#star u are right ALAS

[lynxfrost13]

Gamers I think workout wise I am going to take a couple days off 😔😔😔

[poepill]

happy belated valentines day quodo upon thee! originally posted on ao3 for the quodo minifest, this was my valentines for @chacusha, who organized the event! i had a ton of fun drawing them and im definitely looking forward to next year <333

+ bonus art based on the comic by Kate Beaton, Javert is in Slash Fiction:

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

IT’S TRUE I NEVER WRITE, BUT I WOULD GLADLY DIE WITH YOU. ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; ”You think he wanted to remain a respectful underclassman, never treading too far beyond his bounds. You're pretty sure it was also something else.”

contents; suguru geto/gn!reader, cult leader era geto, (former) senpai!reader, literally just a long conversation, geto kidnaps you (kind of).

w/c; 4.0k

a/n; rip suguru geto u would’ve been sooooo cute pining for a cool upperclassman . alas the horrors must claim you . but it would’ve been so sweet

Your blood coats the asphalt in crimson dye.

There's a throbbing behind your ear, vicious and heavy. Like your skull split open, cracked right down the middle. Maybe it did — you can't tell, can't move your hands to even check. Lying on an abandoned street, with a grating ringing in your ears, your limbs numb and unresponsive, iron blooming thick and heady on the roof inside your mouth. It's dripping out, from the corners of your busted lip; warm, sticky liquid, trickling down your jaw. When you try to move your fingers a sharp jab of pain shoots through them.

One, two. Inhale, exhale. Try to think, though your mind lies buried in the rubble all around you. You're bleeding out. Your skin is burning. There is not a trace of cursed energy around you.

… You figure the blast must have taken out the curse, too.

(Will you die like this, you wonder? You can't text Shoko. You doubt she'd make it in time, anyway. Once the faculty takes note of your absence, it'll be too late.)

When you try to sigh, more blood spills out, eager to exit your dying body. Wriggling, gurgling worms, made of plasma and platelets, scrambling from the underside of a rock to seek shelter in the sun. Hot flashes of pain wrack through you. Then a cold, cold feeling, when you're sure it'll melt you; shivers clattering down your neck to gnaw at your spinal cord. Your body feels as if doused in sea water. Dizziness, weariness. Your body feels like a casket.

You wish you had somebody to say goodbye to.

(Just as your consciousness begins to fade — a shadow flickers overhead.)

Then, nothing.

When you come to, you face an unfamiliar ceiling.

A square-shaped lamp shines down on you. For a moment, you wonder if you're at the morgue; the grating light an all-too familiar sensation, a shooting star burning through the roof above her operating table. But that light is colder, more sterile.

This one is warm. Yellow ripples of light.

It lulls you awake. Pinpricks behind your eyes, absent twitches of your fingertips — you can feel them, move them, puppet strings intact — you didn't die. Unless this is heaven, but you doubt your heaven would smell of anything but summertime.

Not jasmine oil. Not soft notes of laundry detergent. Velveteen blankets cover your body, thick and fluffy, freshly washed — and all you can smell is just that.

(Homey, you think. What home would feel like.)

Warmth envelops you, and not a single one of your bones ache or splinter. There's a soreness in your limbs, and the room twists when you lift yourself upright, a wave of nausea rippling through your throat — but that's all. Inhale, exhale, and you're fine.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and open them again.

All you see is black and white; the clothes you're wearing and the blankets pooled atop your thighs. Fabric against fabric, a silky friction that almost distracts you from the fact you're wearing someone else's jinbei — it's light, loose around your shoulders, a smidge too big. Someone undressed you, helped you out of your blood-soaked uniform. Someone slipped you into this and tucked you in.

Someone is just behind the door, their fingers reaching for the handle.

(Your senses must be dulled, to only notice them now.)

It opens without so much as a creak. And in comes a woman, unfamiliar, her lips dyed cherry red — you think of asphalt, of iron — her hair reaching past her shoulders in soft strawberry waves. A tight, purple dress hugs her curves, and you're fairly sure she saw you glancing at her boobs just now. There's a hint of distaste in her eyes.

Sharp cuts of jade.

"You're awake," she acknowledges, her voice carefully neutral. Staying by the door, and watching you with purpose. "How are you feeling?"

"… Not too bad." You cringe at the sound of your own voice, worn at the edges. "Did you rescue me?"

"No." A beat, her eyes scanning the expression on your face, as if weighing your intentions. It goes on, for a moment, this silent vivisection — a look of distrust you can't help but be amused by. "… Geto-sama is waiting for you. I'll escort you to him."

— The world comes to a standstill.

"… Huh?"

"He'll explain everything," she assures you, but you can't quite hear her through the ringing of your ears. Geto. Ge-to. It's not a coincidence, it can't be—

(That's right. His room always smelled of jasmine buds, didn't it?

You snuck in there more than once. How could you have forgotten?)

"… Geto," you echo, your voice a foreign thing, the name a buried heirloom. Vacantly, you think you can still taste the iron from before. "Geto Suguru?"

"That's right," she sighs.

A resounding clap breaks you out of your reverie. Her hands coming together.

"Come on," she beckons. "I'd rather not keep him waiting."

She turns on her heel, and exits the room. You're given no time to regain your bearings; forced to scramble out of bed, bare soles against the tatami mat on the floor, following closely behind her. No time to linger, though a pit of foreboding carves a cavern in your stomach, your innards tied in knots.

Inhale, exhale.

Geto Suguru.

(He's waiting for you. What does that mean, exactly?)

You don't know. You didn't think Suguru — Geto — whatever you should call him — was still alive, let alone still in Japan. You're forced to bear the weight of those implications, as you wade through a narrow hallway. The air smells of dust, faraway clusters of sweet-scented incense. Everything is quiet.

You can almost hear your own heart, beating slowly. Pumping hot blood to your brain.

"What's your name?" you ask, finally matching your steps to the stranger. Slipping your hands into your pockets. "That's the least you could tell me, I think."

"… Manami Suda," she tuts, restlessly. "As I've already informed you, Geto-sama will tell you of the rest."

"… sama?"

"Yes."

You eye her, another question on your lips; but you swallow it down. She doesn't seem all too keen in keeping this conversation alive.

It doesn't matter, either.

(Geto-sama. That's what he goes by, these days?

It doesn't suit the cute, polite kouhai you remember. Then again, blood never suited him, either. Neither did the taste of cheap Seven Stars tobacco.

… You're pretty sure he only ever tried it to impress you.)

"We're here."

Manami stops just in front of a sealed-shut sliding door, sheets of paper catching the light from within. They shimmer, in the dim corridor, beckoning you forward. A feeling of dull dread creeps into your cells.

An all-too familiar bundle of cursed energy.

"I'll leave you to it," she continues, that same concealed edge to her voice. "But just so you're aware — Geto-sama is risking a lot by bringing you here. More than you could imagine."

She turns her head, to look at you properly.

(Jade aglow with angered love.)

"… So don't be cruel to him."

And then she's leaving.

You're left behind, left alone; staring into her eyes until she turns away. A deep, steadying breath. Inhale, and exhale. Your fingers twitch for a cigarette.

They reach, instead, for the door.

— Inside, a silhouette sits under dimming moonlight.

His back is all you can see. Silky locks of black hair, pooling on the floor, spilled ink on the tatami mat beneath him; sets of robes framing his figure, cloaking him in silk. The shoji screens are agape, leaving space for him to sit by the edge and look outside — for moonlight to flood his chambers.

It makes him look illusive.

"… You're here," comes a familiar voice, tailored with silk, and all you can think is why didn't you call me? He rises to his feet before you can get any words out. When he turns around, a smile on his lips, your breath halts at the base of your throat.

"It's been a while."

Monolids. Sharp facial lines. Eyes that gleam with fondness.

(He's beautiful. Like a lioness.)

"… It has," you echo, watching his bangs sway with the breeze. "Geto-sama."

A cat's blink. His smile falls, lashes fluttering; the backdrop for a rumbling laugh.

"Ah, don't tease me." His grin blinds your world, cuts and cuts and cuts into your tender flesh. "Though I suppose I should have expected as much."

"I suppose so," you murmur, vacantly, casting a glance around you. Nothing much to see, only scrolls across the walls, mantras of some kind. A mellow scent floats about the room, chestnuts and torn up fruit flesh — it's green tea, you realize, a teapot exhaling sweet-smelling steam from a small table in the middle of the room. It drifts between the shoji screens, and up into the midnight sky. Mist-like.

Then there's the incense, of course.

It's starting to fade, but you can still pick up on the main notes. Burning jasmine buds and smoke.

"Was Manami good to you?"

The question drags your gaze up to meet his own. Suguru tilts his head, bangs framing eyes that spark and fizzle with something joyous — fireworks, a summer festival, crammed into his eye socket just for you to see. Golden, even in the dark.

"… She was a little mouthy, to be honest." You give a shrug. "Don't fire her, though."

A chuckle leaves his lips, sharpened by midnight fatigue. "Of course not," he flicks his wrist, as if to wave you off. "She isn't an employee. She's family."

A questioning gaze. You're tempted to pry, but decide against it — it's really not your business if this robe-clad emperor has a concubine or two.

… Though that look in her eye was something far deeper.

(Something like trust.)

"Ah, but where are my manners?" Suguru smiles, blindingly, turning to gesture towards the opened shoji. "Please, have a seat. I hope you still like tea?"

You only hum. Watching him crouch in front of the table, readying two oval cups. They're pure white, flecked with painted branches, golden ginkgo leaves. There's a reverence to the way he pours — both his hands cradling the teapot, as hot water spills, trickles against ceramic, gathers at the base of the cups and begins to fill them up. Slowly, slowly, as if each drop is precious enough to warrant a moment of silence.

You're hypnotized.

A memory comes to you; winter mornings, early missions, a kouhai in the kitchen even on days he could have slept in. Him, with a thermos in hand, warm to the touch, childish patterns of cherry blossoms etched into the plastic coverage. You'd carry it with you, tucked between your arm and ribs. Like a second heartbeat.

His hands are larger, now. Calloused.

Gentle, even still.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, once you've plopped down on the floor. His robes flutter right next to you, carried by a pleasant nighttime breeze.

It glides across the apples of your cheeks. "Just fine," you answer, and you mostly aren't lying. He doesn't need to know about the quivers of your soul— that's the burden of an upperclassman. A burden you’d gladly have carried alone.

(It was always meant to be the other way around. You don't think he ever realized.)

It's difficult to free yourself from the straying of your thoughts. You aren't at Jujutsu High, anymore. You lull the monsters in your head to sleep. It's been ten years, and the blood that needed to spill has long been scrubbed off the walls. You were too late.

There's no use in thinking about inevitable partings.

"I'll assume you're the one who rescued me," you inhale, then exhale, leaning back with your palms on the tatami to gaze at the garden ahead. Beyond his chambers— bushes blooming with camellia, a pond gleaming moon-blue under the veil of night. Ripples upon the water. The night sky looks bottomless.

It's a painting, you think. A mess of oil and watercolour. The black is smudged with silver stains, no longer untouchable.

"I brought you here, yes," his voice buzzes to your right, dragonfly-esque. ”After you passed out."

"Mm. I think I saw you."

"Oh? Did you, now?"

He's looking at you. You can feel it. When you turn your head, amber eyes coil into slits; a matching smile flecked on his lips, before he raises his cup to cover it.

A long, silent sip.

"I was worried, you know." He turns to face the garden, and the moon dyes his skin cornflower blue. "I was sure I'd be too late. Fortunately, I got there just in time."

He's beautiful, you think, but he looks more like a statue than a human being. As if to make sure that he's really there, you give his flowing sleeves a tug. His gaze responds, flits up to meet your own — a success, a flicker, a dog jumping for a bone.

You give him a raise of your brow.

"So… you kidnapped me," you deadpan.

"Kidnapped?" he gives out a breathless chuckle. "That's a little much."

A beat.

"But you did almost die." His smile evens out, an expression of calculated calm reigning his face back into something unreadable. Tap, tap, the pads of his fingers tapping rhythmically against his bended knee. "If I hadn’t been there, you would have bled out… so, at the very least, I'd like you to reconsider your choice."

Your choice. It's spoken with an underlying note of disapproval; something that sparks a twitch at your brow, because you know exactly what he means. ”Why were you there?" you ask, a sharpness to your tongue. "Just in time… that's awfully convenient."

