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#anyway anyone else watched it? how are y’all feeling about the A reveal?

hyper-fixated-delusions · 8 months

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Can we be lovers and friends?

Wanda Maximoff x Avenger fem!reader.

A/N: Y’all this was hard to post, I kept reading it and reading it over again, not really liking it cause I’m paranoid??? Haha but decided to post because why not! Also coming up with titles is so hard!?!?! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluff piece, I apologize for any mistakes! :)

Warnings: Talks about drunk people, unwanted contact (not in a heavy way, but still a warning.)

Translation: “Detka.” Baby.

Word count: 2,860.

Masterlist.

It was a typical Friday night, the Avengers were gathered at their favorite bar in uptown, decompressing after a rather hectic week when Natasha Romanoff approached a sullen looking Wanda Maximoff.

"Hey Witchy, what's got you all grumpy?" Natasha teasingly asks the younger woman who is currently sporting an angry pout as she glares across the bar at two figures in the distance.

"I'm not grumpy," Wanda retorts, never removing her eyes from you as she answers Natasha. Eyebrows furrowing more than before as a woman rests her hand on your arm, "it's just, who even is that with Y/N," she says, arms crossing on her chest.

Natasha let's out a small laugh at the sight of her increasingly pouty friend, "no clue Wands, but maybe this is a sign for you to get off your ass and finally ask Y/N out, or like you're seeing now, someone will definitely sweep her off her feet," the older woman says, as she places a comforting hand on the Sokavian's shoulder.

"W-what?" Wanda sputters slightly, finally tearing her eyes off of you turning to look at her friend so fast she's surprised she didn't get whiplash, "Nat, what are you even talking about? I don't like Y/N, that's insane!" The younger girl says nervously.

Natasha chuckles at the younger girl's expression, her voice softening as she speaks, "Wanda, it's clear to anyone that has eyes and half a brain that you love each other, it's just you two idiots that have failed to realize your true feelings for the other," she says, squeezing her shoulder with a smile.

"Wait, she likes me?" Wanda asks, eyes wide in shock.

At this, the older woman laughs, her hands coming to her face in exasperation, "yes you dork! She loves you just as much as you love her. My goodness, it's so sickening to see! I seriously don't know how either of you haven't noticed, I mean with all the longing stares, the soft smiles thrown at each other when you guys think no one is watching, the overall adoration. Truly and unbelievably sickening!" Natasha says with a playful smirk.

"I-" Wanda begins, cutting herself short as she looks at you, standing across the bar, polite smile on your lips as the woman that is in front of you continues talking, "I don't think she likes me like that Nat," Wanda whispers, eyes looking at you sadly.

Natasha frowns at her friend's expression, her own eyes flitting towards you, not understanding why the brunette still looks so upset after she just revealed that you feel the same way for each other, "Wanda, I can assure you, she definitely likes you," Natasha says with conviction.

The younger girl sighs, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but maybe you've got it all wrong," she says, eyes casting down as she can longer stand to see someone else flirt with you.

At this, Natasha blows out a breath of air then says, "god, I have to do everything," and begins making her way towards you.

Wanda's eyes widen in surprise, "Natasha, wait!" She yells, her hand reaching out to stop the redhead, but it's too late. The woman is already walking towards you with resolve.

As you're listening to the woman that approached you at the bar drone on about who knows what, you notice a figure making its way towards you and you let out a sigh of relief as you realize who it is, "Nat, hey," you say softly, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of getting out of this unwanted conversation.

"Y/N/N," she greets with a smile, "it's getting late, we should start making our way over to the compound," the redhead says, smile widening as she notices your eyes soften in appreciation at her interruption.

"Okay, should I help you regroup?" You ask, looking at your mentor with a smile.

"Yes, let's gather everyone up so we can go," Natasha says, her eyes then glancing to the woman that was speaking to you, "I'll be taking this one off your hands now, we need to be going."

The woman pouts, "why so soon? We were just starting to get to know each other well," she whines.

Your brows crease for a second, then an awkward smile takes over your face as you try to hold back an incredulous look, you definitely weren't getting to know each other. "I know, I know and I'm sorry, but I really must go," you mutter, trying to sound as apologetic as you possibly can without actually feeling any kind of remorse, slowly trying to shuffle towards your mentor.

The woman sighs, "it's okay cutie, I know you're a superhero and you need your rest, so go," she says, as she leans forward grabbing your face to place a kiss on your cheek, causing you to go as stiff as a board at the unwelcome contact, her lips lingering on you longer than you'd like.

"Uh, thanks?" You say with confusion as soon as she pulls back, Natasha blinking, slightly bewildered at the woman's audacity.

"Come on," the redhead says a second later, composing herself immediately, grabbing your hand to pull you away from the woman.

"What the fuck," you mutter, as you're dragged by Natasha. Reaching Wanda you look at her with your eyebrows furrowed, "did you see that?" You ask your best friend, grimacing as you wipe your cheek.

"Yes," Wanda responds sadly, but you don't get to dwell on her response as she quickly moves away from you and makes her way around the bar with Natasha to gather the other Avengers so you can all make your way home.

Once the team has been gathered by the trio, you three make it a priority to make sure you all make it back to the compound safely.

When you arrive home you help your teammates into their sleeping quarters. Making sure they're taken care of as good as possible, setting aspirin and glasses of water down by the bedsides of those who will inevitably have hangovers in the morning.

As soon as you finish making your rounds, you make your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water and finally take a breather after the exhausting night you've had.

Granted you didn't drink or do much of anything at the bar like the rest of the team, but the social interaction of it all finally catches up with you, weighing you down.

As you stand in the kitchen, gripping the sink, head down in exhaustion, you hear steps make their way into the area causing you to stand up straight and look over your shoulder at the person walking into the space.

"Hey Max," you greet softly, as your eyes land on your best friend, "what are you still doing up?" You question, turning your body to face the woman.

Wanda smiles softly at the nickname, "I just came for a glass of water," she says, eyes observing your face, exhaustion written all over your features, "what about you? Are you doing okay?" She asks, a small frown of worry present on her face.

You lean against the kitchen sink, arms crossing on your chest, "I'm good," you smile tiredly, "although, as eventful as today was, I can't seem to fall asleep, so I thought taking a small breather and a glass of water would help," you chuckle.

Wanda nods in acknowledgment, as she makes her way through the kitchen, getting herself the glass of water she came for, standing across from you when she does, "yeah, I get what you mean," she says, taking a small sip of water, "today was something," she whispers, clearing her throat.

"You're telling me," you chuckle, shaking your head, "all I wanted was to hang out with you," you begin, missing the blush on Wanda's cheeks, "but I got bombarded at the bar and I just couldn't seem to get away. Like I know it comes with being an Avenger and all, but that woman would just not stop talking about herself and I couldn't find it in myself to politely pull away. Any time I tried, she would just put her hand on my arm and hold me there, it was truly uncomfortable," you rush out, looking at your best friend with a silly smile.

Wanda stares at you lovingly, then shakes her head after a minute, regaining composure, "wait, so you didn't like her?" She asks slowly.

