#most of the things he did that i loved are physical

[norikuna]

pick your love story °🍵⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ jujutsu kaisen edition (sfw)

gojo satoru ☆ childhood friends to lovers

loves to tease you, and he'll always poke your cheek, ruffle your hair, or steal your food just to get a reaction. if you're shy or quiet, he lives to make you flustered. buys the most ridiculous gifts, including matching sunglasses and designer items that cost more than your rent. acts like your personal heater, always draping himself over you, wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, or sneaking his hands under your sweater to press them against your skin. if someone flirts with you? well, he's throwing him arm around you so dramatically, calling you his 'beloved' in the most obnoxious way possible. if the person doesn't back off, his carefree tone disappears and he gives them a chilling smile. loves late night drives and cafe dates, he's so the type to blast music in the car and sing off-key on purpose, always laughs when you tell him to zip it. his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation, and he needs to be touching you at all times, and he constantly reminds you how much he loves you in different playful and heartfelt ways <3 he's even softer when he's sleepy, nuzzling into your neck and shit, voice always dropping to a quiet murmur as he spills whatever's on his mind.

geto suguru ☆ best friends to lovers

pretty chill, protective and a faux deep thinker type of guy. gentle and attentive, always knowing what you need before you even ask. if had a rough day, he's gonna run you a bath and try to get your favourite drink. tries to sit still and listen patiently while you rant. lowkey a bit overzealous when it comes to jealousy, but never petty. he doesn't get outwardly possessive. but if someone flirts with you, he'll wrap an arm around your waist and give the person a pretty sharp look, enough that they'll back off and shit. always takes pictures of you, and he has an entire album of random shots of you reading, laughing or even just existing bc he really does think you look beautiful in every moment. loves bookstore and vinyl shop dates, and he enjoys those sweet peaceful moments with you (flipping through books, aka arguing about different genres). he's super big on quality time + acts of service, and if he sees you struggling with anything, he'll try to take care of it before you even have to ask. loves running his fingers through your hair, and he claims it calms him, and sometimes he just gets so lost in thought while doing it, that you have to snap him out of it. he's the type to whisper sweet things in your ear absentmindedly, like 'you have no idea how much i love you' when he thinks you're not paying attention. goes all red and dismissive when he realises you actually did hear that :D and he says he's not in gossip and drama but no one talks shit like he does, lets be real

ryomen sukuna ☆ prob sum weird enemies to lover shit

claims he doesn't date, but somehow ends up trying to figure out your favourite flower. calls you stupid shit like 'brat' or 'pet' more than your actual name, but if someone disrespects you, he tears them apart without hesitation. gets jealous easily, but he won't admit it, and if someone looks at you wrong, he'll grab your chin and kiss you (not that you mind <3) his love language is physical touch and dominance, expect him to always keep a hand on your waist, neck or chin because as much as he pretends otherwise, he loves feeling your skin against his. gaslights you over silly things for fun ('i literally told you that' 'no you didn't' 'oh, so you're forgetful now). also whispers absolute nonsense in your ear just from time to time, 'did you know that octopuses have three hearts? bet you didn't, but now you do. you're welcome'). will open a jar way too aggressively to try and show off his strength but breaks it, and now you're left with no pickles and a sulking sukuna with pickle juice on his hand. carries you like a sack of potatoes on his shoulders if you piss him off. pretends he doesn't gaf, but always shares his food with you and tries to order what you like.

toji fushiguro ☆ reluctant friends to lovers

grumpy but soft for you typa boyfriend who doesn't believe in using full words in texts. only texts in 'ya' or 'nah' and he accidentally replied 'k' to you saying 'i love you' and he called you immediately afterwards because he knows he messed up. loves pda but in the most lazy way possible, and will always drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and refuse to move. always steals bites of your food (half the meal) but will act offended if you do the same. once won you a stuffed animal at a carnival and acted like it was no big deal, but he actually used up all his carnival tickets trying to win you the biggest prize. spoils you in a reckless way, and he'll hand you a wad of cash and refuses to tell you how he got the money. he just tells you to go buy something nice. love language is acts of service and physical touch because he claims he's not amazing with words, but his hands always find their way back home to you. loves lazy mornings, and grumbles when you try to get out of bed, pulling you back in with an arm around your waist.

nanami kento ☆ love at first sight

exhausted but devoted you get me, and he claims that you energise him and light up his life. lectures you when you only sleep for three hours a night. replies to the tiktoks you send with corporate replies 'that was humorous. thank you for sharing. i love you.' he thinks you're absolutely the most beautiful person on the planet, and always lets you know. pretty gentle, mature and devoted. shows his love in sweet, meaningful ways. always puts your comfort first, and he tries to take things off your plate without asking. loves cooking for you, and believes cooking is its own love language. hates unnecessary, brash pda but loves quiet intimacy. holds your hand, brushes your hair against your ear. lingering kisses on your temple. reads to you at night, and he'll sit beside you if you have trouble drifting off. his love language is absolutely acts of service and quality time, and he doesn't just say he loves you, he'll prove it in every little action of his. loves taking you out to scenic parks and hikes, and just stares after you with so much love as he tries to adjust the focus of his camera lenses to try and capture you as well as he can.

choso kamo ☆ strangers to lovers

kinda awkward but genuinely, really quiet sweet. overthinks everything, and at the start of your relationship, he even started overthinking how you said 'goodnight!' and wondered if you were mad at him, because there was no heart or emoji. would die before making the first move idk, like you're going to have kiss him first or else, otherwise i fear he's going to have a stroke. holds grudges as long as he can, and will bring up little shit (like you stealing his lunch) six months later 'remember that time you betrayed me?'. but he can only really give you the silent treatment for two whole minutes when you tease him, and then immediately apologises because he feels bad. a lot of friends tease the two of you because they think choso is too quiet or a pushover but the truth is that he's actually pretty snarky, clever and observant. very determined and always sticks to his morals, even at times when you disagree with him, he's able to put his foot down. love language is quality time and gift giving, because he's the type to remember everything you like and surprise him with it. loves watching movies with you, and pretends not to care for 90s chick flicks, but he's digging them deep down. loves holding your hand, and even in public, he'll reach for you quietly.

higuruma hiromi☆ coworkers to lovers

overworked but loves you so bad. he sometimes reminds you of a tired, single dad but he's truly joyous to date. if you call him baby in public, he immediately malfunctions and blushes. you once kissed him in a courtroom (not even when court was ongoing!) on the tip of his gorgeous nose, and he almost choked. will 100% object to random things just to irritate you, with topics like takeout for dinner, 'objection. we had sushi two days ago.' takes everything pretty seriously, until you do something cute. then he just sits there, hiding his smile behind his hand like an adorable anime protagonist. tries to be strict or protective, but you just make him super soft. secretly likes pda but pretends that he doesn't. grips your hand so tight like he fears you might disappear. loves when you rest in his lap or against his chest as he reads over cases and paperwork. you told him that he'd look hot with glasses, and you caught him browsing through lens frames.

naoya zenin ☆ arranged marriage (kinda ooc naoya btw, bear with me)

sort of a menace who should have been left on read a long time ago, but this wasn't your first choice. somehow, he folds for you almost immediately but you think he'd rather dig his own grave and neatly fold his hands over his chest as he buries himself at his own funeral before he admits that he likes you. calls you annoying but will drop everything if you text him that you need help. always saying dumb shit to you, or trying to make fun of you, but if someone else does? they're gone, like he's going to stalk them, find where they work, and get them fired from their job. texts you the stupidest things like 'if i was ugly, would you still love me?' 'i just saw an ugly baby. damn' 'what would do if i got arrested? be honest.' saw someone flirting with you once at like a fancy event, and rolled his eyes, pretending that he didn't give a flying fuck. ended up at the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink and trying not to throw up. if you ignore his texts, he's gonna send vaguely ominous messages, like 'answer me' followed by 'this is how it ends?' 'i'm leaving btw, i'm going to pack up and leave you forever and go live on my own in the wild.' you check his location and he's still at home. naoya thinks he's the prize in the relationship, he's not. definitely a pda menace, and he loves just kissing you in public.

hajime kashimo ☆ enemies to lovers but in that 'we met when we were fighting' way

your relationship is just him being reckless with no survival instinct, and you trying to keep your boyfriend alive. aka trying to stop him from licking the power outlet. will randomly challenge you to fights for no reason, never mind the fact that he'll feel bad and back out at the last minute. has no concept of personal space, and will stand nose to nose with you just to make you uncomfortable. if you back away, he's gonna follow you and ask where you're going. if someone flirts with you, he's not even going to do too much, just laugh in their face and ask the offender if they really thought they had a chance. kashimo has no concept of an inside voice at all, so god forbid you try to take him somewhere quiet. energy level always at 200% and it's a mission to even take him someplace like a grocery store. if you said 'i love you' first, it might have been the only time that someone else has bested him in something. hajime physically can't process emotions and goes green and pale (he loves you so much btw) and he looks vaguely ill at your confession. stares for five minutes before throwing himself at you. definitely a words of affirmation type of guy, instead of actions, because sometimes, he's all bark and no bite.

noritoshi kamo ☆ sweet, rom-com crush

he's actually a bit traditional, but very sweet. unfortunately, he's also so formal that it hurts sometimes. but it's fun when he asks you things like 'would you like to accompany me for an evening meal?' or 'shall we go for a stroll?' if you hold his hand, for the first few months, he sweats profusely but acts as though he's totally cool (narrator: he was not cool). lowkey believes that he doesn't deserve you and he absolutely treats you, the love of his life, like royalty. super observant and determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so you're never really left wanting for anything. if someone flirts with you, he doesn't really get jealous, but rather gets philosophical. 'it is natural for others to admire beauty such as yours. however, they must know it's not theirs to claim.' a key forefront runner of the sassy men apocalypse, even though you wouldn't be able to tell at the start. super quick-witted, but he's the type to keep his thoughts to himself, but luckily, he gets more comfortable sharing his jokes with you as times go on. blushes super easily, and he hates it because he thinks it ruins his aloof/mysterious guy persona.

[juricel]

god your yandere smc lives rent free in my head i wanna punch him, kick him in the shin and then give him a lil kiss

also if you're feeling up for it and your requests are open, would you mind writing some headcanons about yandere smc w/ a reader who is defiant but not really in the "kicking, yelling, screaming" way but in the "i will do my best to make your life miserable and inconvenience you as much as possible " (think refusing to talk or engage, entertaining herself in isolation, snarky backtalk; very much "cat making eye contact with you while pushing a glass off the table" energy, defiant yet still subdued)

bonus points if the reader is usually an affectionate person and continues to be like that w/ candy apple (hugs her/pats her head, speaks nicely and sweetly to her, treats her like a lil sis/daughter)

thank you so much for your time!! your writing is amazing!!

a/n: i'm flattered! and please do feel free to do so, anon... he more than deserves it with how he's been treating the reader in my fics.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x defiant! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, mentioned and implied mindbreak, stalking, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ oh, he would adore your defiance! shadow milk cookie loves games, and he would view your defiance as such and daresay, it certainly has became his favorite game, even taking over the throne of his most beloved hobby of breaking cookies apart and observing them falling down the never-ending rabbit hole from illusions.

𖦁 your distant attitude towards him wouldn't faze him whatsoever either, and if anything, his lovesickness would delude himself into thinking it was a natural reaction of yours from being in love; oh, you're not listening? oh, that is no biggie for him! he'll simply blabber your ears off, isolating yourself? has his dear forgotten? he is an omniscient presence within earthbread and his kingdom, there is no way to flee from him, he'll just trail along behind you! being a petulant thing against him? oh, that's adorable! surely, you jest! breaking one his precious gifts he spent his time on solely for you? oh, silly little you! how clumsy you are! being such a nice lover, he'll put it back together! you didn't mean to break that, don't you? you didn't, right? he'd break your arms. regardless of how you much you pay no heed to his presence, he is an everlasting existence and will forever be right beside you! there is no escaping him and his sight, it is just as fate concluded, after all!

𖦁 candy apple cookie—although, you treat her nicely—doesn't mean you're still exempted from her trickery for her undying loyalty to shadow milk cookie overshadows anything to her; she'd allow her to braid her hair, all the while inquiring you why you loathe shadow milk cookie when he's just protecting you from the cookies outside, in love even! in that sickenly sweet tone of hers dripping with deceit. she'd even ask you to come with her for something she proclaimed was in dire need of help for only to lead you to back to shadow milk cookie with a cheerful face, giddily probbing shadow milk cookie if she did good.

𖦁 to shadow milk cookie, your defiance is none but a mere game to him, however, the moment you went against him and betrayed him by helping pure vanilla cookie within his spire? oh, that is when he actually takes your advances seriously. why are /you/ helping that pesky little thief? can't you comprehend that he's punishing him for taking what was his? don't tell him that you fell for that querulous cookie's lies? yes, surely, pure vanilla cookie did something to you that turned you against him, truly! what a fiend, stealing his soul jam and then you? oh, he is gonna crumble him into pieces! he vows on the witches the moment he's done with him he would be beyond recognization. you, on the other hand, unmistakably needed some tweaking—yes, he'd need to find a way for you to not do that again, surely, his sweet dear wouldn't mind being confined, would they?

a/n: extremely short compared to my other works but i do hope its fine.

