory of the chain's cold weight in his hands and the look in Mila's eyes stirred a morbid excitement within him. He'd told her then, his tone laced with a gentle insistence that masked his true intent, "It’s for your own good, Liebchen. If anyone sees you, they will kill you. I'm your only chance at survival now. Trust me."

He hadn’t been lying, after all. Be it as a Paradisian spy, an Eldian escapee, or even just a helpless woman, she wouldn’t last a heartbeat in this city. Her wide eyes had borne into him, reflecting the flickering lamplight, brimming with the horrifying truth of his words.

Finally, some emotion.

With the day's fading light casting long shadows on the worn-out path, Zeke approached the shack, silently shaking his head at Yelena’s impeccable taste in real estate. He pushed open the door, the creaking hinge echoing that drawn-out anticipation that the room’s sole inhabitant provoked within him. He found her exactly where he’d left her – chained, curled up on the mattress, the dim light filtering through the crack in the door painting her in an ethereal glow.

The whole scene looked like something right out of a painting — 'Mila and the Mellow Lamp Light' — or something equally profound, he smirked sardonically to himself.

As he approached, her eyes flickered open, the barest hint of surprise registering on her pallid face before it was smoothed over with that familiar mask of stoic acceptance.

"Well, well, Sleeping Beauty, we meet again," Zeke commented lightly, letting a smirk curl at his lips as he nudged her with the toe of his boot. "I hope you're hungry because I'm not just good looks and charm. I can cook, too. I’m a man of many talents, you could say."

The corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile or a grimace in the making, it was hard to tell. Zeke chose to interpret it as the former.

Easing himself onto the floor next to her, he lit the room’s only lightbulb and unwrapped the food he had brought - a warm, fragrant chicken broth that his grandmother – not he himself – had prepared that day. It was humble fare, but nourishing – a small mercy for her stomach, no doubt still churned by medications and anxiety. He noted the packet of milk rusks he’d left her with, only half-eaten on the counter.

“You shouldn’t be skipping meals with the antibiotics you’re on,” he noted, eyeing her sideways.

The smell of the broth seemed to draw her out. Her eyes, weary yet startlingly vivid against her pallor, met his as she uncurled herself, propping up against the wall with noticeable effort. Her stare clearly conveyed that she couldn’t care less. Zeke chuckled in an attempt to distract himself from how he was holding his breath in wait of her every move. Somehow even in this pitiful state, she managed to portray grace.

“Get any sleep?” he asked as he held a spoonful of broth up to her lips and watched her for any signs of resistance. There were none. Just a small shake of her head and silent acquiescence as she parted her lips to accept the food. He hummed, noting to himself to try and get her to sleep before he left later that night.

There was that perverse satisfaction again, this time in the feel of her mouth closing around the spoon he held. As he spoon-fed her, the shack seemed to shrink around them, the space stretching thin and delicate as if one word too loud might shatter it.

Zeke found himself fascinated by his captive. It wasn't affection, nor empathy – Zeke didn't believe in such frivolities – but rather a gnawing dissatisfaction that he just couldn’t put his finger on. Zeke liked the feeling of power, of being in control. And with her, he had those things. He was her sole caretaker, her protector, the only one she could rely on in this derelict shack a world away from everything she knew.

And for her part, she gave him that power. Save for her…bumpy introduction to the chain, she did everything, let him do everything, without so much as a flinch. Her complete submission to him was dangerously heady.

And yet, there was something in the way she held his gaze, that silent challenge in her dark eyes, that kept him on edge and roused his blood.

Zeke was no stranger to the deceptive lure of emotions and how they could cloud judgement - hadn’t his own dear parents been prime examples? And yet, he found himself unable to resist the call of this particular siren. After all, he was a man before he was a Warrior, a human before he ever became a titan.

Was it the power he held over her, the knowledge that she was at his mercy, or was it her resilience, her defiance even in surrender that drew him in? These were questions he did not quite have the answers to. All he knew was that he needed her trust, needed her faith in him, however misplaced it might be, for his plan to come to fruition. And that meant playing this dangerous game, treading on the edge of dealings he couldn't quite decipher.

He watched her, spooning another mouthful of the warm liquid into her mouth, every little movement adding to the surreal tableau that was his existence ever since Paradis – since her.

A stray drop escaped the spoon, tracing a path down her chin, interrupting his thoughts. It was a harmless thing, but one that reverberated within him, jolted him to the core.

Abandoning the spoon in the bowl, he found himself reaching out, his thumb catching the errant drop. With a swift motion, he swiped it up, guiding it back to her lips.

Her response was almost instinctual, immediate. Tongue darting out to lick the droplet off of his skin before her lips closed around the pad of his thumb and sucked.

He couldn’t help it. He cupped her chin, fingers pressing into her plush skin, and when her big, dark eyes slid up to his face in question, she caught his heavy-lidded gaze locked on her lips.

There was that something again, in the way she held his gaze then. A flash of life in her eyes that caught him off guard. It was a fleeting moment that held a world of implications. It was an assertion of her spirit, an unspoken declaration that she was not entirely defeated.

He chuckled, swiping over her bottom lip, pulling it lightly as he withdrew his hand. He found himself debating his next move. The lingering sensation of her mouth around his thumb pulsated within him, an alluring beat that wouldn’t subside. The line between their roles blurred ever so slightly, making him waver between motive and desire.