You shake your head, "god no. I mean no offense to her, she was pretty I guess, but she's just not my type," you say with a casual shrug, "she was way too drunk. She kept talking about her ex the whole time, saying how dating an Avenger was for sure going to make him jealous. I didn't know how to tell her that I certainly did not want to date her. Thank god for Natasha, she came at the right moment to intervene," you smile.

Wanda lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and says, "but she kissed you," her eyebrows furrowed at the memory.

You shiver slightly and say, "yeah, she did. But it definitely wasn't welcome. I think she was too drunk to realize what she was doing," you grimace, and with Wanda's silence you decide you should bid her goodbye and head to your room, "anyway, it's late, we should get some sleep, goodnight Wands," you whisper, moving forward to hug your best friend.

As soon as she's in your arms, Wanda all but melts into the embrace, your towering frame causing her head to rest comfortably against your chest.

After standing in each other's arms for a few minutes Wanda pulls back slightly to look up at you, her green eyes shining with something you've never seen before and maybe it's the calm and the quiet, maybe it's your exhaustion, maybe it's the feelings you've pushed down one too many times. You're not quite sure what it is, but you lean down and press your lips softly against Wanda's, a sigh escaping her as your lips lightly brush.

Soon after your brain catches up with your body and you pull away immediately, "oh my god, shit Wanda, I am so sorry, I didn't-" you begin rambling, but your words are cut off by Wanda pulling your face down to hers to meet your lips in a passionate kiss, both of your feelings pouring into this long awaited moment.

As soon as lack of air becomes an issue, you both reluctantly pull away, "wow," you whisper, eyes closed, a dopey smile on your face that causes Wanda's heart to flutter and laughter to bubble out.

"Wow indeed," she whispers back, an enamored look in her eyes as she waits for yours to open.

Once you open your eyes, you look at your best friend in a whole new way, "wait, does this mean what I think it means?" You ask softly, wanting to confirm that your best friend does indeed feel the same way that you feel for her.

Wanda laughs softly, "if this is your way of asking me if I'm in love with you, then yes, that's exactly what it means," she says, lightly biting her lip, causing your eyes to cast downwards in distraction.

"I can't believe this," you say after a moment, "I was so afraid to admit that I love you in fear that you'd reject me and I'd ruin our friendship, but you love me?" You ask with a big grin.

Wanda's hands cup your face softly as she looks into your bright eyes, "yes detka, I'm in love with you," she beams, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks, "I think I have been for 2 years, but I guess I just admitted it to myself today after seeing that woman flirt with you, and maybe also with a little help from Nat," she mutters the last part shyly.

You let out a laugh at the sight of Wanda's reddened cheeks and pull her in by the waist, her arms automatically encircling your neck, "I love that woman, who knew she’d be such a matchmaker," you smile widely, "we should definitely thank her when we see her tomorrow," you say softly, as you lean your forehead on Wanda's, getting lost in a sea of green.

"No need," you hear a voice say from the shadows, and both you and Wanda pull away from each other to stand side by side. "I'm amazing, I know," Natasha says with a slight smirk as she walks into the kitchen. "Also I'm glad you two idiots have finally confessed your feelings for each other," she says as she stands in front of you and Wanda, "I'm happy for you both, you deserve this," Natasha smiles, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, "also Wanda don't hurt Y/N," your mentor tells the brunette seriously, maintaining eye contact for longer than you'd like as you see Wanda slightly begin to fidget.

"Okay Nat, I think she gets it," you cut in with a small, nervous chuckle. Reaching for the redhead's hand that's on your shoulder to squeeze and hold.

Wanda smiles at you appreciatively, then at Natasha a second later, "Y/N/N, it's okay, I see where she's coming from, she's been your mentor for longer than I've known you, she's just looking out for you," the brunette says, "thanks for looking out for her Nat," Wanda whispers honestly.

Natasha nods with a small smile on her face.

Then suddenly she turns to look at you with a serious glare, the action causing you to drop her hand and step back a little in surprise and slight fear, "and you," Natasha begins, pointing a finger at your chest, "you better not hurt her either. I know that you mean well most of the time and that things easily go over your head," she says and you pout.

"Rude," you mutter.

"But please, don't be an idiot, be rational. Always remember, both of you, that communication is key, talk things out before jumping to conclusions, listen to what the other has to say and all that good stuff because this is the last thing I will say to you both as relationship advice or whatever. So please, don't hurt each other, be mindful of one another and for all that is holy, use protection," she ends with a smirk as she sees both you and Wanda stutter, faces flushed red in embarrassment.

"Mom," you whine jokingly, causing Natasha to let out a laugh. "Thanks Natty," you say after a brief moment, pulling the shorter woman into your arms, "for everything," you whisper, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Also, we're both girls, so protection doesn't really work that way, I can't even get her pregnant. So really, you're worrying for nothing, we're all good on that front. But also you don't even know if Wanda wants children, like what if she wants to have my-" you begin rambling, but Wanda's hand on your mouth stops you.

"W-wait, no. We're not- we haven't-," Wanda stutters, shaking her head, "I- what I'm trying to say is, thank you Nat," Wanda smiles with flushed cheeks.

Natasha laughs at both women in good nature, "no problem kiddos, now get some rest, it's late," the redhead says as she walks towards her sleeping quarters.

Wanda removes her hand from your mouth when Natasha is out of ear shot and slaps your arms softly, "oh my god, you're such an idiot," she blushes.

You laugh as you pull her into your arms to stop her assault, "what? What'd I do?" You ask teasingly, "what I said was valid, or what you don't want to have my kids?" You squint playfully causing Wanda to hide her face in her hands as you move forward to hug her, swaying your bodies from side to side lightly in jest.

"Oh my god," the brunette groans, "I am not having this conversation with you right now," she says rolling her eyes as she moves back to grab your hand to pull you to her room.

"So when, tomorrow morning?" You continue teasing.

"No, shut up," she continues grumbling, causing you to laugh.

"Okay, so wait then, where are we going?" You ask.

"To my room," Wanda says still dragging you.

"To make babies?!" You ask excitedly as she pulls you through her door.

"I hate you," she mutters red in the face and you let out an even louder laugh.

"I love you too sweetheart," you say, as you bring her into you to kiss her softly.

When you pull away Wanda looks at you with a smile, "I love you, now it's time to sleep," she says as she pulls you to bed.

After a few minutes of peace and quiet, Wanda thinking you're already asleep. You sit up slightly to teasingly whisper into her ear from behind, "so do you want to have my kids?" Causing Wanda to groan as she shoves your face away from her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #my writing #my fic #no beta #Can we be lovers and friends?

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voteformightyclocks · 2 years

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Thor 4: The Good, The Bad, And The Theory

So, Thor: Love And Thunder. The fourth installment in Thor’s story. Easily one of my least anticipated Marvel projects, alongside Ms. Marvel. Let’s discuss it, starting with...

THE GOOD

Thor 4 was a BLAST. Every moment had energy and emotion, the action was fantastic, Gorr’s weakness and cunning was a great foil to Thor’s fear and strength, and despite how we literally saw a god fight a normal guy, it was incredibly balanced thanks Gorr’s magic weapon, the Necrosword. I think that’s what it was called.