[mattnott]

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in wich your boyfriend thinks the best way to spice up the relationship is by playing hide and seek. WORDS. 4.7K+. english is not my first language. N/A. literally have no fucking idea, i was having a mental breakdown and this came out.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, knife play, kinda mean!mattheo, porn w//plot, aged up characters, rough sex, established relationship, unprotected pnv, hard chocking, swearing, ass slapping, licking, making out, blood kink.

masterlist -> navigation -> mattheo masterlist

Being satisfied.

Mattheo was sure that he was not asking for too much. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself over and over again for the last few weeks, but lately, satisfaction seemed out of reach—almost like an impossibility—and no matter how hard he tried, a fucked up emptiness was still there, tattooed on his very being as the control flipped down his fingers.

It was maddening. Absolutely maddening. He was certain he was losing control of his own body, of his mind, and just that thought alone made him feel nauseous; he felt like someone was twisting his stomach, slowly and painfully; and that wasn’t him. Being fucking miserable like this? That had never been him.

He was Mattheo Riddle, for fuck’s sake.

He never lost control; he thrived on it—he was the fucking embodiment of control. He controlled himself, his actions, and, most importantly, everything around him: Quidditch strategies, his routines, his grades, but above all, his relationships and everyone around him. But lately, everything felt off...vague, as if everything he had carefully built was slipping away, leaving him exposed and raw.

He felt like a wreck, in every sense of the word.

And the worst part? It wasn’t just affecting him anymore; the worst part was that it had started to affect his relationship with you. You, the only person he genuinely gave a shit about, the only person who mattered to him, the only person he couldn’t let slip away. That was the fucking problem.

In the beginning, everything was perfect, so goddamn perfect that sometimes he was fucking terrified to wake up and find out it had all been a dream, a goddamn illusion that his own mind created to punish him. The truth was that being with you was like a goddamn drug—in the best, most fucked-up way. It was addictive, intoxicating, and never lost its thrill. 

The way your bodies fit together, how you let yourself get lost in the things he did to you, how he knew your body by the tip of his tongue—it was all fucking exciting. And you? You never dared to say no to anything he asked, no matter how sick it sounded; that was what made him want to keep you locked up, all to himself.

And for a while it was all he needed.

But Mattheo wasn’t the type of man who loved gently or held himself back when it came to relationships. He never knew how to give just a piece of himself, and in return, he took everything from you, consuming you in ways that were almost humanly impossible. He always wanted to possess, to have power, and with you, it was no exception. 

No matter how much he tried to suppress it, the need to control you, to use you, was becoming unbearable, and Mattheo was sure that it was turning into physical pain; he could feel it in his ribs.

And besides all that bullshit, lately, the little control he had over you felt more fragile than ever, as if something had shifted in a weird way, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was fucking there, eating him alive, almost destroying his mind and opening his ribs; there was a part of you he could no longer reach, no matter how hard he tried, and it was driving him insane—he was furious with himself, and a twisted part of him was even furious with you.

He knew it didn’t make any sense, at least not to him. After all, he still fucked you in every way he could—rough, slow, and sometimes, when he was feeling nice enough, even with a strange kind of tenderness, Mattheo fucked you until you were both so drenched in sweat that your bodies stuck together like glue. But even that wasn’t enough.

He was not satisfied. 

It wasn't that being with you was horrible... fuck no! He would never say that, because he knew that if he did, it would only be a lie to hide the sexual frustration that was haunting him like a ghost. And if there was one thing he definitely wasn't, it was a liar. Besides, you were the only girl he dared to touch more than once, the only one he didn't toss aside like the others, the only one he fucking surrendered himself to—not just to blow off steam.

He knew he couldn’t be with anyone else but you. But lately, something was missing, something different, something more obscene, something more…him.

Mattheo couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to spice up the things in your relationship; he was done with the same shitty routine over and over again—he needed to push the limits of what he had with you, to push you further, to fuck you even better than he ever did.

He needed to fight for the relationship, fight for you.

It was then that an idea popped into his mind. A game. Something as twisted as it was intimate, something that would push the two of you into new territory that would push him toward the satisfaction he so desperately sought.

Hide and seek.

He knew it was probably a sick idea, a really sick one, but the way the thought consumed him, how it gripped his mind, and how the mere idea of hunting you down in a dark room with nothing but his filthy thoughts and a knife made his cock throb was impossible to ignore, especially after weeks feeling like shit, like a failure as a partner.

The truth was, Mattheo couldn’t stop himself—not when every nerve in his body burned with the desperate need for the satisfaction he craved and not when he finally found a way to solve his problems. He couldn't let you slip away, not when you were the only one who ever mattered to him.

He’d spent way too much time drowning in frustration, feeling his satisfied façade crumble, feeling the control he valued so much slip through his fingers like fucking sand.

But this—this fucked-up, twisted game—was how he’d take it all back. How he’d finally feel in control again, finallyfeel like he had all of you exactly where, to him, you truly belonged. To remind himself that you were still his—to wreck, to ruin, and to use however he wanted.

And that thought alone sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

So Mattheo approached you with caution, whispering sweet but fake words to tempt you, tracing his thumb along your thigh, offering you a false sense of security that he was waiting to take away. Looking into your eyes, almost pleading, begging for the uncertainty to finally leave them.

He offered you space to process what he wanted, making you think you had a choice, even though he knew he had already pushed you toward a thing you couldn’t refuse. And when you finally said yes, satisfaction washed over him, and he wasted no time pushing you into the game.

The small room was dim, with the only light coming through the large crystal windows. The setting afternoon sun streamed through the colored glass, casting soft, vibrant hues over the dusty old furniture and the cold stone walls. Strangely, it brought an odd sense of comfort and freedom to a space that otherwise felt heavy and stifling with what was happening inside.

The room was silent except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his slow, deliberate steps. Somewhere in the darkened corners, Mattheo moved like a shadow, his fingers wrapped around the cool silver of the knife, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light.

He wasn’t rushing—no, he wanted to savor this, to draw it out for as long as possible, and he knew that even if you couldn’t see him, a part of you could feel him and listen to his footsteps.

You were in the other corner of the room, your back pressed against the edge of an old desk, the cool wood biting your skin through the fabric of your shirt, your breath was shallow as you tried to stay as quiet as possible, determined not to catch Mattheo’s attention. The dim light filtering through the colored glass windows barely reached you; keeping you concealed in the shadows was the only advantage in this twisted game.

Every inch of your body felt wired, tense, your pulse quickening with each passing second, yet you could feel your pussy starting to get wet with anticipation of being haunted.

“Sweetheart.” He called in a purr, his voice smooth, slicing through the silence. It was the first word he’d spoken since he’d given you time to hide and entered the room, and you couldn’t help but press your hand to your chest, trying to steady your racing heart. “You’re hiding well... it’s almost cute, really.” Mattheo’s words were filled with mockery as he moved his head around, his eyes scanning the shadows of the room, searching for any sign of you.

He stopped near a bookshelf, casually flipping the knife between his fingers, the blade gliding effortlessly with every lazy movement. His dark brown eyes scanned the room, and he held his breath, savoring the familiar, sweet, and addictive scent of your perfume that filled his nostrils, quickening his pulse and making his heart skip a beat with anticipation. Yet, the scent was still too faint, and he knew you were still far from him.

And that made him even more eager to play, to catch you and use you as he wanted.

He tilted his head slightly, straining to catch any sound, but the room remained silent, save for the faint rustle of old books settling on the shelves and the distant hum of the castle beyond. Mattheo chuckled to himself. You were good—too fucking good for your own good. He couldn’t hear a thing. No sharp inhale, no shift of weight against the wooden floor, nothing to give you away. And he couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation of pride.

A slow, cruel smirk curled at the corners of his lips as he tapped the flat side of the knife against his palm, the sound barely breaking the silence of the stone walls. You were making this interesting���dragging it out, pushing him to the edge, making him hard, testing his patience. But patience? That was never his strong suit, and it never would be.

Mattheo’s footsteps echoed faintly as he began to move again, the knife still shifting between his fingers with that unnerving ease. His eyes scanned the room attentively, every inch of it, studying the shadows, waiting for the slightest slip—a twitch, a breath, the faintest shift in the air that would give you away.

But nothing did.

You held your breath even longer, your hand pressing against your chest as your fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt in a futile attempt to steady yourself against the nervousness that made your heart pound violently against your ribs—and the need now pulsing deep in your now wet cunt.

“Are you trembling right now, aren’t you?” His voice was a quiet hiss, the words almost dripping with a twisted amusement that sent another shiver down your spine. You could hear the satisfaction in his tone, his words dripping with that familiar sense of control. “Holding your breath? Hoping I’ll just walk right past you?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the voice in your head cursed as you felt his footsteps drawing closer, desperately trying to control the frantic pulse of your throbbing cunt.

Despite Mattheo’s footsteps, the room felt too still, too quiet—like you were holding onto every second, every inch of space between you and him. But he still could smell you, your scent growing stronger with every passing moment, enough to make his pants tighten around his cock, and then he finally could hear the faintest breath that made his blood burn with desire through his veins, and he wanted nothing more than to push you, to see you crack, to take this game further until you bleed.

His hand clenched tighter around the knife, the grip intensifying as he took another step, shaking his head violently to refocus on the task… breaking you? Well, that could come later.

He was going to make sure of it.

Your breathing quickened with the adrenaline, your heart pounding violently against your ribs as his footsteps grew louder, the vicious scent of his cologne intensifying with his proximity. You gripped the fabric of your skirt between your trembling fingers in a futile attempt to calm your nerves and to stop the excitement that was now dripping between your legs, hardening your nipples.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re close; I can feel it.” Mattheo’s voice came out sweet, and you knew that was the exact opposite of the intentions that had him searching for you so eagerly. “You’re really making me work for it, huh?” He asked, gently squeezing the knife in his palm, the weak lights of the room casting the shadow of the metal on the wall in front of you. “Cute.”

You cringed at the falsely sweet tone his voice carried as you tried to hold your breath even tighter, bringing your trembling knees to your chest in a nearly stupid effort to stop your pussy from growing even wetter at the sound of his manipulative words.

Mattheo stopped suddenly, his brown eyes flicking across the big dark room, narrowing slightly as they scanning every corner for any sign of you. His fingers toyed with the knife, the blade catching the light as he stood still, trying to hear even the smallest sound.

He could feel the impatience growing, clawing at him, but it didn’t dull the ache in his cock—in fact, it only made him harder. The thrill of catching you, of fucking you into the oblivion, made the excitement burn even more.

“Don’t make me wait any longer, love,” he said again, his voice rougher than before, almost like a threat. “The longer you make me wait, the worse it’s going to be for you.” He chuckled low, sending a shiver down your spine, and your heart raced even faster than it already was.

You glanced up at the ceiling, noticing how his shadow was growing bigger and bigger by the second. He was getting closer to your hiding spot, making you instinctively rub your legs together in a desperate attempt to ease the heat growing between them.

Mattheo cursed under his breath, his impatience growing as he scanned the room once more, searching for any shadow that might betray your position.

When no sign appeared, he sighed again, this time with a touch of irritation; the silence was starting to get to him, but it didn’t last long, because a wicked idea flashed in his mind, and a cruel smirk curled on his lips, and in an instant, he slammed his foot against the wooden floor with all his strength.

The loud sound of his foot hitting the floor echoed through the empty room, so sharp against the silence that without thinking, without noticing, you jumped back, slamming into the table behind you. The movement was small but enough to knock over a stack of books, which crashed to the floor, the noise even louder than his footsteps.

You couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath, realizing the mistake you’d made, your heart nearly leaping out of your throat.

Mattheo stopped instantly, a low chuckle slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on the knife in his hand. His eyes locked onto the spot where the books had fallen, and a slow, malicious smirk spread across his face. He tilted his head mockingly, his gaze glinting with amusement when he caught a small glimpse of your head peeking out from behind the desk where you were hiding from him.

Without giving you a chance to run, he moved toward you swiftly, his heavy footsteps echoing off the walls, blending with your shallow, frantic breathing, and before you could even blink, Mattheo was right there, standing over you like you were nothing but his goddamn prey.

“Finally found you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery, the way he said “sweetheart” making it clear he was loving every second of your discomfort. His eyes never left yours, and he could feel his pants tightening around his hard cock as the panic in your eyes grew.

Oh, there it was—the excitement he had been craving for so long.

You swallowed hard, your hand gripping the edge of the table you were leaning on for support, trying to ignore the dampness already soaking through your panties and the way his eyes were still locked onto your body, his fingers casually playing with the small knife in his hand as you stood in front of him.

“Yeah, i guess you found me” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to steady your shaky legs. “Satisfied now?” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though all it did was make his twisted smirk grow even wider.

Mattheo took a final step, standing right in front of you. His free hand landed on your hip, his grip so tight it would surely leave a bruise. The coldness of his palm against your warm skin made you shiver involuntarily, and he couldn’t help but let out a low, knowing laugh at the way your body reacted to him, your pussy tightening at the rough, throaty noise.

It was always like this, always—you trying to hold your ground while your trembling legs threatened to give out, even if you tried to resist the urge to drop to your knees right in front of him, you trying to challenge him, when in reality, all you wanted was to have your wet pussy filled with his big cock and feel him pump you full of his cum.

The same thing happened each and every time, regardless of how you two fucked, and he felt dumb for ever thinking that this time would be different.

Still, he wasn't complaining, since it made the game much more entertaining.

“No, not yet,” he whispered, leaning forward, your faces so close that his warm breath brushed against your skin. His free hand massaged your hip gently, his thumb stroking your skin in a way that was both mocking and soft, and you pressed your thighs together, trying to control the throbbing between your legs.