Suguru's fingers come to a halt. A perfect smile, eyes closed into crescents, his voice velvet smooth. ”If I told you fate brought me to you, would that be so bad…?"

You give him a fixed stare.

Silence.

"… You're no fun," he sighs. Smile slipping right off. "I may have sent a curse or two to supervise you… on occasion. For safety reasons, mind you.”

"Of course," you exhale, weary with exasperation. You really should have known. ”You know what I hate about you, Suguru?”

He blinks. Twice, like a cat — he doesn't seem upset. You wonder if the call of his name quells him from your abrasive tone. "Let's hear it," he smiles.

Outside, in his garden, bushes flutter with the breeze. Rounded, blurry leaves, golden green ripples — from where you're sitting they look like shimmering bells, flickering about, ruthlessly torn from their branches to join the pile of crimson red petals on the ground. It's not cold outside, only pleasantly chilly. A familiar summer evening kind of feeling. You think of his child-like, high school, yet-to-be-ruined face. You think of all your talks on the roof of Jujutsu High.

You turn to look at him, sparing no apologies.

"You're a hypocrite."

Suguru looks back at you, silently.

"You made the choice to leave — and, well, there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing we could do." You chew at the tender inside of your cheek. "But I can’t choose to stay a sorcerer, because… it’s dangerous? Well, that's just stupid."

What's even more stupid is being a curse user in a world with Satoru-kun in it.

The words are left unsaid.

"… You have no right to lecture me about danger."

There's an exhale on his cupid's brow. It spills out when he speaks, lips raised in cordiality. "If that's how you feel, so be it."

His nonchalance makes you twitch. Bone fatigue fuelling your bitter spiel — your sharp gaze burning holes into his body, as your lips part. ”I mean, what were you expecting? Bring me here, keep me here… and then what? Just hope I agree to join you?" you let out a breathy scoff, fighting off a bout of laughter. "After all these years. Zero phone calls, mind you."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care." A white lie, a fiend for a fiend. "I just don't understand you, right now."

…

The lamp flickers, overhead. A housefly buzzes against the paperthin shoji sheets, like a mimicry of the cicadas singing on the tree-trunks outside. It fills the silence. Keeps you from thinking too much.

When he speaks, it's in honeyed vowels.

"… I didn’t mean to upset you," he nearly whispers, so gentle it could disappear in the space between you. He sounds sincere, if nothing else. "I’m not taking your choice away from you. I just couldn’t bear to see you lose your life in such a meaningless way…"

Sour bile settles at the base of your throat.

("If you'd like to, you can kill me, Senpai."

You're standing at a crossroads, at the very edge of the cauldron to hell. He turns to look at you, before he leaves for good; golden eyes aglow with purpose.

”If it's you, there's meaning to it. I won't try to resist.")

"… Meaning," you sigh, smiling ruefully. The word tastes like ash. "I'm not you, Suguru. I don't need it."

A flicker in his eyes. A disapproving sputter, in the pitch-black, silver-blue sea of his soul, like a reprimand he's opted to swallow. He was always good at that — with you, at least. He'd gobble up lectures, replace them with kind nagging. You think he wanted to remain a respectful underclassman, never treading too far beyond his bounds. You're pretty sure it was also something else.

His expression shifts, just then. You feel it in the air.

Suguru is silent. His eyes flutter shut.

"… So that's your answer?"

There's no use responding. This midnight rendezvous is drawing to a close, you can feel it in your bones, in the weight of your heartbeat when you silently rise to your feet. The air tastes crispy, a mouthful of non-existent smoke. You savour it, one last time — before casting a glance towards the man at your feet.

"Thank you for the tea."

Your cup is exactly where he left it; in the too-small, too-large space between your bodies. Untouched. Suguru gazes at it, for a moment, without making a sound.

…

Right as you turn towards the door, he speaks.

"I could just keep you here, you know."

An airy scoff — you almost laugh. ”Uh huh."

"I could force you," he continues, seamlessly, as if you aren't even there. His voice takes on a chilly quality, his expression obscured. "I could keep you here, with me. Until you learn to see things from my point of view… make it so you can’t reach anyone at Jujutsu High. Make it so they'll never find you."

…

He rises to his feet. Robes swaying, like a pair of heavy bells — closing the distance between you, until you can spot every spark of gold in his eyes. His hair becomes a veil, all-encompassing, shielding you from the light of the lamp and the glow of the moon —

and his hand, ever so gently, reaches for your cheek.

("I feel like I could tell you anything. I wonder why that is?")

"But I won't."

The pads of his fingers never meet your skin.

Suguru sighs, a touch longingly. Staring at your face, as if admiring something he will never get to keep. Cautiously, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear — something in his gaze softens when you let him. For a moment, he is quiet, like a child lulled to sleep.

The phantom of his body heat sears his name into your neck.

"… I value you too much for that," he whispers.

Blurry stars shiver in the night sky above. Try as you may not to follow their example, your voice still shakes when it pries apart your lips.

"Great. Thanks.” You snort, craning your neck away from his greedy fingers. ”What a model kouhai."

”I learned from the best." His voice is caramel, teasing you, his hand falling to his side — albeit reluctantly. A moment passes, and his lips follow, crumbling under the weight of his thoughts. Falling into a thin line. ”Just… be careful. If I find you like that again, I'm not sure I’ll be able to contain myself."

"I'm not like you," you remind him. "I don't want to die. Not yet, anyhow…"

Suguru doesn’t respond. You catch the haunting of ghosts, at the corners of his eyes, shadows framing his face just right. Still, a smile on his lips, just a second later.

(Nothing but dead weight.)

"… I suppose that'll do."

The air between you grows stale. You're vaguely aware that you should turn towards the door, but something in the back of your mind won’t let you.

"... Right," you exhale, shaking your head to get your thoughts back in order. Meeting his eyes, brushing a palm down the fabric hugging at your chest, the clothes that aren’t yours. "Want this back?"

"Hm?" he stares at your hand, before realization hits. "Ah, that's alright. Keep them."

He surveys you, for a moment. Drinking you in. His gaze spans the fabric, from where the sleeves end to the neckline, exposing the knots of your collarbone. It makes you feel like he's trying to peel off your skin, cut you open like a fruit — deft fingers finding every dip in your flesh before splitting you into halves.

… That is to say, he's practically undressing you with his eyes. They burn, against you, a heated trail.

"They suit you," he smiles. Awfully pleased.

You decide to ignore him.

”And my uniform?"

…

Suguru glances away.

"… It was ruined," he clears his throat. "You're better off asking for another."

"So you're keeping it."

A sheepish smile creeps onto his lips. You scoff, and a chuckle stumbles through his chest, half-recklessly. It's as much of an apology as you're going to get.

"Weirdo," you shake your head, taking a step back. "Well, it was good seeing you."

You watch a flicker of joy dance through his eyes — his lashes aflutter, in an effort to hide it. Suguru hums, and you think of high school, because there's nothing else to do when he looks at you like you just fed him hand to mouth. When his eyes crinkle paper-thin, the hole in your heart tears at the corners.

"Likewise," he breathes, honeysuckle on his tongue. "You haven’t changed."

"Neither have you," you answer, honestly. "Not really."

Before you can see his expression, you turn on your heel. The midnight breeze takes the chance to slip beneath the flimsy fabric of your jinbei, ghosting at your naked chest. A cold hand, gliding right between your ribs, right where you’re most vulnerable. You can still smell the jasmine, the burning chestnut, the almond oil he brushes his hair with after showering.

A piece of paper tears to shreds, somewhere inside of you.

Right as your fingers curl around the sliding door, you find your voice. Words better shared in a whisper, under a breath — better shared in the past, with heat beneath your cheeks, but you were never that kind of person. It was never going to come out naturally, and it was never going to lead anywhere. Not anywhere at all.

"Back in high school — I loved you, too. Did you know that?"

…

"All three years," you exhale, still staring straight ahead. The room, as if eroding, begins to smell of spring. "I loved you more than anybody else, Suguru."

For a moment, you wonder if his silence is rejection. If he's pretending not to hear. If your words, miraculously, got lost somewhere in the space between you; swept into the cluster of blurry leaves outside, or buried in restless cicada cries.

Then, a rough chuckle spills into the air.

"… And you call me cruel," he draws a breath, sharp and purposeful. "Do you realize the kind of faith you're putting in my restraint?”

"Hm. Do I?”

You cast a glance behind your shoulder, flashing him a smile.

”Tease…" he clicks his tongue. "I really will keep you, at this rate."

There's a heat in his gaze that wasn't there before. Pupils dilated, like a wolf ready to pounce. Laughter, breathless, bubbles up your throat and out your lips. "No thank you," you quip, flicking your wrist in a lazy wave. The door slides open with a fwoosh.

Then, in a voice more silent — more suited for partings —

"See you."

Behind you, his fingers give out a restless twitch. But he nods, right as you step over the threshold and into the corridor, cicadas crying out from the gardens.

The moon dyes your back a cobalt hue. He follows it, with his eyes, until it's no longer visible.

"… See you."

[xinganhao]

vernonboxd 🎥 vernon x rockstar!reader.

movie nights are sacred to you and vernon. a little extra for my catch you when i can verse. ♡

ⓘ established/long-distance relationship, fluff, use of pet names, movie 'reviews' as headcanons. referenced this letterboxd list for some movies vernon has mentioned or recommended.

OOO VERNONBOXD.

Recent Reviews of letterboxd.com/11203km

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) ★★★★ Watched April 9, 2022

🐻‍❄️ says: visually pleasing, classic anderson. saoirse ronan if u read this im free on thursday night and would like to hang out. please respond to this and then hang out with me on thursday night when i'm free. (jk 🎸 ily)

🎸 says: apology not accepted ^ but i loved the tongue-in-cheek humor & deadpan dialogue. agatha & zero's romance >>> would watch again if i needed to see something pretty.

edited to add: if u need to see something pretty, just look in the mirror. ;) yours, 🐻‍❄️

Spirited Away (2001) ★★★★ 1/2 Watched June 10, 2023

🎸 says: breathtaking, show-stopping, one of ghibli's bests. a crown jewel of animation. incredibly word-building and i will die on that hill despite SOME PEOPLE'S contrasting opinions. i want it on record that i wanted to give this five stars. alas, 4 and 1/2 is a compromise.

🐻‍❄️ says: not arguing w a rockstar. whatever u say beautiful.

Luca (2021) ★★★★ Watched November 4, 2023

🎸 says: andiamo! has all the elements of a feel-good pixar flick. setting, dialogue, friendship. "we underdogs have to look out for each other, right?" need to go to italy. wink wink, nudge nudge.

🐻‍❄️ says: booking that flight rn. anyway: well-paced comedy, stunning animation, reminds me a lot of finding nemo. powerful & moving ending (surprisingly). can also open some discussion re: climate tolerance.

edited to add: wait you're kinda hot for that.. - 🎸

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) ★★★ Watched December 20, 2023

🐻‍❄️ says: one-time watch typa beat. peaked at the cinematography but story, script, and pacing could have been better. loses composure because of how fantastical it is. overall, just ok.

🎸 says: not much to say about this movie, but i did like the quote -- "to see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. that is the purpose of life." words to live by.

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) ★★★★★ Watched January 21, 2024

This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.

🐻‍❄️ says: can't wait to do laundry and taxes with you in this life. (:

› scroll through all my work ദ്���ി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[temiizpalace]

🎉Congrats on your milestone! 🎉Could I have idia and vil for prompt 4 pls?

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (💀 vs. 👑)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: idia shroud vs. vil schoenheit

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy

NOTES: vil and idia was such an interesting matchup i love it. tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

he should’ve just stayed in his room.

idia roamed the halls of night raven in search of you. he just had to show you his recently imported collection of pokemon merch (that somehow exists here…) and can’t wait to nerd out and explain to you why pikachu could be goku in a fight. it was exciting to find someone willing to listen besides ortho.

until..

there you were. with vil. a SUPERMODEL and SUPER ACTOR, chatting away and having a good time. suddenly any and all of idia’s confidence was blown to smithereens and now he wants to go back to his room and weep. okay, cringe over exaggeration but he wants to go back to his room. just as he thought he shuffled out of sight, you spotted him in that split second and called him over. “idia! hi!” you wave, making him flinch.

hesitantly, he outs himself from hiding and waved back. “h-hey..” he mumbles, watching as you walked over. “what’re you doing outside of your room? i was just about to visit you.” you tease, poking his shoulder. “you were?”