This movie is bright, colorful, impactful, and it knows how to drive home the main story beats and keep you invested. That’s all the good stuff. Let’s move on to...

THE BAD

Thor 4 was rushed. It didn’t give itself enough time to tell the story. But even then, that pales in comparison to it’s biggest issue: “Tell, Don’t Show”. Gorr killed so many gods! ...okay, am I supposed to care? That’s very vague and disconnected. Gorr’s in the Shadow Realm! Except...let’s just explain it all at once. This was consistent throughout the film, but it was notably most prevalent in regards to Gorr himself. And it’s annoying. If I wanted to be told the story of Thor 4, I’d read a book. But this is an MCU film, so I want to watch it. SHOW, don’t TELL. But Marvel must not have gotten the memo

Also did it strike anyone else as odd that...oh yeah, Heimdel had a son??? Like, I didn’t take him for the romantic type, so Idk who he got together with or why, or why she’s suspiciously absent from the central story, but...like...Idk. I guess I kinda wish this was a predictable reveal? It feels way too out-of-the-blue lol. But now, let’s discuss my biggest and most pressing Thor 4 theory...

THE THEORY

Y’all might expect a theory about Zeus or Hercules, or maybe Valhalla, or perhaps Korg or, Idk, anything connected to the movie and it’s main characters, but I’m focused on a singular ability shown in the film: Jane’s transformation ability

One thing we have seen a million times already is Thor grabbing Mjolnir and immediately and magically transforming into his armor. Loki has a similar ability, too. Vision and Steve Rogers, however, are two people who wielded Mjolnir yet didn’t transform. I believe we have confirmation that Steve gained access to all of Thor’s powers in that moment (combination of interviews as well as Odin’s “Whosoever wields this hammer, should he be worthy, shall wield the power of Thor”, as well as the crucial moment where Steve Rogers actually magically calls Mjolnir to him, and him using lightning), however never once did we see a transformation. And I wondered...why...

So I wrote it off as “Oh, that’s not one of Thor’s abilities, then, maybe it’s just an Asgardian thing

And then Jane Foster transforms. And it’s like, “Oh...”

Now here’s where my theory starts spiraling. So, Thor’s powers include transformation, so we know for a fact Steve Rogers was capable of it; Vision, maybe not, as he’s technically not an organic being, but Steve Rogers for sure could transform if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He also used some of Thor’s powers like his lightning, but he abandoned others; he doesn’t seem any stronger than usual. The hammer hits with a boatload of force because of it’s enchantments, but the hammer is weightless to those who are worthy, and how Steve Rogers uses his shield while holding the hammer doesn’t change, meaning Thor’s strength isn’t being used. But why?

My theory is this: the power of the gods would kill any human regardless.

Jane Foster died fast because she was fighting cancer, and her mortal body had no energy while she was in Thor form...but this implies her mortal body wouldn’t have any energy anytime regardless, meaning she would slowly be draining/killing herself anyways, regardless of her health. Furthermore, Red Skull tells Captain America in The First Avenger, “You could have the power of the gods!” And then the very power Red Skull was trying to control consumed him, essentially. Furthermore, Jane Foster was slowly dying when she had the Aether inside of her.

Humans. Cannot. Wield. These. Powers. Not naturally, anyways

I suspect Captain America realized this. He saw what the Tesseract did to Red Skull. He doesn’t crave power, and he very-much-so knows it’s destructive. He only used Thor’s abilities when they were crucial to be used, otherwise he relied on physical attacks against Thanos, even after grabbing Mjolnir. So my theory is this very radical, very unlikely idea:

Zeus will destroy humanity by bestowing lightning powers to humans, under the guise of Thor. He will make everyone worship Thor, but then these powers will destroy the humans because their bodies cannot handle it. This will result in humans hating Thor, humiliating the god and turning everything against him before he faces off against Zeus, and falls from the sky.

Okay, obviously, he’ll win, but that’s what I think Zeus’ plan is, and I think Hercules is a distraction to us and to Thor regarding this plan. Hercules was a hero on occasion in the comics; what could turn him against Zeus better than finding out he was being used as distraction? That his entire quest was meaningless?

And if you need more compelling evidence, think about everything Thor has lost. His family. His home. His love. He lost his weapon, his friends (the Guardians), the Avengers, he’s lost nearly everything. But he’s always had his people, and he’s always had the trust and support of Earth, who practically worships him...what if Zeus’ plan is to take away what little Thor has left?

Thank you for sticking with me through this wild Clock Talk! Adios!

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frogtanii · 3 years

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a soft jazz melody buzzed over your group’s heads as you entered craft los angeles, the pretty hanging lights casting a warm glow over your deep red suit.

the restaurant was lovely, as expected, and also very very full. scanning the dining room, you were surprised yachi had even managed to get a table at all but apparently management pulled some strings to make this all possible.

a little drop of anger pooled in your gut at the thought. the higher ups had the funds to allow the house to go to an impromptu fancy (and extremely expensive!!!) dinner but they wouldn’t give you the time of day when you were sending them letters and emails, appealing for equal pay.

“hey,” kuroo’s soft, baritone voice sounded from beside you, nearly scaring you out of your skin. “are you alright?” your first thought was to just say you were fine but dr yamada’s words rang throughout your skull, unprompted.

take a moment, assess how you feel, and only then do you share. if you don’t want to, then don’t but don’t lie either. it doesn’t do you or anyone else any good. i hope you’re actually listening brat, this is important.

you mentally rolled your eyes at the old memory. you were so combative back in highschool, never really understanding the purpose or benefits of therapy so you used to battle yamada at every turn. as time went on, his badgering and sarcastic nature pierced through your walls and the rest was pretty much history.

“yn?” a quick glance back at kuroo revealed the open concern written all over his face at your silence, his hand hovering over your shoulder as though he’d been reaching out for you but stopped himself. once he caught you looking, he quickly dropped his arm and shoved it into the pocket of his slacks while averting his eyes in embarrassment.

“sorry, i was just thinking about something negative. i’ll be okay though!” you responded with a small smile, internally cheering when the hostess came by to seat everyone before you could hear his response.

the beautiful hostess brought the group to a large table near the back, handing out the menus before telling you who your waiter was going to be and disappearing. you chose a chair near the end, swiftly flanked by atsumu and kuroo. sakusa, bokuto and oikawa took the seats across from you and everyone else filled in accordingly.

a pang of sadness shot through your heart as you watched kenma sit the furthest away from you next to yachi and osamu. you’d promised yourself that you would give him time but... how long would it take? what if he never came around? did he even want to be friends with you anymore?

your depressing thoughts were broken by the waiter entering and taking everyone’s orders. you couldn’t help but wince at all the prices on the menu ($60 steak!!!), but you took a bit of comfort in the fact it was all coming out of upper management’s wallet.

it took a moment for everyone’s courses to come out, but once they did, everyone dug in. the table would be mostly silent if it weren’t for the occasional quips from sugawara and oikawa but otherwise, a feeling of awkwardness blanketed over the group.

the blame for the uncomfortable atmosphere could very easily be attributed to meiko’s presence. she sat by yachi, clad in a lime green bodycon dress and black strappy heels, her outfit in stark contrast to everyone else’s more classy options.

when the waiter had come around earlier, she refused to order any real food, instead opting for bottomless champagne, her request causing sugawara to tense up at the opposite end of the table. before you could say anything to him, sakusa leaned over to whisper something that had him relaxing back into his seat.

you couldn’t have kept yourself from smiling if you tried.

anyway, time seemed to fly, and even under the oppressive discomfort of the room, you still managed to share a few laughs with your seat mates over the incredible food.

somewhere in between polishing off your main course and waiting for dessert, your bladder came calling your name. “hey,” you called to atsumu, his attention immediately snapping up to you in concern. “gotta go to the bathroom.” he gave you a nod and a sweet smile as you stood and maneuvered yourself to the small hallway leading to the women’s restroom.

the bathroom was silent when you entered as you quickly scurried into one of the suspiciously clean stalls to relieve yourself. a squeak signaled the door opening but whoever arrived remained at the mirror, not bothering to venture any further. you continued on your business before leaving the stall only to come face to face with...

meiko.