Mattheo’s hand left your hip, his fingers tangling in your hair with a strength that had you gasping in surprise as he yanked your face closer to his.

His breath mingled with yours—hot—and you could feel the press of his hard cock against you; still, he kept his lips just out of reach, teasing you. “Be a good girl,” he whispered, the words almost a command. “Show me your tongue, love.”

“And why?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your composure, but it was impossible. The air between you thickened as he pushed his hips forward, his clothed cock pressing against the top of your panties, making you whimper.

“Show. Me. Your. Fucking. Tongue.” He repeated like a command, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you even closer. The grip on your scalp made a sudden soft escape your lips—somewhere between a moan and a whimper. “Now.” He ordered, and you quickly opened your mouth, your wet muscle sliding out to meet him, and you felt his cock throbbing harder against you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised you almost softly, and before you could react, he stuck his own tongue out of his mouth and gave yours a slow, tentative lick, making you shiver and whine with the contact, and then before you could even open your eyes again, he crashed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, full of teeth and tongue.

You moan into the kiss, feeling your tongues roughly clash against each other, teeth hitting with an brutal force as you taste each other’s lips, almost as if you were claiming again a territory that had belonged to both of you for a long time.

Your lips moved against each other in a frantic and aggressive rhythm, your tongues so intertwined that neither of you could tell where one ended and the other began. Mattheo let out a low groan, his cock growing even harder as the kiss deepened, and his grip on your hair loosened just enough for his hand to slide under your skirt.

He grabbed the flesh of your ass tightly, squeezing it tightly with a strength that would surely leave a mark before yanking you forward, grinding your hips against his, forcing you to feel the full weight of his hard cock pressing against you.

“Such a good fucking ass,” Mattheo growled against your mouth, fingers digging harshly into your ass as he thrust his hips into you, the rough friction making you whimper against his lips, your cunt dripping from the pressure alone.

He could already feel his damn frustration fading away, little by little.

His hand tightened on your ass, pulling you closer, making you gasp at the sudden pressure. Before you could react with another whine, you felt his teeth bite your bottom lip, breaking the skin enough to make the taste of your blood linger in both of your tongues. He grunted in satisfaction, savoring the familiar taste, and you felt how hard he was pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

Without warning, he slapped your ass sharply, the impact leaving you surprised, a mark of his fingers on your sensitive skin. Almost immediately, he gave another slap, this one softer but still enough for the sting to make you shudder, biting down on your already bloodied lip.

Mattheo moved away from your body a little bit, a wicked smile twisting his lips as he kept just enough distance to leave you yearning for more, wanting him to finally fuck you the way he intended there and then. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you, and you met his gaze, agitated and breathless.

"Mattheo, please!" you pleaded, trying to ignore the pain on your lip, your brow wrinkled slightly due to the lack of friction you were experiencing. Yet, he only laughed, mocking you, finding it amusing that you were nearly as frustrated as he had been previously.

“Oww, are you anxious, sweetheart?” He blinked, pretending innocence, the hand that had been gripping your skin now tucking a stray lock of your messy hair behind your ear in a mockingly sweet gesture. “Poor, poor girl…” he taunted you, his eyes drifting to the small blade in his free hand, anxiously waiting to mark your skin.

He already had the prey; he only needed to cut it.

Mattheo pressed the flat edge of the knife against his palm, his grip tightening as he slowly dragged it down your skin. A shiver raced through you, and you held your breath as the cold, sharp blade grazed your sensitive flesh.

“What you’re trying to do?” you asked, your voice shaky as you watched the knife press harder against your skin.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed you by the waist and slammed your back against his chest, your feet stumbling to catch up as he dragged you with him. His arm locked around your stomach, keeping you pressed to him, making your head spin, and a soft gasp escaped your bruised lips when you felt his hard cock pressed against your ass.

Mattheo’s grip tightened around your waist, his chest resting against your back as he roughly pushed you into that position, giving him a better view of your ass. Another gasp escaped your lips when you felt his hand slide up to your throat, his fingers tightening around your skin, almost like a reminder of who was in control. Who the fucking prey was.

“Stay fucking still,” he breathed against your ear, his breath hot as he continued to press his clothed hard cock against you, and you obey, trying to ignore the pain of his grip tightening around your neck.

Your pulse hammered under his strong grip, your throat tightening as you swallowed, yet Mattheo only tightened his hold in response, his satisfaction growing with every painful whimper that escaped your lips and every shudder that ran through your already weak legs.

His other hand—the one holding the sharp knife—moved slowly down your stomach, the handle brushing against your skin as he slid the blade lower and lower. Mattheo couldn’t help but smirk even more as he felt your body tremble again and again, his cock pulsing, sensing the way you seemed to shrink back against him.

Mattheo was savoring every second of it, watching you squirm, watching the nerves take over, watching you hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable pain. That was what he wanted, what he needed—to regain control, to own you. You, the one who held his heart in your hands like it was nothing. If he controlled you, you could never hurt him, never break his heart, never crush it with your touch. So, he was just taking the safe option.

Control you before you even realize you were controlling him.

In a swift move, he yanked your skirt and panties down, exposing the soft flesh of your ass even more and your wet folds to the cold air. The sudden vulnerability made your stomach twist in a mix of nervousness and anticipation, but you barely had time to process it before Mattheo thrust one of his knees between your legs, forcing your thighs to open wider, giving him a clear view of your cunt.

“Such a perfect little pussy…” He whispered against your ear, his breath sending goosebumps down your body. “Hands on the table. Now,” he ordered. His hand remained firm on your neck, choking you, his voice dripping with dark mockery, as if he knew exactly what you were feeling. And he did. He knew, and he planned to use it all to his own advantage.

His fingers clenched around your neck more tightly when you hesitated, pressing with such force that you choked slightly—the gesture almost like a silent warning.

"You really think you can disobey me, slut?" He whispered, letting out a dark, dry laugh as he rubbed his covered length on your bare cunt, causing you to whine. “You know better than to piss me the fuck off. Especially when I have a knife in my hand. Don’t fucking test me.”

You followed the command, stifling a moan as his hands tightened around your neck, your shaking hands resting on the wooden surface, your fingers turning white from the pressure.

Mattheo hummed in approval, rocking his hips harder against you, and you instinctively rolled your ass against him, eager for more contact, his grip on your neck loosened just enough for his thumb to caress your jaw—mocking, almost caring.

Then, he finally pressed the cold blade into your ass, and you held your breath, feeling your heart slamming against your ribs.

He muttered, "Stay still," and bit down on your ear. You leaned into him—into the pain—knowing that this would be the closest thing to comfort he’d ever offer you in that moment.

And just when you let yourself relax a little on his grip, the first cut came.

Your eyes snapped shut with the new contact, and you trembled as the pain of your skin being sliced open hit you. Mattheo let out a chuckle, his cock throbbing harder at the sound of your whimpers and the sight of your eager, exposed pussy.

He pressed the blade harder, dragging it slowly and painfully across your skin, cutting through the soft flesh of your ass, still marked by his slaps.

Another shock of pain coursed through your whole body, and you let out a soft whimper, trying to move instinctively. But Mattheo’s grip on your neck only tightened, keeping you locked in place.

He wasn’t going to let you escape, not now that he was so close to getting what he wanted, to the satisfaction he was craving.

“Shhh, it’s just a game. Stay still, or you’ll make it worse.” His fingers tightened around your throat, cutting off your breath enough to make you struggle against his hold. Your head spun, your body fighting for breath, but strangely the adrenaline only turned you on more.

Reluctantly, you gave in, your fingers loosening their grip on the table as you allowed yourself to sink into his hold.

“Just like that, let me take care of you.” His voice dripped with false sweetness, but you let yourself fall for it, ignoring the burning pain in your marked ass as you tried to convince yourself it was worth it.

Mattheo dragged the knife further down, the cold blade scraping roughly over your skin, cutting into you and leaving a trail of blood behind before it finally tore through your flesh. You bit your lip hard, fighting back the scream clawing at your sore throat, your legs instinctively parting, offering him a clearer view of your dripping folds.

This time, it wasn’t just a cut—it was a permanent mark.

“Mine.”

The final stroke completed the “e,” and with each precise cut, you felt the heat of your own blood dripping down the curve of your ass, making your legs tremble more and more. The pain was sharp, but it made your heart race violently against your ribcage in a way you couldn’t explain; and yet his heartbeat mirrored yours, as if, after everything, he had finally regained control over you again.

Mattheo step back slightly, his hand loosening around your neck as he looked at the mess he’d made. He watched as your blood poured down your ass, staining your skin, tracing the deep cuts in thick, red lines. His eyes then moved lower, taking in the sight of your pussy pulsing with need, as if it were calling for him.

Fuck, he wanted to fuck your pussy so bad.

He placed the knife down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, as he felt his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, watching your chest rise and fall, and your nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt. His hand slid down to your ass, his fingers tracing the bloodstained marks, feeling the warm liquid collect beneath his nails.

Mattheo licked his lips before bringing his fingers to his mouth eagerly, sucking them clean, licking with the taste, savoring the metallic taste, as if, absorbing it as if by magic, your blood would mix with his.

“Your blood tastes so fucking good,” he muttered, sucking harder on his fingers. You blinked slowly, trying to keep the tears from spilling down your cheeks.

After one last slow lick of his fingers, Mattheo holds you again, a groan escaping his throat as he looks at your dripping cunt, and without wasting another second, he freed his hard cock from his pants, and with a single thrust, he slid himself inside your pussy.

“Ah, fuck!” You cried out in surprise as Mattheo's rigid cock entered you without warning, the force of his penetration making you almost sob. Yet instead of pulling back, he drove himself deeper, relishing the way your tight pussy clamped down on his throbbing cock. A low moan rumbled in his chest as he felt the familiar sensation of your inner walls around him.

“Even after all these months, you're still so fucking tight.” Mattheo groaned against your ear, his hips slamming against yours, the brutal force causing the blood pooling in your ass to trickle down and coat his skin. Each thrust pushing him deeper into your cunt, until the head of his cock was almost kissing your cervix, making your tender folds throb with the strange pleasure.

Fuck, he has been begging for this for months. Months begging for control, for satisfaction, and it was finally there; it was finally in his hands.

His hand tightened around your neck, making it hard to breathe, but he didn’t care. He only drove his cock deeper into you, forcing a loud moan from your lips as the pain from the fresh cuts burned through your skin, leaving you no chance to speak, no chance to even gasp his name.

You were almost certain that if he choked you just a little longer, or five more times, maybe even less, you’d be completely out of air—left to die right there with his cock still buried inside you.

But even though you couldn’t say his name or form a single coherent word, that didn’t stop the loud, desperate moans from spilling out of your bruised lips, your cries turning into broken, incoherent pleas as his grip on your throat tightened, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Yeah, just like that—moan like a fucking slut for me,” he breathed against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His large palm slid over your stomach, pressing you even harder against his muscular chest, forcing your fresh cuts to rub painfully against his bare pelvis. The sharp sting made you bite your lip to stifle a cry, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table as another type of pain spread through you.

The pain only pushed you closer to your orgasm.

Mattheo’s grip on your neck tightened, making it almost impossible for you to breathe, let alone moan. His hot breath ghosted over your ear as he fucked your pussy with deep, brutal thrusts, each one so relentless that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Yet you didn’t say anything letting him chase what he needed.

“Only letting go of your throat when you fucking come like a bitch, sweetheart.” Mattheo moaned in your ear, his hips fucking you faster, burying himself to the hilt as he felt your walls clenching around his dick, signaling your climax. He knew that his own release was close, but he refused to acknowledge it, determined to push you over the edge first like a sick competition he was playing alone.

With three more thrusts, both you and Mattheo felt your pussy clamp down around his rigid length, your whimpering cries echoing through the room as you came, making him grunt in satisfaction. He finally loosened his grip on your throat, allowing you to gasp in relief, but he didn’t stop. He slammed into you one final time before his release hit him like a wave, his cock pulsing violently, spilling his hot cum deep inside your cunt.

After a moment of silence, Mattheo carefully pulled his cock out of your pussy, his breath still ragged as he watched his cum spill out of your hole, then he gently traced his fingers over the “mine” carved into your skin, brushing the marks softly, almost reverently, as if he was looking at a piece of art. The satisfaction he craved now has a permanent mark on you.

“Are you good now?” you asked softly, feeling the exhaustion take over your features as you tried to steady yourself and keep your eyes open despite the pleasant pain.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your bruised neck before whispering, “You can say that, sweetheart.”

© mattnott 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

hate this shit, the smut sucks but the idea is good, bye bye.

thank you to my girl @bucksplum for helping with the last paragraphs, i love you a lot <3

it’s 4 am so if you want to be rude, i will visit you in your nightmares or worse… (tomorrow i might edit better…or not

comments and reblogs are appreciated and help me a lot, so feel free to interact 🫶🏻

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader - Let Us Happen (February Au Special)

It had been a week since he saw you last; since he had you coming undone, pressed against the tile walls of your shower, his hand tangled through your sex crazed hair while he talked you through your orgasm, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck. You couldn’t get him out of your mind. Every time he wound up at your doorstep, he wound up in your bed by the end of the night. You didn’t know what was going on between you and the man who lived in the apartment above you, but one you did know was you craved any type of attention from him. It didn’t matter if it was physically, mentally, or emotionally — you craved it. 

