#there are others but these are some of the ones i've really fixated on

[floating-goblin-art]

happy birthday to the cake game

[dawdlecentric]

Man, this doujin isn't fucking around

Meanwhile, Seikuri in the background...

Doujin: Flashbackers by Totobe

[sysig]

Still normal don’t even worry about it (Patreon)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I still very loathe the Media Trope of ‘’cold genius man doesn’t feel emotions and never has relationships... UNTIL.. one random relatively bland Preddy Woman comes along and warps his entire personality and ability to think, his heart has grown and his seeming asexuality has evaporated, he is now Normal :)” or whatever like... AS a walking generic hermit archetype myself.. we would NOT act like that .... just let people be detached weirdos in peace, you cowards .. OR, don’t bother to write one in the first place if you find us too boring to exist realistically in our natural state lol.. pathetic 

[lyfeward]

y'know what I gotta leave a more detailed note for myself or I WILL forget and I like this idea so —

the Horned Knight obviously is the Lord of the Forest with a court of dryads [including his wife, who is a dryad] and human servants who are ensorcelled with moss + flowers growing over theirs mouths + eyes. will dive into that at some point. but he is a knight so I have a thought of there being what I will call the Order of Yore. this is a knightly order, which he leads, consisting of spirits who — well I'm gonna steal a phrase from Solas: "reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten." I feel we can assume that dryads are spirits inhabiting trees, and so I will say the Order of Yore [aka the yorder as I like to call them] consists of spirits inhabiting animals but in a way that anthropomorphizes them. like, you don't just have a possessed fox who can talk. you have a possessed fox who can talk, walk on two legs, wield a weapon, and a wear a jaunty feather cap. it's a whole thing. anyway, these knights are drawn to great deeds of valor, chivalry, honor, battle, that sort of thing. they can often be found reenacting such deeds that have occurred in the past. in an instance where they come upon a deed that is currently happening / has happened recently, they will reward it. however, if they come upon someone acting dishonorably, cowardly, against their code of chivalry — well naturally they punish them. and it's known they've been punished. thus it's no surprise folktales paint the yorder as an ill omen. it's said if you come upon them, you will soon meet your death and it will be a grisly one. in fact, some say that if you come upon them they will kill you themselves and drag away your soul to serve as game in their hunts for all eternity. tales of their rewards in recognition of noble deeds are rarer owing to the rarity of noble deeds themselves.

[gonersgoners]

sometimes i remember these panels and i lose my ability to keep sane

[realboutfatalfury]

oh also saw soooo many figures yesterday at the mall. i'm glad i don't have much money in my wallet bc if i did i might've bought one.

[rowarn]

afab!reader, no prns, praise, edging, wet&messy, könig using ur clit as a fidget toy <3

könig, a trained lethal soldier, who suffers from anxiety. you would never know if you didn't know what you were looking for.

his biggest tell, for you, is the way he fidgets. with you.

you're like his own personal little fidget toy. his hands are always on you, kneading and squeezing your skin. most times you don't mind, you rather like having him touching you — your thighs, your waist, your butt, wherever he can get his hands honestly.

but sometimes...his hands wander. it's mindless, truly.

his eyes fixated on the tv playing some random show he decided he wanted to watch. but you couldn't pay attention, not when one big hand was shoved up your shirt groping your breasts and the other was haphazardly stuffed into your sleep shorts and under your panties.

he's toying with you so mindlessly, callused fingers sliding over your clit that has grown increasingly slippery with how wet you've become. occasionally he dips down to prod at your slick entrance.

his movements have no rhyme or reason. he's not even moving very fast. just sloppy back and forth flicks and occasionally he simply taps his fingers against the little bud that has grown so sensitive from his playing. sometimes, when something interesting happens on tv, he stops completely until the desire the fidget returns to him.

you're sitting with your back against his chest, situated between his spread legs sprawled cozily on the couch. he can't see the heated, dazed look on your face from the come-and-go pleasure he inadvertently gives you. he's edging you without even realizing it, full attention still focused on the damn tv. he isn't even hard.

that thought alone is enough to make you clench around nothing. he's really just playing with you like a little toy and that thought is so hot to you. it makes you cheeks burn in embarrassment as you continue to leak into your panties.

if you listen close you can hear with wet clicking noise that comes with his movements. your eyes roll back in your head as that sound alone has your back arching but you quickly settle yourself down, not wanting to tear his attention from the tv — he so rarely had time to settle down and just enjoy tv, you didn't want to disturb him.

the episode he's watching ends and you cast a hopeful glance up at him but he's waiting for the next episode to start and it makes you whine against your own wishes. but your clit is so hard and twitchy from being edged that it's actually hurting and you're so wet now that your panties are uncomfortably sticky.

it's your whine that gets his attention, pretty blue eyes flicking down to your face where he finally sees the desperate way you're looking at him, teary eyes and swollen lips from biting them to keep quiet. you can see in his eyes when he registers how soaked you've gotten his fingers and he has the audacity to look sheepish.