“oh, i was wondering when you were going to come out,” she grinned, false saccharine sweetness dripping from her words. she stood leaning against the sink counter, preventing you from washing your hands.

you barely kept yourself from rolling your eyes, moving forward to get to the sink. “wow, it’s so lovely to see you too! now, do you mind?” your patronizing tone apparently didn’t sit right with meiko because in an instant, she was on you, one of her hands wrapped around your throat.

frozen. you were frozen in place, muscles locked and unable to fight back like you knew you were capable of. somehow, this time, your fear and anxiety gripped you, keeping you still as her acrylic nails dug in and pierced your skin.

“stay away from what’s mine or this will be so, so much worse,” meiko sneered into your ear, giggling maniacally at your short, choked breaths. with you so out of commission, she dared to tighten her grip, your eyes rolling back into your head as your hands shot out to weakly fight against her hold. she studied your trembling expression for just a moment longer before letting go, allowing you to slide down to the floor as you scrambled for air.

your vision was swimming but you managed to catch meiko giving you a cheeky little wave as she exited the bathroom, the door making a loud bang as she left.

black crept up on the edges of your vision, the sheer amount of energy it took to keep yourself conscious quickly dwindling. thoughts drifted aimlessly through your head as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

did the boys even notice you were gone? did they even care? what if no one came to find you and you were left to die on the floor of this beautiful restaurant? what coffin would they pick out for your funeral? what music would they play? how many people would be in attendance? would anyone even come at alll?

at that, the darkness finally won over, dragging you down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

℗ poker face

frozen

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - :O wowieee a little bit of a wild one — i wanna hear what y’all think hehe don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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a lack of mean kiri you say?? 👀 mean prohero kiri who hires you as his lil assistant just to tease you! mean kiri who slaps your butt whenever you lean down to pick something up or grips and rubs onto your hips when he asks you to get something you just can’t reach. Mean kiri who gives you a specific dress code and often measures the length of your skirt when he notices them getting longer. mean kiri who likes to fluster you in front of the other assistants. mean kiri who gets so possessive of you when the other pro heroes even dare to look at you; death grip on your hips and a warning growl. Mean kiri who picks out pieces of lingerie, sexy shoes and revealing skirts and tops for you to wear at work. mean kiri who forces you to be his date for all the hero galas. mean kiri who reminds you one day that you clearly didn’t read the fine print of the contract you signed because it states that you have to assist him in everything, including satisfying his sexual needs. mean kiri who starts small by roughly dry humping you, reprimanding you by fucking your face if you talk back, shoving you roughly on the desk as he takes you from behind just because he’s stressed, wanking himself off onto your feet when you wear the pretty new shoes he got you, leaving you big bite marks when you pay too much attention to someone else. mean kiri who fucks you raw bc he’d love if you were stuck with him for good, mean kiri who makes you wear vibrating panties wherever y’all go and teasing you with the remote 🤤🤤 yeah mean kiri has my heart ❤️

- 🎀

He’d be so manipulative about it too—

You’re elated when you realise that you got the job at Red Riots agency, knowing that there was a long line of candidates so you truly feel so lucky. So special.

Coming in on your first day full of enthusiasm and excitement until you realise the real reason why Kirishima picked you for the job as his secretary/assistant. He’s asking you to do things that no secretary should ever have to do, things that would have HR on his ass so fast if you were to report it. Nevermind the uproar it would cause if it got out in the media, all it would take is one tweet that Red Riot tried to make you wear lacy red underwear at work, and demanded to see it? He’d be finished-

But Kirishima knows you won’t say a word, trying to convince you that if you did no one would believe you anyway. He’s one of the kindest heroes, spending his free time at the local childrens hospital and volunteering with underprivileged kids- not to mention the huge donations the Red Riot agency make to charity each month.

His words ringing in your ear as you slip into the lacy red bra as you prepare yourself for work in the morning. “No one else will hire you, they’ll know what a horrible nightmare you were to work with. You think anyone in this city will hire you without the recommendation of Red Riot?” And he had a point. His influence in the city was huge, unable to go about your day without seeing at least one Red Riot endorsed product or his smiling face on a poster on the subway.

So for now you had to deal with your boss bending you over his desk so he could slip his large palms beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling it up to see the red panties you’d worn especially for him. Fingers brushing against your crotch as he lets his hand come down on your cheek, watching it ripple as he repeats the motion. Telling you what a good, pretty secretary you are. How lucky he is to have you- you don’t even stop him as he slips his calloused fingers beneath the thin fabric as he strokes them through your messy folds. “Here you are acting like you don’t want this but you’re soaked?”

#tw:manipulation #trigger:manipulation #tw:dubcon #trigger:dubcon #Kirishima thirst #red daddy riot #thirst posts #jo thirsts #🎀 anon

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graveyard-ghoulish · 2 years

Note

Hii~ can i please request a nsfw/sfw alphabet for ghostface??? I have been having non stop brain rot of him the entire time <333

Honestly I felt this on a spiritual level. He’s got no right to be that sexy and mysterious

So I used to use Ghostface’s alias, Jed, because me and him share a name and it’s a little confusing. But since Jed and Danny are two different personalities on him and when you’re dating ghostface you’re dating Danny, I’ll suck it up.

Danny Johnson NSFW alphabet (I’ll do the sfw in a different post).

Warnings: blood, murder, stalking, bondage, breath play, knifeplay, minor open wounds. You’re dating one of the most morbid ghostface’s here so I’m sure y’all know what to expect.

A- aftercare (what they’re like after sex?)

He needs to be good at it since he almost always roughs you up quite a bit. Cleans you up, carefully unties you and puts a bandage on any cuts he might’ve made. Danny then immediately teases you about any noises or faces you made. He’s a bit of an asshole lmao. Afterwards he sometimes leaves or just writes his next article while laying next to you.

B- body part (their favorite on them/you?)

Danny’s self absorbed, so pretty much everything on himself. On you, he’s obsessed with your thighs and chest. You’ve got scars and constantly have bite marks/bruises on them.

C- cum

Inside, on your thighs, etc. he doesn’t have a favorite place to nut. As long as he’s nutting he doesn’t care.

D- dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs?)

None. You’re always aware of his fantasies no matter how dark. He doesn’t hide anything from you. Good luck hiding things from him because he’ll find out quickly.

E- experience (how experienced are they?)

Very. Danny’s definitely fucked some of his victims pre-killing or risked taking someone home he met at the bar. Though his encounters happen few and far between he still knows how to fuck.

F- favorite position (self explanatory)

Basically any where he can deeply penetrate you. He’s not picky. But he seems to go for doggy quite a bit just so he can pull your hair/smack your ass or just straight up shove your head down into the bed.

G- goofy

God he’s sometimes annoying during sex. Constantly teasing you about something or cracking terrible jokes. Danny won’t shut the fuck up

H- hair (how well groomed are they?)

Danny keeps it neat and presentable, but he’s not very hairy to begin with. On you he doesn’t give a shit. He made the most ominous remark ever of “I’ve photographed much worse on my prey.” Refuses to elaborate.

I- intimacy (can they be intimate? Are they?)

He can be intimate but chooses not to. He doesn’t see the point. Danny isn’t one for sappy romantic stuff anyways and doesn’t see the big deal about going slow. He shows his appreciation for you in many other ways.

J- jack off

Not a lot but it did happen. Now that he’s got you he pretty much never does.

K- kink (one or more of their kinks)

Where do I begin?

Bondage is an obvious one. Danny goes crazy with the bindings and usually ties you to various objects to keep you in one place.

Breath play. He doesn’t choke his victims too often but he experiments on hand placement with you. Obviously he doesn’t outright fuckin strangle you but he gauges about where it becomes difficult to breathe depending on where his hand is and how hard he squeezes.

Knifeplay is a given. In the early days of your relationship (more like you didn’t know he existed yet but k) he’d break into your house and give you a small cut while you slept. When Danny actually revealed himself to you and you got to know him, he kept the knife in the bedroom. He wasn’t going to get rid of it just because you’re pissed about a few cuts.

Very light blood play. When he cuts you he might smear it or watch it drip. Probably writes his name with it on your back if he’s feeling extra spicy.

L- location (their favorite place to do the deed)

In the privacy of his home. He’d rather not raise suspicion in public or let anyone else lay eyes on you.

M- motivation (what gets them going?)

Stalking you. Regardless if Danny is dating you by now or not, he’ll always get so bricked up standing just outside your window with you unaware. If he’s bold he’ll even creep inside and watch you go about your day unseen.

After he kills he’s always got plenty of adrenaline and excitement to spare well after, so he usually goes home and finds you. This is when he’s especially rough and dominant. You have to convince him with all your might to take a damn shower first though.

N- no (things they wouldn’t do)

Definitely wouldn’t share or kill you. But other than that there’s not much he won’t do.

O- oral

He’s the cunnilingus god. Everyone who loves Danny thinks he’s got a tongue piercing and I’m jumping on that train. As far as receiving, he loves that too. He’ll have you between his legs for hours if you let him.

P- pace (fast n rough or slow n sensual?)

Fast n rough, always. Danny will get pissed if anything slower happens.

Q- quickies (their opinion on quickies?)

Danny always throws you against the wall/counter for one religiously. It’s a common occurrence and he doesn’t mind them one bit.

R- risk (are they willing to take risks?)

He’s a serial killer so…he doesn’t have many limits on this one.

S- stamina (how long can they last?)

He lasts for ungodly amounts of time, especially if he came back from a crime scene or murder. But Danny will only go for as long as you can last.

T- toys (their opinion on toys/do they own any?)

Danny doesn’t own any and doesn’t like them. They destroy his ego a little bit lmao. He’d rather you need him to get yourself off rather than some dumb silicone stick. He hates the ‘they’re you’re ally, not your enemy’ line with his entire being

U- unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

God he’s an asshole when it comes to teasing. He’ll leave you begging for him and on the verge of tears from the lack of stimulation

V- volume (how loud are they?)

Loud. He isn’t ashamed at all and neither should you be.

W- wildcard (random headcanon?)

You & Danny have roleplayed a bit. It went on for almost a week, you were his next ‘victim’ he was stalking and you were constantly paranoid. When he ‘broke into’ the house and caught you, you bargained for your life with the promise of being his whore for the night. There’s like…dozens of photos Danny has from that scene lmao.

X- X-ray (what’s in their pants?)

I’ll leave it to your imagination. I’m boring I’m sorry, but dicks are weird to look at and describe

Y- yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Danny’s always horny. Especially if he comes back from a kill, prepare yourself. He doesn’t care if he’s covered in blood and accidentally takes home a piece of someone’s intestine, he’s going to dick you down just like that.

Z- zzz (how quick do they fall asleep after?)

Usually he can’t sleep and Danny doesn’t have a normal sleep schedule anyways so… not quickly. Once you’re taken care of he usually just goes back to journaling like normal as if he didn’t just leave you unable to walk for the next week.

#x reader #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA:

youtube

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn.

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

#bnha 328 #stain (bnha)#tsukauchi naomasa #all might #stars and stripes (bnha)#all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #eta: how did I forget to type 'bnha' in the title sob

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days.

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @hisokaslefttiti

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jingerhead · 3 years

Note

For your prompts: Neil telling Andrew that he's pretty, and Andrew getting flustered/embarrassed because nobody has ever told him that before??

I didn’t know I needed this until now OMFG. I’ve never thought about this but Andrew 100% needs to be told that he is pretty because he is and he deserves it. Thanks so much for this wonderful prompt! I apologize for the few days it took to write this, I...was on vacation, lol. And then I added probs more than I should’ve, so enjoy a 5 + 1. Also, y’all should check out @fortheloveofexy artwork if you haven’t, it is absolutely incredible I love it so much!

Read on AO3 | Word count: 4,553 | Rated: G

Neil isn’t blind. A little oblivious, and sometimes stupid, but not blind.

After a few months of working through his feelings - a long internal battle that had revealed more about himself than he would’ve liked - Neil had managed to work out what he wanted with Andrew. He felt protective and protected, safe and genuinely happy no matter what they were doing. They had rough spots, but Neil was sure that anyone in a developing relationship goes through them. Now, in his second year at Palmetto, they’d gotten down a better dynamic to deal with balancing practice and schoolwork and time alone.

They even managed to carry on going to Edens during some weekends. Aaron always took his chances to opt out, but Nicky still enjoyed the place and Kevin still had an unhealthy tolerance of alcohol. Some of the new foxes went there as well, but most of the time Neil spent there was by Andrew’s side, trying to keep an eye on how much Kevin had drunk while also sure the guy knew his own limits better than anyone else. If Andrew was sitting at the table, Neil would be at his side. If he got up to get more drinks from the bar, Neil would follow. He didn’t want to go onto the dance floor but would drink whatever Andrew ordered him.

At the moment, he was leaning against the bar, waiting for Roland to return with the drinks Andrew had ordered. Neil took the time to stare at Andrew, the booming music and flashing lights only seeming to emphasize every good thing about his face. His hair was styled in a way that made it look attractively windswept, and Neil was pretty sure that Andrew had put on eyeliner. Or maybe it was just the lights in the club making them pop more, but they did. It was hard to see the natural hazel, to pick out the flecks of gold mixed with olive green and brown, but Neil tried his best, anyway.