“yeah! me and vil wanted to ask about the new game you bought the other day. apparently he was hired as a voice actor and wanted to get into character, yknow?” you stated that calmly, too calmly. vil? voice acting a game that he plays? seriously? that’s gonna be really weird playing the game and all of a sudden hearing your classmate grunting in pain.

“indeed. any facts for this character, idia? i’ve never voice acted, so this is not in my forte.” vil asks, showing him a photo. “u-uhm.. they’re super cunning, i gues?” idia stutters, backing away slowly. normally he’d love to geek out about this topic, but today was different. he was looking for you, and wanted to geek out to you. not to vil.. “while that’s super cool and all, i think i might head out now.. [MC], see you for our gaming sesh. v-vil.. bye.” and before you could even speak, idia walked faster than he never has before.

embarrassing. so embarrassing. he could barely hold eye contact, how in the world will he ever confess? all hope is lost. the world can end here and it’ll be better than this. overreacting again, but whatever. he wants to lie in bed, cover himself in the sheets, and sulk for a little. such a baby.

☆˚∘

idia rotted away in bed the rest of the day, scrolling through magicam for any new codes he could redeem in his games. a banner pops up, the contact leading to you. hesitantly, he opens the message. stargazing later!! u should come too!11!!

he stared at the message, unable to respond. he wants to go, but also doesn’t.. aaaaaaaa why did he have to like you, it’s not fair. as much as he wants to decline, he knew you’d probably ping him a billion times til he agrees, so he’ll save himself the trouble. sure i have nothing to do later lol

and now he’s here. sitting on the hill with you and vil. gee, it’s like he’s seeing this guy everywhere. “idia, i had no idea you were joining us.” vil says, crossing his arms while looking idia up and down with a glare. intimidated. that was the word to describe idia at this moment. “[MC] invited me.. so..” he murmurs, curling up into a small ball. “cheer up idia! you’ll miss the stars if you hide like that.” you grin, keeping him from hiding his face.

you and idia’s banter couldn’t help but make vil scoff. so noisy.. it should’ve been just you and him. why’d you invite that shut-in too? he’s just going to complain the whole time, right? alas, it can’t be helped. but vil has natural charm, perhaps that’ll win you over.

the breeze begins to pick up, making you shiver. you should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t want to miss anything. your negligence has costed you. “cold?” vil asks, watching as you covered your arms with your hands. “a little, but i should be fine.” you reassure him, waving it off like it’s nothing.

“y-you can wear my jacket..” idia stammers, unable to look at you. “hm?” you raise your brow, looking to the boy on your right. his face was flushed red, the tips of his hair slightly pink from embarrassment. “here.” he offers you his jacket, the one that looks ever so comfortable and extremely warm. the one he never lets go of, in your hands. “you mean it?” you ask in disbelief, staring at him as he hid himself further.

“just take it..” just as you were about to put it on, a coat drapes over your shoulders, the warmth catching you off guard. “what kind of gentlemen would i be if i let my dear friend freeze?” vil smirks, looking at idia with a shit-eating grin. “i insist you take your jacket back idia, wouldn’t want to get sick now.”

idia frowns at vil’s pettiness, suddenly feeling very competitive. “woah woah, hang on, wouldn’t want superstar vil schoenheit to get sick because of me. you should take your coat back so you don’t get frostbite.” idia states, taking the coat off you and back into vil’s arms. “please, there are filming conditions in colder weather.” vil scoffs. “should see my room in the summer months.” idia retorts.

“uhm.. guys?” you cut in, breaking their focus. “i can just run back to ramshackle really quickly..! don’t worry about it, stay here.” you get up, rushing down the hill. the silence became deafening, not even the trees rustling broke their awkward tension. refusing to face one another, they stare up at the starry sky. shooting stars begin to fly by, one by one, a never ending stream.

gazing upon it, they shut their eyes and make a wish.

he’ll marry you, and cut that other guy completely out of the picture.

they wished as they glare at each other discreetly.

A/N: shorter than others because i ran out of ideas euheuheueh

date published: 9/2/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #24

Diavolo: I think we as a species should go back to saying “alas”

Leviathan: It’s like “yikes”… but with culture

Simeon: Yikes, poor yorick!

•

Leviathan: Guys I just realized the last supper was the first murder mystery dinner!

MC: My Roman Catholic parents did not find this as funny and thought provoking as I did

•

Solomon: I will cast a spell to make you have a good day

It is done

Raphael: Burn the witch

•

Solomon: There are five frogs staring at me right now

Asmodeus: But only one can be America’s next top model

•

MC: Bone massage…I want soft bones

Thirteen: No you don’t, bitch

MC: *jiggles and flops towards you* what? Huh?

•

Asmodeus: I have HRE (Hopeless Romantic Energy)

Solomon: I have HRE (Holy Roman Empire)

Beelzebub: Hambu Rg Er

•

Luke: Um u “like classical music” but you can’t even name any 2012 one direction songs? Okay

Mammon: This post physically hurts

Leviathan: Looks like we got a fake fan here fellas

Raphael: *sighs* should we exorcise them or just simply baptise them?

Leviathan: Are you calling me fat?

•

Mammon: You know what? I like you guys

Luke: Hey thanks! Can’t say the same for you

Mammon: I will chew the legs off your chair

•

Leviathan: I can’t be trusted with a large stick

Lucifer: You simply aren’t strong enough to handle the power of the stick

Leviathan: The power of the stick corrupts my mind with thoughts of bonk

•

MC: I swear to god middle school is a terrible concept. You trap all the angriest, most hormonal teens at their angriest age in a box and let them fight to the death and then Ms. Allen, the bitch makes you learn MATH, right after you got done watching two kids shank each other in the bathroom, like I can’t focus on this is just saw to kids go gladiatorial combat in front of people pissing

Diavolo: You live in the US don’t you

MC: OBVIOUSLY

•

Leviathan: Imagine if we all just started ignoring celebrities tho

Solomon: I can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. Imagine Kylie Jenner posting a selfie n it gets 12 likes

•

Mammon: Country road

Leviathan: Let’s-a-go

Solomon: It’s-a-me

Luke: Mario

Satan: I admire and hate this simultaneously

Belphegor: Mamma miaaaaaaaa

•

Belphegor: Sometimes I think it would be beneficial to my self-growth to get lost in a cave for 7 days, surviving on moisture algae and my own thoughts until I find a dim light against the black stone and make my escape. I think I’d figure some shit out in a cave like that.

Mammon: That is WEIRDLY specific

Diavolo: I can arrange this

•

Leviathan: I don’t understand, are are you implying being trans in better than being a Kpop star?

Asmodeus: I’m not implying it, I’m saying it explicitly

Satan: This post feels like when you’re walking down a street and catch a glimpse of a conversation. What the fuck lead up to this?

•

MC: Behind every girl boss is another bigger girl boss

Leviathan: They call this a pyramid scheme I think

Mammon: I think they prefer the term MLM

Asmodeus: I think you’re thinking of wlw

Mephistopheles: Wulti level Warketing scheme

Thirteen: Good work, gals

Last • Next

[bb-eilish]

Dirty little fantasies

pairing; master!anakin skywalker x fem!padawanreader

warnings; Fantasies, pinning, corruption kink, virgin reader, dom! anakin, sub! reader, nipple play, creampie, hand kink, dirty talk, praising, degradation, cunnilingus

a/n; i’ve never written for anakin before but i love star wars and i love writing smut so here u go!

Y/n was honestly surprised she ever became a Jedi apprentice. She was much older than the younglings, but Obi-wan and his own apprentice, Anakin, pushed for her training anyway. The council questioned who would be training her, as all of the masters already had Padawan of their own. Her hopes shattered when Master Yoda pointed out the obvious fact.

She was told the force was strong within her , not sure what that meant, y/n smiled and became excited anyway.

"Master, my Padawan is surely ready for his test. He has my full confidence. He will be able to train her." Obi-wan stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed as Anakin nodded, a serious expression scorched onto his face.

The council all had similar curious and questioning looks, but nodded anyways. "Alright, we will allow it." Master Windu sighed, putting his hand up. Y/n's eyes widened and every fiber in her being felt on fire, this is the most exciting thing she's ever experienced, and it hasn't even started yet.

The three of them exited the room and immediately a hurl of thank you's and smiles gush out of her towards the men. Their faces softened as they smiled.

—————

Y/n was now an adult, though, she wasn't very young when she became an apprentice, only several years had passed. Anakin was a great Master and she felt very lucky. The way everyone talked about him was fascinating, they praised him left, right, and center. They even became closer than she expected, being closer in age than other Padawan and Master pairs made that entirely possible.

"Master, wait up. Why are your legs so long." Y/n complained as she jogged up to Anakin's side once more, she swears he can take two steps and be a mile ahead of her. He chuckles before saying, "You ask that every time we walk together." Her nose scrunches at his teasing. But at the same time, her heart skips a beat and she swallows quietly. Though, she tries her hardest to keep down the way her body practically yearns for him. The hardest part is keeping the thoughts, the oh so delicious thoughts about him, to a 0 whenever he's near. The force is amazing in so many ways but a real pain in the ass when all she wants do is day dream about him.

"Great job by the way, the mission wouldn't have gone as well as it did without you. You're becoming a considerable Jedi." He looks over at her as she thanked him. He can't help but think about how much she's grown while being under his wing. In power and physically. Anakin was no liar, he couldn't possibly deny the fact she has matured into a fully fledged woman, Padawan or not, he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. He had to push down the thoughts as well.

Anakin was fully aware of her daily thoughts. It made his day whenever he could know what she was thinking before she even entered the room. They were always innocent and random, until recently. Y/n clouded her thoughts much more, and at random times of the day and night, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, goosebumps would frost his skin and he had no idea why. The thoughts he could read were innocent in nature, but all about him. What he was wearing that day, how he decided to style his hair, certain things he said to her. His ego inflated each time and it made him even more arrogant and confident.

But alas, Jedi's were not allowed to become attached. He wondered if he needed to remind her of that, but he decided against it. Having a crush on him wasn't a crime.

—————

Anakin waited for her at her door that morning, he always does when they train at this time, which is only a few times a week. As he neared the door her thoughts became more apparent, at first she was busy with brushing her hair, then it was her tying her robes, and then they drifted off to him. He could see she was thinking about the time he had to help her untie the small knot she made in her robes. It made him smile, it was almost impossible to untie it. But his smile slowly faded as he realized her attention, unwavering, was directed to his hand. Not him untying the knot in general per say, but the way his calloused hand and metal one gripped the fabric, and how his very visible veins bulged through his skin.

He could sense how hard she focused on it, and how the thought of his hands sent her spiraling into day dreams. He was about to knock to end his spying before something caught him off guard. The waves of want that echoed from her, he could feel the stuttered deep breath she let out as she thought about his hands on her. How they would feel to prod at her most sensitive areas as he spoke downright sinful words towards her.

He felt like the air was knocked from his lungs as she thought in detail about the things he would say. The hair at the back of his neck reacted first, the goosebumps came second. "You're my prettiest girl , aren't you?" "Such a slut for me." "Use your words, angel." "You're mine, only I can make you feel like this." Anakin roughly shook his head before he breathed in and knocked on her door.

The thoughts ceased and his shoulders untensed because of it.

Y/n's door opened and there she was, smile as bright as ever as she greeted him. "Good morning, Master. A bit late aren't you?" She questioned, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand.

He mustered up a smile as well as he answered, "Apologies, I was talking with Master Yoda." He patted himself on the back for not being suspicious as he lied through his teeth.

—————

Training was different today. No doubt it was about what he had walked in on this morning, but he tried his best to act like something wasn't bothering him.

Sparring was especially different, he was acutely aware of whenever he even placed a finger on her. She didn't seem affected at this but he knew. He knew the things she wanted him to say to her, say to her when his hands memorized her body, set her skin ablaze in their wake. It had a carnal desire simmering in his gut as he gazed at her sweaty form pant from the work she was being put through. So when training ended he made his way to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face helped the heat on his skin, but not the heat starting to grow in him.