"ah, my sweet..." he whispers, ears tinged pink, "i-i'm sorry, i did not realize..."

he moves to pull his hand out of your panties and you whine again, grabbing his wrist with both hands to stuff him back down. your nails bite into his skin and he stops trying to pull away, instead pushing his hand back down and it's then that he fully resisters how wet you are.

"don't stop, please...i-i've been so close..." you pitifully beg and he takes pity on you. how precious of you, he thinks.

"i'm sorry, my love," he coos, fingers starting to work once again — properly this time with quick little circles on your clit, "i'll make you cum for being so good for me."

you can't even formulate words, instead nodding and spreading your legs even further apart, your feet on either side of his legs. he hums softly in your ear, chin hooked over your shoulder as he watches his hand move under the fabric of your shorts.

he spreads your sticky folds apart and begins to swirl messily around your clit, occasionally lightly tapping against the bud just to watch the cute way your thighs twitch at the feeling. you reach back and clutch his t-shirt in your fists to ground you. his cock throbs, churning up quickly, at the loud, wet noise of him playing with your cunt.

it doesn't take long at all before your stiffening against him and twitching in his lap as you cum with a cute little gasp of his name. he moans softly in your ear as he feels your clit throb under the pads of his fingers. you let out the loveliest moans that has his cock hardening fully against his thigh.

when you slacken against his body, aftershocks making you twitch periodically as you pant, he's tempted to stop but the fact you had sat there so sweetly and let him practically torture you while he watched his show made him want to make it up to you.

he sees the excitement in your eyes when his fingers dip lower and begin to press into you and he can't believe just how sweet you are. your so sticky and wet with the amount of cum he worked out of you with such ease.

"let me really make it up to you, my little one..."

[serialunaliver]

misconceptions about narcissism

made by a girl with "borderline personality disorder with narcissistic traits" considered treatment resistant

1. narcissists think they're extremely attractive

focus on appearance in narcissism is a result of insecurity and need for control. a narcissist who expresses self-obsession regarding appearance is doing so to preemptively prevent others from thinking they're insecure and vulnerable.

2. narcissists are unfeeling

really not sure why anyone thinks this as 'feeling' is incredibly easily triggered in narcissism. with fear of being taken advantage of by others, narcissists will over-analyze people's behavior and (often incorrectly) assume they are being slighted in some way.

3. narcissists are ceos and political leaders

a narcissistic personality actually hinders your ability to advance in your career as you become focused first and foremost on whether or not your coworkers see you as vulnerable. a competitive environment is highly triggering and ends up creating many enemies as others see through the facade.

4. men are more often narcissists than women

confusing misogyny for narcissism--does your ex have a narcissistic personality when not with women? does he express the same level of entitlement and assert superiority when with male friends? if he is able to maintain relationships and not debilitated by narcissistic traits, he's just a garden variety misogynist.

5. narcissism is a mental illness

no one is born with a narcissistic personality, it is developed to cope with and defend oneself from a toxic or abusive environment, just like every other cluster b "personality disorder". narcissism at its core is fear of appearing vulnerable. this leads to fixation on control over others and crafting a confident facade.

6. everything a narcissist does in a relationship is meant to manipulate you

i've seen this said SO much and it's just not true. narcissism is triggered in specific circumstances, and narcissists have incentives for treating someone kindly outside manipulation even if these incentives may be more focused on self-benefit--and in my personal opinion incentive doesn't matter if the resulting behavior is a net positive.

7. narcissists raise narcissists

if a narcissistic parent is abusive the child could develop a narcissistic personality in response, but this is not a given or specific to narcissism.

8. you can tell someone is a narcissist when their eyes darken

what is being referred to here is a result of adrenaline that literally happens to all humans. your pupils will dilate when your adrenaline is raised, which can happen during conflict involving intense emotions...so yes, someone's eyes can 'darken' when angry, but it's a human thing, not a narcissist thing.

now that the post is over, PSA: if you're one of the idiots on here who thinks anything other than praise of cluster b personalities is ableism please just block me instead of bothering me with your comments!

[heich0e]

"are you like... into that?"

you tear your eyes away from the screen a few seconds after rintarou says it, too rapt by what's unfolding in the movie scene to look away too soon.

"what do you mean?" you ask, glancing over to the other end of the sofa where he's seated. he's slumped down in the corner of the sofa, nestled right into the valley between the cushions where he always sits—which has resulted in a permanent sort of vaguely rintarou-shaped indentation that you hide using throw pillows when company comes over.

he's watching you very intently from his side of the sofa, too intently almost. you'd thought you'd felt his eyes on you while you were watching the movie, but you aren't exactly sure how long he's been staring, and now it leaves you wondering what exactly he's up to.

rintarou nods towards the television on the other side of the room, you look back at the screen once more and see the male lead still at the centre of the scene. he'd just gotten into a fight—shirtless, glistening with perspiration, and a strangely erotic trickle of blood trailing down his philtrum. you swallow a little as you become engrossed in the movie again, forgetting momentarily that you were ever asked a question at all.