Andrew looked great. Neil always thought he looked great, and therefore today was no different, and there wasn’t anything special about it, either. It wasn’t that Andrew didn’t look better than usual, it was that he was always good-looking.

Roland came back with the tray, breaking Neil out of his staring contest with the side of Andrew’s head. The bartender didn’t stay long, saying a few words to Andrew before walking down towards others sitting along the bar, leaving them alone again. Andrew picked up one glass and slid it to Neil’s hand, who grabbed it but didn’t drink it, instead taking a moment to look it over. By the smell Neil was pretty sure there was whiskey in it, because for some god-awful reason Andrew seemed determined to get Neil to like it, or he enjoyed the faces Neil made when the burn would hit his throat. Probably the latter, now that he thought about it.

Neil glanced back at Andrew, thinking of something to say about the drink, but the other wasn’t looking at him. Neil leaned forward, spotting someone on his other side: a girl that couldn’t have been much taller than himself, wearing jeans and a tank top. Neil couldn’t hear what they were talking about over the sound of the music playing, but he wasn’t concerned. It was far more entertaining to watch Andrew’s blank face stare her down until she started to visibly falter and then walk away. When she finally did, Andrew turned around to face Neil again.

“Wrong twin?” Neil yelled over the music, smirking to himself at his own joke.

Andrew’s face didn’t change. He wordlessly grabbed one of the shots on the tray and knocked it back, neck flexing attractively and - yeah, if Neil didn’t have a neck fetish before, he probably did now. “Stop staring,” Andrew yelled back.

Neil looked away, holding more tightly to his glass and getting out of the stool he’d been sitting on. Andrew got up as well, holding the tray and walking towards the table they’d been sitting at earlier. Neil followed and stared at his shoulders the entire way.

Not every practice is going to go well. Sometimes the foxes seem to flow nicely, predicting each other’s moves perfectly and able to step around each other like they were performing some kind of complicated dance. Neil liked those days, because it was his job as captain to get the team on track, and he liked it better when he didn’t have to yell at the team to stop squabbling every few minutes.

A lot of times, he misses when Dan was captain instead. He only slightly feels bad for whatever hell he must’ve put her through during practices.

Today wasn’t a day that the foxes worked well. Wymack had already sent most of the team running laps at least three times now, and Neil wasn’t excluded from the bunch. Most days he could work with Kevin, especially after night practices, but he could no longer tell if it had been him that was originally pissed off or his teammate. They kept butting heads, crashing into each other and blocking goals that Andrew would’ve blocked anyway. The team couldn’t help but start their own drama amongst themselves after seeing the way the two worked.

“That’s it,” Wymack yelled at them when he finally called enough for the day. The team had gathered around, breathing heavily and glaring at anything that moved. “You all are going to go sleep off whatever mindset you’re in right now. If you’re still fighting like cats and dogs by practice tomorrow, I’ll make all of you run until you pass out.” Wymack nodded towards the locker rooms. “Get out.”

They did. Neil dragged his feet, still fuming at everything that had happened that day. He couldn’t stop seeing red whenever Kevin was in his line of sight, so he sat on one of the benches and stared at the lockers, counting to himself until he’d stopped panting for air. By that point, most of the team had gone and he could shower in peace, so he got to his feet and started pulling off his pads, ripping off his gloves with a bit more intensity than usual.

He was just grabbing his small bottle of shampoo when he heard footsteps approaching. For a moment Neil was worried it was either Kevin or Wymack, but when he glanced over his shoulder he found it was neither. Andrew was just getting back from the showers, dressed in boots and dark jeans, his arm bands in place and a t-shirt on. A white towel was around his neck, hanging off the back of his head like he’d tried to quickly dry his hair and then left it in place for the walk back to his locker.

Andrew glanced at him once, and then turned to open his locker. Neil watched him put away some soap and his folded jersey, eyes catching on the biceps that were exposed thanks to the way the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up as he moved. Andrew’s muscles have always been something Neil admired: at first he used to watch Andrew press weights and was impressed, unable to take his eyes away in something he mistook for some kind of jealousy. Neil still wishes he could lift as much weight as Andrew, but he also enjoys spotting much more, because at those moments he’s supposed to stare, even if Andrew scolds him for not watching the bar at all times.

When the locker slammed closed, Neil jumped just slightly, taken out of his trance. Andrew was pulling the towel away from his shoulders, watching Neil back with a small frown on his face. Neil managed to not say anything, even if he had a lot on his mind, and instead focused on watching Andrew approach.

“I’m leaving in ten,” Andrew told him when they were standing right next to each other, chests so close they were almost touching.

Neil thought it was pretty unfair that he was being expected to think at a moment like this. “Okay,” he said dumbly, because that was the only response he could think of.

“I’m leaving in ten,” Andrew repeated.

Oh. Neil nodded and turned around, shaking his head as though that would get the thoughts of how nice Andrew looked out of his mind, and rounded up the rest of what he needed for the showers. If he wasn’t ready and in the Maserati in ten minutes, Andrew would leave him to run back to Fox Tower. Which Neil could do, he’s done it before, but he was still tired after the draining practice and would prefer to see where Andrew would take him instead.

It wasn’t like they had to go back to the dorm right away. And after stressful days like this, a car ride was usually just what it took to calm down again. Neil took the shortest shower of his life, probably only rinsing the sweat off his body rather than actually cleaning up, and was pleased that they drove out of Palmetto when he climbed into the passenger’s seat.

Whoever invented midterms deserved to be dead, Neil was convinced, because clearly they hadn’t considered that someone would be playing a sport like their life depended on it while also taking eighteen credits because they were an idiot who wanted to finish their gen-ed. requirements a semester early. In short, whoever invented midterms hadn’t done it with Neil Josten in mind, which meant that Neil felt like he’d been staring at his notes so hard that his eyes were going to fall out soon.

Sometimes he wishes he could memorize things the way Andrew could, because he could waste an entire week playing video games instead of studying and still pass everything. On the other hand, Neil felt like he was drowning in textbooks and notes, and he was also sure he’d memorized more from quizzing Kevin with flashcards full of random facts about Ancient Rome than his own material about sequences and series. The inventor of calculus also deserved to be dead, Neil decided, and was pleased that Sir Isaac Newton had been dead for a very, very long time.

Kevin was studying in the bedroom, because when he asked Andrew to turn down the volume to whatever video game he was playing Andrew had just turned it up more. Neil could deal with the noise, tuning it out to focus on re-writing his old notes like Katelyn had suggested to him, but now that he’d taken a moment to rub his eyes and try to think of anything except mathematical formulas, he was distracted by whatever Andrew was playing. Neil got up from the desk to sit on the floor next to the beanbag Andrew was sitting in, watching him play as some small green character trying to take on a large boss, which seemed to be a giant floating head with two hands.

“What’re you playing?” he dared to ask.

“Shh,” Andrew shushed him, not looking away from the screen.

