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blueepink07 · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I'm always amazed by the sybolism and connections you find -- I was wondering about your thoughts on your favorite/most interesting of the birthday cake art!

THANK YOU, I'm really glad that you like these analyses!!

I know that I have been posting a lot of Muu lately, but her birthday art is my favourite! It's simple and elegant and looks different from the other cakes, which makes it more interesting!

Before starting, I will separate this in sections so it can be easier to read!

1. Cake

2. Accesories and dress

3. Flowers

(mentions of murder, suicide and death)

Cake

Muu's cake is called Galette des Rois, a dessert originated from France and rich in traditions!

"This dish is eaten to celebrate Epiphany which is the day that the newborn baby Jesus was believed to have been visited by the three kings or Wise Men or Magi."

"Inside the cake, a fève or a miniscule trinket is usually hidden. Fève translates into ‘fava bean’ which was originally believed to be hidden in these cakes. Nowadays, a porcelain or plastic figurine representing baby Jesus is often put inside the Galette des Rois instead, a shift believed to have occurred towards the end of the 19th century. The person who gets the slice containing the fève gets a crown as well as the right to be treated as king or queen and choose their queen or king for the entire day."

Based on this description, we can see the similarities between this cake and Muu's Queen bee portrayal in the second MV. Her being shown doing what she pleases, finding comfort in her friend group.

However, before proceeding, it's necesseraly to give a brief history of this tradition and how it evolved over time...

"We traced this tradition of picking up kings back to Antiquity. In those ancient times, during the festivities consecrated to Saturn. Romans used to pick up king between their slaves. During one day this slave would have the luck to live like a master. Luck? Well.. after the day, in the best case he was returning to a state of slave, or he was just put to death. The roles were inverted to thwart the evil days of Saturn."

Awfully familiar, isn't it? The galette des rois it's a good representation of the dynamic in Muu's friend group. Because of how easily she was betrayed, it makes me think that the group was already formed or they knew eachother for a while. Despite that the old tradition tells that a poor person was chosen to be the king, which seems contradicting, because of Muu's financial state, if she were in the vulnerabile position of being new and not having friends, than she could be considered "poor" in terms of relationships. The friend group integrated Muu and started admiring her for the expensive things she had and for her beauty. For a short while, Muu felt like a queen, because of the attention she got at the expense of giving items to her friends. (In an older post I explained that Muu has the love language of giving objects to the persons she cares about!) Based of the phone messages, we find out that she has given an expensive lipstick to one of her friends, followed by Sayu who is expressing her wishes to try it too.

However, once Rei damaged Muu's reputation, the admiration and the "care" these girls expressed meant nothing in the end, followed by Muu's almost killing herself to be freed from the pain.

Basically, if we take in consideration the Galette des Rois tradition, Muu has been given the slice with the fève. She got the crown and have been treated like a queen for a short period of time by her friend group. Once the day was over (when Rei damaged her reputation), this privilege has been taken away from her. She had become nothing but a slave for these girls to make fun of, followed by Muu almost dying to escape from the pain. The same thing that happened to the people who were chosen as kings for a day in the past: being killed.

Gallete des Rois is usually eaten during Epiphany, a celebration that commemorates the visit of the Three Kings or the Three Magis to see the baby Jesus after he was born.

What I want to point out are the gifts that there were given to celebrate his birth, which are foreshadowing his life story.

1. "The gold represents Jesus’ kingship.

2. The frankincense represents Jesus’ deity.

3. Commonly used to embalm bodies, the gift of myrrh foreshadows Jesus’ death."

For Muu:

1. Muu being trated like a queen for a short period of time

2. Muu's great financial status

3. Muu being betrayed by her closest friends and almost dying because of them

Quite similar and interesting at the same time! The fact that the birthday art was foreshadowing Muu's second MV...

Accesories and dress

-> Earrings

Not a lot of symbolism, but more me describing what they represent!

The earrings look a lot like the hourglass from her MVs!

She also has a teardrop coloured in green (the colour of the honey in her MV) representing her pain and sorrow during that period of time, and how with every passing moment she felt more and more suffocated in this horrible "friend" group. For this birthday art however, Muu is crying out of joy, so let's hope that the honey teardrop represents more her happiness during her birthday!

-> Dress

This was written in my latest post...! I didn't change much, since my thoughts about it are the same!

Muu's dress looks similar with Belle's dress from the "Beauty and the beast."

I think it's interesting how the story (not the Disney version) is originated from France. No matter what version you take, Belle saved the beast by reciprocating his feelings and seeing past his appearance, Belle's presence awakening his good inner self.

Somehow, I think it fits with Muu's and Haruka's relationship, in a way. Haruka thinks of Muu as his benefactor, the one who helped him become more confident and cheerful. Although Haruka considers himself as being "useless", Muu saw past this, and found a friend that she can rely on in a weird place like Milgram. She takes care of him bringing him food, prasing him and giving attention, basically, showing kindness.

"Haruka: Muu-san praises me. The useless me… She praises me, acknowledges me, looks at me, and she needs me. My current self only exists thanks to Muu-san."

Her presence and her kindness is one of the factors that contributed in making Haruka feel more confident, changing him. Haruka and the beast are both characters who weren't used to being treated with compassion... And so, the appearance of Muu, respectively, Belle ultimately saved them, based on their perspective and situation.

Also, "Belle" means beautiful in French and Muu is canonically described as gorgeous!

Flowers

The flowers have been found by @oehale on twitter!

->Rosa Rugosa

"Rosa rugosa is a strong symbol of Love and adoration.

Rosa rugosa is associated with the Greek goddess of beauty and love in ancient mythology, Aphrodite. Goddess Aphrodite is often portrayed as having a rose crown on her head."

This flower can represent the friend group's feelings of adoration and awe towards Muu, before the incident that changed their perspective on her.

In the second MV, Muu is in the center of attention, every eye is on her and every worker bee is waiting for her comand. Adoration and loyalty is depicted as the honey which is given to her by the others. This substance is sweet, alluring, like love, a sentiment which can become addicting, until you can't live without it. The fact that the honey is more green than yellow, can symbolise the superficiality of the "love" and "adoration" that the friend group has given to Muu. The second MV illustrates how Muu escaped from this intoxicating addiction of eating this honey (towards the end she is eating less and less, until she literally escapes from the honey, without consuming it), flying away from the hourglass, the place where she once felt safe and happy, which now is just an empty, broken space.

Rosa rugosa, in the language of flowers, means sad and beautiful. Sorrow and pain are sentiments that Muu felt during the time she was bullied. Sadness was a daily thing at one point, the girl wishing that tomorrow will not come, so she would not experince it again. Beauty it's one of the aspects that made her to be so adored by her peers, and also one of the factors that, due to jealousy, made her a target of bullying.

Moreover, the presence of the teardrops on her earrings, and the way she is drawn, as a queen, elegant and pretty, further illustrates this symbolism.

-> Penstemon

"These flowers are also known by the name beardtongue. This one is supposed to mean gentle courage or risks of the heart."

Penstemon is a representation of Muu's sorrow and pain and how she escaped from it. Being pushed to the point were she felt trapped in an awful situation, where she couldn't ask for help, her pleads being ignored, she managed to escape my eliminating the source of her problems. A risk of heart done in a moment of disperation, in which, once again, her feelings were not listened or taken into consideration, which ended up with Rei's death.

Courage for finding a solution to her problems, in a place where she only had herself as a friend, and avoiding, in the end, to succumb to those inner feelings which were pushing her to wish of her own dissapearence.

"Penstemon provides great strength, courage, and perseverance during challenging life circumstances. If you are feeling sorry for yourself, you may benefit from taking this flower essence. Those who have been through unusually hard circumstances may feel more ease and grace after taking Penstemon. Those circumstances could include the loss of something special, which causes a soul to lose faith and feel pity or intense despair. Penstemon brings about more courageous energy for that soul, rebuilding it with feelings of trust and hope."

After murdering Rei, she finally felt relief, hoping that things will turn to better and be as it was before. She is feeling sorry for herself and what she has experienced, in the first VD, being unsure of her actions that lead her to this point...

"It looks like each flower is sticking a bearded tongue out of its mouth, which is why we also call them “beardtongues.”

This distinctive aspect of this flower can symbolise Muu's pleads and cries which ended up being ignored by her peers and adults... She tried to alert people of her pain, but it seems like, no one has cared enough to help her to escape from this circumstance...

Thank you for reading! ~ 🎂

#thank you for the ask!#I was excited to write this!!#I'm sorry it took so long to finish it!#fun fact: I only knew about her birthday cake because I had a lesson about it a few years ago #milgram #muu kusunoki #milgram muu #milgram theory #thoughts #tw murder #tw suicide

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wrongpublishing · 1 year ago

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BOOK REVIEW: Dreadstone Press's Split Scream Volume Three

by Elizabeth Broadbent, Staff Writer.

Dreadstone Press’s Split Scream series has a simple mission: put two thematically similar novellas together, like an old-school double feature. Th first two volumes were great—Volume Two, with M. Lopez da Silva’s What Ate the Angels might be my personal favorite. Volume Three, with novelettes by indie standouts Patrick Barb and J.A.W. McCarthy, rocks as hard as its predecessors.

Admittedly, I’m an easy mark for these books. As the world wakes up the hard-punching power of a good novella or shorter novelette, I’m cheering it on, though they’ve always been more accepted in the horror genre—probably thanks to the triune forces of magazines, serializations, and Stephen King. These bite-size books make a perfect afternoon read. I beach-read Volume Three.