"so?"

your eyes snap back to rintarou—who's still focused only on you, but with a slightly more disapproving look this time.

"what?" you ask him, a bit huffily. you're still not even sure what he'd been asking you in the first place.

"you've been ogling that guy since he got the shit kicked out of him," rintarou says pointedly, lifting a hand and gesturing towards the television. "you into that or something?"

there's something kind of accusatory in his tone.

"wha—hu—no," you stumble over your words in your haste to defend yourself. "i've told you i'm not into hardcore stuff. and that would constitute like... doctorate level BDSM."

rintarou's lips purse slightly. "do you think that guy's hot?"

"i mean... yeah," you answer after contemplating it for a moment. "i didn't really think so before but he's kinda sexy in this scene."

"he just got the shit kicked out of him," the boy at the other end of the sofa responds flatly.

"so you've pointed out," you answer. you turn back to the screen, watching as the battered male lead winds a roll of bandages around his ribs, then drags his knuckles roughly across his lips to clear away some of the blood that clings to them. your tongue peeks out to moisten your own unconsciously. "don't you think there's something kind of hot about a guy with a bit of blood on him?"

"is this a trick question?"

you look back at rintarou again, and find him still fixated on you rather than the film. he's pouting a bit, and it kind of makes you want to laugh. instead, you push yourself up from your own little nest at the opposite end of the sofa, crawling down towards him.

"rintarou, are you jealous because i called the bloody guy sexy?" you ask him as you pause at his side, resting back on your haunches.

he nibbles on the inside of his cheek—a habit he's had as long as you've known him—and for the first time in possibly the entire 54 minutes this movie has been playing, he averts his eyes from you.

"...no."

you do laugh then, swinging one leg over his lap to perch yourself atop him.

"you're being silly," you say to him as you balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders. his own come slithering up to settle at your waist, and his grip is a little tighter than you expect. he's still sulking though, refusing to look at you.

there's a loud crash in the film playing on the screen behind you, but you don't turn to look at it—you doubt that would help the situation at hand very much.

"rin," you coax him, making your voice as sweet as possible.

he doesn't look at you, but he does seem to bite the inside of his cheek a little harder now.

you dip down close to him, your mouth hovering over his and your eyes level. "rin-ta-rou."

he finally looks at you, his lips parting in surprise at your sudden nearness. you're so close that your mouths brush slightly thanks to that subtle movement, and he leans into the warmth of your lips to kiss you properly after getting such a small taste of it.

rintarou pulls away after one long, deep kiss, slouching back into the sofa again—but this time pulling you down with him into his little him-shaped indentation—holding you tightly to his chest as he gets you both comfortable. you let him maneuver you however he wants to, placating him with your docility to make him feel better, and keeping any comment about his jealousy to yourself—at least for now.

the two of you eventually find a comfortable way to rest, entwined together on his end of the sofa but both with a clear view to the screen to resume your spectating of the movie.

"what's so hot about a guy with a nosebleed anyway? i used to get them all the time when i was a kid," rintarou mumbles bitterly after a few moments, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest as you rest with your head upon it.

you laugh lightly, and your boyfriend's arms tighten around your waist.

he pipes up again after a few moments more pass in the film.

"you don't want me to start fighting or anything, do you?" he asks you skeptically.

you've effectively lost track of the movie's plot now, but you don't really care that much.

"no, rintarou, i don't want you to start fighting," you reply, patting his chest reassuringly. "you'd get your ass kicked anyway."

"well, apparently you're into that," he mutters.

"will you be quiet and just watch the movie, nosebleed boy?"

(a week later, rintarou sends you a photo from practice—having gracefully taken one of motoya's receives to the face—with an angry red welt on his cheek, blood dripping from his nose, and an obnoxious smirk on his lips. unfortunately, you are kinda into that.)

[forcemeanakin]

Hot with brains

•WARNINGS: SMUT.  Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.

Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.

Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains. 

Word count: 4.7K. 

A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

————————————————————————

You liked smart guys. 

It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.

You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.

That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors. 

You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books. 

It was calm and quiet. 

Until the storm broke through the door.

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.

“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.

You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.

You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.

Anakin Skywalker. 

One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.

He was fine. 

As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.

“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”

“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.

“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous. 

You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.

“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book. 

Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.

“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.

“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”

No, please no, you whispered to your insides.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were. 

“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.

“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”

“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes. 

Hell, no.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.

“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down. 

“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.

“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.

“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin. 

“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you. 

“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer. 