Anakin fell pray to his desires, now instead of her imagining what it would be like to be underneath him, it was him imagining what it would be like to be on top of her. Looking down to see the look in her eyes as he touched her, made her his. The sounds she'd make as he stuffed her full. The mere thought had his pants tighten significantly. Would she cry as he stretched her out? Would she beg him to keep going? Better yet, would she submit herself to him, his mercy?

He manages, somehow, to collect himself before he leaves.

"There you are, Anakin. There is a last minute mission I need you and Y/n to do" Obi-wan told him as he lead him to the holotable. "Do not let him out of your sight, we suspect he's behind Senator Amidala's assassination attempts. He knows what you both look like though, so make sure he doesn't notice you." He explained further, Anakin nodded, going into serious Jedi-Master mode.

"I won't fail you, Master."

—————

After Anakin explained the plan to her she nodded along and followed his lead to his speeder.

"He lives in-" He pauses as he points to the apartment building they both come up to. "That building, there is two doors leading out, one in the back and one in the front. I'll take the one behind it." He parks the speeder where he could get in it quickly, but isn't suspicious. "We're close enough to speak through the force, so if something happens let me know immediately."

"Yes, Master."

He nods at her before speedily walking to the other side of the small apartment building. She pulls up the hood of her robe and tries to look the least inconspicuous as she possibly can.

—————

It's been radio silence for a few hours before the front door opens to the exact alien they're here for. She quickly lets Anakin know.

She watches the alien closely, walking behind him at a distance he wouldn't find strange.

Anakin catches up to her, both the Jedis watch the supposed assassinator from afar enter a bar. "I hate bars." She groans as he drags the Padawan inside the building.

"Uh, Master. Won't our hoods be kind of out of place in here?" Y/n points out, noticing the lack of clothes everyone is wearing.

"Oh, yes. Clever thinking, Y/n." He says, narrowing his eyes in search for the alien.

They both take a seat at one of the tables, eyeing the place until Anakin spots the alien, he's at the bar, downing what seems to be his 3rd shot. He stumbles a bit trying to get off of his chair. Both Jedi watch him go down the hallway that has the bathrooms, but also the back door. So, Anakin flags you over as he gets up. "Uh, Master. Isn't he just going to the bathroom?" She questions getting close enough to the hallway to peer down it. It's empty, aside from the usual couple making out on the walls. It brings a blush to her cheeks. No sign of the alien though.

They both walk further down the hallway until they both feel the door about to be opened, so Anakin does the first thing he can think of. He pushes his Padawan against the closest wall and kisses her. Trying his best to shield both of their identities, he pushes himself further against her and puts his hands on her cheeks trying to hide her face. She gasps in his mouth and her hands can't help but grip his robes.

She's never been this close to him, the feel of his skin on hers, his hands on her, feels like a dream. His intoxicating smell already clouds her mind. But the feeling is over before she knows it, the alien has walked back into the main area again. Anakin doesn't waste a second before following him.

Y/n stands at the wall still, hand coming up to touch her lips. That was her first kiss. Her first kiss was with him.

—————

The outcome of the mission was good, they ended up catching him and Obi-wan was happy.

The next day was training again for Anakin and Y/n. This time it felt so intimate, Anakin's touch would linger far longer than needed and he found any reason to touch her. It had her head spinning by the time they were done.

It apparently didn't stop at training either, Anakin would lead her everywhere with a secure hand on her lower back. He didn't comment on it so she decided not to either, in fear of him retracting the hand.

When he wasn't near, her thoughts were even more out of hand. Now, when she met up with him she was shyer than normal. A part of him regretted the kiss, he enjoyed it but he worried it bothered her. That night he made his way to her room, he wanted to talk about it without anything hearing.

And just like last time he heard her thoughts, here he was again. This time it seemed like she was already in the middle of her fantasizing. Before he could understand what she was thinking about, he knocked on the door.

It opened, the first thing he noticed was her big doe eyes staring up at him curiously.

“Master, what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She nodded and he stepped inside.

The second he was all the way in he could feel the waves of want and desire once more, but this time they were all around him and it was hard to speak. Anakin swallowed, looking into her eyes as he began. “I wanted to apologize for what happened during the mission, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head quickly, “No No, it’s not that it made me uncomfortable. It was..” She pauses as she sits down on the edge of her bed. “It was my first kiss.” She flinches, she was always teased for not having kissed anyone while she was there.

He gulps this time, he can’t deny the feeling of pride that grew in him.

He sat beside her, contemplating his words carefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

She turns to look at him, the only light in the room shining from her small lamp on her nightstand brushed against his face, making his features soft.

“Don’t be sorry, I, um.” She stops herself before continuing, fearful of her words.

Her master eyes her, “You what?” He speaks through the force, gaze narrowing at her sputtering.

“I enjoyed it.”

They both stare at each other, his eyebrows furrow as he watches her face. Y/n watches the inner turmoil that’s present on his as a lock of his hair falls in front of his eyes. A hand comes up to her wrist, it glides upward, over her neck, and up to her cheek. It cradles her face as his resolve snaps. This kiss has purpose, he hopes she can feel it. The way their lips brush against each other is erotic and she can’t possibly hold in the small moan that’s threatening to spill.

The jedi pulls away slightly to eye her, his mouth is parted as he takes in everything she’s silently offering. His breaths fans over her face and it sets her nerves on fire.

The second kiss is full of lust and want, his gloved hand finds her hip before he decides they’re not nearly as close as he would like. The hand on her cheek slides down to her chest and gently pushes her to lay on her back, though, his lips never leave hers. He situates himself on top of her and pulls away farther than before. Gazing at her lidded eyes and soon the pout settling over her lips.

“My prettiest girl.” He sighs out, reaching up to run a nail up and down her neck.

“Master.” She begins.

“Anakin.” He corrects as the nail on her neck drifts down enough to pull her shirt away from her collarbones.

“Anakin..” She obeys, even if it feels foreign on her tongue. “I need you.”

“I know…you should really keep your thoughts to yourself yknow that, Angel?” The name has her eyes widening and a smirk gracing his face.

“How could you think I wouldn’t find out about all the dirty little fantasies you have about me?” He switches hands so his gloved one is pressed next to her shoulder on the bed keeping him upright, while the other one meets her hip again to push the fabric of her shirt upward, Anakin eyes the newly exposed skin and tugs at his lip.

“M’sorry.” She breathes as a fierce blush settles over her face.

“No need to be sorry…” He drags his blunt nails up her torso as he drags her shirt up, goosebumps tickle her flesh as a result. Even more so when he leans down to hover over her, now, exposed breasts. It doesn’t take long for her nipples to harden partly from being out in the open air, but mostly because of him.

The Padawan holds her breath as he nears the mounds of skin, it starts with dizzying kisses up the valley between them and then continues with him teasingly licking around one of her nipples. She gasps, her bottom lip caught under her front teeth harshly.

Anakin takes a full nipple into his mouth and sighs as the sounds he knew would sound so pretty, leave her. Especially the ones where she moans his name in that breathy voice of hers. Her back arches and it sends her breasts even further into his face. He removes his mouth for a moment, only to envelope the other nipple and graze his teeth ever so slightly against it, he takes in her gasps and whines and they all go straight to his ever tightening pants.

He pulls away again, this time to lean up and kiss her. Messily their lips slide together, he even experimentally brushes her lips with his tongue. But she pulls away, “What are you doing?” She asks curiously out of breath.

“Open your mouth for me, kay?” His gaze goes back and forth between her eyes to her lips as he talks.

They kiss again and he does the same thing, so, she opens her mouth. His skilled tongue licks into her unexpectedly and Y/n moves her hands to his clothed chest for stability, well, mental stability at least. Anakin then sucks her tongue rather harshly and it sends moan after moan into his mouth. He swallows all of them gladly as he feels himself become even more worked up.

He would love to keep kissing her, he honestly thinks he could do it forever, but they must keep going. She whines and chases his lips when he pulls away this time and it has his eyes darkening. The shirt she’s half wearing is thrown somewhere on the floor as he dips down to kiss her stomach, down her belly button and along the waistline of her pajama pants as he hooks his fingers along them, dragging them down slowly.

The pink underwear she’s wearing has a frilly bow on the top and he couldn’t handle it. It was like he was opening up his present on christmas, his little, angelic, present that wants nothing more than to have him degrade her. How could he possibly deny that?

“Such cute panties for someone who’s such a little slut for me. Tell me, Angel, would you let me fuck you anytime I asked? Would you let me fuck you in my speeder? On the holotable in front of everyone?” He skims his lips against the hem of her underwear once more as he eyes her like a predator.

“Yes, yes, would let you touch me wherever you wanted.” She panted out, gripping the sheets beneath her.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you?” He asks, pricking the waistband with his teeth and dragging the offending material down her legs. She couldn’t speak, the sight and the feeling left her speechless and unbelievably wet. As soon as the last of her clothing was gone the smell of her sex was utterly intoxicating, so he did the first thing he thought of. Prying her legs apart and pressing his face against her cunt. Y/n didn’t have time to worry about her being the only naked one, for that she was thankful.

Anakin truly believed he could die happily right now.

“Maker, you smell amazing. Bet you taste even better.” He practically moans into her, the vibrations send jolts of electricity up her spine and it causes her legs to almost close. But the iron grip he has on her didn’t allow for that. Even when he licked up the expanse of her heat and suckled on her clit, her thighs were begging to give out by then. The new feeling of his tongue was addicting, the way he licked into her clenching hole had her head spinning and heart pounding.

“You feeling good, Angel?” He pants against her, opening his eyes to gaze at her already fucked out form. A moan leaves her as she nods. His ungloved hand lets go of her thigh in favor of circling her cunt and pressing his fingers against her hole. She chokes out a moan at the action.

His mouth only leaves her clit to speak as he fills her up, one finger at a time.

“So tight.”

It has her clenching and he hopes he’s able to feel that around his cock. The fire consumes her from the inside out and all she can do is take it.

Y/n’s moans become louder and more frequent, that paired with the clenching she’s doing around his fingers, he assumes she’s going to come. So before she can, he sticks in another finger and scissors them inside of her, coaxing out an orgasm the best he can.

“Come for me, Y/n.”

Her limbs tense up as her eyes clamp shut, said fire is spreading through her, every finger, every fiber. The euphoric feeling is prolonged as much as possible because of his fingers and the mouth still sucking her pulsating clit.

When she comes back down he stands up, gripping his shirt and pulling it from his body. In her frazzled state, she eyes his stomach, his abs more specifically. His chest too, the way it heavily falls up and down from his deep breathing is hypnotic. His belt is pulled off, and soon he’s unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down and off. She can easily see the outline of him through his briefs and the fire that was just released in her seems to have come back.

Anakin watches her face closely as he slips down his briefs and kicks them off. Her gaze on his cock doesn’t last long he notices, her eyes fall to his hand that’s currently gliding up her calf. He can’t help but chuckle.

“You really like my hands, don’t you? Even the metal one?” He smiles at the end.

She nods shyly.

So he takes a detour, his hand comes up to her face, traces her jaw, then traces her bottom lip with his thumb. Her breathing changed almost immediately at that. He wonders something for a moment, so he trails his hand downward, ghosting over the base of her throat. She bites her lip again as he loosely grips her neck.

“So pretty with my hand around your neck. Are you ready for me, Angel?” He mumbles. She finds it hard to speak, the intense eye contact is quite distracting and intimidating.

But she finally gets out a “Yes, Anakin.” After he swats her thigh with his metal hand.

The hand around her neck doesn’t budge as he settles in between her thighs and wraps a leg around his waist. He watches his tip tap her clit and tease her until she’s whining. He can’t hold up the act for long though, he feels like he might explode if he doesn’t push inside of her soon. The initial stretch doesn’t feel good, even if Anakin is pushing in rather slow, it still has her flinching.

“It’ll feel good, Angel, don’t worry. Just wait.” He tells her, concerned. She nods in return, holding onto his waist loosely. He keeps his slow pace until he fully bottoms out, he’s sure he could come right now. Her walls latch onto him like a vice and she’s so, so, wet for him. “Fuck, Angel. So wet and tight for me.” He praises breathily.

She clenches at that and it has his brain short circuit. All he wants to do is move, move until he comes inside her, but he waits until she’s ready.

“You can m-move.”