Though indie horror novellas tend toward the literary side, they don’t demand the hard braining and intellectual will I often need to summon when I sit down with a full-length work. Call me lazy, but I like it. That lessened investment, I think, gives the reader more incentive to work with concepts like narrative disorientation (a key point in Barb’s So Quiet, So White) and shifting timelines (part of McCarthy’s Image Expulsio: The Red Animal of Our Blood). With less space, we know the answer’s coming soon; we don’t have to spend sixty to a hundred pages wondering what the hell’s going on before we settle into the story. There’s a time and place for that, and I love those works, too. But sometimes, I want to nestle into world more quickly.

Another reason I’m a sucker for Split Scream Volume Three is that its theme is art and artists, specifically how we use it in community (check out Collage Macabre as well if the theme holds specific appeal). Barb’s atmospheric novella is a disorienting, creepy-vibed delight, with its dreary-dark-woods setting playing a major role. In my opinion, he’s a master at building tension and picking apart family dynamics; this novella lets those talents shine. McCarthy’s dual timelines build to a stunning conclusion. You won’t see either of the endings coming, but you’ll shut the book (Kindle) satisfied. Yes. That’s what had to happen. It’s the only thing that could possibly happen. There’s a little glow that comes with that.

Both works ask what we’ll do for love and what we’re willing to give to others. Answer: probably more than we should, but we’ll give it willingly. While Barb shows it in a familial context, McCarthy delves into relationships. Despite their thematic similarities, the works are very different, not only in point of view (Barb’s is third person, McCarthy’s a terrifyingly immediate first), but also in gender and tone. Both serve up some fantastic dread—you know they won’t end well—and while Barb’s slow atmospheric dread draws the reader along, Image Expulsio’s dual timeline will keep you going with its sheer otherness. Both get weirder as they go along, and that’s a very, very good thing.

Novellas are good. Weird novellas are even better. Pick this one up from Dreadstone so you don’t give bucks to to ‘Zon. Read it on the beach for a serious horror power move.

#review #gothic fiction #fiction #gothic literature #book review #horror books #horror fiction #indie lit #indie literature #indie press #indie horror #horror lit #horror novella #horror novellas #novelette

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frozenambiguity · 1 year ago

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dawnscall asked:

‘ alright, alright— enough about the ice bridge. if you didn’t want to cart me along like some heavy burden, you should have just gone by yourself. ‘ is that a pout? surely master diluc wasn’t pouting at the sixth time today that the mention of their archipelago excursion was mentioned, and kaeya’s meticulously crafted bridge to boot. the last time had just been excessive, and he had to cut him to the quick before one more bystander was told that unfortunate tale. ‘ surely you can come up with something new to talk about? ‘

Some people fail to understand that expressing one's vexations is, too, a sign of comfortability and affection. It is a way for one to show their true thoughts and colors without having to worry about consequences or the possibility of gathering general distaste from another. Does Diluc not realize that? Kaeya is always so composed and proper, yet when the redhead is in the picture, he does not possess the need to feign his disposition ( much. Sometimes, there are exceptions ).

The captain is offered the admiration of many, especially those of young age, whose dreams and hopes are plenty and diverse in nature. His carefree and playful attitude grants him the perfect chance to be seen as Mondstadt's beloved big brother. At the thought, Klee and Bennett come to mind ( if only he was as pure in nature as they believe him to be ).

When Diluc is around, however, the dynamics shift, and Kaeya gets to play the role of the younger brother.

Sometimes, he is childlike, with a true sense of wonder and curiosity, wishing on stars and catching seashells by the beach.

Sometimes, he pouts and throws tantrums when his efforts are in vain, e.g. when the ice bridge he carefully took the time to craft gets melted in a fraction of a second.

Sometimes, he is mischievous, and he makes it his own life purpose to annoy and tease Diluc, to push him to his limits, simply to test how far he can go. He does not act like this around other people. And that alone makes Diluc a special existence to him ( as if he needed to reinforce that idea, anyway... )

«I never said I did not want to come with you. If I didn't want to, then I wouldn't have». For a moment, it seems as if they are reliving their adventures in the Archipelago, for Kaeya's own pout is precisely the same as the one back then. But it is that simple, really. Whatever has resulted from that interaction is merely your average sibling banter — not much to entertain or ruminate about, for it is not that deep of a subject.

The fact that Diluc, too, is pouting, however... Somehow, it is an endearing sight ( it is just like when they were kids... ). And, at that thought, Kaeya finds himself pausing. Soon, he replaces his own pout with a smile, releasing a few chuckles at the silliness of it all. He is still not done playing the younger sibling role, however.

«Ah! So you do recognize my ability as a top-tier conversationalist! How touching». Poor Diluc. Little does he know that Kaeya has plenty of tricks up his sleeve. At that, the captain approaches the vigilante, wrapping his arm around the latter's neck and pulling him closer in camaraderie. He makes a suggestion only they can hear.

«Shall we discuss happier times, then? I can think of a few very... ah, interesting moments pertaining to the young Master's childhood». Someone stop him. Because when he says interesting moments, he is threatening to talk about embarrassing events that are privy to Diluc and him. Whether he will disclose said secrets is something still to be determined, but, regardless, he offers one such threat from a place of love.

#【 ic | fool you once; fool you twice. 】#dawnscall #{{ !!! I have been blessed with unprompted big brother affection!!! }}#{{ I care about them a normal amount }}#{{ diluc vc: kaeya people are tired of that story; come up with something new }}#{{ kaeya; upon being given attention by big bro: IMMEDIATELY forgetting every single bystander }}#{{ this is diluc and kaeya's world; bystanders whomst??? }}

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moochilatv · 5 months ago

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Isaac Watters presents: Tired

Too tired at the end of a relationship to talk about it. Too tired at the end of the day to have a glass of wine. The exhaustion of the end of civilization, you start to see the trash piling up, and no one bothers to take it away....its exhausting.

BIO:

Residing on the East Side of Los Angles and deeply embedded in a community of like-minded musicians and artists, Isaac Watters has long been busy dreaming up new ideas. Sure, he’s forever been a creator — using his mind to bring his ideas to life, whether via the visual or musical mediums. But in recent times, the soft-spoken innovator’s output has blossomed in a new and exciting way. “This is finally the record I was always meant to make,” Watters says of his forthcoming debut release, set to be unveiled via Hi-Res Records as a pair of EPs beginning this fall. Funky, minimal and brooding in the most inviting way possible, Watters’ music stops you in your tracks. Armed with a booming baritone that recalls one of his greatest influences, Tom Waits, the singer injects his music with a loose and enticing aura — it immediately draws you in with its moving melodies and sensual grooves.

As Watters admits, in today’s crowded musical landscape, it sometimes requires drawing outside the lines to grab a listener’s ear. “So yeah, it’s definitely kind of weird,” he says with a laugh of his forthcoming new single, “Listen to the Wind,” a stunning, spacey tale of exhilarating escape. “I’m alone in the parking lot burning my tires,” Watters sings with a thick reverb enveloping his already fluid vocals. The song, Watters explains, was born out of a free-flowing writing and recording session with his producer Matt Linesch that found them blasting Weezer songs on Linesch’s studio speakers and dovetailing into a conversation about “getting out of the city and trying to be alone and away from everybody.” Adds Watters, “It’ll grab people’s attention.”

Talking to Watters on a recent summer morning, there’s almost a sense of relief in the musician’s voice. Like so many of us, the pandemic threw his creative plans into disarray. But now, having weathered the storm and arrived on the other side with some of his most thrilling music yet, he’s feeling a sense of calm. “I’m ready to see what lies ahead,” says Watters, speaking not only to the impending release of a plethora of music but also to the potential to hit the road and play his music for audiences. “Recording is fun,” he explains, “but it's not really where my heart is. If it were up to me, I would love to just be playing a show every night. That's really what I enjoy the most about music — performing it.”

Lucky for Watters, he’s now amassed a collection of songs tailor made for the live setting, what with their shifting dynamics paired with his enticing voice. From “Sadness,” which he describes as “maybe one of my favorite ones because I feel like it sums up the record in the least amount of words,” to “Coconut in the Street,” the first time he feels he’s truly put an “LA song” to wax, Watters’ new music transports you to a world where life might be messy but it’s never not entertaining.

“It changes day to day,” he says when describing which of his new songs most resonates with him. Watters stops to explain how, for example, “My Heart is an Ocean” — arguably the album’s clever centerpiece with its sumptuous island grooves — is nearly a decade old but had never been properly recorded. Now, he says, those fans who had been clamoring for him to give the song a proper release will get their wish.

Lucky for Watters and his growing legion of listeners, the musician found a wonderful partner in hi-res records to help bring his creative vision to life. With a focus on putting out records recorded, mixed and mastered all in analog, the label is an audiophile’s dream. When Watters found out that the label’s clientele consisted of audio-heads, he couldn’t have been more psyched. “Oh yeah, it’s great if the album is going to people that really care about how it was made,” he explains. Furthermore, in today’s streaming age, where singles are plentiful and truly engaging with a full-length album is a rarity, Watters believes those that truly care about the process behind an album’s creation are more likely to give the entire thing a spin. “All I can hope for is that someone will sit down and listen to the entire record,” he says. “That’s the goal.”