“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.

You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.

Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.

“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.

That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more. 

Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.

And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.

Did he care? No. 

He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order. 

And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.

But, boy, were you tough.

Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that. 

His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.

Because, boy, were you hot. 

And he was sure you liked it nasty. 

Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.

“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other. 

“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”

“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”

“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.

“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.

“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle. 

Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.

“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.

“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb. 

“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.

“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.

You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.

“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest. 

“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons. 

“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”

“Okay, back down-”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”

“Let me see-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.

“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.

Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”

“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.

“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.

“Wh-”

“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.

“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.

You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.

“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk. 

“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open. 

It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.

“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”

Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work. 

“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile. 

“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”

He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-

“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific. 

“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table. 

“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms. 

“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.” 

He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words. 

“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing. 

“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on. 

“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush. 

“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”

But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart. 

“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”

He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.

“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.

Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”

“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”

“Physics?” You almost moaned. 

“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”

That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him. 

“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck. 

“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.

Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back. 

Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.

“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”

Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.

Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it. 

“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.

It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon. 

It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.

You were going to have to beg for it. 

“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention. 

“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb. 

“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open. 

Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate. 

“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”

You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access. 

He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you. 

After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over. 

“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes. 

“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”

The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand. 

“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh. 

Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.

“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”

You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence. 

“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.

That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall. 

“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”

You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.

Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal. 

He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson. 

 “At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.” 

Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat: 

“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”

[sysig]

But like, why he tho (Patreon)

[icewindandboringhorror]

............ ultimate somng

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[slayfics]

You tend to Katsuki.

1k words

You sat in the common room of the dorms making yourself busy at one of the tables studying. Absentmindedly you turned the pages of your book and scanned the materials, not actually digesting any of the information.

Secretly, you weren't concerned with studying. Your actual reason for hanging around the common room was to wait for Katsuki to come back. It was Saturday, which meant he was with Shoto at their supplemental classes to make up for not passing the provisional licensing exam.

Finally, after what seemed like too long, Katsuki came bursting through the door. An annoyed expression on his face as he turned to yell some obscenities back at Shoto.

Shoto followed him through the front door and Katsuki turned sharply away from him. It was apparent that Katsuki was eager to get away from the two-toned-haired boy.

Katsuki glanced over at you briefly but kept making his way through the common room. His cheek had a large bandage that was already turning crimson from whatever wound was on the other side.

You watched as the two boys split ways, Shoto made his way over to talk to Hanta and Katsuki vanished into the elevators to go up to his room.

You waited a moment before texting Katsuki.

[You]: That looks like a nasty cut. What happened?

[Katsuki]: I hate texting. Just come up.

You happily shut your book and rushed over to his dorm.

Knocking gently, you heard Katsuki's irritated yell on the other side, "Told ya already- just come in."

You opened the door and were met with the sight of him putting away the belongings he brought to the extra classes today. The bandage on his cheek being in better view, you could see that it was in desperate need of being tended to.

"That looks even worse up close," You stated.

"Tch- It's not even a big deal," he replied, downplaying the injury.

"How did it happen?" You asked.

Katsuki grunted as he finished putting away his stuff and sat down on the edge of his bed, "Some dumb ass training where we couldn't use our quirks. What the fuck is the point of that?!" He said irritated.

"Sounds like your worst nightmare," you laughed trying to lighten his mood. You fixated your eyes back on the bandage and the blood stain that now soaked through. "Why don't you let me change that for you?" You offered.

"HAH? I can do that myself idiot," he said being stubborn.

"I know you can but- I need practice. Tending to wounds is a part of hero work too, right? So- let me practice on you," you suggested, hoping that excuse would change his mind.

Katsuki thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in agreement, "First aid is in the bathroom cabinet," he said gesturing to the bathroom.

You rummaged through his cabinet to find another bandage and antiseptic ointment. "I don't think I've ever done this for someone else before," you stated as you came back into the room and sat next to him on the bed.

"It isn't hard," Katsuki huffed. Resting his elbows on his thighs as he kept his gaze straight forward giving you better access to his cheek.

You scooted closer and crossed your legs onto the bed to tend to his wound. "These classes have really been a pain for you, hu?" You asked, gently peeling away the soiled badge on his cheek.

Katsuki clicked his tongue annoyed by your comment, "It's nothing I can't handle!" He barked, eyebrows furrowed, and nose scrunched.

You giggled at his response, "Such a tough guy," you teased and squeezed some of the antiseptic ointment onto your finger. "You know- it can be both things. Something you can handle and a pain at the same time."

Katsuki opened his mouth ready to make another snarky comment when your finger met his wound. Any snide remark he had ready, vanished at the gentle way your finger grazed over his cut. Eyebrows softened, and shoulders dropped he let out a sigh.

The ointment stung, but he wasn't focused on that at all. Instead, he was focused on the way his heart rate increased the second you made contact with him. He hated it- but wanted more at the same time.