Music bumps through the surround sound connected to your tv, you were hosting a girls night for a few of your friends, since it was the first weekend of February. Mixed drinks, charcuterie boards, and a good game truth or drink were the plans for the night. You knew most of the girls would be too wasted to get home safely, much like nights out at the bar, so you were prepared for the sleepover that awaited ahead. 

“Take another one!” one of your besties shouts, forcing another shot glass into your hand. The clear liquid spills down hands, making the potent alcohol a bit more identifiable. A shiver shoots down your spine as you pinch the bridge of your nose, gulping the shot down in a hurry, your throat and chest burning from the after effect. Twisting your face in disgust, you slam the shot glass on the table, “Gahh! — that’s fucking disgusting,” as you gasp for air. Your reaction earns a giggle from her, “s’not that bad.” She was definitely the friend that had no tolerance and spent her night getting everyone around her drunk as fuck. You loved her, though. 

“Uhmm, Y/N?” one of the girls chimes in from across the kitchen table, making you look up to her. You quickly follow her gaze, only to set your eyes on a messy-haired Matt leaning against your door frame with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie and a smirk stretched across his face. The music fades out, almost like it's on cue, as you look back at your friends who were gossiping amongst each other, probably because you hadn’t told any of them about the steamy hookups you had been sharing with the boy standing in front of them. One thing you learned over the years, never brag about good dick because other bitches love to go after it. You’d be damned if you saw one of your ‘friends’ exiting his apartment, the feminine rage would make you explode in an instant. As much as you loved your girls, you'd learned your lesson – on more than one occasion – when it came to gossiping about one your new boy toys. You knew not to make that mistake again, especially with a guy like Matt.

You eye him down, rolling your eyes as you pull yourself to your feet. What the hell was he doing? The room fills with whispers and giggles as you stride towards Matt, the alcohol in your system makes you stumble a bit, “what do you want?” A faint mixture of his cologne and weed engulfs your nose as soon as you plant your feet in front of him, holding onto the door to steady yourself.

Matt raises an eyebrow at the sharpness in your tone, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he pushes himself off the doorframe. He knew you were pissed at him, but it was adorable how you looked when you were so annoyed with him. It was amusing to him how you had been avoiding him in the stairwells, ignoring all his calls and texts once again. He loved the chase. He clears his throat, “I wanna talk to you,” the sly smile making itself known as he says his next words, “princess.” 

He tests the waters with the magic pet name, both of you aware it always left a pool in your panties each time he said it. His comment earns a gasp from one of the girls behind you, making you cringe, “what’s there to talk about? I’m busy right now,” your eyes falling to the side like you're motioning to the small group behind you. You were the host after all. How rude would it be to ditch your girls just to get fucked senseless by the only guy you had been hooking up with? 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he coos teasingly, “maybe the fact that you’ve been ignoring me since I had you —,” his hands traveling up to your face to sweep a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay — okay,” you speak above him, a bit surprised he’d tell your business to the room. If he was willing to do that than what other secrets was he willing to spill? Irritation boils in your gut as you tighten your grip on the door, ready to slam it in his face. Matt raises his eyebrows at you, letting you know he wasn’t leaving even if you closed it. You let out a sigh, “we really have to do this right now — right here?” The desperation seeps through your voice as you whine at him, your reaction earning a chuckle from the back of his throat. He was very keen on your tricks by now.

“No, we’re not doing this tomorrow,” he grumbles, his blue eyes fixed on you. his brows crunched together in a combative manner, “you’ve been being a brat for too long. This conversation is happening now.” 

“Matt,” you whine, stomping your foot on the floor. He didn't care about your dramatics – no way in hell had he been giving you the best dick of your life just for you to ignore his existence the very next day. Pissed, he takes a hold of your wrist, pulling you out of your apartment and into the hallway, in one swift movement. His tight grip around your wrist earning a gasp from you, he looks up to your group of friends behind you, “jus’ burrowing her for a minute, ladies — carry on.” Your friends watch the door slam behind the two of you, erupting in giggles and gossip as it does so.

“Matt, you can’t just —,” you scold him, thrashing in his grip before he cuts you off, smashing his lips into yours like he always did. It was obvious he had a bad habit of kissing you at the worst times, always when you were fuming and never when you really wanted it. Your soft lips dance against his plump ones, the magnetic force pulling your bodies together instantaneously. His hands clasp around your waist, and he attempts to pull away. Only to fight the urge, walking you backwards until your back is pressed against the wall, his arms pinning you in. Your fists make balls into the thick material of his hoodie, rolling your body against his as your way of telling him to never stop.

Once he finally breaks away, staring down at you with a hard lust filled gaze, “just stop fighting it — let us happen,” he whispers, his face so close to yours you can smell the minty freshness of his breath. Redness creeps to your cheeks and you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with those seductive siren eyes he loved so much. Completely under his hypnotic trance, you nod in agreement. What was this man doing to you? 

wc - 1273

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I knoww, I said I'd post this yesterday, but this flu isn't doing me any favors 🥲I hope everyone enjoys!! <3 I'll still be posting, just not too sure about dates now since I'm still working on the others!

Masterlist

Neighbor!Matt Materlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

Sends me asks and suggestions <3

Check out my February Au Special 🥰

[valenteal]

The story of Anakin Skywalker is about how anyone can break under enough pressure. It isn’t a tragedy about an inevitable doom, it isn’t about how power corrupts or about how caring is dangerous. It’s about how no matter how good and kind and selfless and seemingly invincible someone is they still have needs and they can still be hurt.

Maybe this is because Phantom Menace is my favorite Star Wars movie and so I have rewatched it a million times, but for me Anakin is the most genuinely caring and selfless character in Star Wars. He wasn’t just an innocent kid (kids can be cruel and selfish and they’re usually better when they grow up not worse) he was compassionate and kind and despite growing up surrounded by some of the worst scum in the galaxy he knew nothing of greed. That says so much about his character.

Anakin’s fall to the dark side took over a decade of carful manipulation that culminated in cascade of tragedy and loss. It wasn’t an accident. Every bit of the emotional trauma, physical trauma, and mental trauma from the moment Anakin met Palpatine and on ward was planned. We don’t see the decade he spent between Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones but immediately in the second movie we see how much Anakin has changed. Where he used to be confident he’s insecure, where he used to bold and fearless he is now arrogant, where he was once inquisitive he is now cautiously enthusiastic, where he used to build he now destroys. Every change in his behavior and outlook is the result of either the teachings of the Jedi Order which are pretty much the antithesis of his entire personality, the result of Sidious’s manipulation, or the result of the toxic attitudes of many Jedi towards him.

Now I know a lot of people have… misconceptions about what the Jedi Order is and what they stand for. It’s understandable, since I guess a lot of people think of Luke as an everything a Jedi is supposed to be but he is NOT, he wasn’t even taught their philosophy! Yoda and Windu and Luminara are everything a Jedi is meant to be. They take an impersonal approach to justice, they treat others coldly, they believe themselves to be above petty things like emotion and pain and human connection. There are Jedi who take a more progressive stance like Obi-Wan and Quinlan and Qui-Gon but you have to understand that they are not model Jedi and have their own struggles with the Order and its teachings. The Jedi code literally says “There is no emotion.” That is what Jedi strive for. And that isn’t even getting into the genocide or the politics. Focusing on how this affected Anakin. That’s what I’m doing.

Anyway, Anakin is a deeply emotional person. This is not a bad thing. It’s the source of his conviction and his empathy (which a surprising amount of Jedi lack). Anakin feels deeply, so he feels love and anger and sadness more keenly than Jedi who have worked their whole lives to shut off emotion. And he was never taught how to deal with it. The most the Jedi did was tell him to meditate, release his emotions into the Force, focus on the present or other platitudes that do not help! I would know. I’m also a deeply emotional person who feels things very keenly to the point where I had a full psychological evaluation when I was 6 years old. When a person deals with this it NEEDS to be addressed. I have wonderful parents who did everything in their power to help me from a young age and I still ended up suicidal! Anakin did not get help and was instead shamed for feeling so strongly and he ended up bottling it up. People complain about how he was “whiny” and I (a person who has also been called whiny) just go what the fuck do you expect?? Expressing his frustration verbally is literally the healthiest option he has! And we know what it looks like when he chooses other forms of venting! Anakin vented to Padmé almost immediately after reconnecting with her because she is literally the only person in his life who will listen to him (other than Sidious but he makes things worse on purpose).

So yeah. Sensitive people need to be taught how to deal with their emotions in healthy ways. Really everyone does but especially people with strong emotions.

But when Anakin isn’t overwhelmed by emotions he doesn’t have the tools to deal with, or surrounded by toxic people, or being actively manipulated by an evil dictator, that’s when you see who he really is. Which means pretty much all of Phantom Menace, a good chunk of the time he’s alone with Padmé, and… nothing else really. (I’m just going to say here that I am not including Clone Wars Anakin due to the purposeful butchering of his character. I still consider the show canon in everything but Anakin’s characterization in a lot of specific instances.)

Anakin has never been a selfish person. The things people perceive as selfish are his needs. He needs unconditional love. He needs Padmé because she is the only person who gives him that. Even without getting into his psychology and bpd and what a splitting episode is, it isn’t hard to recognize that when he places Padmé’s safety above other people’s it’s an act of self preservation more than self interest. He knows that he would literally go crazy without her. After years of being systematically isolated and traumatized she is the only thing keeping him together. In his desperation to save her and consequently his own sanity he lost both those things. But it’s important to note that he tried to do things right, that he went to Yoda for help, that he told Padmé so she could take her own steps to ensure her health. He did everything he could think of before getting desperate enough to go to Sidious. Not to mention he did everything right after discovering Sidious’s identity. It wasn’t until he was presented with a false dichotomy that boiled down to choosing his mentor and confidant of over a decade and his wife’s life or the man who has scored and distrusted him since he was child that he made the objectively wrong choice. And that was after not sleeping for weeks and having a traumatizing realization that triggered a splitting episode so he wasn’t in a head space to understand what was going on in an objective way.

So yeah. That’s my rant about Anakin Skywalker. If you want to comment or debate know that I will reply with an explanation of my thoughts that could be just as long as this post and that I will not stop until you do. You will not get the last word. I feel very strongly about this and if you’ve gotten this far you have to know that I have thought very deeply about this as well. I have heard every argument. You will not change my mind. I have done research. Engaging with this post to disagree will only lead to me expanding on this even more because this is really a brief summary of all my thoughts and feelings on the matter. If you’re just curious about the rest of my thoughts and feelings just ask.

Don’t try to attack my own morals and character because of this, I am NOT condoning Anakin’s actions or behavior, I am completely aware that he is a deeply damaged and unstable person. The point of this is not to deny that but to explain why Anakin is not naturally like that. The scariest thing about Anakin’s fall is that it happened to Anakin, a paragon of compassion and selflessness. Anyone put under the amount of pressure he was would go crazy. I doubt many people would last as long as Anakin did. He was insanely strong to resist for as long as he did.

[red-cicada]

Okay idk if you guys care about my ideas at all but I do. \

Basically at this point I think these foos are just turning into my own version of reanimator ( not everything I draw of them is supposed to be taken seriously I just want yall to know that, like there is work I think of as true to my own story and the ones that are just for fun! )

Some other changes or things I think about for if i made a reanimator uhh show or interpretation whatever its called.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First I would make Francesca Peruvian I just would don't ask me why.

Dan and Herbert of course have some homoerotic stuff going on and things that defiantly question their relationship with each other but the ONLY time that they ever had some sort of sexual relationship is when they where in Peru. Its just very common in war for men to engage in homosexual relationships and this is the only time i think it would make sense ( this of course tho would be brough up in later times during what would be in the bride timeline )

Dan would of have been with Francesca long before even the idea of making the bride, and when the bride is in the process of being created he would start to pull away from Francesca leading her to going into their home and finding their lab and experiments ect:

I know some of you hate this idea but I would have Dan betray Herbert and turn him into the police, He would then later regret his choice because Francesca wont stay with him (obviously), meg is dead, the bride didn't work, because of the case he's lost his job and medical license he's lost everything. So he would try to get Herbert back or forgive him in some way ( like those prison pages I made except it wouldn't be until very late into the trails when dan regrets his choice, and the one that's kinda jokey but kinda not where dan tries multiple times to set up a visitation ) I can elaborate on this part further if you guys are interested in what I have to say.

There would be a lot more time of Herbert in prison and how that's effected him, like his eating pattern changing, he's a lot more clean and organized, he's more struck with pattern and time ect: AND would make it more clear that Herbert DID get physically stronger in prison, most prison systems have some sort of mandatory labor, and also as much as folks don't like to think about the violence that happens in prisons Herbert would be a big time criminals and some people are going to want to test that Herbert would have to find a way to protect himself. ( he's also just annoying people are going to want to beat him up )

Oh and also I feel like ( at least I haven't seen any ) folk don't speak about how being attacked by reanimated corpses, the experiments, war, and being in prison would have given Dan AND Herbert serious PTSD, and I would personally love to explore that idea. One of the things i loved in the original reanimator is that Herbert was constantly paranoid about his first reanimated corpse coming back to kill him.

ANYWAYS that's all my though for now, I have a lot more but everything's mixed up, I need to make a timeline and write down my ideas in a more organized way.

they should make a show like Hannibal but for re-animator, and they should let me direct and write and also let me play Herbert West

[nickeverdeen]

Hi hi!!

May I request a fanfic for Ekko x fem!reader?