As for what lies ahead, Watters is filled with a sense of nervous excitement – a feeling only a musician on the precipice of his big moment can truly understand. “This has been a long time coming and now it’s the time to see what this music does,” Watters says proudly. “I can’t wait.”

youtube

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#Isaac Watters #Youtube #Spotify

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butnodamage · 5 months ago

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SCREAMING AT YOUR WYLLSTARION CAZADOR-TADPOLED AU. THE POSSIBILITIES. I AM TERRIFIED AND TRANSFIXED. zero zero pressure to write it but just your snipped has sent my mind spinning - I would love to hear any other headcanons you thought of for it. all i can think of is how cazador could possible hide a. the vampirism literally we joke about astarion being a walking poster boy but everything cazador says basically has the tag ‘said the evil vampire’

b. his massive ego - if he’s weakened like everyone else, i think almost everyone else in the party could destroy him in sparring, and on top of laezel absolutely calling him weak i wonder if he would be able to prevent himself from throwing a massive and violent fit that presumably would end with casualties

c. his relationship with astarion?? like I always wondered if astarion behaved wildly different around cazador than other people, on top of the fact that he’s never had the respite of being away from him like he has in the game - my imagining even based on your excerpt (which is wonderfully and vscerally written i could feel the dread :’)) is that he would be in full freeze or fawn mode but I don’t know how he would think about trying to make himself valuable to the party without cazador choosing for him - which i can guess would go just about one way :( plus wyll and shadowheart certainly have high enough wis to vibe check that dynamic and I cannot imagine they would come away with any assessment but a sea of red flags.

also really interested to see how this would interact with other characters’ problems - wyll’s evolving perspective on ‘who is a monster’ and being able to discern between people who seem monstrous vs people who are, especially before and after karlach would be really interesting to explore if he weren’t immediately able to clock what’s going on. and god. i don’t know whether cazador meeting mizora would be the best thing or the worst thing, i feel like they could do such awful things together but at the same time are both too much of an egotistical lunatic obsessed with power to play nice with each other. maybe they’ll kill each other. fingers crossed.

anyway apologies for the massive rant, I just think it’s such a brilliant idea and would definitely read it if you decided to write it!! again no pressure at all, even rotating the concept in my mind is a gift that I thank you for :) have a great day!

AHHHHHHHH thank you so much, anon!!! :') I haven't posted fanfiction in years, so the love this bonkers au has gotten has blown me away. I've been stewing on this idea for a while now, and I don't want to give too much away, as I would like to continue this fic, BUT…let’s scheme just a little, because this au has also had me frothing at the mouth.

In the game, Astarion's goal is to ensure his safety/place in the group. But with Cazador in the picture, everything shifts to the goal of Keeping Cazador Happy. So, yeah, I think he’d act VERY different. Sort of like how he is in the romance scene at the goblin party, where he’s clearly terrified and cagey with Tav, but trying to hide it. I also don't think that Astarion would realize right away that Cazador can't compel him. He'd keep following Cazador's orders because that's what he Has To Do. Cazador, of course, would insist that Astarion use his "skillset" to secure their position in the group. And who better to trap under his thumb than Wyll Ravengard, son of the Grand Duke? (But once Astarion figures out that he is free of the compulsions...well. Who better to sic on his Master than the Blade of Frontiers? That is, if he can persuade the Blade not to target Astarion as well.)

Cazador, for his part, would be eager to return to Baldur's Gate and complete his Ascension asap, but he finds himself infected, debuffed, and stranded in a place where he suddenly has no authority. His ego will take a massive bruising and need an outlet of some kind to make him feel more in control... (cue very bad things for Astarion).

That being said, Cazador does have some points in his favor:

Cazador is not only a vampire lord, with all the powers that entails, but also a powerful mage. So, even debuffed, he's still got some tricks up his sleeves.

Cazador is a patriar in Baldur's Gate. He knows how to play politics and manipulate people's desires to get what he wants. He could play the rich lord, kidnapped along with his "son" (a ploy that might be even more successful with an ally...perhaps a certain Tav?).

Several of the tadfools, like Shadowheart, are quite perceptive--but they also have their own secrets to distract them. There is one person I personally don't think Cazador could ever fool, and that's Karlach. After ten years surrounded by devils, she'd take one whiff and smell the bastard on him. But Wyll would likely catch some bad vibes as well. If he were to discover their vampirism, he'd be faced with the difficult decision of what to do with Astarion: can he justify killing a spawn to weaken a vampire lord, who is decidedly the much greater threat? What makes one monster more monstrous than another? Who is he to make that decision? (*softly chanting* angst angst angst)

The tadpoles add an interesting dimension. On one hand, I think, being the egoist that Cazador is, and having once been a spawn himself, he would HATE having other voices in his head. On the other, Cazador is shrewd, power-hungry, and knows how to play the long-game. He'd want to figure out how the tadpoles work, and luckily for him, he has an obedient spawn to use as his guinea pig (see chapter 2...).

No matter how it shakes out, Astarion is going to be having a Bad Time, at least for a while.

#thank you anon for indulging me <3 #this au has been rotating in my mind like a microwave dinner for WEEKS #and talking about it has only made me want to write it more #i do have a pretty good outline written #i just won't have much free time to work on it until july #so we'll see what happens #answered asks #cazador tadpoled au

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sellbuymusic · 2 years ago

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[🎼Playlist] Seoul, My SoulㅣIndie&Festival BGM 🎇

"Seoul, My Soul" - The New Slogan of Seoul City Resonates with Indie, Festival BGM

Seoul, the heart of South Korea, has recently adopted a new slogan - "Seoul, My Soul". This change, based on a preference survey, signifies a vibrant shift from the previous slogan "I Seoul U", reflecting the city's dynamic spirit. In celebration of this transition, we present an eclectic indie and festival background music playlist that perfectly encapsulates the essence of Seoul, the city that fills the soul.

Did you know that the slogan of Seoul, South Korea has changed? Through a preference survey, the slogan 'I Seoul U' that has been used since 2015 has been changed to 'Seoul, my soul'.

Preference surveys were conducted from December last year to January this year with the two candidates 'Seoul, my soul' and 'Seoul for you'. The first candidate, 'Seoul for you', is a slogan that represents the city's philosophy of being prepared for you. The second candidate, 'Seoul, my soul', takes advantage of the fact that the English word for soul and the pronunciation of Seoul are similar, meaning a city that can fill the soul. Both candidates have wonderful meanings, don't they?

On April 29th, Seoul City staged the confirmed slogan 'Seoul, my soul' at the end of the 2023 Han River Light Show (Drone Light Show) held at the Ttukseom Han River Park Waterfront Stage. It's really cool!

And from May 10th to 31st, Seoul City is conducting a design vote for the confirmed new slogan 'Seoul, my soul'. Don't miss the opportunity to choose the design of Seoul City's slogan and everyone participate in the voting!

https://brandvote.seoul.go.kr/

So the theme of today's weekly playlist prepared by the editor is "Seoul, My Soul | Indie, Festival BGM 🎇". In commemoration of the new slogan, we've prepared 'Indie&Festival BGM' that goes well with outing events. It will be perfect for outings & festival BGMs, as well as for walks/rides, landscape videos, and drone footage!

https://en.sellbuymusic.com/albumDetail/239

Refreshing Wind by BGM master

A Step Of Wind by Choi Gon

Waiting for a Package by MangMARU

Let's Go by Seomu

Journey by Sangaku

Show Your Love by 1Tak

I Don't Care ver.1 by Jwau

Believer by Okuyoon

Last Love Song by Heyzude

Praise the Coffee in Your Hand by Uke

I Will Find You (Maggie) (Vocal Noi.K) by Lunchmate

Swimming Pool by ZEST

Me Too by Jwau

Toy Soldier by James Kim

Between You and Me by Uke

Copyright free music library SELLBUYMUSIC allows you to use these songs without worrying about copyright. Subscribe to SELLBUYMUSIC if you want to get a weekly curated weekly playlist.

All of the above songs can be downloaded from SELLBUYMUSIC. Downloaded songs can be used without worrying about copyright, and they can be used to produce videos for YouTube to generate advertising revenue from those videos.

Royalty free background music library SELLBUYMUSIC https://en.sellbuymusic.com/

#copyright free music #royalty free music #music copyright #background music #BGM

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tarydarrington · 3 years ago

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"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."

Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.

“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”

Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.

“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”

Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.

“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”

“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.

“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.

Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.

“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”

He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.

For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”

He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."

Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."

"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."

"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.

Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.

“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.

Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”

“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.

“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.

They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.

“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”

“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”

Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.

Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"

"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."

Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.

“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.

Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”

Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”

Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.

“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”

"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."

"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.

Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.

The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.

"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.

Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.

It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.

"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.

"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.

"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.

Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"

"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.

"Ah, ja, Miss…"

"Lionett."

Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.

“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.

“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.

Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"

Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”

“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”

“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.

Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.

Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”

“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.

Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”

Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.

“Thelyss,” he answers.

Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.

“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”

Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”

Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.

“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?

His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.

“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”

He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.

“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”

“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.

Caleb gives her an incredulous look.

“I really do need to go,” she says.

He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.

“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”

“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.

It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.

“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.

“Yep,” Beau lies.

“Hmm.” Yasha hums.

“Perfectly,” Essek says.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.

He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.

“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.

Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.

“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”

He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.

“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.

“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”

Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”

Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.

“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”

He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.

“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”

Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”

Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.

Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.

“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.

“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.

As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.

“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.

“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.

It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.

With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.

“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.

“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”

“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”

He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”

Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”

He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.

He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.

“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.

“To my very good friends,” he replies.

“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.

They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.

thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜

#okay here's the strategy. i posted a ficlet i'm happy with last week and i finished another one i'm happy with yesterday #so if i sandwich this in between the two surely i will not believe i am entirely worthless as a writer because of it #...probably #queueing it to post when i'm not home to physically wrench my hand away from the delete post button #shadowgast #background beauyasha #caleb widogast #mine #mine:fic #caleb #essek #veth #beau #yasha

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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Well shit. The pet talk has me thinking about turning into a neko because of a curse gone wrong... would you like to write headcanons for the jjk men reacting to their crush befalling that fate? Who'd try to reverse it, who'd want to keep them that way? Who would use the chance to get closer or even turn it into pet play?

ahh to be a neko and be owned by a handsome jjk man.....

warnings: not sfw, afab reader implied, cat/neko hybrid reader, petplay mentions, master/pet dynamics!