"What? Going speechless on me now?" You asked teasing his sudden muteness. You prepared the new bandage and got it ready to place over his wound.

"No," he grunted, voice lower than before. Another moment passed before he spoke, "The classes are a pain. God dam Icy Hot gets on my nerves. Acting like we're friends now just because we're in these shitty classes together. He makes everything a hundred times worse." Katsuki explained as you gently pressed the new bandage on to his cheek.

You smiled at Katsuki's honesty and decided to tease him further. "Wait- you mean he isn't your best friend? That's strange he's been telling everyone that."

"The fuck? Are you serious?" Katsuki asked, turning to you, his eyes catching yours. Noticing for the first time how close you really were to him, his cheeks flushed.

You smiled and a giggle escaped you. Immediately he recognized the amusement on your face. If it was anyone else, he'd blow a fuse but- with you, he was distracted by the way your smile lit up your eyes and the way your laughter forced him to smile too.

"Tch- brat. Don't mess with me like that," he said and playfully shoved your shoulder, causing you to laugh even harder.

"I'm sorry- I couldn't help it," you said in between giggles.

If you weren't laughing so hard maybe you would have noticed the soft smile Katsuki had or the way his cheeks warmed slightly.

"Whatever-," he said brushing off his emotions. "You eat yet?" He asked.

"Nope," you answered laughter subsiding.

"Good- let's go downstairs I'll make us something." He offered.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

[minhosimthings]

Elysian || 18+

Synopsis: you never wanted to fall for the only son of the family yours hated. And yet you did.

Pairings: Mafia boss!Hyunjin × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, mentions of dagger, kind of knife play?, P in v sex, fingering, angst, fluff, forbiddened love, mafia boss au, mention of poison, blood, food and alcohol, reader wears a dress, implied mental abuse, fluffy at the end but it's really angsty in the middle sorry yall

A/N: ahhh this took a lot of time to write because I wanted everything to be PERFECT. and in my opinion this is the best shit I've ever written Mona 2am brain go burr. Also this is dedicated to my beloved @astraystayyh and Hyunjin's photoshoots which have made me go feral approximately 143 times

Red.

You remembered it as a hibiscus, decorating the gardens of your family's estate as child. You remembered it as the ugly hue of your grandmother's rug, the only thing you'd fixate on whenever the stench of blood filled your nose. You remembered it as your family's emblem, in a kingdom of money and roses and whatnot. You remembered red as death.

But you never thought you would have remembered red as the colour which outlined the shadows of the painting in front you.

You never though red would remind you of one of your most favourite persons ever, of his plump pink lips and gorgeous waterfall of hair you would decorate with rose petals anyday.

You never thought red would remind you of Hwang Hyunjin.

Red, as the multifaceted colour it is, fascinated you. It was like an idea in your head, hard to drive out, impossible to kill. What was red truly? What shades did it hide?

Red as a ladybug or red as a lobster? Red as a tulip or red as red as a new bride's cheeks? Red as lipstick or red as a gown? Red as roses or red as blood?

Red as the dominating colour of Hyunjin's palette was the correct answer to you most of the time.

You could recall the first time you had ever met him. Five months ago or had it been a year? You didn't remember much, just the fact that Hwang Hyunjin saved you, the 'enemy' from a bullet wound when he could have let you rot and made his family proud. The Hwangs were nefarious for their merciless behaviour, and yet you found in Hyunjin, a different kind of warmer mercy.

A mercy which you preferred because no one else gave it to you.

And that was how you found comfort in Hyunjin, a sense of familiarity that made you believe that you could be your true self with him and not just another painted version of you. Granted, he did paint you, in various shades of golds, violets and reds.

Painstaking as they were, you loved your short lived secret sessions with him. He was like a thief, quietly sneaking in through a window, and stealing away your heart with his demeanor.

Both of you came from families who despised each other, there was a certain Romeo-Juliet element to it all that both amused and frightened you.

But no matter what thing troubled you, you always had your memories with him to come back to. Especially those soft tender moments when you realised how much you craved a normal life away from the money and the blood.

You remembered one moment better than most others. It was the first time you said the poisonous word. It was that time in Italy...or was it Belgium? All you seemed to actually recall was the time you first walked into the love which Hyunjin gave you.

Dark chocolate eyes flickered over your naked body as it sunk beneath warm water, a bottle of liquid soap shone a bit in the candlelight as Hyunjin poured it into your tub. His ethereal figure was like a God in the pale moonlight coming from the tiny window.

“Just a little something extra to provide you some… relief,” he smiled, dipping his elegant hand into the waters to stir it around.

Hyunjin knew you were an assassin, carefully molded into one by your family, nevertheless he saw more than what he was supposed to. He saw you as a human instead. A human who was tired of all the blood she had spilt.