The first experimental thrust is intoxicating for the both of them. He was right, it does feel good. Just him inside her feels good. Every vein and ridge is felt and she makes note of each and every one of them. Another thing she notes is how deep he is, she swears she can feel him in her stomach at this point.

It doesn’t take him long to set a good starting pace, one that isn’t too rough but still satisfying.

“Anakin, you feel so good.” She moans, hips absentmindedly raising to meet his thrusts. The hand around her throat becomes tighter as he groans out.

“Flip over.” He says all of a sudden, pulling out. Her reaction time isn’t very good right now so she furrows her eyebrows. Far too slow for Anakin, so he takes it upon himself to manhandle her onto her stomach. She lays flat against the bed as he forces open her legs again. This time when he pushes in, the stretch is delicious. It has her pushing her ass against him, “Already such a slut for me.” He mumbles as he hovers over her back.

One particular harsh thrust has a loud, pornographic, moan leaving her kiss-swollen lips. He narrows his eyes as his flesh hand presses into her spine, moving upward until it reaches the back of her neck. It swivels to the front, lingers over her windpipe, and drags up to her mouth, pressing firmly against her lips. So firm that her head is lifted into his shoulder as he begins to jackhammer his hips into her.

Leaning down to her ear, he begins, “Such a perfect cunt for me, Angel. Gonna fuck you any time I get the chance.” He groans, grinding into her before thrusting again. The moans leaving her vibrate his hand and he can’t help but thrust faster.

Her brain feels like goo and she hopes he doesn’t ask her anything right now. But, of course.

“Do you like my cock, Angel?” He asks as he moves his hand for her to answer. She only whines and nods, hoping that’ll suffice. But it doesn’t. He smirks as he leans in again, “Use you words.” His tone has goosebumps prickling her neck as she tries to muster up something to say.

“Mm, I- I love it, mm, Ani.” The nickname gets him where it hurts, he can feel how close he is. So, he abandons her mouth and moves his hand in between her body and the bed, circling her throbbing clit.

His metal hand grips the back of her head and pushes it into her sheets, keeping her quiet as he continues abusing her leaking cunt with his cock and fingers. Just as he begins to feel his orgasm coming even closer she babbles and moans, “Ani, I’m, oh my god.” As she clenches around him sporadically. “Good girl, come around me.” She does just that and it pushes him to the edge immediately, his hips stutter and his groans fill the room, he pushes to the hilt as he comes inside of her. Filling her up until it’s leaking out.

They both pant as he pulls out and she turns around. Anakin places a kiss on her lips, once, twice, three times before speaking, “You did so good for me, Y/n. So proud of you.”

“Thank you, Master.” She lazily smiles.

[kotaka-kun]

a (relatively short) Matt/Foggy fic rec list

@goneatlas this one's for u :-)

I have over 90 daredevil fics bookmarked at the moment, so this is by no means an exhaustive list of my favorite fics -- these are just a handful of the ones that just live rent free in my head, five plus years out from my dd/mattfoggy hyperfixation.

The Constellation of Touch by what_alchemy

19,272 words | rated E

Months after Fisk is put away, nothing's right between the partners at Nelson and Murdock. But Christmas is here, and Matt is still expected at the Nelson house.

I don't know how many times I've reread this fic over the years. It's practically canon to me at this point. The way Matt explains his senses to Foggy, and how deeply Foggy comes to understand why Matt does what he does... I love the writing and the characterization and literally everything about it. This fic truly changed my brain chemistry.

Rumble My Bones by what_alchemy

9,342 words | rated E

“Guess we’re still learning stuff about each other, huh?”

From queer gender-swapped Foggy, to the misunderstandings trope, I love everything about this fic. This fic is another one that I love the language of (I think I need to go back and read more of what_alchemy's fics bc hot damn), to the point where I think of this fic every time I see the moon in the daytime.

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames by poisonivory

9,627 words | rated E

He moves his mouth a few times, soundlessly - a sure sign that he's working out what to say and doesn't think Foggy will like it. "I, uh, I...remember how I told you I was a demon?" "That's pretty memorable," Foggy says, because, well. "I…may have neglected to tell you what kind of demon I am," Matt says. There are different kinds of demons? Matt's expression is nothing shy of abject terror, so Foggy makes a heroic effort and keeps his voice very calm. "What kind of demon are you, Matt?" Matt gulps audibly. "An incubus."

I really liked how this fic directly incorporated Matt being an incubus to his being Daredevil. Also the fact that this is in fact the kind of healing factor that Matthew Michael Murdock needs if he's going to be getting into fights with ninjas and shit.

Under the Hide of Me by poisonivory

25,213 words | rated E

When a case turns dangerous, Matt appoints himself Foggy's personal bodyguard. Foggy's not complaining - but he would like to know why Daredevil won't stop flirting with him. Not that he's complaining about that, either.

The idea of Matt compartmentalizing his interactions with Foggy when he's in the mask vs out of it is such a fun concept, and this fic is probably my favorite iteration of that. Because Matt having to be so careful about everything he does when he's "just Matt" would make him that much bolder as Daredevil, doing things he normally wouldn't do, couldn't do.

We Just Lost the Beat by knight_tracer, lady_ragnell

19,334 words | rated T

Matt hears a lot in the city at night, sirens and crime--and the late-night radio show Foggy With a Chance, which sometimes runs a Daredevil Watch if he's been particularly active, but which mostly plays music. He probably shouldn't call in and request a song, but he does it anyway.

I love AUs where Matt and Foggy didn't meet in school, but find their way to each other anyway, and the thought of Foggy still being a source of comfort and safety for Matt makes me so so soft... Not to mention the secret identities, the being neighbors, the m u s i c god I love this fic

and alas,,, I have too many favorites written by returnsandreturns so I picked my top 3 for now

The Very Special Adventures of Mikey Murcock

30,924 words | rated E (mostly)

Once upon a time, in that fuzzy space between undergrad and interning and Landman and Zack - Matt Murdock became a porn star. These are his stories.

Okay, so this one is technically not just a fic, and is in fact a series, but it's such a fun premise and I think about it often.

i'll treat you right (be mine tonight)

2,916 words | rated E

This guy’s too pretty to be picking Foggy up. If he didn’t need the money, Foggy wouldn’t take the risk that he’s a Ted Bundy type and he might end up chopped into pieces before the night’s over. Making rent this month might be worth the chance of his legacy being unnamed brutally murdered prostitute.

I know there are a good number of prostitute!Foggy fics, I just like this one a lot. It's cute and fun and Matt's a little older too, which is always fun.

waited my whole life for just one thing

4,912 words | rated E

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, faintly. “Matt, how old are you?” “Eighteen,” Matt says. “How old are you?” Eighteen. The third thought that Foggy had after an apparently teenage Matt was sitting in normal Matt’s apartment, after two emphatic what the fucks, was how he didn’t realize that Matt looked like a ridiculously hot twink at that age when he didn’t have all the scars and scruffy facial hair and jacked muscles to compare it to. There’s something about that mouth when Matt’s clean-shaven that’s just—obscene. He’s going straight to hell.

What can I say, I'm a sucker for time travel fics and age difference ships and crackfic and this is all three.

k bye

[blasphemousclaw]

personally i always interpreted the golden order greatsword as radagon wanting to keep renalla with him. the fact that its a moonlight greatsword, and how that tidbit isnt confirmed until the end of the item description, almost gives it a kind of "hiding behind the back" kind of vibe, like its a memento radagon shouldnt be holding onto but found a way to take with him anyways. given that in the queens bedchamber melina dialogue, marika refers to him as a leal hound of the order with a tone of disdain, and how he "hadnt yet become her", i personally get the vibe that radagon felt that whatever he had to sacrifice (his family, his wife, his self) for the golden order was worth it, with a kind of resigned determination ala I Wish I Didnt Have To Do This (hence marikas disdain cuz she doesnt think he HAS to, its just convenient for her plans+the schemes of the greater will)

my general impression of radagon is someone who loved renalla deeply and genuinely, and tried to take some small part of their marriage with him in the golden order greatsword, and was willing to make small steps out of line to try and keep that love present (giving renalla the amber egg with a GREAT RUNE INSIDE, one that judging by design wouldve gone to his son miquella since its similar to malenias, using the moonlight greatsword to become the golden order greatsword instead of making a new one), and someone who repeatedly tries to Do Whats Right For The World by sacrificing his own desires, and that makes the fact that all of his decisions led to heartbreak and pain in his loved ones more poignant and impactful. like hey man. you uh. didnt HAVE to drop everything to go be elden lord. didnt HAVE to leave ur family. now you cant ever get that back and its ur own damn fault buddy now ur bicon of a son is getting rly into snakekeeping and blasphemy and graffiti-ing ur Associated Symbols onto everything he feels would piss u off and ur never getting invited to radahns graduation from sellia academy of star murder. you uh. you did that buddy! you shot urself in the foot!

this is so late sorry, but yeah I really like this interpretation. like I said in my prev post I feel like Radagon forging Rennala’s marriage gift into a Golden Order greatsword can be interpreted as a way of carrying a part of her with him, even as he leaves her behind and forges ahead on his way to serve the Golden Order. Radagon has never viewed his time with Rennala with any scorn or regret; in fact, the things Rennala taught him during his time with her were very formative to his identity and beliefs:

“As the husband of Rennala of Caria, the red-haired Radagon studied sorcery, and as the husband of Queen Marika, he studied incantations. Thus did the hero aspire to be complete.”

The forging of Radagon’s greatsword kind of goes with this theme of Radagon cherishing what he had with Rennala, but ultimately deciding to move on to a greater purpose, using what he gained as Rennala’s husband as an integral part of his path forward. Perhaps even, based on the idea that Radagon “aspired to be complete,” he felt like he wasn’t a whole person, that he was missing something? That, though he loved Rennala, he couldn’t give himself fully to her? That he would leave Rennala behind if it meant getting a chance to feel whole?

Anyway, I completely agree that Radagon making the conscious decision to leave Rennala, despite having this love and respect for her, makes for a much more tragic and impactful story than Radagon not having any agency. What he did was shocking, inconceivable, and gravely disrespectful, not just to Rennala, but to all of Caria. And I think it’s almost certain that Radagon’s decision led to resentment amongst his children, sowing the seeds of their future rebellions against his Order… as Miriel says, when telling us Radagon and Rennala’s story, “You would do well to remember... Severing a vow, strongest of bonds, has consequences ever more dire". It’s just good storytelling!!!

[sugairsstuff]

Hii,

I have a request I love protective Rhys so can you do a Rhys x reader where someone insults her and Rhys gets all overprotective and angry, like how dare they insult my mate🤭

I hope you have a great day and thank u for writing it

Bye❤️

i’m sorry for taking so long to write this! i hope you enjoy my spin on the prompt <3

i’m flattered

rhysand x fem/reader

warnings: none

description: a noble has quite a lot to say regarding your appointment to high lady. as much as you’d like to do it yourself, your loving mate swoops in to put them in their place.

Coming to the Court of Nightmares to play pretend in these political dances veiled in the disguise of a party was never something you were excited about through all your immortal years of knowing Rhysand. So, naturally, you were feeling an extra weight of anxiety now that you would be attending as the High Lady of the Night Court—therefore a major piece in what was originally just Rhysand and the Court of Nightmare’s game of chess. You understood your mate morphed himself into an entirely different person as he believed that the one way to keep this imbalanced section of the Night Court under order was to keep them intimidated with the illusion of a cruel leader—for who would challenge someone who held no moral bounds?

While your mate had years—if not centuries—of practice in carefully carving this mask to wear at a ball that wasn’t even a masquerade, you had only been High Lady for two years. Before that, you kept your head low or simply did not attend the events held in this part of the court. It goes without saying that you were extremely prone to criticism, which was especially worrying in a place that was kept under control through the guise that they were not allowed to question their authority.

Alas, your lover insisted that it would be better for you to attend with him. Rhysand promised that you were safe there in his company (and that the food and drinks would be to your liking), while urging that it was better to show your face and prove that these Fae did not make you afraid than stay behind and let them mumble amongst themselves. Because, of course, this court was no longer run by only the High Lord, so now you needed to demand respect as well.