♡ —-> below the cut: gojo, nanami, geto, toji, sukuna, mahito <—- ♡

♡ Gojo probably immediately figures out how to reverse it - but the thing is, right away, he doesn’t much want to. You just look so cute with the neko ears resting on your hair, your hands curled like paws, your tail curling around you so cutely. The light purr in the way you speak, the way your eyes keep contracting as you get distracted by a loose thread on his clothes or the light reflecting off his sunglasses.

He’s going to take a lot of pictures of you; partly to make fun of you with later, partly because he just can’t help it. You’re adorable! As part-cat now, too, you’ve gotten a lot less good at hiding your affection. Gojo is suddenly being subjected to you batting your head against him, rubbing your face against his to mark him as yours - and he’s not complaining about it at all.

He will very much use this as an opportunity for petplay. He’s got a bit of a power complex about being the strongest; you being a cute little pet at his knees, all helpless and mewling, is something he didn’t realise he’d want so badly. And you’re so sensitive, when he touches your ears or your tail. He kind of wants to get you a collar, to leave you like this forever - but he’s not going to, because at the heart of it, he’s a good man who wants the best for you.

It won’t stop him bringing this up all of the time afterwards, showing you the pictures, and buying you a cute tail and ear set to wear for him when the two of you are spending some alone time together, though.

“Aww, kitty - that’s right, smile for the camera - say ‘nya~’!”

- ♡ -

♡ Nanami is more concerned than anything else. His first instinct is to protect you, and his second instinct is to be frustrated with himself for not protecting you thoroughly enough. He takes you back to his place before Gojo or anyone can see you, knowing that most of them won’t let you live this down and preparing to organise things himself. When it turns out Shoko can’t have a look at you until the next day, citing the fact that you’re not in any real danger, Nanami resigns himself to having to spend the night with you in this state.

He tries to make you a bed in the spare bedroom but you crawl onto his bed anyway, nesting at the foot of it, curling yourself in covers. When he doesn’t pay attention to you, you sigh, rubbing your head against his leg, as if to say ‘well, go ahead, pet me’ - unfortunately, if you want Nanami to do that, you have to open your mouth and ask. He doesn’t want to take advantage of you.

When you finally do ask him with your words, he presses his lips thinly together but he also knows cats - you’re not going to let him rest until he does it. He finds himself soothed by petting your ears, the soft rumble of your throat, the way that his touch seems to make you relax. He hadn’t realised just how comfortable you must be with him.

Nanami will not do anything to you in this state, even if you try and initiate it - when he gets to take you to bed for the first time, he hopes there will be no cursed nonsense present - just you, and him, and the beating of your hearts. But at least this little experience has given him some courage to push forward with his crush.

“You really want me to stroke you? Well . . . I suppose I could . . . is this alright?”

- ♡ -

♡ Geto does not want to like the sight of you with your eyes big and wide and cute cat ears on your head and a tail extending from your backside as cute as he does. You’ve always been one of his favourite curse users, and perhaps he’s been nursing a crush on you for longer than he’d like to admit - but this just feels rude. You’re so cute with your head tipped to the side, sticking very close to him, fair brightening up when his hand so much as brushes your arm.

He does want to fix you, of course - he doesn’t want anything to dull your sharp knife-edges, the cleverness thrumming beneath your skin. He thinks of the people he surrounds himself as family, and you as - as more than that. But he indulges in it for a little too long. Liking to watch your tail swish as you walk, your ears twitch - liking the noise you make when he runs his palm over your face.

Geto, too, will indulge in a little petplay. How can he not, when you were so obedient and good for him even before this unfortunate occurrence? He soothes you with pets and kisses as you sink onto his cock, calling you his good kitten, asking you to purr for him and groaning when your slightly sharper than usual teeth nip at his neck and you mewl so prettily at the touch of his hands on your spine.

Out of anyone, Getou is the most likely to tie a ribbon around your new tail and get you a cute collar with a bow and a bell on it. When you’re sat on his lap with his cock inside you, he murmurs softly not to let the bell jingle, be a good pet and stay exactly where he puts you - and for Geto, you’re a very well-behaved pussy-cat, and you do exactly what he asks you.

“Mm, that’s right - good kitten. You feel so right there. You’re such a pretty thing, so well-behaved--”

- ♡ -

♡ Toji should want to do something about this. He hates the idea of all of this cursed energy clinging to you - but he also knows there isn’t much he can do, and he isn’t willing to lower himself to ask for help from anyone who can do anything about it. So, welcome to your new life - you’re Toji’s cute little kitten now. He likes his kitten to lie on his lap, to nest in his bed, to eat off a bowl on the floor and wear their pretty collar--

He likes his kitty to be well-behaved, but honestly, Toji’s treatment whether you are well-behaved or not is much the same. He likes that you’ll sit and listen to him like everything he says is the most important thing in the world - likes that, now you’re his good little housecat, he is the centre of your universe. He’s rough with you no matter what, but you grow to absolutely love that sensation - love digging your claws into his back when he fucks you, love it when he groans ‘good kitty’ into your ear, love it when he stretches out beside you and lets you nuzzle into his chest, purring at him.

He secretly likes it when you act up a little bit; if you spill your milk or if you purposely ignore him. He loves having an opportunity to tame the brattiness out of his kitten - to tug on your tail a little meanly, to remind you of who exactly you belong to.

“Aww, kittycat-- you’re really pushin’ my buttons today, huh? C’mere - lemme remind you who your owner is--”

- ♡ -

♡ Sukuna . . . if you’ve ended up like this and you’re Sukuna’s object of affection, we can only assume that Sukuna himself is the one to have engineered it. No other curse would dare to touch his property, after all - and if you are Sukuna’s, you are his property. You being a cute little kitty now doesn’t change the fact at all; if anything, it reinforces in Sukuna’s mind that you’re his pet. He owns you. You ought to be on your knees, your head bowed, practically quivering if he deigns to pet you or lavish you in affection--

You will be staying this way.

You’ll be learning exactly how a good pet behaves; how and when to use your tongue, how to respond to your Master’s petting of your ears, how to learn to roll over and present yourself when your Master wants to take you. Heaven help you if you go into heat, kitten - Sukuna’s deeply amused by your whimpering, by the way you keep nuzzling against his thighs and telling him that it hurts, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease.

If you’ve been very good, he’ll reward you by filling you up fuller than you even realised you could be. If you’ve been very bad, you’ll be sobbing and clawing into his sheets and begging to be touched with your own need streaming down your thighs. Either way, in the end, you’ll be mewling into Sukuna’s kimono with tears on your face from the stretch, secure in the knowledge that you’re owned.

“A good kitten walks on all fours, hmm? A good kitten obeys their Master. A good kitten knows to do it immediately when I tell them to open their mouth--”

- ♡ -

♡ Mahito wants to find out everything he can about this interesting new development. Chances are, if he has a crush on you, you already know it - subtlety is honestly not one of the curse’s strong points. Chances are, too, if he has a crush on you and you’re still around, you’re okay with is - but this is probably going to push it over the edge. His hands are all over you, petting and tugging on your ears and your tail, probably trying to see how they attach to your skin and laughing when you flinch or blush or a certain rub of his thumb across your tailbone makes a purr thrum in your throat.

He’s telling you how cute you are through it all, laughing - he’s talking earnestly about the way humans keep pets, how he’s always wondered about it, and now he’s had one dropped into his lap, and isn’t that just fortuitous? At first, he wants you to be as much of a pet as you can - on your hands and knees, purring, mewling, the whole nine yards! But once he’s exhausted that option (Mahito’s moods tend to be whimsical and over in a flash before he’s moved onto the next one), he wants to explore your new additions and how doing certain things to you makes them feel. Expect to be fucked from behind by Mahito pulling your tail - expect him, too, to be very interested in the concept of cats going into heat! You’re an endlessly fascinating new toy, until you’re not quite as fascinating--

And then Mahito is shifting his soul to have his own cat ears and tail, to be mess around with you some more and see if your reactions are any different when he’s made himself your cat-boyfriend! Eventually, he’ll get bored of you being part cat and he’ll figure out how to get you back to your normal self on his own, but by then the damage has probably already been done and some part of you is just conditioned - to purr when your head is scratched, to docilely sit at Mahito’s feet and paw at the front of his trousers.

“You’re so cute! Humans like to play with their pets, right? Let’s play, then! Purr for me, koneko-chan~”

- ♡ -

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash. luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you. rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie. he’s just a hot dad. don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there. With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door.

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in. But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform. Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that…

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug. "Hey!" you greeted in return.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door. "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime? Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10. It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day. "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket. But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno. Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began. You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too. You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone. You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice. You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now. Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up. He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way. Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating. It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for. It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little. It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded. “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine. Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new. “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently. There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm. Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed. “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan. “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it. Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured. “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could. You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this. Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned. “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach. "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say. "Yeah? I can do that," he decided. "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped. Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord. You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished. "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts. You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace. "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly. "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly. It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours. You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted. Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top. He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other. Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little. It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed. You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did.