Your body easing into the water, you barely noticed the ripples of Hyunjin slipping his carved body beside you. It barely registered, his arm wrapping around you, the warm water pouring down your neck to rinse off the blood, the trickles that run down your face as he wets your hair and washed it clean of sweat and more.

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt like this, so relaxed so taken care of. So you said it, you said the word without a moment's waste.

"I love you" you had blurted out without a second thought, "I love you, Hwang Hyunjin." The name mattered to you in ways you hadn't ever fathomed before.

And the worst thing was he said it back. With a kiss to imprint it.

And now here you were, eyes flickering between the ceiling and each other. The warm light of the massive ballroom shone its glory onto you as you clutched your champagne tight to your bosom, making sure to distract yourself with it, whenever your stolen glances at Hyunjin were caught by someone.

You hadn't been forced to attend the ball by any means by your family, in fact you volunteered for it. You had waited eagerly for your target's name, your mother stressed that it was an important one, and as the quietest daughter it would have been easy for you to kill in plain sight and prove once and for all to your father that you were ready to take over as the heir to his 'buisness'. Maybe you'd finally have the fame and the power you craved off as a child, like some starved deer eating its own kind.

But now, you clutched the tiny vile of hemlock close to your hip, carefully dropping it into your pocket, all the while staring at Hyunjin across the room, who was laughing with someone you recognised as a painter Hyunjin adored. His raucous yet polite laughter, gorgeous strands of hair framing his face, your heart sobbed at the thought of slipping poison into his veins.

If you had even a modicum of respect for your own head, maybe you would have sneaked the hemlock into his drink at the slightest moment. Unfortunately though, you didn't and so it came to be that you resorted to dissecting a serene painting until hopefully Hyunjin ultimately noticed you.

The painting fascinated you, it was one you hadn't ever seen before. Dark blue traced the outlines two people, with grey hair and wisened foreheads, holding hands through a rough brown canvas. You smiled at the painting before taking a sip of your champagne. Love, eternally, was one of Hyunjin's most beloved topics to waste all his blue paint on.

Words rushed through your mind as your eyes traced each brushstroke. Whips of harsh sentences and scenes of conversations, contrasting the soft daubs of paint, flashed in front of your eyes.

'The Parks? Mum I can't do that!'

'You want to be useful to this family? Marry him and you'll be more than useful'

'But Mum...!'

'You think you have a say in this? Shut up and do what's good for that useless head of yours'

"Admiring my work, my love?"

You flinched slightly at the different voice, which sounded like spring rain and lily pads. Spinning on your heel to face the source of the voice, you found yourself melting into a pair of beautiful eyes, the kind of eyes that made thieves wonder why they ever bothered to steal pieces of art. His eyes—the color of an intoxicating champagne—beckoned you over with nothing more than a warm smile.

"What?" Hyunjin chuckled, seeing you stare at him, "Did I get fondue on my lips again?"

"No, just..." You trailed off, not finding the correct words, "You look good."

"As you do, my sweet." Hyunjin's hand took yours and brought it up to his lips, "God, I wish I could paint you right here."

"Hyunjin," you gave him a playful look, unsure of whether or not it was hiding your fright, what if someone saw?

Hyunjin's arms went to your waist, pulling you closer to him, which felt like syrup wafting through the air, sweet with a touch of familiarity. He leaned in, you felt his hot breath on your neck as he whispered, "None of your family or their spies are here don't worry."

You took in a shaky breath, as you felt his long, dainty fingers reaching up your thigh, fiddling with something strapped tightly to it. Hyunjin smiled into your neck, as he continued to fiddle with the leather.

"That's how they plan to kill me?" He chuckled, "With a dagger strapped to the ravishing thigh of the love of my life?"

"That's just Plan B." You whispered, shoving his hand off gently, as your eye caught a waiter in the corner glancing at you and Hyunjin, "Just in case the hemlock doesn't work."

"Willing to test that theory?" Hyunjin stepped away from you, leaving your body colder than you wished. His cocky smile, his raised brow and relaxed demeanour, he was like a like a cat lounging in a garden, at peace with watching the world pass on.

"In front of everyone?" You questioned, "don't tell me the only son of the Hwangs is becoming soft for someone like me."

Hyunjin's mouth stretched lazily as he grinned at you, extending a hand for you to take.

"Let's go somewhere private?" He asked, not giving you time to answer as he basically dragged you across the hall, where magnificent stairs led to the upper floors of the luxurious mansion. Gossiping eyes followed your movements, well, more precisely, Hyunjin's movements, as he led you up the stairs, making sure not to step on your tartine dress, as you carried the fabric behind you with regal grace.