Standing in the mirror, you decide that at least it was somehow easing to be wearing such an elegant gown to the ball. With long sleeves and a deep plunge, your black dress hugs your curves and falls over your hips to the floor. You thought it was a nice touch that the ends of the long skirt are flecked in white that gave the illusion you had just waded through a pool of stars. Your hair is done up nicely as well to flaunt your neck and the silver jewels decorating it, the light piece of jewelry falling deep on your chest.

“I’m wondering if bringing you may be a mistake after all,” a familiar voice hums lovingly behind you. You whirl around from the mirror, brows furrowed as you watch your mate expectantly for an explanation.

Rhysand chuckles, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture as he pushes himself off of the doorframe he was leaning against, “You are one beautiful distraction, darling. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay focused on politics when I have the brightest star in Prythian right at my side. That’s all.”

You roll your eyes regardless of the fact you’re now sure you didn’t need to put blush on when doing your make up earlier. “Oh, yeah, cover it up, Mr. High Lord,” you huff in faux annoyance, though perhaps some real insecurity.

Rhysand was quick to notice that, and even quicker to invade your personal space by wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to his chest. “Don’t forget Mr. High Lord needs his Mrs. High Lady there,” he coos, grinning when his cheesy words evoke a sweet laugh from your lips.

You decide to change the topic rather than continue to brood over the inevitable reality of the ball you are about to be an unwanted spotlight in. “Is everyone else ready?” you ask, thinking of your friends who also are expected to be attending due to political reasons. Azriel, Cassian, and even Mor were always expected to at least show their faces.

Rhysand nods idly, clearly too distracted by you to shift his mind to be thinking about them. “They’re waiting, but I’m sure they won’t mind it if we’re a little late,” he says, grinning like a feline as he leans down over you to try and capture your lips with his. You evade Rhysand’s flirtatious attempts to seduce you by leaning back and resting your palm against his chest.

“Nuh-uh. No way am I being late to this thing,” though you pause and return his playful grin, “though if it goes well, maybe we can celebrate later. The zipper on this dress is pretty difficult to undo,” you hum.

“I’d be glad to lend a hand with that.” he winks, smiling like a fool as his boyish attitude earns yet another laugh from you.

Rhysand was a tempting sight to be seen, though. It appears as though he wanted to make you two look like dynastic royalty with the way you both are dressed, perhaps to look utterly untouchable to the rebellious crowd you are about to endure. His suit was pitch black, tailored perfectly to hug his V-shaped waist and embroidered with deep purple lacing at its hems. His sleek black hair is pushed back with what you assume is gel, though either by Rhysand’s doing or its own failure some of raven strands had fallen down over his forehead. You couldn’t help but make the allusion of you being the stars and him being the milky way.

“Alright, let’s go before you get too carried away,” you insist. And with that, Rhysand pulls you closer to him and winnows you to where your friends wait—some more impatiently, as Azriel stands with his arms crossed and an accusing expression at the two of you for being late.

By the time you arrive in the Court of Nightmares, you realize the party wasn’t starting without Rhysand and you. The throne room was done up extravagantly to meet the expectations of the High Fae citizens of Hewn City, the pure silver decorations a stark contrast to the deep, shiny ebony that the room was etched from.

Beautiful faces all around the room turn to watch you and your mate enter, their drinks idle in their hands and their conversations paused so that they can get a good look at the new High Lady. You swallow, keeping your chin up and moving on to the main floor alongside your mate. The back of Rhysand’s hand brushes yours, and when you turn to look up at him you see that he’s offering you his arm. You link your elbow with his, allowing him to lead you the rest of the way into the parted crowds.

When the pair of you begin to near the dais, you see only one throne sits at the centre of it. Rhysand seems to have this planned, though, as he gently guides you away and lets go of your elbow once you reach a small cluster of nobles. Of course, it all came down to symbolism and perception, because rulers who are supposed to be equals should have their own thrones to sit, and holding on to you when not walking would be seen as more controlling than chivalrous.

“High Lord, it’s been quite some time since you’ve visited,” one of the Fae spoke. Her features were sharp and dark, brought out by her even darker makeup. To your surprise, she turns to look at you, “And you’re not alone. You must be our new High Lady, I’ve never seen you at any of the parties here.” the nameless female hums, her gaze dragging down along you. You can see in her brown eyes she finds nothing to criticize as she releases a small ‘hmph’ of both disappointment and approval.

“Yes, I am. I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to visit Hewn City properly.” you respond, offering a small, neutral smile. You decided that maybe if you treat these people politely, and not allow any snide remarks to outwardly anger you, they would see you as immune to their judgment and would back down.

The female raises her brow. Rhysand later would tell you her name is Emelia, daughter of a family known for trades. But when you glance to your side, you realize your mate has been pulled aside with Mor in what looks like an unpleasant conversation with Keir, the steward of Hewn City.

Emelia decides to strike while you’re alone, having no respect for someone who, technically, wasn’t her direct authority, “Well, that makes it sounds like you weren’t allowed to visit the Court. Why, does your High Lord keep you at arm’s length?” she drawls, sipping her golden-flaked wine in a weak attempt to hide her triumphant smirk.

Your back straightens, stunned for only a moment at her implication. “Well, it’s just a little difficult finding free time to revel so often when there are duties I must see to for the Night Court as a whole. I’m not sure if you will understand, however, considering how many of these occasions you’ve mentioned you spend your time going to.” you quip, quickly realizing that being nice and courteous to people wouldn’t work, and that Rhysand was unfortunately right to maintain equilibrium in Hewn City through intimidation.

You leave Emelia fuming in your wake, not bidding her a farewell as you head to Rhysand who now converses with Keir alone. Your mate looks relieved when he sees you coming, moving like a wisp in your black dress across the ebony throne room. The male to his left, however, looks less than pleased to see you coming in contrast.

“Keir,” you greet as Rhysand bends to kiss your cheek in loving greeting.

Keir only says your name in return before looking to Rhysand. “Well, that’s all from me, enjoy your fun, Rhysand.” he says, sending a scrutinizing look your way before departing.

Your mate lets him go without the satisfaction of a response. Rhysand sighs, turning to face you and reaching a hand to adjust the positioning of your necklace. His hand brushes against your collarbone as you meet his eyes. “Was she giving you trouble?” he says, recalling that he had to leave you with Emelia, “I felt some tension on your end of the bond,” he murmurs, careful of the level of his voice due to the room being full of prying, pointy ears.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assure him, taking your turn to do some adjusting by straightening the sculpted fabric of his overcoat. You thought you had managed yourself well with Emelia, who you assume was somewhere between a jealous young female to another rebellious citizen spewing the opinions fed to her by others, and your confidence began to return until you and Rhysand were silent enough for a conversation to reach your ears.

“Look at her. Dressed like a queen and yet she does nothing for the Night Court,” a male voice scoffed. You hear female and male voices laughing almost forcefully in adoration. The male continues, his voice only slightly muffled from the crowd and the distant music, “All I’m saying is, I don’t even work in politics and I could probably do a better job than her.”

After some more irritating cackling, a female voice pipes in, “The dress is tacky, anyway.”

With your heart in your stomach, you don’t even have the chance to look around and locate the owners of these voices as you notice your mate has already walked the few feet over to the small group near the edge of the throne room.

You worry that following after your mate and standing there as he, you assume, chides the yapping male, you make your way to the nearby refreshment table. Azriel thankfully stands there, who seems to be avidly trying to blend into the wall in order to avoid conversing with the unpleasant guests.

“Pretend we’re having a conversation. I’m eavesdropping.” you tell him once you arrive, and Azriel responds with a joking ‘yes, ma’am’ as you become another one of the pointy-eared eavesdroppers.

“Cielo,” you hear Rhysand drawl, a wicked grin on his face as he inserts himself into their conversation. Satisfaction begins to lift your heart back into place as the group’s laughter comes to an abrupt halt.

“Are you implying you think you’d be a better High Lady for me?” Rhysand hums, brow raising at Cielo, who now looks stiff with embarrassment. “Really, I had no idea you harboured such feelings for me, I’m truly flattered.” Rhysand continues just enough so that Cielo’s friends have turned their amusement to their rather humiliated looking pal.

Rhysand takes a step forward, a few inches taller than the glaring male. “I’d hate to break your heart, but if you ever speak about your High Lady and my mate in such a disgusting manner again, I will make an example out of you as to exactly what the punishment is for disrespecting your authority.” and just as his friends began to snicker, Rhysand’s sharp violet gaze turns to them. “And that goes for all of you,” he snaps. Rhysand stalks away, leaving the small crowd of Fae in silence as he finds you next to Azriel.

“You know,” you say cheekily, “I could’ve handled that, too.”

Rhysand sighs as he takes a glass of wine from the table, likely wanting some alcohol to stroke away the flames of his temper. “I know, darling. Sorry for beating you to it, I just couldn’t stand by and listen to them spit bullshit like that.” he scoffs. You can’t be bothered to be mad—too busy gleaming in triumph and pride over your love’s protectiveness.

“Well, I think they learned their lesson,” you giggle, glancing to the group who now watch you and Rhysand in weariness rather than entitlement.

“Good. If they can’t appreciate what you do for them, they could at least keep their mouths shut.” he hisses. You rest your hand on Rhysand’s elbow to bring his attention back to you.

“Why don’t we dance? That way, no one can judge us for not speaking to anyone.” you suggest.

Rhysand takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I like the sound of that.” he agrees.

After a night full of dancing and more inevitable political conversations, you and Rhysand winnow back to the House of Wind as you call it a night. You find yourself standing in front of your long mirror, trying to reach back to undo the finicky zipper of your dress. You see Rhysand take a step closer to you in the mirror and feel as his hands snake into place on each side of your waist.

“So, how about that celebrating?” he grins to your reflection.

[spikesbunny]

Anonymous asked:

i luv’d ur milf/ mommy kink arle could u do one w her fucking us on ur strap i cant stop thinking abt it ily

♥︎ MON CHÉRI ♥︎

+ warnings: wlw smut! cock warming, semi-public sex (you're in arle's office), nipple play, marking/biting

+ ft: arle x fem reader

+ wc: 0.4k

+ note: ilyt anon!!! arle + a strap is such a powerful combination, like shit would make me bust instantly omfg

reposting from @/roronoaism, all content is mine!!

nsfw utc... minors + men dni!!!

this was pure torture.

arlecchino had you seated fully on her strap, pretty cunt suckling at the silicone. you wanted her deeply, had the urge to just grind down against it.

but no, she wouldn't let you. her hands held you down onto the strap, crimson lips biting at your neck.

"not yet, darlin'. you can wait a bit more, can't you?" she whispers, your skin between her teeth as she leaves little bites and hickies across your shoulders.

it was so unfair.

your skirt was hitched up, panties tugged to the side, with your shirt and bra discarded somewhere on the office floor. meanwhile, your girlfriend sat, fully clothed, strap wrapped around her hips and angled so deliciously in you, brushing right where you wanted.

"please," you whimper. "now can i?"

you're answered with a delicate twist of your nipple. "no, not yet, but soon, mkay?"

you whine in response, she was just being so cruel. you'd been behaving!

but alas, your request was not followed. and so you waited, letting arle bit, suck and mark your skin, an occasional moan slipping past your lips as her hands groped at your breast.

one of her slender fingers find their way to your lips, a silent 'hush'. "they could hear you, mon chéri, you mustn't give us away."

you nod, complying, letting her relentlessly tease you.

and finally, she gives you what you desperately had seeked, lifting your hips and slamming you down on her strap. you whimper, the sudden motion too much, mixing with how it was angled just right to hit that spongey spot within.

her free hand comes up to cover your mouth, as her lips descend down to your left breast, tenderly taking it into her lips and sucking.

arle's hips continue ramming up into you, lips alternating between each breast every so often.

you were so close, your climax threatening to hit any moment now. arle was aware, she could tell by the way your breathing quickened, the way your hips chased after hers.

she picks up the pace, hips rolling into yours as if it was the last time she'd fuck you, quick and needy.

"come on darlin, cum for me" she whispers, breathlessly against your chest, continuing to pamper the skin in kisses.

between her words and her thrust, you're seeing stars, creaming around her strap so gorgeously, a little ring left around the base as she helps you ride out your orgasm.

her crimson lips press a kiss against your head, praising you softly. "hmm, how about we do this again, mm? you seemed to like it, desperately suckin me in?"

you blush, nodding. how could you not indulge her again??