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you. Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them. He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too. Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him. Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly. “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you. “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt. “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt. He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much? There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you. It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood. Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly. "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt. Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you. You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state. You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open. “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers. It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature. How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars. Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode. Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand. It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder. You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath. He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured. You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it. “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves. Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno. Or, Marcus. You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain. The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter. "I'm gonna move now," he announced. You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again. Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for. But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back. "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it. Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin. You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse. "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips. You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them. It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there. You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity. Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent. "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah? Go ahead," he encouraged. "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level. It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you. It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate. You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there. Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control. You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever. So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement. "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night. Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs? Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought. "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged. With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards. But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent. We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal x reader

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haydewan · 2 years ago

Note

So Ewan just mentioned a gay character from a Canadian series saying he wore the skirt better than him. Funny coincidence.😅

https://twitter.com/danlevythinker/status/1549486051122679808?t=bxuogDTOY8LClZxuOQ_1Dg&s=19

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Rose_(Schitt%27s_Creek)

Hi anon! Sorry for the late reply, I’ve been through some work-related life-changing stuff this past week, but it all worked out eventually so I can throw myself back into this relationship research, yay!😆

First of all, thank you for trusting me with your thoughts and theories, I’m truly, deeply honoured. I understand it can be tough and scary to share these things among the fandom cuz you can easily offend someone, so I’m replying to this post only as per your request to minimize the controversy. I’m too, forever torn between the mindsets of “they’re just good friends, it’s disrespectful to assume” and “it’s just thoughts, it can’t hurt anyone”. But hey, as long as we keep it to ourselves and away from their lives, do whatever makes you happy, theories, fanfics, drawings, etc. At the end of the day, it’s really just a multiverse in our head isn’t it?

Okay, back to the theories.

The Schitt's Creek character

A Canadian sitcom, hmmm…not something I imagine he’d watch. And it’s been around for quite a few years, I guess he either got into it early on or binged it during the Covid lockdown?? Anyway, I wonder if they had any discussion about the show since it was filmed mainly in the Toronto area, got any Canadian jokes maybe?? Oh and no one wears a skirt better than Ewan himself, it’s his Scottish birthright🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

The Fallon Tonight interview

Now that you mentioned it, it’s kinda obvious here🤔It seemed he was twisting the ring with his pinky and then adjusting it. I went through my archive and found out he did this in a couple more interviews, basically the solo ones, his hands were mostly out of the frame in others. He’s got restless hands during press, I think he was doing it pretty unconsciously, probably still getting used to the feel of the ring around the finger consider he hadn’t had one for quite a few years. Honestly I’m more than reluctant to talk about his recent marriage, it hurts my brain to even think about it and has me go “ugh” & roll my eyes every time I see a pic of them together🙄Sorry I just have so much empathy with his daughters especially I’m the same age as Clara.

The GQ interview

This one is so interesting on so many levels. I didn’t know it was edited tho, the one I read was already the second version. As for the “homoerotic Obi-Wan/Hayden fan art” - WOW, I mean WoW, Obi-Wan/Hayden huh? Can’t even tell fiction from reality now can you McGregor?😌And for the record, this was not the first time he mixed it up. In this interview at 1:59, when asked about whether the show explores the shift in dynamic of Obi-Wan always viewed Anakin as a brother and Anakin always looked at Obi-Wan like a father, he answered: “He’s my padawan and I’m his master, he’s my student if you like, that is very much the dynamic. But I feel we’re very close, I mean me and Hayden are, so I feel Obi-Wan and Anakin are.” Personally I haven’t quite figured out his logic here yet, what’s the causality of him and Hayden being close leads to Obi/Ani being close, and didn’t the closeness of Obi/Ani come on script way before him and Hayden even met??? If anything, it should be the other way around. I gave up on this after a while, it’s just easier to assume he didn’t think it through, otherwise I’m gonna lose my mind someday lol. I know some people interpret his reaction to the homoerotic fan art as “he thinks it’s gross”, well I call it BS. This is the man who enjoys kissing boys, never shies away from getting naked in front of camera and still willing to play gay characters in his 50s, that was him getting caught off guard by the sudden reveal of something he thought was a photo, shocked, not disgusted. And btw, here’s a little (and maybe the only) Obi-Wan/Hayden fanfic for you much thanks to Ewan McGregor, creator of this ship, cutest piece I’ve read in a while!😏

The LADbible interview

T H I S. I could write a 50k word thesis and have a 3-day seminar on this interview alone. Where to begin, the lighting, the atmosphere, the vibe…This is truly the closest thing we get to see them on a date, the Brits really know how to pull off a good interview (Idk if you noticed, but the best interviews of this press tour were done in UK). Then there is the chemistry. I know Hayden pretty much looks at everyone the same way, but with Ewan it’s just different, he’s like becoming 19 again, I can literally see the electricity and sparkles shooting out of his heart eyes. I mean look at these comments:

THEY COMPLETE EACH OTHER

And most importantly, the memories. I was constantly amazed by how Hayden remembers every single minute details from 22 years ago: their first meeting, the lightsaber guy Thomas, getting drunk and playing a game of pool at the local bar, watching comedy specials at Ewan’s home laughing till the early hours of the morning, his first ride on a bike with Ewan…I don’t mean to quote Taylor Swift but he really remembers it all too fking well (on the other hand it seems Ewan had forgotten a lot😅).

The PR possibility

Oh GOD I hope not! My guess is he wouldn’t have such a crucial part in the Ahsoka series like he did in the Kenobi show so he wouldn’t even do much press. Plus, Rosario has already been paired with Natasha Liu Bordizzo for a lot of interviews at the celebration and SDCC, I think it’ll remain this way during the actual press next year. However, one thing I know for sure is the awkward photos of them hugging and staring intensely into each other’s eyes at the 19th Annual IFP Independent Spirit Awards in 2004 are gonna float around the internet again.😒

Closing thoughts

Deborah was right, they do share a very personal relationship. Like Ewan said in the Vanity Fair interview about their first encounter in 12 years at the signing event: "It was difficult to know how to sum up. So much had happened to us in our lives, and it was difficult to know…I realized this is an important person in front of me, an important person in my life.” That’s what’s so fascinating and intriguing about these two, there was so much history, but so little was documented and so much of it got lost in time. Like what more happened in Sydney and London??? It burns me to think that we’re probably never gonna know, all we can do is piece together whatever info we can find and hope to have a little peek behind the curtains. Still, the fun part of uncovering the truth is the searching, the digging, the cross-referencing, that’s why I enjoy it so much.

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elionwriter · 3 years ago

Text

MY FAV STAR WARS COUPLE DYNAMICS:

(for the sake of this post let's all just pretend no one dies, ok?)

Anakin - Padme: their relationship started with pure drama and really bad, corny pick up lines and it just goes on that way. Even when they are happily exiled on Naboo with their children and everyone knows about them, whenever they talk about their love or tell the story to Luke and Leia it's always with the tones of a 'larger than life situation'. Obviously Anakin is the drama queen who really pushes it (and is still salty he had to give up his title as Jedi Master) but Padme fell for him when he did the whole whiny speech about sand and married him, she secretly supports this s***t! 😝

Han - Leia: bickering is their love language. Screaming to impose supremacy is their flirting. The thing is, they never bicker for serious stuff, because they actually agree on what matters and get along as a couple, it's the principle of things! Sometimes a friend of Ben overhears them and goes 😱 "I'm really sorry for intruding on this, pal. Will your parents be alright?" And Ben with the calmest expression will answer "They literally do this all the time". It's the silence that's worriesome. When Leia is just too tired to keep fighting after hours of doing so with politicians, when Han doesn't bother to stay to face the argument and just hops on the Falcon again, THAT'S when they realise they are falling out. So they push duty and lust for adventure aside to go back spending quality time together and patching things up. Sure enough, the bickering starts again and Ben is like "😌 aaah everything is fine again".

Din - Luke: they are the picture perfect couple. They literally never argue, at best they poke eachother when one of the two does something the other doesn't entirely agree on. They have each other's back in any instance, support every choice and are there for backup when others want a fight or have something to say either on Din's leadership or Luke's approach to the Jedi code and teachings. It took them forever to actually get together because they acted like shy teenagers on their first crush and Leia, Han and Cara had to practically push them into each other's arms, but once they got there they were solid a couple as a rock. Others look at them and think they are either disgustingly mushy or still in a 'honeymoon face', because NO ONE has such a stress-free marriage. Din and Luke truly don't get what the fuss and all the drama's about. So even though they end up practically parenting the space version of the kids from 'Cheaper by the dozen' they act like parental figures to their friends as well. Life as Manda'lor and the Reviver of the Jedi order can be hell, but together they are just balanced like that and can face everything! They even create a new co-op fighting style for Jedi/Mandalorians that becomes the terror and amazement of the Galaxy for centuries to come!😌😏💪

Kannan - Hera: very similar to Dinluke except they do at times have some small moments of tension because Hera is a fighter to the core and Kannan can't help but wonder if the battle will ever truly end. But his queen's passion and resolve is so bright and steeled that he can't help but fall in love a little more every time and follow, knowing it's the right thing to do. They have an example to set for their son, after all. Kannan will absolutely love Jacen and will introduce Ezra to his son (once Sabine and Ashoka bring him back) as his older brother. Much like when he trained Ezra or faced Sabine, Kannan will sometimes doubt himself and wonder if he's acting like a good parent to Jacen. Hera will smile and reassure him, describing to him the bright and happy smile on their son's face or how Jecen's nose scrunches and his long, greenish ears wiggle in delight whenever Kannan plays with him or cuddles him. As Hera says so, Kannan holds her and feels like he can actually see it too.