"Now," Hyunjin smirked as you climbed onto the last step, now well hidden from the party downstairs, "Shall we?" And he broke into a run, dragging you behind him, giggling maniacally like a child in the summer. You were sure you heard your dress rip, but you had not a care as you ran with Hyunjin down the corridor, to the last door, his bedroom. The walls of the corridors were lined with paintings, Hyunjin's evidently, fading edges of canvases standing out against the ruby of the wall paint and the carpeted floor. You recognised each and every painting. A painting of a woman amongst daffodils, another of the same woman in an abandoned mansion which Hyunjin had always told you would be that women's one day. The day he married that woman to be specific.

'The woman in my dreams', Hyunjin told his family when they asked him who she was. 'The woman in my dreams', Hyunjin told his patrons when they asked who she was. 'You', Hyunjin told you when you asked, though you knew, but you still questioned him, in between chaste kisses on the neck and giggles. Hyunjin came to a halt in front of the oak carved door, a tiny metal label on top spelling his name in cursive letters.

"How about we put that dagger to use then?" Hyunjin pressed your back against the door in no time, devouring your being as he tasted the honey of your elysian lips. His hands went again, to your thigh, fumbling to take the dagger out, but you were quicker in your actions. Your hand had been resting on the door's handle, and as you tugged on it, both of you fell back into the room, lips never wanting to leave each other's company.

"Jinnie," you made a sound of pleasure as you pulled away from him, suddenly aware of the audible music coming from downstairs, "Maybe not now."

"Come now love," Hyunjin laughed, striding into the room, where painting supplies lay cluttered next to a pristinely made bed, "Don't say that after we escaped from the prying eyes of everyone downstairs."

"Hyunjin," you looked at him with reprimanding eyes, how could you tell him the actual reason? "Don't you think it'd be suspicious to my family if I return today with messed up hair and a torn silken dress after merely slipping poison into someone's champagne?" How could you tell him to make you stop falling more for him? "This shit is expensive you know."

"Would it not be more dangerous if you were to return without killing the Hwang family's brightest hope?" Hyunjin's voice, though low, spoke it's volume, as he removed his coat, throwing it onto an empty chair.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward Hyunjin, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around his hair, a palpable tension filled the space between you.

His ethereal eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Without even a moment of hesitation, you kissed him.

Hyunjin's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of his soft hair, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer.

He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"so pretty..." he mutters, taking in the sight of your body.

Hyunjin's lips attach to your skin, leaving deep marks of love all over which wouldn't go away for days now. You stifled your moan, as his lips sucked on your collarbone, you could feel his erection pressing through his pants to your core, making you accidentally whimper.

Hyunjin's ringed hands made their way up your right thigh, the slit in your dress allowing him to caress the soft skin, the cold metal of the ruby created dagger hitting his skin like soft cotton to a wound.

He couldn't explain how attractive it was to him, the carved golden hilt, the blood red jewel in the centre, and the carefully shaped blade of the dagger, decorating his most favourite muse. You were a painting come to life for him.

You were his painting, his magnum opus, a canvas as precious as an angel's wing.

Your mind, on the other hand, was racing at a hundred miles per the hour. How could you tell him? How could you tell him the truth he'd always known? That your love was one the stars crossed each other to find?

You draw him into another uncertain kiss, this one your confused mind didn't think much about, and trailed a hand up the smooth skin of his exposed chest. Hyunjin signs into your mouth and runs both his hands down your sides, pausing to squeeze your thigh, and the cold blade pressed against your skin again.

“My love, that was by far one of the most sexy things I’ve ever seen.” Voice low and seductive, your lips barely pulling away from him. "I really can't believe you chose this one out of all. You know it's my gift don't you?"

"Hyunjin..." You trailed off, impatiently pulling away from his lips, "we shouldn't, we really shouldn't."

"Why not love?" Hyunjin's lips pressed against yours again morphing into a gentler kiss, he was evidently trying to calm you down.

"Hyunjin please don't." You begged with him, as if you were begging for your mind to stop itself before you went too far. You had to stop falling for him before it was too late. And yet how could you?

"Princess-" Hyunjin began before looking at you with worried eyes, "You're scaring me what's wrong? You can talk to me."

"What's wrong is we shouldn't be doing this." You tried to feign disgust, but all that came out was pathetic love for Hyunjin, 'Don't let me fall in love again' was what you had meant to say.

"Princess—"

"No!" You all as but screamed, forgetting that you were currently above a party filled with guns and roses, Hyunjin stood shocked in front of you at your sudden outburst, the air around you stilled, as words came out like vomit.

"listen, I am to get married to the Park family's eldest son, and if anyone, anyone, finds out about this," you stopped and took in a breath, "we're dead, Hyunjin, both of us! Or worse shit I can't even fathom to think about!" You took a breath at every word, stressing each note like a violin's vibrato, "And I'd really fucking take this poison myself rather than living in a world where everything tries to stop us from being together. So, please Hyunjin," your eyes held whispers of pained love, "Don't let me fall into this depth of love, because I just know I can never climb out."