Neil figured he could find out later and watched. Andrew was good at beating video games, probably because of his skills as a good goalkeeper requiring him to keep his eyes on everything, knowing exactly when to move and how to do it. Or he just had some natural talent, but Neil thought it was impressive, anyways. At some point during the boss battle, he looked away from the screen to watch Andrew instead, which was more entertaining.

His fingers moved quickly over the controller’s buttons, which was almost a hypnotizing sight. Andrew had painted his fingernails black again, but the nail polish was already chipping after a week. Neil thought that Andrew had nice hands: they were large but not bulky, strong and but not rough, unyielding but gentle. One night they had been lying in bed together and Neil had been allowed to look over one of Andrew’s hands, trying his best to learn every detail about them. He’d liked that night, and thought that he’d like to do it again.

“Do you want to play?” Andrew spoke up, bringing Neil out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

Andrew looked back at the screen, where his character was picking up a heart-shaped item and then jumping into a purple portal of some kind. “What, were you trying to figure out how I fight?”

“No,” Neil admitted, then bit his lip to keep from admitting he was staring at Andrew’s hands because he thought they were nice.

“Either study or watch the game,” Andrew ordered.

Neil didn’t want to study, but he knew he shouldn’t stare more than he already had, so he looked back at the TV screen. It was distracting when he could hear Andrew’s fingers moving over the buttons again, to the point that he wasn’t watching what was happening but instead just focusing on the sound to his left.

Andrew let out a low sigh through his nose. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Neil argued.

“Yes, you are.” Andrew moved a foot to nudge one of Neil’s shoulders. “Stop.”

“Okay,” Neil said, forcing his focus to return to what was happening on the screen. Or to try and recall the formulas he had to know for his upcoming midterms. If Andrew noticed that Neil couldn’t stop thinking about his hands, he didn’t make any more comments about it.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to suddenly go out, but every time it happened Neil never felt prepared for it. The first time Andrew had taken him for some food and then found a secluded place to park the Maserati, allowing them to eat and talk about whatever they wanted and then eventually make out in the backseat, Neil felt pretty comfortable labeling that as a date. He’d gone so far as to message Matt about it, who told him he most definitely had been on a date and thanks, he’d just won a lot of money. Neil couldn’t be bothered to ask what the foxes had been betting on now and left it as is.

He didn’t say it out loud, anxious about Andrew suddenly taking the date back or something, but after months Neil knew for sure that’s what this was. Tonight, Andrew only had to quickly flash Neil the keys to get him to follow, and they went to some local diner that sold really good sandwiches. They got their food to go and then Andrew drove them down a highway, a long drive that spanned until after the sun set. By that point they had reached some secluded area with a great view of the night sky, which had significantly more stars in it than were at campus.

“Are we stargazing?” Neil asked when they got out of the car, sitting on the hood of the Maserati and eating the greasy sandwiches. He’d already used up the three napkins Andrew had handed him, so he wiped his fingers off on his pants so he could grip his water bottle well.

“Something like that,” Andrew replied.

Neil looked back at the night sky. “One time I stargazed on the run. I was in a bus, but the whole sky seemed to light up.” He’d been eleven and moving around with his mother, and hadn’t yet been so out of touch with life that the view of millions of stars in the sky wasn’t breathtaking. “We could go somewhere. Maybe next year, before the dorms open?”

Andrew just shrugged, his head tilted back to look at the dark sky. Here the only light offered was from the moon and the Maserati’s lights, so it was difficult to see his face. Neil couldn’t tell what expression he was making at the proposal to go on a road trip together, and he hadn’t received a verbal answer either, so he let it be. A few minutes later, he finished his sandwich and put his box to the side, glancing at the stars again before looking at Andrew.

It was hard to make out his facial features, but not impossible. The dark couldn’t quite hide Andrew’s side profile, and the light breeze that moved through the area they were in tussled his hair just slightly. Neil slowly looked down from the small jut of Andrew’s chin to his strong jawline, eyes adjusting more easily to the dark the longer he looked. Andrew’s adam's apple moved when he swallowed, his head angled back only offering a better view. Neil wanted to kiss his throat, to leave a light nip to Andrew’s pulse point and listen to the slight hitch of breath he knew he’d receive in return.

He was only slightly disappointed that the dark covered up Andrew’s light freckles and the color of his eyes. But those he had memorized, even though he’d never get tired of looking.

“Are you even watching the meteor shower?” Andrew spoke up, head tilting as he looked Neil’s way.

No, Neil wanted to say. He hadn’t noticed the streaks in the sky and didn’t feel like looking away, because as breathtaking as it would be to watch he knew it wouldn’t be able to compare to what Andrew looked like right now. He could stare for hours and not be bored - he had stared for hours and not become bored - which is why he decided it was so hard to finally drag his gaze upwards.

The meteor shower was pretty. But just not as pretty as Andrew looked, sitting on the hood of his car. Neil was tempted to say so, but he bit the inside of his cheek until it hurt to keep from blurting out loud. Andrew must’ve noticed, because he poked the cheek Neil was biting.

“Watch,” he encouraged.

“I am,” Neil argued.

“I didn’t bring you all the way out here so you could stare at me.” Neil blinked and looked Andrew’s way again, who was shrouded in darkness once more. “You do that every other day. Look at the stars instead.”

“So, you’re saying it’s okay for me to stare at you any other day?” Neil asked, smiling openly, and not at all a bit cheeky.

“I’m telling you to stare at the stars right now.”

“Okay,” Neil agreed, looking skyward again. That hadn’t been a ‘no’, but not quite a ‘yes’ either. He’d have to ask again later.

Of all his favorite things to do, kissing Andrew was definitely towards the top of that list.

Neil enjoyed just about everything they did: lazy morning kisses, a kiss ‘hello’ when they saw each other again, kisses to fingertips and forehead kisses, cheek kisses and neck kisses and everything in between. Neil had been told ‘yes’ to giving Andrew a kiss on his face so long as they were in front of one another and the mood was right. He liked kissing Andrew’s cheek while making food or talking or doing homework, and did it as often as he could.

But what was even better than kissing were the moments afterwards.

On his list of things he liked to do, laying in the afterglow with Andrew at his side was definitely number one. Like today, the two had laid down on the bed and kept space between their bodies everywhere except for their lips. Neil felt like his were definitely red and swollen, but not in a painful way. It was a satisfying feeling, and it only got better when he could see Andrew’s face so closely.

Like this, when they were laying horizontal and only a few inches were separating them he could admire every little bit of Andrew’s face. Neil could see the way his blonde hair framed his face, a few strands falling near his eyes but not long enough to cover them. His eyebrows were relaxed, not pulled into a glare or his mask of indifference, and Neil felt like he wanted to treasure this look the most. Andrew’s eyes were still closed, his long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones that were covered with light freckles that tracked over the bridge of his nose. Andrew’s lips were also light red, a pretty contrast to the rest of his skin tone.

But when Andrew opened his eyes and looked at Neil, he felt like his heart might stop.