Sabine - Ezra: After Ezra is brought back to his family from wherever or whatever happened to him after facing Thrawn, both of them will just indulge in sudden hugs or touches to make sure the other is actually there. Of course, they first think of their bond as a solid friendship and camaraderie, because that's what it was when they left off. The extra touching is just the response to being apart for so long and being worried for each other. But then Sabine notices that Ezra actually looks really good with long hair and the scruffy beard he grew out. She catches herself thinking of how warm and safe if feels in his arms and mentally kicks herself because she's a Mandalorian, all she should need is a loaded blaster to feel safe. Ezra, on the other hand, starts playing with Sabine's hair when complimenting her new dye and suddenly finds himself cupping her face like it's the most natural thing in the world. Long story short, they fall for eachother hard and become the prototype of the couple "my boyfriend/girlfriend is my best friend". When they are comfortable with their new status, Ezra goes back flirting dorkishly with her like he did all those years back when they first met and Sabine will tease him by shooting his advances down.

Ashoka - Bo Katan: joke's on Bo-katan for cringing back in the day at her sister's relationship with a Jedi. She thought destiny or the force or whatever was really messing with her when she realized that her rival and pupil, Din Djarin, the new leader of Mandalorians was also falling helplessly in love with a Jedi (Obi-Wan's student nonetheless). When she hears Sabine Wren and her Jedi boy also got together she stops questioning it. The thing is that she herself has been inexplicably, undeniably charmed and hooked to a Jedi for years now. The very same Jedi she had teased didn't have enough booty, what felt like a lifetime prior. But she's Bo-Katan, she can be in angry denial about anything. Ashoka, on the other hand, has seen and has been conditioned too much on what attachment does to a Jedi, even if she doesn't consider herself one anymore. So, even if the chemistry between them and the long lingering stares are real, their love is always kept a quiet, unspoken thing. Whenever they call eachother "my old friend" they know they actually mean more, but leave it at that. Everyone around them can't help wondering 'are they a thing or...?!' but they never feed the theories and gossip. They know what they are and mean for each other when they are alone in the same room, talking about the past or what must be done in the future and Ashoka's mere presence is enough to cool down the ever-present burning rage inside of Bo. Meanwhile, the other can't help but admire how single minded and devoted to her people and culture the Mandalorian princess is, how she never gave up on them, despite everything. They smile softly at each other, then one of them breaks the spell by leaving. They go back to their own business and life untill destiny or the force or whatever brings them back into eachother's orbit.

Revan - Carth: normally they act very much like Leia and Han with the bickering and teasing bit but then Revan has one of her memories returning or is haunted by how she basically condemned her lifelong best friend Malak to a terrible death and Carth instantly does a 180° shift becoming the most caring, comforting and tender partner. She'll hide into his chest until the crisis in over. Sometimes it can go on for days and Revan is oh, so grateful of how patient and good Carth is to her. Then, at times, Carth is the one burying his head in her chest and she's the one doing the tender, hair strokes. Carth needs a lot of reassuring and might get upset and fret over even what appears to be a trivial thing. He's trying to heal and get better but the long, long years of solitude, hurt and paranoia are hard to iron down. Expecially when Carth seems to have an instinct that puts a Jedi to shame, foreseeing a crisis neither she nor Bastila had picked up. But he is making an effort to improve and she's proud of him, even as he tries very clumsily to patch things up with his son Dustil. She doesn't really step in that matter more than she has to, since Dustil is clearly not happy nor comfortable with the idea of them being together yet. Carth will sometimes open his heart to her and say something deeply meaningful on how he wants her to stay ( when she looks particularly haunted and about to leave without a work of warning) and be happy but does so with such awkward word choices that Revan just cannot refrain from laughing at his face and making puns. It's at this point that the back and forth teasing resumes. There is no denying they are still deeply wounded individuals and they are at their best when their friends are there to lighten the mood and show love to the both of them. Because they could easily go down the path of drama like Anakin and Padme but they choose the Ebon Hawk crew shenanigans instead.

Obi Wan - Satine: their love is stored in the memory of that glorious time they spent together in their youth. A moment in which no responsibility or sense of honor could keep them from giving in to that feeling of want and need for each other. It's a love that never truly went away, never left space for anyone else, but it never fully grew and bloomed either. So years down the line, that's what it is for Obi-Wan, a pleasant memory. He would never change how things went afterwards, but he wouldn't give up those memories and feelings for anything in the world. Satine feels the same, mostly. There are nights that she falls asleep wondering what could have been if only she had talked up at the decisive moment and dreams of a life spent together with Obi-Wan. But when she wakes up, she sobers up and goes back to her things. It's when she looks at her Korkie smile and notices how resembling to his secret father he is that she is truly at peace. She managed to keep a peace of Obi-Wan in her life.

Cal - Merrin: I have no idea for this one, but just stop and consider the possible 'nightsisters babies' though! Wouldn't they be the cutest things ever?! 😀

Sorry Cara Dune, you just haven't met the woman of your life yet. 😔

Also, I kinda like Zeb and Callus too but I don't really ship them enough to add them here, you know? Anyway I'm sure they make a lovely couple.

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secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

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Kinktober 2020 — under the table

A/N: omg it has been half a year since I last wrote any ghost!shinsou this is why I should never do series- but anyways here is out first fic for kinktober, kicking it off with the return of ghost boyfriend!^^

Warning: oral (receiving), fingering

Word count: 2641

What kind of street do ghosts prefer to live on?

Shinsou sat on the kitchen counter crossed leg as you paced around the room, mumbling to yourself as you checked off everything that was laid out.

“Remind me, why are you suddenly in need of learning how to cook again?"

You turned around with a sigh, shoving your hands into the pockets of your apron. (The purple apron with cats printed all over it was Shinsou’s, he had spent hours looking for it when you suddenly came to him saying that you needed to learn how to cook a decent proper meal within a week.)

It all started when you got a message from your mom one Sunday afternoon. You were sitting cross legged on the living room floor, all the old records left in the house by one of its previous owners sprawled out all around you. You had decided that it was not ok to just stack all of them up in the corner and pulled your ghost boyfriend to sort everything out so you could store them properly. He had protested but got shut down when you made the very valid argument that he literally didn’t have anything else better to do, to which he claimed that you were abusing his status as a ghost to get him to provide labour.

You were still trying to explain to him why arranging everything by alphabetical order was a better way of sorting than doing it by genre when your passionate rambling was disrupted by a ping from your phone. Shinsou watched as you picked it up with a smile, then freezing in place when you read the message, and your eyes going from dead to contemplating to panicking in a matter of seconds.

He shifted to sit closer to you when you put your phone onto the ground, your eyes as wide as saucers while staring blankly ahead.

“Is everything ok?” he asked, giving you a light tap on your forearm.

“Toshi,”

“Yes?”

You blinked, before opening your mouth slowly, “Can you teach me how to cook?”

Fast forward a few days ahead and there he was, pondering how long it had been since he last tried to cook anything. Shinsou was not a master chef by all means, but in the short period of time when he was alive and actually needed food to survive, he had trained himself to be somewhat of a decent cook in order to save money from buying takeout. He never really thought much about it but now that he watched you struggle to chop up an onion with oddly placed hands and slicing down cutting only the thinnest slice at a time, he realised that he had never seen you cook something more elaborate than sunny-side up on instant noodles since you moved into the house he haunted.

“You can always order take out and then transfer them onto your own plates or something,” he leaned to the side, his brows locked together at how clumsy you were, “I’m sure your parents won’t notice.”

You turned around with an exasperated sigh and he immediately reached out to warn you from waving the knife around, “Yes but this is the first time they’ll come over and I want to show that I, you know, have my shit together!”

“If you keep swinging that thing around then you won’t even have all five fingers together,” he clicked his tongue, hopping off the kitchen counter when you flashed him a sheepish smile as you slowly put the knife down. He walked over, blinking a few times at the poor onion that looked like it just suffered from a failed beheading. He sighed pitifully, and you happily handed him the blade when he extended his hand to you.

“Here, I’ll show you how it’s done,” his fingers were arched up against the vegetable as he skillfully sliced them up, “did you microwave the potatoes as I told you to?”

“Yeah, I put them in there directly.”

He paused, “Didn’t you put the dices into a metal bowl?”

You tiled your head, not understanding why he would bring that up. “Yeah?”

"...metals will explode in the microwave.”

“Oh fuck-”

You solved the issue of your hopelessness in the kitchen by not going in at all.

Shinsou took up the task of cooking on the night your parents would be visiting after witnessing you almost burning yourself on the stove from boiling water. Humans could be such fragile creatures sometimes, he thought to himself as he picked the pot up from the fire with his bare hands, feeling not even a tickle on his deadly cold skin.

He still thought that you were being way too dramatic with the way you checked the table every time you passed by and adjusting the utensils on top even though the difference would not be noticed by anyone that wasn’t you.

But still, when he saw you getting yourself into near death situations from the smallest of tasks, he decided that if he couldn’t get you to give up your plan of serving up a homemade supper then he would take the matter into his own hands.

Your mortality was far more important over his cynicism and the last thing he wanted was to chain you down in this house with him for a cause as dumb as you accidentally blowing the kitchen up.

“Kitten,” he sighed as he put down the salad bowl in the center of the table, holding onto your fidgeting hands, “you are starting to make me nervous and they can’t even see me.”

You paused, and he felt the dread building up in his chest when he realised that he had said the wrong thing as your eyes widened. “Oh god, what if they can see you too? How should I explain to them that I’m living with someone? I-”

Your rambling was interrupted a ring of the bell that echoed through the house. You sucked in a deep breath, squeezing his hand tight as if you could calm yourself down with the coldness of his skin.

“Should I hide?” he asked when you got to the door.

You ran your hand down your face, your knuckles popping out as you gripped onto the metal doorknob. “They can’t see you, right?”