The silence that overtook the room was heavy, heavier than you would have liked. You could have endured bullet heads, burn marks, fractures, but this was the greatest wound of all. The greatest pain you'd endured was the one you had always been deprived of.

Love, had it always been such a sin?

Your head felt dizzy as you say down on the bed, letting the soft material of the cover sink in. The dagger round your thigh and the air round your being felt tighter. You felt as if you could have drawn oceans of blood at that moment.

"Love," his voice echoed through your entire being, "look at me.

Your head turned to look up at him, as his hands quickly straddled you onto his lap, one of them squeezing your right thigh, eliciting a quiet moan out of you.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The ethereal, devilish angel, Hwang Hyunjin had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

"Hyunjin I-"

"I don't care what or who comes in our way. You, my dearest, are mine, and mine alone." Hyunjin growled into your ear, his anger would never seep through to you but on certain occasions it would certainly scare you, the way his anger was cold as an icicle, rather than fiery like a volcano.

A groan rumbles through Hyunjin's chest, and he dips down to give a playful bite to your bottom lip, earning a squeak you will deny if asked about later.

One of his hands moves down to delicately play with your breast, kneading softly before pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb. You break the kiss with a breathless gasp, tugging at Hyunjin’s roots, forcing a ragged groan from him. Hyunjin wastes no time to pepper kisses down the column of your neck. He pushed the hair out of his eyes before he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his cock up against you. He could feel heat settle in his body as his cock throbbed for you. He wanted you, he needed you more than he needed air. And he was more than willing to let you know that.

Stripping off your clothes and throwing it to the side, Hyunjin climbed up the bed and grabbed your hand on the way, hauling you under him. He wasted no time in lining himself up with you, throwing his head back in a groan as your pussy enveloped him.

Hyunjin groaned through grit teeth as he pushed his cock into you. You tensed and he groaned louder, he held onto the bed under you and moved all the way inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly as he started to thrust. You moaned into his skin as he moved against you.

His mouth went to your neck, leaving dark scars there. His teeth hit the ruby of your necklace, as he took it in his mouth and tugged at it, making you gasp loudly.

Your body felt numb but in a pleasurable way. You could only lie there and accept all the pleasure that he was giving you. He kissed your soft face, he could feel your racing heartbeat under your skin. His face went back to your neck where he left more bruises on the flesh. He felt heat through his body as the pleasure coursed through his veins. It was arousing, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling.

"You're mine." Hyunjin growled through a symphony of soft sighs, "I will never let anything get in between us, alright?"

The only response he got was a pleasured moan escaping from your lips, but he took it. He took pride in the way he could make you feel like this.

Your head fills with pleasures, not a single thought could form in your head. “Fuck you feel so good doll” he groans holding your hips down and slamming deeper inside you. “G-god Hyunjin! Feels…s-so good!” You cry.

Your eyes begin to roll back feeling how good he felt. His tip hitting your G-spot making you ready to cum just as fast as before. “H-Hyune fuck I’m gonna c-“ you are interrupted by his hand gripping your throat, choking you.

“Fuck baby you got wetter just from that… god you're so good” his mixture of degradation and praise had your body a dripping, desperate mess. You couldn’t believe the hold he had over you.

His breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. His tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the bed with the sheer snap of his hips. Your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine.

You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.

Slightly panting and out of breath, Hyunjin's figure could be seen gracefully outlined by the moon's tears penetrating through the tall, stained windows. He gets up and fetches a towel, gently cleaning you up as your eyes flickered between sleep and consciousness.

"Are you alright, love?" He questioned you, his fingers tracing shapes on your hips as he layed down beside you again, clearly not in the mood for wearing his clothes. Neither were you, so you turned your body towards him, allowing him to wrap you into the cocoon of his warm muscles. Laying your head on his chest, you felt his hand, once again, reaching for your thigh.

"You really do like that dagger don't you?" You laughed, as he caressed the metal.

"You should wear it more often, maybe for a painting?" Hyunjin's suggested, a smile like the air after rain, fresh with the stench of earth and dew, imprinted on his face.

"Hyunjin I-", you began, taking a breath before continuing, "What about—about my family?"

You swore you could have heard Hyunjin gently scoff, but you ignored it as he brought you closer to him, the space in between you practically empty.

"Stay here for tonight." Hyunjin said, "and if they come in search of their 'beloved' daughter," he scoffed once again, muttering a curse underneath his breath, "I'll tell them I stole her away from her tower."

"More like stole her dagger away." You giggled, finding his obsession with the strap on your thigh amusing. Hyunjin merely smiled at that, and silence fell again.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Red wasn't that bad of a colour after all. Not when it reminded you of Hyunjin, not when it reminded you of secret kisses and poisoned paintings, and certainly not when it reminded you of love.

"I love you too, Hyunjin."