©2024 spikesbunny - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[leeyanyanyaaan]

Kayn x Graffiti Artist!Reader

16 / 11 / 2023

hi hi~ welcome to the start of my heartsteel x headcanon series "creatively charmed"! sorry, i cant think of a better title atm LOL anyways, this is gonna be a series of the heartsteel band with a lover who's got a creative side to them XD that's all, hope you enjoy! next up will be sett ^-^

Started with another one of days where Kayn decided to go out and wreak havoc by vandalizing everything LOL

When he does he often comes across a lot of grafitti art, this one in particular has a certain style to it

He always lets out a little chuckle when he sees it.

Now, as a fellow artist himself, he is respectful enough to not ruin that person's art, but he does his own grafitti nearby. For him it always includes his HEARTSTEEL icon and if he's feeling good then some song lyrics or a joke

This time, it was shortly after HEARTSTEEL's debut MV released, so when he left to do his usual vandalizing, he wrote "two sides to a story but they never tell my side" with a bunch of doodles. He was particularly proud of this piece, so he was planning to continue working on it the next day

What he didn't expect, however, was for someone to continue the lyrics, with "never been the kinda guy to stay inside the guidelines" written underneath, as well as some art of Kayn's scenes and even a headshot drawing of him from their single's thumbnail

Kayn was surprised and amazed to see it, and broke out into an excited shit-eating grin once he saw the artist's signature that he saw in all their other pieces

"So, looks like I captured this person's heart too. Ever the popular star I am, no?"

And so, he continued the lyrics to his verse, secretly hoping this grafitti artist will continue it again.

Which they did, and gradually, that specific wall gradually filled up with PARANOIA's lyrics from their gradual exchange, even with additional doodles of the other members, Ernest and Rhaast, and some of the funny scenes of the MV

Even mini conversations started with side comments on each others drawings, for example:

"This dog -> true MVP of HEARTSTEEL"

"The dog in the MV? His name's Ernest. (But Kayn is the real MVP)"

"LOL u come up w that name? I can see it tho ngl"

Oh right, this person doesn't know this is THE Kayn Shieda they're talking to

Anyways, this exchange made Kayn excited to come back every time (even his bandmates questioned why he goes out every night looking all excited)

Same with Rhaast actually LOL, but Kayn doesn't let him because he knows how crazy he gets when it comes to vandalizing

"I WANT A TURNNN KAYNNN" "No! I don't need you drawing 100 dicks on the wall again!" "THAT'S HOW MUCH OF A DICKHEAD YOU AREE-"

But alas, all good things must come to an end, after... 2 months, I guess? They had finished writing all the lyrics of the song and the whole wall was full of just HEARTSTEEL PARANOIA. Okay, so that's the end of it then.

Until a paper plane hit the top of Kayn's head. Annoyed, Kayn immediately lifted his head up to the direction it was thrown, yapping angrily at whoever had the fucking audacity to do that

Just as he was about to crumple the plane, he noticed writing on one of its wings, "read me!" Raising a brow curiously, he opened up the paperplane, where it revealed a username with a discord logo drawn next to it, along with your artist signature :)

I love how writing for Kayn gives me the free reign to swear AHAHAHDJSN

[capesch-arts]

You can't just mention kiy and joy meeting in person for the first time and not talk more about it. Please can u describe it more, it's all I can think about now 😭

Welp I was planning a comic on it but lost interest because I had to design Joy's dumbass Uncle lol. But, here's the drabble I have in my mind!

...

Death comes for us all, mainly for us humans. It's not about what's waiting for us after death though, it's what happens following it. How do we welcome death? And how would we be remembered? Statues were always such a marvelous piece of legacy. Well respected men immortalised on a piece of stone for all to admire, as if we're meeting them ourselves. It's intimate, in a way.

Arthur Lester... Oh, Arthur. Lester. An honourable end would have waited for you. Our King was so eager to welcome you to his embrace and finally allow you to be who you are meant to be! A musician! But, alas. Now as we wait for my brothers and sisters of the Yellow Sign to bring your handsome corpse, your final resting pedestal sits coldly while I draw your final bath. Consider it a final baptism, as your sins upon our King washes away, your flesh will turn to sparkling white marble. And of course I shall ensure you would dress your best! I'm sure your partner and daughter would want to know what happened for the last decade you left them. Nevertheless, you were a worthy adversary for us. Such a shame, such a shame you could not be converted.

Now, I wonder how I should dress you for this? Formal? Oh or biblical! The iro-

"What's taking them so long?!" Ah, I forgot the rat- I mean my uncle is here.

"Please complain louder, dear uncle. I could almost hear myself think".

"What if he's not dead? What if he slipped from us and-"

"He was ripe for harvest. Practically in the hand of our god. Do you doubt our lord?"

"N-no! Of course not!"

"Then there's nothing to worry about..."

The door opened. Finally, they've... Ah.

It was him. Arthur Lester, no doubt, but what moves him wasn't the soul of his body. Something... Someone more divine.

He entered, sluggishly, steps uneven, of course he would. He never stepped foot into our reality after all. But, oh my. I could feel it. I could HEAR it. So... Grandeur... The fool WISHES he could hear his music.

Speaking of,

"impossible! Ar- Arthur Lester!" Said the fool.

I raise my hand, "Uncle... Kneel".

"What?"

"Uncle. Kneel." I say, again.

A beat. We all felt it. Our King in his new vessel. No words need to be spoken. We knelt, and his presence fills the entire room.

My Joy... He said.

My Joy... Again, he said now with a sweet rumble.

With hands that are now his, he held my head by my cheeks and turned it up to him. I could SEE him. Past the human face he has claimed, past the pitch black eyes and beyond. I. SEE. HIM.

"My King..."

The yellow of his cloak fills the room and shadows fall behind him to show his vastness. Golden tendrils move about, reaching towards all his followers, caressing them, touching their minds. And his face. Oh his FACE... Though his face was made of pure white mask split, it was so beautiful... Thousands of eyes bright as gold with black cross irises replaced that section of his mask that was lost, like golden stars upon the night sky.

I could faint. Or die. If he were to take my life right now, I would be overjoyed. Perhaps he knew it, because he kissed my forehead and pulled me to his chest into an embrace. I leaned on his tender touches, and heard him whisper,

You're so beautiful, my Joy. So beautiful, so beautiful, and you're mine. You're mine and you're in my arms, finally. You deserve a reward...

"I need no reward, my lord. To serve you is a reward itself..."

So shall it be, then. My artist. I want to see you, create.

"My tools, my stones, I'll fetch them right-"

You have what you need here... Isn't that right, Donovan Joy?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, poor old fool.

"I-I... My lord? I don't understand...". The fool sputtered.

That pedestal looks empty, don't you think? Go to the water, and JUMP, Donovan Joy.

There is a baptism after all this evening, but instead of a heretic that refused The King in Yellow's grace, it was the old conniving fool who thought the work of The Artists of the Yellow Sign was something of monetary value. What use of The King for one who cares little for the arts? None. Now, I have a new marble statue to work on, to sculpt and chisel to my heart's content. Perhaps you're finally worth something dear uncle. And my King is finally able to see my hands work with his very eyes.

[kairiscorner]

have any headcanons for a jealous oikawa? pls and thank u!!

OMG SUREEEEE oikawa is one of my biggest kins, SO I HOPE I WROTE THIS RIGHT EKENHSOANDHSLNSJSLS I HOPE U LIKE IT BOOOOOOO 💞💞💞

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ jealous tooru oikawa headcanons.

him? jealous? hah! you wish.

...well, okay, that's something he'd think whenever it's pointed out to him that he's constantly looking tour way whenever you're in the same room as him, or that he keeps asking iwaizumi the most random questions about you.

he insists he's just curious, that it's nothing serious anyway, because what does "the great king" of seijoh even wanna do with someone as ordinary, someone who easily blends into the crowd like you? well... everything, really.

he might not look like the type, but he can't help but look your way and try to see just why you're giving all these other players your attention, why you're laughing at their jokes, helping them cool off after practice (even though he was the star player the whole time), and why he could never get that special treatment out of you.

sure, he was a little bit of a prick–with his charismatic attitude and soft looks, his snarky and sarcastic attitude did make you dislike him a bit–but he couldn't get it across to you just how much he really likes you, and it's so frustrating to him how you can't take his true feelings for you seriously.

he would always call to you with his signature sing-songy call, 'yaho~' and smile at you, tell you that you better be watching–because this killer serve is for you, them winning this match is for you, but alas, your attention is towards somebody insignificant, so much less known and important as one of the greatest setters in this generation.

it angers him to no end how some randos can have your attention, while he has to work his flat ass even harder than any of them just to have you look his way for even a second.

iwaizumi is sick of hearing oikawa complain every time they're by the benches, in the locker room, in between breaks, or going home together about how you can't even find it in yourself to look his way, when he's been yearning for you all this time–ever since middle school!

"seriously... how much better do i have to make myself for them to like me?" he asks himself all the time when he's thinking out loud; maybe if he would be a little more genuine with his words, a little sweeter, a little less of a prick... maybe he would stand a chance to be with you?

well, if only he knew just how to make the person who makes him believe in himself a little bit more than he used to see just how grateful he is for you merely existing... he'd do any and everything to make you see how wonderful you are–and to have your attention for more than a second, because you are the reason he keeps going, not just in volleyball, but for everything he does.

[cyberball]

cair paravel

caspian x reader / no pronouns used / not rq

warnings: a couple swears, physical touch (as in not 18+ but still), mention of the word 'dress' but you can interpret that as any type of dress really

summary: you decide to reminisce on a select few memories of the beach at cair paraval in your room, one morning.

genre: yes it is fluffy but there's some slow burn/yearning thing going on, allusion to a modern!au in narnia, although u can assume it’s the same

notes: cyberball comeback! *crickets* anyway this is my highest word count thus far. ben barnes is actually fatal cuz now I'm obsessed with a character from my CHILDHOOD who I completely forgot even existed. alas, here we are, because caspian is a very very close second to Leo valdez, and I'm head over heels for that man. all this is to say, this will probably not be the last caspian fic and who knows, maybe I'll figure sth out for peter n ed as well!!! anyway enjoy i hope u like it / edit: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I MISSPELLED THE FIC TITLE

11:03 | 2896 words

11:45 AM

The spring breeze brushes against your face, and your eyes close in appreciation. From your balcony, the beach of Cair Paraval looks stunning; clear blue waters and a high tide to match. You let your thoughts linger on all the nights you’ve spent on said beach with a certain king of Narnia. You almost get up to try to find him, but you sit back down, realizing he must be busy. Your memories will have to sustain you for now.

4:23 AM – 1 month ago

Caspian’s hand came up to brush his hair out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that night – the sea breeze was relentless. You silently laughed at his efforts, as he leaned back into you, having given up on trying to tame his hair. His tall frame had somehow managed to sit snugly in between your legs, Caspian’s head resting on your chest. You were leaning against an enormous oak tree, the leaves swaying in tandem with the wind.

“Get up, you big goof,” you said, rolling your nightshirt’s sleeves up, determined to help him with his hair. He looked back at you for just a second before obeying your command. You loved his hair either way but you could tell it was annoying him right about now.

“What, you don’t like the unruly look my hair has taken on?” He asked, sitting up properly. You shook your head in amusement and looked away under his glance, pretending to look around for the clip you always kept on you, in case a predicament like this arose.

You gathered a little of his hair and tied it in place with the clip, letting a few pieces in the front fall out. The half-up-half-down look was his and your favorite.

He rested his head back onto your shoulder, looking ahead, the two of you still sitting. You had a ritual wherein you took one night each week to watch the sunrise. Now, even as the sun slowly woke up, the Narnian night sky glittered with tens of stars, and you wished you could look into his eyes. The black always reflected the light perfectly.

You two had been dating for about 2 weeks now. Caspian was your best friend and the person you trusted the most. Back when all you could think of on nights like these was your imagination of what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, looking into his eyes was a gesture far too intimate for two friends to share.

But now that it was a reality, you moved him off your shoulder and moved forward, so now you were facing him. On instinct, he picked you up by your thighs and placed you on his lap. Giggling, you took his stubble-covered face in your hands. After staring into your eyes for a length of time most people would find uncomfortable, he looked up at the sky. And there it was; the sky condensed into his eyes. He looked back up at you, and you couldn’t help but kiss him. You wondered how you ever lived without knowing the taste of his lips.