Could you write about flustered and crushing Ekko, where he is absolutely in love with R but thinks it’s not the same? Where he literally swoons if he sees R looking at him, where he’s utterly miserable, thinking that those feelings could never be reciprocated (which ofc is not true)

I just want to read a bit about stolen glances, discreet and little touches and this kind of stuff 🫶🏻

Happy new years and stay safe! Eat and hydrate! 💖

- @frostbitten-writer

Smitten | Ekko x fem!reader

Pairings: Ekko x reader (mutual crush)

Type of fic: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Ekko has fallen for you… hard to say the least and is kidna acting out because of you while thinking you could never feel the same way, but unbeknowns to him you do love him too.

———————————

Ekko was a dead man walking.

At least, that’s how it felt every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

It was humiliating, really. He was supposed to be the leader of the Firelights, a tactician, a fighter, someone who could keep a cool head in the worst situations. But when it came to you? One look, one fleeting touch, and he was done for.

And the worst part? You had no idea.

You were too kind, too warm, too you to even realize what you were doing to him. The little things that made Ekko’s stomach do backflips were just casual gestures to you—like when you laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, or when you adjusted his bandages for him after a mission, your fingers brushing against his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He should’ve been used to it by now. He wasn’t.

It was getting ridiculous. Just last week, you had touched his arm in passing, and he had short-circuited so hard that he nearly walked into a wall. And today? Today was even worse.

The Firelights were gathered in one of their hideouts, going over supplies and repairs. Ekko was supposed to be leading the discussion, but it was proving impossible when you were sitting right across from him, twirling a screwdriver between your fingers, eyes locked onto him like you were actually listening to what he was saying.

He was a goner.

His brain refused to function properly, every sentence coming out slightly wrong, every movement just a little off. He had been gripping a wrench, pretending to check one of the hoverboards, when you suddenly leaned forward and took his hand.

“You’re holding it too tight,” you said, prying his fingers open to adjust his grip. Your hands were smaller than his, but they were steady, warm. “You’ll cramp up.”

Ekko forgot how to breathe.

You were so close, your scent—something faint but sweet—wrapped around him, and for a second, all he could do was stare. You glanced up at him through your lashes, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You good?”

No. Absolutely not.

“I—yeah,” he choked out, snatching his hand back a little too fast. “Fine. Totally fine.”

You blinked at him, head tilting in that way you did when you were confused, and he had to physically restrain himself from melting into a puddle right then and there.

This was torture.

The meeting ended eventually, much to his relief, and he all but bolted before you could see the way his ears burned red.

Of course, luck was never on his side.

Later that evening, after everyone had turned in, he found himself back in the hideout, trying to cool off. He leaned against the railing outside, watching the neon lights of Zaun flicker in the distance. The quiet should have helped, but his mind was still looping the feeling of your hands on his.

This is stupid, he told himself for the hundredth time.

“Can’t sleep?”

Ekko nearly jumped out of his skin.

You stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, watching him with a soft smile. He hadn’t even heard you come up.

“Uh,” he said eloquently. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You stepped closer, leaning against the railing beside him. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was nice—peaceful, even. Then, without warning, you reached out and flicked a strand of his white hair.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you observed.

Ekko swallowed hard. “Guess I got a lot on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He almost laughed.

Instead, he shook his head. “No. It’s nothing.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t push. Instead, you sighed and leaned against his shoulder, just the barest amount of weight resting against him.

Ekko stopped breathing.

This wasn’t normal. This couldn’t be normal. Friends didn’t do this, right?

“Whatever it is,” you murmured, “you’ll figure it out.”

Ekko turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of you in the dim light. You weren’t looking at him, but your expression was soft, trusting.

He was doomed.

And the worst part? If this wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

[globaloppaaa]

how do we feel about boynextdoor having cuteness aggression :ppp

oh i KNOW they’re hiding it fr. thank you so much for requesting! i love little chats with my anons :))

warnings: none i believe!

leehan really does try to keep it undercover, and i think he does the best job at it? he can be really calm in most public situations, but when you two are alone? ohhh that’s a whole different challenge, because now he has you all to himself. he’ll slowly start to break, giving you quick, snarky remarks so that hopefully you won’t notice the blush creeping up on his face. but if you place his face in your palms and straight up ask him what’s wrong, he’s a stuttering mess.

“you’re always puffing your cheeks like that y/n, do you only get like this for me?”

(he’s silently combusting inside.)

jaehyun is not your strongest soldier. anywhere and anytime he is with you he just erupts into this fit of coo’s and pouts. he really can’t control it. try walking past him and watch the way his eyes widen as they linger on you, then his fingers start to tremor, then he’s pursing his lips trying to keep in how cute you look wearing his clothes… before you can even ask why his head looks like it’s about to explode, there he goes!

“oh my god look at you. how could you do this to me??”

“im wearing your shirt? didnt you ask me to-”

“i can’t take it anymore!”

sungho is another one who tries veryyy hard to keep his cool. he’s actually super sensitive about his and your feelings, which makes him attentive to your every move, but he feels so embarrassed ogling at you 24/7, so he mainly tries to find any kind of distraction to keep himself off of you. It’s hardest for him to keep it in when he hasn’t seen you in a while though, he’ll do his best but trust his hugs will be tighter and his kisses just a bit more feverish.

he scoops you into his arms, entangling you in such a strong embrace that you find it hard to exhale when he finally lets you go.

“sungie did you miss me that much?”

“you have no idea.”

taesan is gonna try to be soo nonchalant about it, but his inner romantic is screaming and clawing at his skin. forget him maintaining his dignity during any kind of conflict with you. the way your eyebrows furrow, and how you pout your lip for only him to see, oh and if you put your hands on your hips? hes a goner. can’t even remember what the initial argument was for because now he’s enamored. absolutely has to squish your cheek or squeeze you physically to get the frustration out.

“baby, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“doing what?”

“there you go again, i said stop it!”

riwoo is like, totally natural about it? i feel like cute things are just a regular part of his daily life, and he’s always appreciated those softer, cuter moments with you. rather than getting aggressive he just basks in the cuteness with you. is NOT afraid to tell you you’re cute, because how could he try to lie? when riwoo sees something cute he just HAS to have it. though he does say it so often that you have to question what exactly is so cute to him, do you ever get an answer? nope.

“aww look at you!”

“riwoo baby you’re doing it again.”

“i can’t help it, look at you!”

woonhak is like, the worst person to keep collected about this. he gets overly expressive and dramatic when he’s talking to anyone, so when he’s talking to you up close and your big doe eyes have his full attention, it’s 10x worse. as soon as the rage hits he’s already making a fool of himself. He’s fighting it so hard in hopes it’ll help the agression subside, but he doesn’t realize he’s practically yelling over his own thoughts and laughing ridiculously to try and cover the thumps of his heartbeat.

“woonhak is everything ok?”

“YEAH YEAH ITS SO GOOD, YOU JUST LOOK SO GREAT TODAY. IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IT JUST ME-“

[firelikestars]

Two Amnesiac Archangels

Thoughts on Crowley’s memory of his fall and how it could relate to the finale.

SO.

Many of us have noticed that Crowley seems to have a hard time remembering why he fell:

or anyone he knew during his time as an angel. For example, Furfur:

and Saraquel:

Saraquel: “Hello Crowley. I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

Crowley: “Do we know each other?”

Saraquel: “When you were an angel. We worked together on the horse head nebula.”

We have on screen evidence from before the beginning of what likely got him into trouble (asking questions) as well as a few lines from the Metatron that likely solidify that evidence as true:

The Metatron, who probably has the most accurate information about Crowley’s fall, regardless of if he’s sharing it truthfully.

I noticed two lines in the companion to owls minisode where Crowley seems to emotionally impacted by someone being punished by god without knowing why and it got me thinking:

Crowley, to Job’s goats: “You should know why you’re about to die. God has abandoned you. The God who claims to love you, who demands your praise, has given you up to die. Bad luck.”

and then later on:

Job: “How sunk in sin must I be not only to deserve all this, but not even to know why.”

Crowley’s reaction:

As we know, Jim’s memory was incredibly spotty. Sometimes the name Gabriel would be familiar to him, sometimes it wouldn’t. He remembered full lines from “Everyday” in one moment and then in the next, couldn’t remember if it was even a song that exists. Other times he remembered long quotes from God.

This scene to me reads as Crowley empathizing with Jim about his frustration with his memory:

Jim: “I feel like an empty house.”

Crowley: “A house?”

Jim: “Yes, a house where someone lived for a very long time but now they’re gone and the house can sort of tell where the things used to be. Like when I remembered how it all began.”

*Crowley tries to get Jim to remember more*

Jim: “I don’t know, I just…”

Crowley: “I know. Looking at where the furniture isn’t.”

The parallels just seem too strong to be coincidental. It seems like whatever heaven did to Gabriel’s memory they did to Crowley’s as well.

My guess is that on a good day, Crowley remembers that he was involved in creating the universe:

that he was punished for asking questions,

that he used to be a high ranking angel:

and nothing else. Some days he might not even remember that much.

Now, back to Gabriel for a second. If heaven did something to Gabriel’s memory that allowed it to manifest in a form physical enough to place inside of container (the fly), is it possible that every angel’s memory that was wiped in that way is still physically in heaven somewhere?

It’s unclear if Aziraphale remembers who Crowley was as an angel.

We have lines from a companion to owls that indicate yes:

Aziraphale: “I know the angel you were.”

Crowley: “The angel you knew is not me.”

and the fact that they don’t recognize each other in Eden that would indicate no.

If Aziraphale truly assumes the supreme archangel role upon returning to heaven, he would have significantly more access to heaven’s files. Probably more access than Crowley had when he infiltrated the hive. Assuming he doesn’t already know, do we think Aziraphale might happen upon information about Crowley’s past in the finale? How much would it change how he feels about heaven? How he feels about Crowley? And how long can I truly wait to find out before I just write a fic about it?

[brothersfuck]

I love your baby sammy infantilization post and i would just like to add:

bartender/ waitress sees dean putting something in sammy’s drink & pulls him (sam) aside to warn him:

Bartender: Just so you know, I saw that guy you were with slipping something in your drink. do you want me to kick him out?

Sam: yeah i know he’s doing that it’s fine :3

Bt: ?????

sam’s falling asleep and nuzzling up to dean & trying to crawl into his lap like he used to as a kid. dean thinks its so cute that he just has to fuck him.

idk… your posts r so delightful

-🪼

I love the idea that Sam is completely aware Dean is drugging him, but not telling Dean that he knows. Dean thinks he's so sneaky but really, Sam is panting and getting weak at the knees thinking of his big brother roofing his drink,, also thank you for your compliments 🪼anon::)) some kinda continuation under the cut

Sam has known for quite some time now.

Well, not that Dean ever tried to hide it as well as he thought he did. The roofies were one thing, all in the pocket of his most unused leather jacket, the pills cut up in half.

He connected the dots between his ever impending sleepy-times and the fact that Sam is experienced in staying up because of college. He doesn't just start feeling sleepy if he doesn't want to.

Usually after he gets sleepy, Sam doesn't remember anything after. It's fuzzy. Comfortingly fuzzy, like his brain is telling him that he doesn't have to remember.

So when it happens again, Sam lets it happen. No protest, no nothing, just a sly look towards the roofied beer and a tilt of his head, the liquid slipping through his throat, settling in his stomach.

When he starts getting uncomfortably dizzy for one beer, Dean starts doing what he usually does, but this time, Sam will remember. He's sure of it. At least, he can try.

He hears (though muffled) "heyheyhey big guy, okay, come here Sammy. Come here Sammy." He feels (though electrifying) Dean's hand cup his side, guide him out of the bar, and take him to his car.

Dean's head is tilted to look at Sam, smile on his face like he used to when he still looked down on his baby brother from the bars of Sam's crib. He waits for a while, two maybe three minutes, before accepting that Sam probably won't remember any of this.

Sam does.

He promised himself he would.

It's a shock, but not enough that he physically reacts (probably because he's so relaxed) when Dean takes his hand and runs it through Sam's hair, cooing and whispering something about being sleepy.

When a particularly hard tug to his hair because of a knot happens, Sam freezes and his eyes start to water, his mouth opening to produce what he himself can only describe as, at the moment, the crying of an infant.

Dean panics, and he panics hard. "Fu--I mean, I'm sorry Sammy, I'm so sorry Sammy, lemme kiss it to make it better, okay? Come here,"

And Dean does, he does kiss Sam! Because that's his Sammy, and well, Sam quiets down. He doesn't know why he does (just like most of the things he's doing as of late) but he relaxes into the head kiss and whines when Dean's lips leave his hair.

At this point, he's drooling all over himself. Jesus, Sam thinks, the roofies he bought must have been from a hunter.

Sam's head falls backward, and the last thing he remembers is the sound of the engine starting.

When he opens his eyes again, he's in his bed, Dean is sitting on the edge, he could tell before he saw, because Dean does it often.

"Mm..Dee?" It's only been about thirty minutes since the drive back to the bunker, they got here at the fourteen minute mark and Dean had carried Sam like a baby to his bedroom at the sixteen minute mark. Which meant he spent at least fourteen other minutes just staring at Sam drool all over himself while he slept.

He's sporting a hard-on.

Well, can you blame him? Sammy's cute cocksucker lips covered in drool right in front of you, wouldn't you have a hard-on too? Dean asks the unavailable audience in his head.