Shinsou felt a strange stir in his chest when he saw the dramatic change in expression on your face the moment the door was opened. Shivers crept up on him when your parents looked around the house, their gaze going directly past him even though he was standing right next to you. He sighed. He had gotten so used to you that he had instinctively expected to be noticed when most people would not even pick up on his existence at all.

“Who were you talking to just then?”

“What?” you let out a forced chuckle, hoping that the panic that flashed through your eyes would not be recognisable, “No, no one. It’s just me.”

He was left at the side as you showed your guests to the dining room, walking straight past him. He stood there as the familiar feeling of being invisible caught up to him like a wave.

Would you have introduced him to your parents had he been alive?

It wasn’t often that he thought of the possibilities had he stayed alive. In fact, he truly did think he had reached the point where he was content with the situation he was stuck in. There were lonely times, times when he was very much so here but didn’t feel like it as the world past him by, leaving him as nothing but a fragment in the past that was sealed within these walls. But then you showed up, and then suddenly he had company. Someone to hold at night, someone to laugh with, someone who would correct him when he did the wrong steps while clumsily following dance tracks. Everything seemed to be great, even though he still had limits to be bound to.

“This is amazing,” an unexplained irritation welled up in his chest at the surprised gasp of your mother reached his ear. “did you really make this yourself?”

“Of course, I’ve been learning how to cook since I moved out!”

It was always odd to watch a family interact from the point of view of a complete stranger. He could see everything more clearly but also knew nothing about the dynamic or the nuance behind each word. He thought of his own family for the first time in years as he watched you smiled cordially at the table.

He wondered what they would think about you too.

Perhaps he had underestimated how much years of loneliness had affected him, or he just wasn’t keen on being reminded that no matter how real this all was, you two were still very much so on the different side of life and death, and the sudden emptiness was suffocating him.

It was like you had forgotten that he was still there too, and he wasn’t happy about it.

You sat at the table, pushing the food on your plate around as you eyed your parent’s reaction nervously. They seemed to be enjoying it, giving “your cooking" compliment after compliment. You would have to really reward Shinsou for his help later on, you thought to yourself as the knots in your stomach slowly loosened up.

Where was he now? Did he really hide up? You tried to glance around as subtly as you could manage, seeing if you could catch a glimpse of violet hair poking out from the corners.

You dropped your knife when you felt something cold touching your calf.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is fine,” you forced out a smile but inside you were panicking. What the fuck? What was he doing under there?

You nearly couldn’t hold in the gasp you were about to let out when his head slid up from your calf to your knees, pushing them apart. Your hand instinctively gripped onto the edge of the tabletop, not able to move away in fear that your parents who were sitting right opposite to you would pick up on the way your jaw was clenched.

You had no way of ignoring his touch as he gripped onto your thighs. His ice cold fingers sent shivers down your spine as he danced them across your warm skin, each tap and each stroke of his fingertip along the root of your leg had you sitting straighter and straighter against the back of your chair.

“So, what have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, nothing much-” you coughed when his finger brushed past your clothed slit. You tried to close your legs shut but you were stuck with him being right in between. Your breath hitched when your panties were peeled off, your now bare cunt clenched around nothing reflectively when the layer of fabric was suddenly gone.

You felt terribly vulnerable with your legs being pushed back and for a split second, you were hyper aware of even the tiniest twitch of your muscles. Your parents didn’t seem to notice that you were sitting awfully stiff in your seat, your legs feeling like they were about to cramp up with how hard you were trying to close them up.

“Mm-” you bit down on your lips when he licked a long strip up from the very bottom of your folds all the way up to your hooded clit, his tongue pulling away with a flick against the small bud.

“Did you just say something?”

“Oh no, you must have misheard,” the muscles around your face was twitching as you tried to remain a neutral expression as he continued to alternate between swirling and pressing down on your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Fuck him for knowing your body so well.

Your legs were shaking under the jolts of electricity that shot up from your core all the way up to the back of your neck. He seemed to only get more vigorous with his licks and sucks, lapping up on the wetness that was starting to seep out of you. Your toes curled and uncurled, gripping onto the floor to your desperation as his cold breath fanned across your sopping pussy. Each drag of his tongue had you spasming, the lack of temperature on his lips numbing your senses as he dipped his tongue in with each flick.

“Anybody you are seeing?”

All movements paused. His teeth graced past your clit tentatively, as if questioning what you were gonna do. You gulped, feeling the tip of your ears burned up.

“No-”

You jolted forward when he placed a hard suck on your clit. Your parents eyed you with a confused stare and you gripped onto the glass on the table, bringing it to your trembling lips to take a sip.

He slipped his tongue in, dragging it along your walls at a rough pace. The corner of your lips was twitching, dreading the fact that your parents seemed to take your choked answer as a sign that you were hiding something. You gritted through your teeth, trying hard to not let any of the moans that were threatening to slip out leaked.

You could hear the slurping, like he had done a sloppy job concealing each pop and lap on purpose. It was like the two of you were in your own world, and the other people were intruders sitting there with a veil separating the two of you. He paid close attention to the way you reacted to each touch, the muscle of your legs flexing under his hand as the heaving of your chest got heavier and heavier.

You could almost feel blood on your lips from how hard you were biting down when he slipped his fingers in, matching the rhythm of his tongue with the pumping of his digits. You brought your napkin to your lips, covering your parted mouth.

You nearly screamed into your napkin when he crooked his finger, the prodding of his joints inside of your spongey walls had your muscles clenching down.

His mouth left your folds with a lingered lick before pulling his fingers out with a languish drag, his lips ghosted along your inner thigh until he was gone completely. No more touches on your skin, not even a puff of air anywhere near you. He was just gone, vanished into thin air with nothing but your fluttering folds and the mess between your legs to remind you that he had very much so been kneeling there and making you crumble down just moments earlier.

You gave a slight shake of your head when your parents once again questioned the way your face scrunched up, your hand shaking as you dropped the napkin down onto your lap.

Stupid fucking ghost and their disappearing acts.

“We had been worry about you when you said you want to move out but it seems like you are doing fine, perhaps we really worried too much...”

“I told you so,” you said as you opened the door. Your smile was rigid on your face as you walked your parents to the door, trying very hard to ignore the dullness between your legs, “come back at any time!”

Your smile dropped the moment the door shut in front of your eyes. Turning around on your heels, Shinsou was right there, a lazy smile tugging on his face with no remorse.

He had his arms crossed, leaning all his weight on one leg in a posture that was not fitted for someone who nearly had you moaning out loud in front of your parents.

You grinned, and he felt goosebumps rising on his skin at how innocent and sweet the smile was.

“You’re sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

Back to the masterlist

A dead end

#bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou smut #shinsou imagines #kinktober 2020

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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years ago

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Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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kae-karo · 3 years ago

Note

Luckae, something along the lines of, it’s rotten work / not to me, not if it’s you.

HELLO HI DEAR tysm for ur patience while i worked on this!!! and THANK YOU THANK YOU for the prompt!! gods they're really just so perfectly set up for this dynamic aren't they??

not if it's you - T - 2.3k

tags: kaeluckae, reconciliation sorta, canon divergence, blood mention/injury mention

Diluc returns from a particularly rough fight during his moonlighting as the Darknight Hero to find Kaeya once again waiting for him at the winery, as he always seems to be. For some reason.

[read on ao3]

“My my, another rough evening, Master Diluc?”

Kaeya’s voice sounds tinny and off-key, but Diluc knows it well enough to understand when he’s being taunted. His hand remains pressed flat to his abdomen, grateful for the black of his jacket to hide what must be a particularly gruesome bloodstain.

“Why are you here,” he grits out as he slumps against the door, hopes that he can hold onto his composure for just long enough to convince Kaeya to leave. Adelinde can tend his wound, and Diluc does not have to face the mortification of admitting weakness in front of Kaeya.

“Why, for the wine, of course!” Kaeya says, as he always does. As he does every time Diluc returns to find him here, lounging in a chair in the winery’s entrance, at least one empty bottle on the table in front of him. Now, he hoists his glass in a false toast, offers Diluc a smirk. The dim candlelight makes it look sinister.

Until he tips his head back just a fraction, hardly any movement at all, but Diluc sees Kaeya from before, the Kaeya that would stay up all night with him, share stories of their dreams for the future under dim candlelight or bright moonlight, when the weather allowed it.

“Have I bored you so easily, Master Diluc?” Kaeya tuts, takes a sip of his wine, and Diluc grits his teeth. Partly in response to Kaeya, partly in an effort to keep himself aware. Partly to block out the pain - not the worst he’s endured, but most certainly high on the scale.

Kaeya shifts, though, and a clink makes it to Diluc’s ears. His eyes remain partly unfocused, so he blinks a few times, finds snapshot moments of Kaeya’s feet dropping from the table to the ground, Kaeya standing, Kaeya moving closer.

He hears his name, too - just Diluc this time, no tongue-in-cheek title to go along with it, and Diluc’s hand falls from his stomach. He didn’t ask it to, but gods did it require such effort to hold it there. He thinks there was a reason for it being there, but this is easier, isn’t it? To just let it fall, to let his body relax. To rest - gods, when was the last time he rested?

Warmth envelops him quite suddenly, then, and he doesn’t mind it. He’d been quite cold before, actually, and this is nice. Comfortable. He’s not sure what it is, though - his eyes won’t open, and-

Oh. Is this death? Kaeya’s kept him standing here for too long, or maybe he’s grown too- what’s the word? The opposite of humble, perhaps he’s gotten too...arrogant, that’s it. Like Kaeya. Like Kaeya. Like…

He blinks, surprised to find light pouring in now. Surprised to find...Kaeya. Hovering over him, brows furrowed and lips twisted, and a sudden-

“Ah-” Diluc coughs out as pain lances through him, sharp and sudden, and Kaeya’s gaze flicks over to meet Diluc’s. His tight expression evens out so quickly, then, that Diluc wonders if he’d imagined it.