5:09 PM – 3 months ago

The sun filtered through your hair as you managed to push through it. It was setting, and the horizon looked particularly capturing today; pink and orange clouds shielding its light. Speaking of the sun, unbeknownst to you, yours had come up behind the spot you had claimed on the sand. Placing a kiss on your head – and consequently making butterflies fly around in your stomach – Caspian took the place next to you, as he often did.

More often, he’d only made rare appearances in your solitude, as the mantle of being king had taken its toll on his free time. You had found yourself reminiscing on the time when every other free second you both had, you would spend with each other. You would train together as well, and while that hadn’t necessarily stopped, he had significantly less time to do so. So you missed it, and you missed the close contact, where you could pass off the hitched breaths and stuttering glances as something other than what they were.

Caspian was your best friend. Nothing more, although you found yourself coveting the same. You don’t quite remember when it changed; when the way you looked at him turned from friendly appreciation to lingering on his smile. You felt that maybe he felt the same when he’d make you laugh and then drink in your reaction; when you showed him a new dress and his gaze lingered on you for far more time than was needed to look at the dress; when, a few days ago, you were playing with his hair, as you often did, and he unabashedly stared at your lips; and even now, when he kissed your head and instinctually rested his hand on yours. His thumb caressed your palm, and you had to physically restrain yourself from melting onto the beach.

At least then you could be washed away with the sea. You could feel his gaze on you. “What, idiot?” You asked him, not turning to look at him, a playful smile playing on your lips. “That’s no way to address your king,” he replied smoothly with a smirk of his own. You wanted to wipe it right off his stupid, pretty face.

As happy as you were with his presence next to you, you didn’t forget how your getaways to the beach were much frequent just you now instead of you both. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” you muttered sarcastically. You winced as his face fell at your tone, immediately regretting your words, knowing how he literally had no time for anything other than his duties. You couldn’t be mad at him for that. He beat you to the apology, “I am sorry. I know I have seen you less and less these past few weeks, and it’s not an excuse, merely a reason, but my work as king has taken up most if not all my time. Regardless, I could have made time for you. Aslan knows you’re much more important to me than anything else,” he spoke the last words under his breath, but you caught them.

You both had talked about this before – how much you meant to each other – but every time he brought it up, your heart beat just a little bit faster. “Cas, don’t be sorry. I know you’re busy and it’s selfish of me to be mad at you for that. I’m sorry,” you replied, looking away. “You’re not being selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know. You’ve done nothing wrong here,” he said softly, pushing your hair behind your ears. A hue of red dusted your cheeks at the gesture and you smiled up at him, “It’s okay, Cas,” you assured him and noticed his eyes crinkling at the nickname, “Just promise to meet me whenever you can,” you said, playing with his fingers. “Yes, I know, I will use all my free time on you. You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, a glint in his eyes. You laughed amusedly, “You’re a good king, you know,” and he searched your eyes for any sign of a lie. He didn’t find it, even behind your teasing tone. “Just because I dedicated my free time to you?” he questioned and you pretended to think, “Hmm… yes.” Laughing

, you rested your head on his shoulder. You were happy to have him, even if your affections could only be as intimate as best friends.

2:58 AM – 2 months ago

You had just made a particularly hilarious joke, and Caspian had been laughing about it for what seemed like ages. “My god, calm down,” you managed to say through your own laughter, and he silently brought his forehead down to your shoulder, his own shoulders shaking from laughter.

After finally calming down, he said, “Never do that again,” a smile still brilliant on his face, despite the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds. “What, never make you laugh again?” you grinned, sucking your teeth, “sounds like a challenge to me. I’m too funny,” you joked, running your hand through your hair. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Caspian roll his eyes at you, and you wordlessly shoved him for it.

“That cloud looks like your hair in the morning,” you pointed out, gesturing to a cloud by the sea line. Caspian looked at you with an unamused face, “Ha-ha. Very funny,” he replied deadpan, but a grin eventually broke out on his face.

A long, comfortable silence stretched out between the two of you. You carefully rested your head on his shoulder and tried to take this for what it was: two friends enjoying each other’s company, and not letting your thoughts wander to a hope where maybe, someday, you could be more than that. Because it could never be. Caspian did a great job of reminding you of the fact when he piped up, “Today was sort of terrible,” and in response, you looked up at him through your lashes, beckoning him to continue. “The court is back at it with the marriage proposals and potential alliances,” he explained, and your heart dropped.

Oh. “Any of the potential matches interest you?” you questioned, silently hoping the answer was no. Regardless, you braced yourself for the impact, but he replied, very softly, might one add, “No,” and ran a hand through his hair. “Really?” you asked in an unamused tone, “none of them?” you were a tad bit eager to know his true feelings. So he pointed it out, “Desperate, are we? Why do you want to see me married off so quickly?” he asked, a smirk playing on his annoyingly pretty face. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes that you didn’t quite catch, however.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” you teased, “Curse me for wanting to see my king happy,” and rolled your eyes. “And anyway, it’s quite the opposite,” you muttered under your breath, sure that he wouldn’t hear it, but he did.

Fuck. He understood what you meant by it as well; he always did, and now he looked at you with something newfound in his eyes. Shit.

Silence. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“That is the last thing that would make me happy,” he finally spoke, and you silently sent up a prayer to whichever god let him ignore whatever you had said.

“And what would?” you asked, a teasing tone in your voice, but you both knew you genuinely wanted to know. Were you a possibility?

He didn’t reply. You chuckled softly and slightly shoved him, “What? I asked you something,” you said, still giggling. Your laughter had brought a smile to his face and you wanted to evaporate.

He took one of your hands and started absentmindedly playing with your fingers, as he often did. “I just… it’s a little funny to me how many times I’ve asked you that same question and you’ve not responded,” he confessed, black eyes staring you down, and then moving away when you hesitated in responding. “We tell each other everything,” a pause, “Right?” he asked, and hundreds of unsaid feelings poured into the small gap between you two, which he was slowly but surely closing. All the while his hands were still on yours, and you wondered if this was it. The day you finally get to call him yours, or the day you part ways.

“Caspian…” was all you managed, a little choked. Had his face always been so close to yours? You swore you could feel the beat of his eyelashes on your face, which was no doubt painted deep red right about now. It didn’t matter, because so was his.

You never knew eyes could speak like this – albeit, Caspian’s had always been able to, but never to this degree – begging, desperation, and hope, all in just two pupils. You literally were choked now; words had left you. You always told him, in matters of romance, you would never be able to make the first move. He had always laughed at that, the irony of you being such a bold and fearless person, yet being afraid of showing vulnerability like this. Although he himself could never chide you about that; both of you knew his stubbornness, especially in affairs of the heart.

He was not a daft man. A little oblivious, sure, but he knew the way you looked at him. You hadn’t tried to hide it either; in some masochistic way, even though you had your doubts about his feelings, you still wore yours on your face. You regretted it sometimes, when if he ended up listening to his court one day, then you would feel like a fool for putting your heart out on the line.

But so had he. Later on, you would realize that you were much more oblivious than him. He had half the decency to never completely assume that you were interested in him romantically, but he knew you. And you knew him.

So it made sense now to you. His lingering glances, especially those on your lips; the forehead kisses, which he had started a long time ago before you thought of him this way – however, they had grown much more frequent and much less chaste; and, oh. The words he said to you just a couple of days ago, lounging in his bed, your head in his lap, when you had joked about him being in love with you, “I’m not going to deny it.” You knew when he was joking. This was not such an instance, even though, immediately after, he tried to play it off as such. You knew it. Why hadn’t you said something?

Your name fell from his lips now, once more, a silent plea.

His lips ghosted over yours once more. You closed your eyes briefly, as you did when in a predicament, and exhaled hard.

Caspian sent up a prayer to whichever god would take it and made to connect your lips. You met him halfway.

You remember the first kiss like the back of your hand. You just about whimpered when his taste reached your tongue; the taste of the chocolate you both had snuck just a few minutes earlier was fresh on his lips. His rather large hands steadied you by your waist, and you still felt like crumbling by his touch.

A few seconds later, you pulled away reluctantly, out of breath. His eyes slowly fluttered open and his face was redder than you had ever seen it. You grinned and pecked his lips once more, and he felt your smile on him. It wasn’t a feeling he thought he’d ever experience.

Giddy, he mirrored your smile and kissed you harder than the last time.

“I knew you had a thing for me,” you said, right after he pulled away, breathless and smiling. “I’m not going to deny it,” he gloated, and you rested your forehead on his shoulder, laughing.

You were going to deal with the court some other day. It was just you and him right now.

11:56 AM – Present time

“Enjoying the weather, my love?” Caspian’s voice sounds out as his arms wrap around your torso. You slightly crane your head to look at him, shamelessly staring at his frame; simple white button-up, black pants. A rather handsome look on him.

“Your pick-up lines have always been terrible,” you remark, turning your head back around, a smirk on your face.

“And yet you were just checking me out,” he shoots back, resting his chin on the top of your head. You roll your eyes in response. “Checkmate?” he teases.

“Whatever. You can hardly blame me when you look this good,” you respond smoothly, turning around to face him while raising a hand to play with the ends of his hair.

“Have you seen yourself?” he says comfortably. His hands are resting easy on your hips and his gaze is on you, focused like you hung the stars in the sky. He always looks at you like this.

You shake your head, silently laughing, and crane your head to look out at the waters. It’s true that no one loves the sea quite like Caspian does, but that’s the very reason you appreciate it. His eyes light up when he talks of his adventures and voyages. Interestingly enough, there have only been two instances when the joie de vivre shines in his eyes; once when he thinks of the sea, and twice when he thinks of you. You’ve noticed it. The thought gets you giddy each time.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you. He places a kiss on your head and leans down to kiss your lips. Every time he does, it feels like the first time. Your eyes flutter close, and you notice something more in the way his lips move against yours. A message.

And then you realize.

Three words.

He pulls away, exhaling softly. A pause.

“I love you,” he says, your name on his lips like it always belonged there.

You waste no time. “I love you too, Caspian,” and he grins.

You mean it. And Aslan knows he means it too.

tagging: @noorie101 @padfootagain (one of my fav cas writers <3) — if u wanna be tagged please send in an ask!

[kabukiaku]

Terzo? :3c

Ohhh terzito 💜 Character Ask Game

How I feel about this character

Where do I even start. He's my muse. My little Ken/Barbie doll. He's my favorite Papa besides Secondo. I want to steal his gender I want to BE HIM I love his style, his stage persona his HAIR oh my god his HAIR . I adore this flamboyant, silly, and sexy man. this man sexy!!!!! and he KNOWS IT. It's such a shame I wasn't around to see him in concert. He truly brought on a fresh feeling to ghost shows. He brought entertainment, sinful and humorous all the way. I absolutely love the art deco direction of Meliora, on the critique of mankind, the rich/corrupt, and blindly following an oppressive religion. like my mans was PREACHING LET HIM COOK!!!!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

ah gee. I wonder who....I mean I guess if we gotta choose someone-

It's Omega. It's so very much Omega. Those two are the star crossed lovers that scratches my brain in such ways I haven't experienced since my transformers days with my ol' Jazzmax ship. I've become so positively delusional for them. I wish them happiness and lots of pleasure. God they make me so happy.

Then I guess I also ship Terzo/Omega/Alpha, but so far I've only done....🌶️ art for them so...uh....yeah xD

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Mostly familial, I like to think he has a father-daughter like relationship with Mist. Being his first ghoulette, he feels responsible to make her feel welcomed and supported.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I do not like the short Terzo jokes at all, and I'm far from being a 4'9" Terzo believer.

Ok hot take here too and sorta nsfwish but....

I cannot see this man as a sub. Especially not in the terzomega ship. you SEE THAT MAN? oh he's so goddamn bold. that man can make that big ghoul TREMBLE in his shoes. Sure, Terzo will gladly choose to be bottom/receiving end, and he will surrender to his lover when the feelings are right, Terzo is allowed to be vulnerable around Omega. But that doesn't mean he is this small, weak individual who is wants to be crushed by the bigger dude. that dynamic has been overdone to hell. give me the big guy who's into the more submissive stuff. oh yeah.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

In-Universe documentaries, anything with him on camera !!! I would've wish to see such an emotional exploration of his character but alas, that too will just exist in my head. ; u ;