When he contemplates going to the bathroom and taking care of himself there, he hears and feels Sam shift from his position laying on his back to crawl over (with drool still dripping out of his mouth) and plop his upper body on Dean's lap.

This time, it's Dean who freezes, and shakes, because good lord, fuck, this feels good. He's going to become a true believer in those sleeping pills if things like this keep happening.

Sam's clothes must have ridden up a little, because it's not clothes that press against his covered erection, it's his baby brother's stomach. All bare. Pressing against jeans.

Fuck. He's going to really start worshipping those pills.

He can't think about what he did after, about chuckling and grabbing Sam by the arm, about pulling Sam up and sitting him on his lap, about babying him even though he's even taller when he's sat on his big brother's lap--

Sam can though, and he will, because he was there for the entire thing. Sure, maybe he was off his game and babbling like a baby going "Dee, Dee," while lifting his hips and letting them fall back down on Dean's lap but he doesn't stop thinking about Dean breaking and finally throwing him down on the bed, eyes softening at Sam's confused face, and hands roaming all around and under those clothes.

He also doesn't stop thinking about how good it felt for his brother's cock to fill him in, and how snug it was, like a teddy bear. Doesn't stop thinking about drool coating his chin and eyes rolling back and accidentally calling Dean "dad"

He doesn't stop thinking about how that made Dean cum. Hard.

With that knowledge, Sam makes it his life goal to be as cute and babbly as ever. He's stuttering his words more, whining when he can't reach over the table for some seasoning, tugging at Dean's sleeve to tell him something.

Personally, Dean thinks he's going to hell, but fuck if heaven here didn't feel so good

[vest0]

🌈 I DID IT! I FINISHED!

Aaah, I'm so happy, and here more info about them! :D

If you have any questions or would like to request art on them, I will be only glad!

about;

These designs are made for a more human look and their anatomy consists of the familiar human one, except for the helmets, and starscream's wings. they will have a bot version, but later~

answers to possible questions:

Can I use your arts for my own purposes, or publish it somewhere?

sure, why not? the main thing is credit me, and preferably leave a link to my Tumblr!

Is this plot based on canon and can I criticize the idea for not being canon?

the plot includes a small part of the canon, but most of it was invented by me and my management of Megastars. regarding criticism - uh, criticism is allowed, but not on the topic of canons AND the pairing, plsss!

can I draw fanart for you/create my own idea related to this idea?

YESS, PLEASE DO?? Any fan work is like a diamond to me!! I will be very pleased and interested to see everything in your performance! (Actually, NSFW allowed too, but pls keep it within the limits of adequacy,,)

🌟 Starscream;

height - 5,2 or 158 cm.

weight - 50 kg

gender - she / her OR he / his. In my arts it's more as a female.

sexuality - bisexual (♀️), homosexual (♂️)

features - In the female version, Starscream has a small chest, but her hips are wider than her shoulders. Her wings are mobile but suitable for flight in the human version.

Starscream is one of the best Seekers, and as a fighter, is extremely valuable to the Decepticons. In the past, Starscream was an Autobot, the only Seeker among them, and was responsible for air operations. She joined the ranks of the Autobots at the beginning of the war. Before chaos and hostility between the two factions began on Cybertron, Starscream excelled in fights without rules, and led a cruel lifestyle. Frequent fights, a lot of skirmishes with other bots, she was at the center of criminal society, and often resorted to physical violence, or even murder. Thanks to her small size, Starscream was agile and fast, and her honed skills gave her an advantage against the enemy. She has always been an extremely cruel person, and quickly acquired the nickname "angel of death". She knew about Megatron while he was a gladiator. His arena fights delighted the young fem, and once she was even able to meet the great gladiator. After the war began, Starscream realized all the horror, and desperately sought to find redemption from the Autobots, which soon happened. Starscream had a very difficult time, because containing her true essence seemed like torture, but over time, she learned to control herself, not giving in to emotions in emergency cases. It was quite difficult with the realization that her former idol created such chaos, and this became the motivation to go to the end and win the burning war. Among the Autobots, Starscream stood out for her detachment and arrogance. It was difficult for her to communicate with others as friends, because it was unusual for her character and nature. She felt that she did not completely belong to this place, but she was held by the good goal of ending the war and returning peace. She is a cold, rude and very cunning person, hiding under her beautiful, scarlet eyes her cruel and terrifying spark, capable of tearing anyone apart without mercy, if necessary. Her fearlessness even in front of those who are twice her size plays into her hands, giving her more audacity and ardor.

Starscream's toxic and freedom-loving nature is precisely the reason why Megatron wanted her in his ranks, close to himself. No one had ever dared to challenge the lord before, but Starscream was not at all intimidated by Megatron's formidable status. This was exactly what the big bot lacked, someone who challenges him, especially doing it so passionately.

⛓ Megatron;

height - 6,7 or 201 cm.

weight - 110 kg

gender - he/his OR she/her (in my arts it's more as a male).

sexuality - Pansexual

features - There is a scar along his lip and scars all over his body. He often wears a sword belt, which emphasizes his strong and large body. He wears only closed shoes, such as combat boots or just boots.

In the distant past, Megatron was known as a fearsome gladiator in the Kaon arena, crushing his enemies with extreme cruelty and power. He didn't end up in the arena because of a happy life, but his success and fame became the initial impetus for something more than just being a beast entertaining the public. Megatron spent a lot of time training, not sparing his own body and strength. Each new fight became more and more furious and frighteningly cruel, and under the applause of the audience, Megatron began to learn eloquent monologues, wanting to get deeper into the hearts of his fans. Soon the fights turned into a real mess, after which, with a proudly raised fist, Megatron gave a speech, inspiring the people to a coup. It seemed to him for a long time that the council did not care about its own people, because in Kaon there was too much inexplicable disorder, which seemed to be turned a blind eye to. All this did not please the mature revolutionary at all.

The rage towards the indifference of the council grew with each passing day, and, unfortunately, the gladiator's speeches boiling with revolution were noticed too late. Megatron, thanks to his eloquence and self-confidence, was able to inspire many sparks in a short time, calling on them to join "justice". But, everything got out of control when Megatron was overshadowed by blind hatred. His long-time and best friend, Orion, stood against him, who saw the path to a prosperous life in a completely different way. But Megatron did not stop. The once good intention to return justice turned into a thirst for power at any cost, for Megatron could not bear the weight of the leader, and succumbed to anger, turning into a tyrant. The first years, the inexperienced lord created chaos, senselessly destroying Cybertron city after city, but with each new year he gained experience, learning to behave more thoughtfully and wisely than to succumb to eclipsing emotions. When he fully realized his role, Cybertron was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Megatron acted thoughtfully and tactically, which made the war against the Autobots even more intense and dangerous. There were many supplies needed by the Decepticons at the Autobot base, so sometimes there were secret operations to steal these resources, but one time, Megatron himself fell under the watchful eye of the air commander. He was neutralized with a couple of easy movements, when the silhouette of a familiar bot shone before his eyes. It was Starscream. And something in Megatron's spark clicked. An old acquaintance had achieved heights during the war, and her pressure kindled an incomprehensible warmth in the Decepticon. This was their first meeting in all this long time. And they are enemies. The gray bot was able to avoid a sad fate and escaped, but clearly decided for himself one thing - Starscream will be in his ranks, at any cost.

Megatron is stubborn and stands his ground, so Starscream has long tolerated the Lord's attempts to turn his head. Whether on the battlefield or when they were alone. Megatron even came to the Autobot base itself more than once, just to see his object of attention again, and to use enticing speeches. Starscream does not admit it, but she really likes the Decepticon Lord's pressure and his attractive impudence.

THAT'S IT, THANK U SM FOR READING MY SILLY HEADCANON IDEAS! <3

Hope u like it, and I'll wait for your questions, if you have something on your mind 🌟

[aangelinakii]

idk if i've said it before but i loveloveloveeeee ur damian stuff omg. i had the silliest idea of damian slowly realizing that he was in love with the reader and caught himself doodling them on the corner of a homework assignment and he's adding a sappy caption like "my beloved" and adding his signature before he can stop himself.

DAMIAN WAYNE + CRUSHING.

note : this idea is SO FRRAKING CUTE !!!! i lowk didn't wanna write a whole imagine so i did something similar to what i did with bruce and CRUSHING HEADCANOND !!!! yes yes

damian isn't one to get a crush

crushes are for babies

and damian al ghul wayne is Nawt a baby

so why tf is he sitting in his ap physics class that his father paid for with his old money

doodling your name in the margin of his textbook

beside his stuff about newton's law

whatever that is 💀

his eyes widen at the sight of the scribbles, blacking out what looks like your first name with variations of his last name

what would sound better, wayne or al ghul ?

and below that there's his name, damian, scrawled with your surname

maybe he'd take yours

or mush them together in a double barrel

and oh look he's done that too, just to check how well they'd go together

his knuckles grow white as his grip on his pen tightens, and he knows he should scribble them out further, to better hide the evidence

but something's fluttering in his heart and he can't bring himself to do it

maybe he'll just tear the page out when he gets home and hide it at thr bottom of one of his various drawers, maybe even slide it within the pages of one of his books in there so it's sure to not get found

when damian had found himself thinking about his school friend more than usual

and i mean breakfast lunch and dinner

he just thought

oh we must be really good friends, they must mean a lot to me

but as he stares down at the sketch he's done of what he can see of your face at this angle on one of the desks before him

something hits him and he realises this isn't just friendly

you're his muse, the only thing that can take his mind off what's most important — and at the moment that's getting a good grade in ap physics

there's no way he can talk to any of his brothers about this, not stephanie or barb

duke might be more relenting

cass might be more understanding

even his father would be a stretch

he hasn't had much luck in the love department, what good would he be in this situation ?

perhaps... yes.. perhaps he should talk to alfred when he gets home

[anorlondo00]

I do not care at all about sports and the sum total of my knowledge about American football is what I remember from reading Eyeshield 21 fifteen plus years ago, BUT. I am now invested in the football AU. Ace and Luffy are the mascots of the team and everyone loves them. They can do no wrong in Oyaji's eyes and he will let them get away with murder. In return, both of them are seriously devoted to making the team The Best EverTM. The first time the Whitebeards saw Ace throw a hail mary pass they swore it was going way too wide until Luffy tore down the whole length of the field, leapt like the monkey he is higher than anyone thought possible and slammed that ball down. Now the Whitebeards know to expect anything.

Also in my head Ace is the canon 2-3 years older than Luffy, and while he only became his legal guardian upon turning 18, he has helped raised him and the Whitebeards do a double-take every time responsible Ace comes out. Before Luffy joins the team Ace has to beg early off practice to go to a parent-teacher conference. After they're both on the team Ace still makes him PB&J sandwiches after practice, unruffled by doing it in front of everyone in the locker room.

Bootleg Marineford is a game where everyone (and especially Ace, under a lot of pressure) has been physically and mentally wrung out. The Marines team keep trying to sack Ace and get closer and closer, but Marco digs in his heels and makes an impassable barrier of himself. Until there's a crack in the line... And a small opening forms where Teach, who has been fighting with everyone recently, but especially Whitebeard and Ace, stands. Offensive player Akainu, who probably weighs twice what Ace does, hits him like an avalanche. Ace goes down. When Akainu is finally dragged off him, he stays down.

Luffy and Whitebeard are sprinting across the field toward Ace, but Marco's mind has hit the blue screen of death. There's nothing but static behind his eyes as he stares at his fallen quarterback.

The game is suspended and put up for a rematch. Neither Ace nor Marco, who did his level best to murder Akainu right there on the field, play.

(Ace is eventually fine, but now knows up front and personal the effects of a long-term concussion).

Claims not to know that much about American football, proceeds to clearly and accurately describe the exact plot I was also imagining—

YES! Are you KIDDING ME? This is perfect, I’ve got more

They don’t call him ‘Fire Fist’ for nothing, the kid throws missiles. The way Ace and Luffy find each other across an entire football field drops most people’s jaws.

Luffy will track the ball wherever Aces throws it. If Luffy get’s hurt in a collision catching the ball, Ace firmly believes that’s his fault.

That being said, Luffy is notoriously indestructible.

Bootleg Marineford: (That’s a hilarious thing to call it btw)

There was a flag thrown the second Ace got hit. Yes, it was Teach’s fault for leaving an open window. And. Akainu was needlessly brutal. Whitebeard was cursing him out before they even hit the ground.

Luffy was incredibly protective over Ace while he was unconscious. There were cameras everywhere.

Marco needed three people to pull him off Akainu. Instead of apologizing, he later told the media he’d gladly do it again.

Ace is out for the rest of the season. He’s absolutely devastated. That being said, he stood on the sidelines for every game.

Physical and neurological therapy were a bitch. Lots of ‘long talks’ with Pops.

Of course, Ace comes back to the field as soon as he’s better. Now, playing with the most overprotective offensive line you’ve ever seen in your life.

Thank you for writing this, it was so much fun to read!! And there’s a lot I didn't even mention like the adjusted age gap (perfect for this) and parent teacher conferences��� I love it all!

[littleakito]

HI HI HI HI HI. Angsty Dazai headcanons? Pretty please! With sprinkles on top even!

╰╮﹕★﹒ANGSTY LITTLE! DAZAI HEADCANNONS﹒🩹 TW WARNING.

AVERAGE DAZAI SHENANIGANS (suicide, sh, etc.), MENTIONS OF FORCED INJURY, EXTREME SELF LOATHING & SELF HATRED, DEHUMANIZATION. NOT TO BE READ WHEN REGRESSED (unless you like. hate yourself I guess? do what you want <3)

HEED THE WARNINGS.