Wonders, then, where exactly-

“Hold- Diluc,” Kaeya snaps, and Diluc pauses his attempts at looking around in favor of turning his gaze to Kaeya. Kaeya, who - upon closer inspection, and a clearer mind - appears...worried? “Hold still.” He enunciates the words with icy clarity.

Diluc does as he’s told, if only because he has not seen Kaeya like this...perhaps ever. At the very least, not since they were kids. He watches with furrowed brows as Kaeya’s hand returns to his stomach - exposed, now, and he sees the- ah. Right.

“You have no sense of self preservation,” Kaeya grumbles, almost petulant, and Diluc...he does not entirely know what to make of that. A decade ago, he might’ve thought it endearing, that Kaeya would worry for him, would make a fuss over an injury, but now…

“I don’t see why that concerns you,” he says, and finds his voice dry and hoarse. Kaeya shoots a glare in his direction, but does not respond. A rare occurrence, when he’s usually the one to prefer to fill the silence with idle chatter.

Diluc’s gaze flicks down again to where an ugly line cuts its way across his abdomen, and he watches as Kaeya sticks a needle unkindly through the edges of the wound. The pain itself comes almost as an aftershock, nearly hidden behind the wave of realization that hits him in that moment.

In all the nights that Diluc has returned from his masked forays into the city and its outskirts - all the nights that Kaeya, coincidentally, decides to make his way to the winery - Kaeya has never stayed.

And he has most certainly never tended to Diluc’s injuries, though Diluc supposes that this is the first one he’s been unable to hide from Kaeya.

The next prick of pain is not so bad, now that he’s prepared for it, and he watches Kaeya’s fingers dexterously weave shut the wound. He does not speak as he works, does not cast more than a cursory glance in Diluc’s direction, and Diluc does not know what to say.

Doesn't know how to act, when Kaeya steps out of his role as the flippant, duplicitous charmer. When he is sincere, when he’s-

“Archons,” Diluc grits out as Kaeya splashes something- ah, alcohol. Very distilled, apparently. His whole body tenses around the epicenter of the pain, the white-hot sting in his abdomen that refuses to subside even as Kaeya steps back, one arm crossed over his chest as he takes a generous sip from the very same bottle.

He sets it down on the nearby table with a hard thunk, his sour mood quite obvious, but does not turn to face Diluc. Just stares, hand gripped tight still to the neck of the bottle, and Diluc thinks that he has never seen Kaeya angry like this.

Tired, hurt, broken and hopeless, Diluc has seen all of these things, but never...never this. Never the tight expression, barely visible for the way his hair falls in his face. Never the white-knuckled grip that he must be controlling still, or it’d break the neck of the bottle. Never the quiet tension in his shoulders, hunched where they’re usually set back in a peacock-proud display.

Diluc does not know how to handle an angry Kaeya.

He sits up a fraction more, as though it might help clear his confused, clouded thoughts, but it only serves to make him wince and suck in an involuntary breath at the sting of his wound.

Kaeya’s head whips around, focuses sharply on Diluc, and Diluc holds immeasurably still. For a moment, he wishes that Adelinde had been the one to find him - her caretaking is far less...tense.

“I will freeze you to the table if you can’t manage to lay still,” Kaeya says, voice empty and nearly as cold as his ice. It crawls to his fingers, spreads from them to the bottle in a spiderweb of frost.

Diluc shakes his head, regrets the wave of dizziness that follows but does his best to keep his expression even.

“Why?” he manages after a moment, and Kaeya coughs out a laugh.

“You get yourself gutted, then ask why you need to rest?” A bitter scoff, and Kaeya releases his grip on the bottle to stand upright, to cross his arms over his chest and glare down at Diluc. “Fine,” he waves a hand. “Treat your life like it means nothing, then.”

Diluc’s brows furrow at Kaeya’s hard stare.

“Go on,” he urges, waves a hand now at the door. “Don’t you have important hero business to attend? Surely you won’t bleed out along the way!” Kaeya bares his teeth, an angry approximation of a grin, and the words hit Diluc like a- well, like a sword through his gut.

His chest falls with a heavy breath, and he wonders - perhaps naively, perhaps masochistically - if this is how it might’ve felt to be on the other end of his own blade that night all those years ago. If it was instead he who stood opposite Kaeya’s anger, knew his own faults and laid them bare for Kaeya to slash apart with his sword.

There’s a clink, then, and Diluc refocuses to find Kaeya lifting the alcohol from its perch, and he drops heavily into a chair and lifts the bottle to his lips. Drinks long and deep, then levels an unreadable stare on Diluc.

“If you intend to get yourself killed,” he says, quieter now, and his gaze flicks away. “At least have the common decency not to make me bear witness to it.” He takes another sip, and Diluc watches as something in his chest burns. Aches.

It’s a childish thing, he thinks, and he doesn’t entirely know where it comes from, but it blazes through him like wildfire, hot and painful, and he exhales a shuddered breath. This draws Kaeya’s stare, sharp with concern, and Diluc does not know how to wave it off.

“I did not mean to cause you any distress,” he says quickly, and Kaeya averts his stare the moment Diluc speaks. Leans back into the chair, evidently satisfied that Diluc’s death is not imminent.

“And yet, you run rampant through the streets with no care for your own wellbeing,” he says, voice like ice again. “Funny how that works.” Another sip from the bottle, and he rests it on his thigh. Keeps his gaze directed toward the door, though it remains unfocused.

“Is that why you wait here?” Diluc asks, then, as the realization dawns on him. Is that why I find you here every night I’ve gone out? Is that why you show up at the winery, seemingly at random, and only leave once I’ve returned?

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Master Diluc.” A hint of humor, but the bitterest kind. Kaeya glances from the corner of his eye, and Diluc sees it - hears it, almost, in a voice that is Kaeya’s but isn’t. A voice from a time when Kaeya spoke earnestly, when he did not cloak every truth in a veil of lies and almost-honesty.

If I admit that I care about you, then things change. We change.

He wonders, then, if Kaeya doesn’t want to - if he doesn’t want to care for Diluc. If he’d rather hate Diluc outright. It’s the same feeling that Diluc had felt about Kaeya all those years ago. It would be easier, certainly. Hard to feel pain when you allow nothing close to your heart - Diluc knows that truth well enough.

And yet, Kaeya’s all but admitted that he cares regardless.

“You don’t have to,” he says - an out, though it’s not quite a response to what Kaeya’s said. More to the words that he hasn’t spoken. “To be here,” he adds. “I can take care of myself. I know it’s-”

Painful to keep caring, when Diluc can never quite rid himself of his need for martyrdom. Impossible to justify it, when loss hovers so closely around Diluc that it might as well be a second skin. When he seeks it out most nights, tempts fate and knows that it will catch up with him some day.

“It’s rotten work,” he says quietly, and his gaze drifts to the wound that Kaeya’s so carefully tended. How many more will Diluc endure? How many would Kaeya stand by and watch before he can’t stand it? There is a reason that Diluc has never pursued lovers or a family or the like.

“Not to me.”

Diluc glances up, finds Kaeya still staring off into the distance. His gaze drifts over then, though, and holds Diluc’s. Something small, almost a smile, flickers at the corner of his lip.

“Not if it’s you,” he adds, even as his jaw tenses with something that Diluc has not seen since the night he raised a sword at Kaeya. Kaeya shakes his head, huffs out a breath. “You never quite figured it out, did you?”

He takes another sip of the alcohol, and Diluc’s brows furrow just slightly.

“Figured what out?” The ‘it’ tugs at his thoughts, though, somewhere just beyond his comprehension. He knows it, he thinks, whatever Kaeya intends to say, but Kaeya’s gaze flicks over, and he exhales a short breath.

“Never mind.” A smile curls the corner of his lip, gentler than his usual sharp smirk. “You need to rest. I’ll be here.”

He turns away again, then, and props a foot up on the table beside him. Takes another short sip from the bottle, and Diluc stares.

Sees it with crystal clarity, then, when Kaeya’s eye flicks over, just for the briefest moment, and it burns through Diluc’s chest - painful, warm, hot and bright and terrifying all at once. A thing he has buried for a very long time, because caring hurts.

“Kaeya.” Kaeya glances over properly now, and Diluc holds his stare. “Thank you.”

A small smile touches his lips, gentle and careful and Kaeya-from-their-childhood, and Diluc is fifteen again, and reckless and brave and head-over-heels, and just once, he allows that feeling to wash over him. When his lips curl up in a soft smile, Kaeya’s own grin widens, though he hides it with the bottle as he takes a sip.

“Get some rest, Master Diluc,” Kaeya chides, so warmly that it sounds fond, and Diluc’s heart feels so free and light it might fly right out of his chest.

That could also be blood loss, he supposes as a wave of dizziness turns the edges of his vision black, and he leans carefully back onto the table. Is grateful that Kaeya had thought to bring him a pillow, or he might be in for an uncomfortable night of sleep.

“Good night, Kaeya,” he offers quietly, and Kaeya huffs out a gentle, amused breath. Tips his head in Diluc’s direction, and Diluc’s eyes drift shut with the image of his smile branded in his mind - sincere, genuine in a way that Diluc hasn’t seen in years.

“Good night, Luc.”

#genshin #genshin impact #kaeluc #luckae #kaeya #diluc #genshin fic #prompts

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