Yet, for all the uncertainty, one thing remained clear. Zeke was prepared to push boundaries, to navigate the tumultuous currents of this game with her. But whether it was out of mere morbid fascination or bordering on a toxic obsession, he knew he would not act unless he had her complete trust. After all, the fate of all humankind hinged on this precarious connection.

“Careful, Liebchen,” he grinned crookedly, “I’ve been told I’m an acquired taste.”

Her lip curled. This time it was definitely a grimace and he couldn’t help but laugh.

She ate the rest of the broth with extra care, scowling at him every once in a while. When the container was empty – one of the two that he had brought her – he got up to prepare a bath.

“Wait.”

He looked down at her, unsure for a second if she’d really spoken or if he had imagined it. But at her insistent stare, he slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress by her feet.

“Could…” she staggered, seeming to lose her nerve as soon as she’d gotten the word out. He turned to face her fully, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“Could you tell me what happened…please?”

“What would you like to know? Do you not remember what happened to you?”

“Not me.” She shook her head, voice wavering. “The others.”

“The scouts?” He asked, eyebrows raised, and she nodded.

He had been waiting for this, yearning even, patiently. Finally this doll would talk to him. Finally, he could break her fully before mending her, reshaping her into something more suited to him. His puppet.

The mask of sincerity he donned was well-worn. It made his eyes widen slightly, the blue of his irises slashing through the defences of his victims.

“They’re gone, Mila.” His pulse raced in anticipation but he made sure to portray calmness, only mirroring her faint frown before twisting the dagger. “They were decimated.”

She shook her head again slowly, murmuring, “surely…not everyone. What about Levi?”

Zeke frowned in mock consternation. “Who?”

“Levi!” she gritted out, “the Captain of the Survey Corps. The one who murders titans like they’re ants. You must know. And the Commander, what about him? Where are they?”

His frown turned sympathetic, eyes softening. “Ah…he was your husband, wasn’t he?”

She remained scowling at him, breathing hard after her outburst.

“Berthold and Reiner…they told me about the battle. Your Commander led a suicide charge that killed everyone. And the Ackerm- Levi,” he corrected when the fire in her eyes blazed hotter, “fought bravely, but he couldn’t defeat the Beast Titan. I am sorry, Mila…”

“No…” she shook her head again in denial. “No…no. They’re lying.”

“They’re not ly-”

“Were you there?” She hissed at him, challenging, “did you see it?”

“Ah, well…” Zeke scratched the top of his ear, biting his lip to hold back a treacherous smile.

“Then you don’t know,” she growled, but it was more plea than accusation. He could clearly see how pitifully she was holding on to her last thread of hope. And he gleefully snipped it.

“Mila.” He looked her right in the eyes, drawing her wavering gaze until it finally settled on him.

So close, he chanted to himself as he watched for the change in her features that he knew would come. She’s so close.

“They’re all dead.”

The tiny wrinkles between her brows faded away as her eyes glossed over. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. Zeke calculatedly reached out towards her, then paused and placed his hand on the mattress near her foot instead. He sighed, somewhat dramatically.

He watched as the hope drained from her eyes, replaced by a despair so profound it made him shudder. There was something intoxicating about the power he held, something so darkly satisfying about watching her grapple with his words. It didn’t take long for the tears to tip over her dark lashes and roll down her cheeks, the lines of her beautiful face twisting into a thing of desolation. Her body moved as if to hug her knees to her chest, but the attempt to bend her injured arm instantly made her flinch. She settled for hiding her face in her right hand instead, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. His cock jolted almost viciously at the sight.

He made sure to wait a suitable amount of time before casually patting the mattress and getting up again to draw her a bath.

She stopped him again.

“Why am I here?” Voice thick and broken, her hand fisted into the hem of his trousers to hold him back. “Why didn’t they just kill me?” She wailed softly, and he could see it in her dewy eyes that she wished they had. She wished for death like she hadn’t even two days ago when he’d lifted her out of that trunk. Left to her devices, she might even have granted herself that reprieve. But he had different plans for her.

Zeke sat down again, disentangling her hand from his clothes and holding it in his instead. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on her skin as he drank in the pain pouring from her being.

“Because,” he explained simply, “I told them not to.”

That seemed to give her pause. Her gaze dropped to his hands softly caressing hers and she pulled away abruptly.

“Why?” she asked curtly.

Zeke raised his hands, palms out, in a gesture of capitulation. “I want to send you home, Mila.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Home?”

“Yes.” Mila’s face was a portrait of confusion, and he wondered how to explain Paradis to her in a single sentence. He settled for, “inside the walls.”

“You mean the home where you people have been sending titans to slaughter everyone? That home?”

“Ah,” he gave her a sheepish grin, hand coming up to scratch at his ear again, “that’s the one.”

Even though she looked murderous, her lips twisted into a grin of her own as she chuckled hollowly. It devolved into a full fledged, throaty laugh and Zeke was so caught up in the grim, maniacal beauty of the sound that he failed to notice her fist close around the forgotten spoon until it was too late.

Comments, thoughts, and feedback are all greatly appreciated! ^^

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