୨୧ ：aah! finally getting to this hehehh.. I would have gotten to it sooner! but I need to be in an awfully specific mood to write angst.. tis odd! also! no cherry on top!!?!?! smh… /silly sprinkles are great though, sounds delicious mmmm..

1　 ﹒　Despising pain so much is quite a struggle when your brain has so much hatred towards yourself it begins to physically hurt, they say that once you grow hungry enough, you begin to eat your own heart. Dazai doesn’t have one of those, last he checked. So instead, his body begins to sacrifice his mindset for one of a much, much younger person.

It’s scary, even scarier when your anxiety is running rampant and rapid, coursing through your veins at an all time high. Vulnerability shouldn’t be such a scary thing, but when your most memorable experience with such is having your arms sliced open on a vivisection table, and tubes shoved down your throat, you begin to despise letting people see you as so.. small.

It’s even worse when you mentally feel so little, and the world around you begins to look like tall, scary faces, watching your every move.

2　 ﹒　Being oh so used to tainting all that he touches is rather tough, I feel as if he’s broken a pacifier before and had an absolute panic attack, god forbid someone allows him to hold a cup whilst he’s somewhat fuzzy, things will begin to blur the lines between sitting in Mori’s office, and being right in front of his caregiver.

3　 ﹒　When he betrayed the Port Mafia, he lost Chuuya. I wouldn’t entirely say that Chuuya was his “caregiver”, due to their oh so complicated relationship, but I would say that Chuuya was the closest thing he’s ever had to one. They’re both rotten, but that doesn’t entirely matter when you feel so sweet next to one another.

Whenever Dazai would begin to wish for him by his side, he would grow so much self hatred, how could he want something? How could he ever allow himself that treat of comfort, when he’s done nothing but be an awful, awful human being(? Is he even that, anymore?) towards both himself, and everyone around him.

He’s been biting and snapping at others for so long, that he’s begun to forget he, too, was bitten himself. That sorrow that taints him is a product of another person, who cherished him, yet only for his inability to feel cherished, and understand emotions in the first place, for that matter.

4　 ﹒　After time, if he ever began to feel even a little more comfortable in that state, he would begin to have extreme night terrors of his regression. He would begin to despise it, anything that brings him comfort should be banished, after-all. If he had a specific love for a certain toy or drink or stuffie, he would cry himself to sleep in a corner without it, all in punishment for existing in the first place.

If whatever god is out there created Dazai with the purpose of making a self loathing success of a black hole, destined to be hungry for love whilst tainting those around him, for all of eternity, they certainly are a master in their field.

୨୧ ：projected a lil too hard with my lil man methinks, anywho, I hope this is okay and at least partially in character! thank you sososo much for your request, ash! ‘twas fulfilling!

HEADER READS: “LITTLE DAZAI HEADCANNONS”

DNI BANNER READS “NSFW DNI” “HEY, DID YOU HEAR ME?” “CHILD SAFE BLOG”

[varda-star-queen]

Thank you @itwillbeourswansong - I cordially accept your invitation! When do I ever not need an excuse to wail about Adar? (Also, I very much enjoyed reading your thoughts! Nicely put as ever.)

I'll go straight to the questions for my wail-therapy session

-Your most wail-worthy Adar moment of TROP Season 1 or 2

He died! 😭 I don't think I'll ever get over it - not after all the build up and the amazing redemption arc he had. I hear what everyone says about it mirroring what he did to Sauron, but so what? It wasn't a befitting end for such a great OC.

However - TBH I think EVERY scene that Adar features in is wail-worthy (in S2 - and I'll explain that in question 3, but it's no slight on S1 Adar). The scenes where he speaks elvish and black speech... OMG 🔥. His chemistry and interactions with other characters. His tenderness coupled with ferocity on the battlefield! All of it.

I can't watch his scenes without wailing (for happy or sad reasons!)

-The detail/headcanon about Adar that keeps you up wailing at night

Very much like @itwillbeourswansong - It's Adar's huge capacity for love that gets me. We only see his physical scars, but his emotional and psychological ones are likely much worse. Yet, through all that he retains enough heart and soul to dedicate his entire existence to loving the unlovable. At no point do you feel that he would walk away or stop caring. He's capable of malice, of course, and, in many ways, he's ruthless, but always with the underlying motive of providing for his children.

He knows he's broken - when he says to Glug 'with all that is left of my heart', it feels to me like an acknowledgement. And I think when he puts on Nenya and feels whole-hearted again, it intensifies his capacity for love even more. So much so that he proposes peace - a safe place for every being in middle earth.

His patience is also noteworthy - I mean, he's lived thousands of years with an uncivilised bunch of violent kids! But he's always so calm and patient. And he's smart - one minute he's negotiating with a troll, then he's quoting poetry and calling people beautiful, then he's leading his armies into battle - It's high-level competency porn!

-At what point did you realize that you had become a hopeless Baddydaddy Devotee and lost control of your entire life?

Ok, so I am a very late latecomer!!

In season 1, I was intrigued by Adar, but more in conjunction with the 'who is Sauron' mystery. I do remember thinking his haunted look was heartbreaking and wondering what his backstory was.

When season 2 started and I saw Sam as Adar, I instantly clicked with his voice - that was the first thing I noticed and I even remember saying to my husband that I liked the sound of him. BUT even then, I wasn't fully awakened. After the 'Elen Sila Lumenn' moment, I sat up a bit more and was like, ok... what's happening here? Then next episode, when Galadriel got him by the neck, I started thinking, hang on, why am I craving more scenes with him... Which I was rewarded with in Ep 7. And that one was the clincher. After his scenes in that, I was convert and I started rotting my brain on everything I could get hold of in relation to Adar (just in time for him to die next episode 😭😭😭NOOOOOOOOOO).

I've now rewatched every S2 scene so many times and am completely and hopelessly devoted to our BaddyDaddy.... I need to do a complete season 1 rewatch with all this in mind, because I feel I don't remember enough of the details.

It's on my to-do list!

🖤🖤🖤

Season 2 episodes 6&7 were also when i jumped off the Haladriel ship and boarded Adariel (where I've been firmly ever since!). But I also love how Adar gets shipped with EVERYONE. Because it affirms my own thoughts about how attractive a person is when they have a noble heart, even if it's corrupted. (...And of course he's a hot bastard which helps too!!)

No pressure tags @tumblin-theworldaway @iwanderbecauseimlost @laurarcrazystrange @wowstrawberrycow @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @adarswidow

anybody in the mood to wail about Adar??

BECAUSE I AM

[hojichiuu]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

featuring: Boynextdoor's Knight!Taesan x femprincess!reader

setting: slight angst, mostly hurt/comfort, secret relationship, medieval times au

summary: daughter of one of the most renowned kingdoms to exist, you were obligated to carry the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders as the next heir. one after the other, the expectations and burdens have been thrown at you for as long as you could fathom. naturally finding your safe haven in taesan; a knight chosen to serve the king, basking in his comfort when things became too much to handle. yet nothing could prepare the two of you for the news that would be announced by your parents on the night of the annual banquet hall.

warnings: for writing purposes i've written taesan which is his official title name but reader personally calls him by his real name han dongmin, mentions of parental abuse, secret relationship with taesan, arranged marriage, reader has a panic attack, talks of self doubt and burdening expectations, pet names (kinda?), so so much comfort, let me know if i've missed any!

word count: 3.8k (this was meant to be a short i blacked out)

author's note: the idea sparked from jaehyun's speech during HOW? comeback era where he says "you know what kind of person Taesan is, how warm and kind he is." :( this is just something small i've written, idk if i'll add a prologue or epilogue yet as i'm still continuing the gryffindor!jaehyun fic which i'm not entirely sure when it'll be out but i'll try my best! REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYSSS APPRECIATED <3333

It must be both a blessing and a curse to be able to feel things so deeply. 

Dusk seeps in as the air temperature begins to drop, daggers of ice contaminated your lungs with every breath you seemed to take. Grabbing as much of your gown as you possibly could whilst mindlessly trudging through the unkempt grass that laid behind the palace. 

You didn’t know where you were going, you had no clear destination. All you knew was that if you stayed any second longer at the ceremonial banquet you would’ve either thrown up on everybody or passed out. 

When did all of this this start?

Was it months prior when your parents sat you down by the dining table, discussing with you that you've reached the age to be betrothed? Was it when they scolded you to start thinking about the future, the reputation of you and your people? Was it when weeks turned to days to hours of men continuously knocking at the door asking for your hand in marriage in order for them to rule? Or when your father tried smacking some sense into you once he found out you had been sabotaging each proposal that was made for you. Berating you at the fact that many other kingdoms have decided to cut ties and supplies due to your immature behaviour.

Despite the continuous declarations of love by the front gate from men decades older than you, despite the physical discipline your parents instilled into you, despite the pressure of ruling the future kingdom daunting down on your shoulders.

Your eyes, head and heart only fell on one thing. One person. 

You never once spared a glance at those who publicly set their eyes on you. The thought of ever marrying one of these men had only ever left you with a deep unbridled disgust that harboured within your gut.

On the day of the ceremony in which you were told was a celebration of a new peace treaty. Which although not entirely false, was used to cover up big news that everyone else seemed to know but you. 

You knew something was wrong.

Feeling the back of your neck begin to heat up from the warm lights that illuminated the halls, the sweat that built up on your hands as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, the continuous tapping of your foot. A sinking feeling in your chest you couldn’t quite seem to shake off.

Yet nothing could ever compare to the pang in your chest the moment your parents publicly announced your engagement to the prince of Ansan, an engagement you’ve never even heard about.

Crowds hooted and hollered over the fantastic news that united both kingdoms, all eager to celebrate through drinks and danced for the rest of the night.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak. Terrified that if you made a single movement, everything you had so carefully built up within yourself would break.

Instead, you kept your eyes bored into the back of your parents, silently cursing them as they never once decided to look back to you. Carelessly chatting away with the current rulers of Ansan over a glass of freshly produced wine.

You knew that they planned this engagement as part of the peace treaty, that they would offer up their daughter to their son for the future of both kingdoms.

You knew they purposely didn’t tell you the news because they knew how you would respond.

You knew all this and yet, you had never felt so small. 

Suddenly aware of the thousands of mindless conversations that filled the room, the occasional sounds of glasses clinking and chairs creaking along the polished floors began to cloud your mind and ring your ears.

Since when did the room becoming so small? Why were the lights shining brighter than usual? Thoughts clouded your mind one by one, little by little, until the only conscious thought left was hearing the sound of your rushed heartbeat as it bursted through your eardrums, the feeling of your corset suddenly became increasingly tighter by the minute, your palms felt sticky. And for something so natural you did since birth, you wondered…

Since when did it get so hard to breathe.

Getting out of there was the only reoccurring thought you had. Not caring about the consequences that lied beyond as you messily stumbled your way out of the ballroom, ignoring the countless stares you earned as you pushed through the crowd in panicked daze, avoiding those who expressed concern about the sudden paleness of your face or the fact you tripped over your gown multiple times.

You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t seem to care anymore, because the moment that engagement was announced, all you could possibly think about was that you couldn’t see Taesan anymore.

-

Nights where you would sneak out of the north wing as you cautiously made your way to The Keep; a chamber where all the knights resided.

Times where Taesan would help you quietly to his room, hushed giggles and reckless stumbling as you both climbed into bed, letting out a sigh of content once you fell into each other’s embrace.

The countless nights that were filled with quiet love confessions and soft kisses, nights where the world finally fell quiet.

Where despite seeing him on duty around the corridors of the palace, you two were only ever able to exchange small looks of longing to one another.

In times where Taesan would silently clench his jaw as he spots another group of men by the gate waiting to whisk you away.

Where in those specific nights, Taesan let himself love you just a bit more, let his hands linger intertwined with yours for just a bit longer. Praying his burning touch could translate into the words you both never dared to say. 

Because in truth, deep down, you both knew that this would never work out. That a knight such as he could never be granted permission to ask for your hand. You both knew that in no world such as this, would the two of you ever be accepted.

Yet as night falls, without a second thought, Taesan slowly kisses away the thoughts that plague your mind, murmuring soft words of comfort into your skin.

You don’t miss the way he embraces you every night as if it were his last. 

As the sun sets, through tangled sheets and soft sighs, for just a moment; you both let yourselves forget about the fate you were bound to.

-

You knew Taesan heard the news.

Everyone that resided in the palace was instructed to stand by the door in order to hear the anticipated speech of the night.

You don’t know what expression paints his face, if he allowed his mask to drop for even a second when the news announced, how many thoughts were racing through his head.

For a moment you wonder if he felt his heart sink such as you did.

So despite the calls of concern from passerbys, you stumbled your way out of the banquet hall. Letting your feet take you as far away from the palace as you could, until you were sure couldn’t see the lights from the windows that ignited the night. You don’t know how long you’ve been running, the meadow was vast after all, and your feet were beginning to sting from the stiffness of your heels. The sound of your heavy breathing begun to fill your ears as you try to catch your breath. Taking in the scenery that filled all your senses, the crispiness of the air, the buzzing from the cicadas of the night, the wind that occasionally brushed against your skin that filled with goosebumps as a response. 

Craning your neck as you begin to count each star that illuminated the night, allowing your breath to steady with each count.

Breathing in as you close your eyes, reminiscing back to the moments before where you sat at the banquet table, surrounded by hundreds of strangers with their piercing gazes that never failed to send shivers down your spine. To the times where you had mockingly cursed those who hovered by your door of the castle, asking for your hand.

Blurred memories of faceless figures begun to cloud your mind, seeping their way into your soul to break it piece by piece for their pure satisfaction. You think about the lonely days at the palace; days filled with silence and discipline, you think about the drunken men whose arms lingered far longer than usual on your waist as you greeted them, the way their wedded wives looked at you in the face of disgust whilst whispering vulgar insults to wouldn’t dare wish on anyone. Only to plaster a mocking smile in your direction once caught.

Yet you will never forget the stares of your parents that stabbed their way into the darkest depths of your soul, where no words were ever needed to show the disappointment they carried for their only child. 

You let the anger hold itself as the lump in your throat you tried to so desperately swallow, you let it gather unspent in the corners of your eyes as it threatens to spill out, you allow it to boil as your blood that flowed through every nook of your bones.

Years worth of unexplained grief had begun to claw its way out of your skin. Making its way to your fingertips as the grip you had on your gown subconsciously began to loosen, silently allowing the soiled mud seep into the soft fabric. To your knees that slowly gave out as they began to buckle beneath you. Letting yourself drop as if the weight of your burdens suddenly became too heavy to hold, to your lips as you choked out a whimper in the silence of the night. Covering your mouth as your quiet whimpers morphed into choked sobs.

For once, you allow the unbridled grief within you to trickle out the corner of your eyes and onto the grass beneath you.

For once, you allow yourself to feel.

Trying to curl yourself into your soiled knees, praying no one could hear the strangled cries you held within. As one arm hug your sides whilst the other clasped around your jaw, covering your mouth in hopes of easing the noise. All useless attempts to keep you from slipping any further.

You wanted to scream, to wail, to love, to smile purely, to punch someone. Yet despite the sting in your lungs from the cold air, the roughness of the soiled grass that lay beneath you, the futile attempts in drowning out your cries – you prayed someone, somewhere, anywhere might’ve understood the turmoil that boiled deep inside you.

-

You don’t know how long it’s been since you ran out the hall. You don’t know if your prayers were heard by some great deity, but you didn’t miss the reverberating noise of chain mail clanking continuously onto the armor that belonged to whoever began quickly pacing towards you. 

But before you were able to react towards the noise, a large pair of arms silently wrapped itself around you, one arm circling your waist as the other gently rubbed your nape to help ease your sobs. Pressing your cheek against the cold armour that embraced you, taking in its smooth texture before hearing the hush murmurs of comfort that tickled your skin.

Hush murmurs of comfort that were no stranger to you in the night.

You tense under his hold, not daring to look up because you knew that if you did, you would break completely.

But Taesan knew you, your little ticks, subtle movements, he knew how to read it all. He knew what the silence meant.

“I’m here, shh please don’t cry anymore. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. So sorry my love I’m here now.” his soft whispers of reassurance attempts to drown out your whimpers. You feel his hurried breath fan your skin as he nuzzles closer, burying his face in the dip of your neck. Chest heaving almost as if he had been searching the whole castle inside out to look for you.

“D…Dongmi..n..” you managed to choke out broken phrases. Grabbing the hand that rested on your nape, feeling the familiar rough texture that had held you for countless nights,your eyes squinting to make out his figure in the night. 

As your eyes begin to adjust properly to the dark, you let yourself admire his moonlit kissed features. The way his brows furrowed, lips tight in a thin line, eyes filled with a void of tenderness and worry that made you want to cry.

Yet despite everything, all you could think about was how beautiful he looked. 

The ruffle of his hair that laid unkept from roughly taking off his armour, his honey brown eyes swirling with millions of unsaid thoughts and emotions that shone under the night sky, his lips raw from his continuous biting habits, his flushed cheeks; pink from hysterically searching for you. You try to take him in further, eyes gazing along his long slender fingers that brushed against your skin through countless nights.

He was undeniably the most beautiful this kingdom ever had to offer.

“Dongmin I…I didn’t know,” you hiccuped, swallowing your spit as you shake your head. “I swear, I promise. I’m sorry please believe me, I didn’t know about the engagement. I can’t… I don’t want…” stumbling over your words in a panic as you try so desperately to convince him that you played no part in your own betrothal. 

You couldn’t help but notice his eyes widening at your unnatural outburst.

From the moment Taesan spotted you curled up within yourself on your knees in the middle of the pasture, taking in your small shrinking figure in contrast to the vast fields of grass, something in him had started to break. That he was so sure his heart couldn’t possibly sink any further after hearing the news of your engagement. That there was nothing else left that could shatter his heart further.

And yet the moment he gently cupped your fragile face in the palm of his hands, feeling your soft hands grip tightly around his wrists ro anchor yourself, noticing the way your knuckles begun to turn white from how much you were squeezing him. As if you were holding onto him with all your strength, as if he was all you had left to keep yourself from slipping into the abyss.

Taesan felt his soul break into pieces. 

As he lets his eyes rake over your grief stricken face, the glow of the moonlight highlighting your tear stained face as the sound of your choked sobs filled his ears. He holds you, engulfing your fragile body with his. Pouring all his unspoken words into his embrace, praying you heard. Silently wishing he could shield you from all the bad in the world, all the ugly and hollow. All the things that weren’t you.

“I know.” he whispers, eyes softening. “I know my love…no I know, of course you couldn’t have known. I believe you, I promise. So please…” he slowly takes in a deep shaky breath, praying the tears that threatened to fall would stay put. That he can drown in his emotions once he was alone, but right now he needs to be here for you, with you. 

“Don’t worry…I…we’ll work something out, I promise. We’ll be okay, so don’t cry anymore…okay? Please my love, please don’t cry anymore.” his voice betrays him as it breaks, kissing your hair as he lets your scent invade his lungs, letting his arms wrap around you even tighter. 

“I see you,” he consoles you through quiet whispers against your ear, words only for you to hear.

“I see the way you carry yourself, despite the words that come your way, I see the situations you’re forced into by your parents, how lonely you get by the dinner table yet mustering the courage to compliment the chef, the pressure of everything bestowed onto you… I see the way you hold yourself with such strength that only I could ever dream of.” 

Feeling your soft cries slowly drown out into small sniffs and hiccups, looking up to see his eyes crinkle into small crescents as lips curl up into a small smile. The rarity of a smile you could admire for the rest of your life, the smile that he talks about with such insecurity when in actuality, you couldn’t begin to express how often you wish to carve it into the mass of your bones. 

He tenderly rests your head on his shoulder as he rubs your back to ease the discomfort, continuing to whisper soft praises to you. 

“My kind, beautiful girl…” he begins to pepper soft kisses across your face with each word, lips kissing your cheeks, the crown of your head, the side of your face, your eyelids, everything he could reach. “The embodiment of strength…the purest of hearts...my precious love… my most cherished.” each peck reigniting a fire in your heart that had been burnt out long ago.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you scrunch your nose in anticipation for the next kiss, only to open your eyes to see him staring at you with such adoration.

His gentle gaze. Seeing you, for all you were, all you are, all you will be.

Suddenly feeling insecure under his gaze, you shake your head, eyes faltering as you whisper.

“I am not what you say I am, I am not even close to it.” your voice shakes, continuing before he could protest.

“I am…tired of it.” you attempt to piece your thoughts together amidst the chaos that plagued your mind. Refusing to look him in the eye as you resort to focusing on the curve of his armour. “These people make me feel as though I have a hole in the middle of my soul. I don’t think I’m fit to rule them and..and yet… and I don’t mean to be cruel I…” 

Despite feeling self conscious of your continuous stumble over words, Taesan brushes the hair out of your face, silently urging you to continue as he wipes your tears with such gentleness you feel the tears build up once again. 

“I swear that I am kind… that…that I have love in my heart, inside of me…I can’t prove it but…my mind feels all messed up. I don’t understand my own thoughts and yet, I fear that the bad thoughts that I carry within me are all that I am.” mind flashing to unpleasant memories of your fathers aggression and mothers disappointment, feeling a small tremor in your breath as you purse your lips together, Letting out an amused laugh in futile attempts to ease the tension in the air.

You hear a beat of silence, followed by another. And for a second, you wonder if opening up was a bad idea after all.

“I think you have the most beautiful mind.” 

He whispers it with such warmth and truth, as if these words came so naturally to him that he never once thought twice about it. Blurry eyes that once stayed focused on Taesan’s armour blinked up towards his face, only to see him look at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky one by one. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were ever holding.

“You are not hard to love,” he carefully wipes away your dried tears, “not at all…not in the slightest.”

He lived and breathed you, always and only you. Taesan knew that.

You feel his eyes linger on you, his fingers mindlessly playing with the loose strands that fell out of your bun.

“You know when we first met,” he starts. “I put some sort of…mental barrier between us.” 

Sensing your confusion to his sudden storytime, he lets out a light chuckle as his other arm squeezes your waist “I already had rumours spread around about me, that I was mean, coldhearted. That I was basically a robot wired to only serve the king.” 

You don’t miss the slight quiver in his lips as his head tilts to the side, he knows you don't miss it either. Giving you a soft smile to somehow lighten the mood, a smile filled with thousands of silent confessions.

“The rumours spread throughout the entire castle…I obviously wasn’t surprised, gossip was made to be spread after all.” he shrugs

“Yet even though you heard the rumours…you still went to see me. To talk to me.” 

“And it wasn’t just that, it was the fact that you spoke to me so naturally that it threw me in for some sort of loop.” he chuckled, you feel the rumble through his chest as your cheek presses against it. 

“After having everyone speak to me with such…I don’t know…tension? Discomfort? You coming up to me so naturally made me subconsciously break down the barriers I had so carefully built up.” 

He pulls you slightly away to take in your features, tucking back in the loose strands of your hair as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes interlocking.

“I love you with such a strange tenderness that it honestly scares me. Because all this time, I would never allow myself to be so soft for anyone, anything.” despite your noses touching, you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on your lips for a second longer.

“Do you understand me? You are not hard to love. I loved you so hard that I began to soften.” he gently engulfs your hands over his, kissing the pads of each finger.

“If you were able to get through a hard headed guy like me, then you are more than capable of capturing the hearts of the civilians. Give yourself more credit, my love.” 

Rolling your eyes over his hard headed comment, you slap his shoulder pad, eliciting a laugh out of him. Eyes unable to pull away from how his smile morphs across his face, silently painting it into memory. Not noticing the way your eyes begin to sting with the way Taesan so naturally held the broken pieces of your soul to slowly mend it one by one. 

Before you could even open your mouth to add onto his joke, his hand moved to cradle the back of your head as he leaned in. His lips moulded with yours with such strange gentleness, as if you were some fragile being he dared to touch.

“Shit, sorry I…” he murmurs out of breath, “I couldn’t help myself, you looked so pretty and I just lost control for a moment I didn't mean to cut you o-” 

For once, not caring for what he has to say, you snake your arms around his neck to return the gesture. Both of you sighing as your lips seemed to fit like a puzzle, moving in sync. The mix of yearning and love carried behind each kiss as his grip squeezed around your waist, letting his arm wander across your back, feeling you.

Lips moving in tandem, messy and clashing yet full of passion that mirror the nights you two spend alone. You latch onto the plushness of his lips, addicted to the feeling of it against your own. Suddenly feeling lightheaded as he continues nipping at your bottom lip, his long eyelashes flutter against your cheek, groaning as you tug at his hair.

After pulling away for what felt like a lifetime, you try to catch your breath despite the close proximity you two were currently in. Taesan prays you don’t notice the erratic pacing of his heartbeat along with the heat rushing along his ears.

“I am irrefutably in love with you Han Dongmin,” your use of his full name rather than the one given to him by the kingdom stirred a deep adoration that melted Taesan’s heart. “And I’ll be damned before I'm forced to be betrothed to another.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he lets out a boyish grin, arms circling around you pulling you closer, “As if I would ever let that happen.”

Your eyes soften as you rake over his features, he lets out a sigh of content as he closes his eyes, letting you feel across his face. Fingers dragging over the thick hairs of his eyebrows, to his eyelids, to the concave slope of his nose, his plush cheeks, feeling the plumpness of his lips. 

“I don’t believe I am fit enough to rule the hearts of the civilians... after all I only ever wanted to be with you.” you murmur quietly underneath your breath. The pads of your fingers feeling the way his lips curved into a huge grin. His hand captured your wrist, cheekily biting your finger as you let out a tiny yelp before placing the palm of your hand to his chest, his heart.

“Your royal highness you really do have a way with words, speak to the crowd in this manner and you shall capture all the hearts in no time!” he jokes, mocking the tone your parents tend to use during speeches.

Laughing as you hold his face in the palm of your hands, bringing it up closer to you before pressing multiple pecks against his giggling lips. The crowded thoughts in your mind gently dissipating, the once ringing in your ears had vanished and was replaced by his soft laughter. 

“Besides…” he murmurs against your lips, “I’ll be with you the whole time, I won’t let anything else happen to you.” 

Your presence was the sun, and those who caught a glimpse of your light were never able to look away. Taesan could only pray that one day, you were able to see yourself the way he saw you. Strong-willed, beautiful, gentle, and so, so incredibly loved. 

So for when the day eventually comes, Taesan promises to spend every waking moment of the rest of his life reminding you of your worth, of his adoration and dedication for you, helping you slowly heal the wounded scars you held deep beneath your soul, showering you with nothing but love and admiration, all knowing you would do the same for him.