Neil couldn’t get why people don’t wax more poetry about people with brown eyes, because the different colors he could pull from Andrew’s were ones he felt he’d never seen before. Technically Andrew’s eyes were hazel in color, muted green swirling with the other earthy tones in his irises. In some lights, his eyes looked like amber. In others, they could look coppery or bronze, and some days the green came out more. But Neil liked the brown the best: the flecks of dark mahogany, the chestnut, the few lines of gold. The dark chocolate, the dark wood, the color of sand after the ocean waves rolled over it. And, of course, the olive green mixed in between.

He almost opened his mouth to tell Andrew just how beautiful his eyes actually were. Neil wanted to describe every color he could find, to see if maybe Andrew knew what he was seeing, and finally have a name for them. He wanted to talk about how they looked right now compared to other times, to whisper how he could waste hours staring at them and how he wanted to.

But he didn’t. Neil’s lips parted to say something, but Andrew beat him to it.

“Staring,” he simply pointed out.

“I know,” Neil replied. “Want me to…?”

He was offering to look away, even if it would be a chore to drag his eyes away from Andrew’s. But he received a ‘no’ to his question and happily continued looking his fill, head comfortable where it was on a pillow. Andrew blinked at him a few times, then closed his eyes as though he was going to take a nap, cutting off Neil’s view, who forced himself to only feel slightly annoyed by it.

“Sleep?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Andrew hummed. It wasn’t an answer, so Neil decided to just lay there, and tried to pick out a different part of Andrew’s face to stare at instead.

It was early Sunday morning, and they were completely alone in the dorm room.

Kevin was taking the day to hang out with Wymack, which left the place almost deathly quiet. Not that it hadn’t been since Nicky had left for Germany, but now there wasn’t even the sounds of the TV playing or Kevin’s heavy steps that he always took. Neil had been awake for a while, listening to when Andrew had left the bed to go to the kitchenette and get some food, but he’d been so comfortable that he hadn’t wanted to move.

But he was incredibly grateful that he had gotten out of bed when he saw what was waiting for him outside of the bedroom.

Andrew was clearly still half asleep, since his eyes were slightly drooping and he’d poured himself some cereal, lightly munching on it while standing at the counter. His hair was a bit of a mess, blonde waves sticking up in all different directions and slightly pressed on one side. He was wearing the long sleeved sleep shirt he’d thrown on last night but hadn’t pulled on any pants, which gave Neil the great view of his muscular thighs peeking out from underneath his black boxer-briefs.

In short, Andrew looked great. Neil wishes he could’ve lost control of his mouth at a more magical moment, or sometime meaningful, but he couldn’t stop himself after looking his fill for a few seconds. “You’re pretty,” he blurted.

For a second, Andrew didn’t react. His head turned Neil’s way when he spoke, and he frowned for just a second, but then his half-lidded eyes suddenly opened wide. Neil was almost surprised at such a strong reaction, but he didn’t think it was a bad one. Andrew didn’t blush or glance away, but there was something in his eyes that seemed a bit off. Neil took a few steps closer to figure out what it was.

Andrew let him approach, staring the entire way. By the time they were standing face-to-face, Andrew had composed himself, clearly putting more effort than usual to appear disinterested. But he hadn’t told Neil he was stupid, or staring, or to shut up, so Neil decided to quickly say it again before the opportunity was taken away again. “You’re pretty,” he said quietly, as though he was sharing a secret. It almost felt like he was, because Andrew didn’t hide his reaction again, as subtle as it was.

His eyes went wide again, just a little bit, and Neil was close enough that he could hear Andrew’s breath hitch. Once again, he didn’t blush, but the tips of his ears turned pink and his lips parted, making him look even more pretty. Neil leaned in and aimed a kiss near Andrew's left eye, pressing his lips to Andrew’s hairline firmly. Andrew let him, aiming a frown at Neil when he stepped back, but it wasn’t very effective since his bottom lip pouted out just slightly.

Neil decided to be merciful and didn’t say it again, even though he wanted to. He wanted to tell Andrew every day if he got to see this side of him, but Neil needed to make sure that it was okay to do this. That it was something Andrew wanted, because Neil was pretty sure nobody had told Andrew just how beautiful he really was.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked, sure that Andrew would understand.

He didn’t get an answer right away, but Andrew appeared to need a moment, so he waited patiently. Andrew finally looked away, not ducking his head but merely glancing to the side. It only took a few seconds, of which Neil spent staring at Andrew’s pink ears, but finally he was given the answer he needed. “Yes,” Andrew said, a bit quiet but clearly heard, looking back at Neil as though to prove there was no hesitancy in his eyes.

Neil didn’t doubt him. Andrew never did anything he didn’t want to do, and he knew Neil would respect a ‘no’ if heard. As it was, Neil was happy to hear he could continue telling Andrew how beautiful he looked, and leaned in to kiss the same spot on Andrew’s hairline, a bit softer than before. Andrew let out a strange noise, like a weird mix between a grumble and a growl, and turned back to his cereal, shoving a spoonful in his mouth.

He still looked nice. Neil turned away to find something for himself that morning, deciding to give more compliments later. He wasn’t sure how long it would be until Andrew told him to shut up after hearing one of Neil’s random thoughts about his appearance, but it would definitely be soon if he heard that he was pretty three times in a row.

They had a lot of time. Neil would have many more opportunities to blurt out what he was thinking, and now that he had the go-ahead to do it, he would.

#aftg #aftg fanfic #aftg prompts #tfc #tfc fanfic #andreil #andriel #the foxhole court #all for the game #all for the game fanfic #jinger's works

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

Warnings: DUBCON ELEMENTS, SMUUUUUUT, religion kink, virgin kink, authority kink, degradation kink, praise kink, age gap, ohhhhh the list goes on y’all been here long enough

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time im sorry

***

Obi-Wan feels like he’s going to be sick.

Dinner in the grand hall was difficult enough, forking down mouthfuls of expensive food he’s sure was absolutely marvelous, if he could’ve tasted it. The s’Ziscari clearly splurged on the celebrations—expensive food, expensive decor, expensive everything, down to the silk napkin he studied and fiddled with under the table as he awkwardly waited for you to finish your plate.

He felt uncomfortable, absolutely. He’s felt uncomfortable ever since he shuffled into this blasted, Maker forsaken robe not long after he left your quarters earlier.

Not black, no. Not like yours. Not like what appears to be an overwhelmingly vast majority of the people he’s encountered so far this dreadful evening.

No, his robes are blue.

A strong, eye-catching royal blue, covering his body in waves of fabric—softer than anything he’s ever worn before and leaving him feeling incredibly exposed. The far more practical robes he traded for these atrocious garments are made of a thick, scratchy wool, a testament to the Jedi’s philosophical rejection of fine or expensive materials. And, against all logic—to somehow make matters even worse, the sash tying this uncomfortable piece of attire closed has no place to clip his saber, unlike the leather belt he usually wears. As a consequence, he’s left simply carrying it around by his side.

Granted, for some unknown reason, his robes are still far thicker and longer and more protective than the… stars, the ultra-thin black silk wrapped around your body, but Obi-Wan is so self-conscious about his appearance that he’s not even allowing himself to look at you. Obviously that doesn’t stop him from refusing to leave your side the entire night, and he finds himself rather grateful that only a very few number of s’Ziscari are fluent in Basic, if only to provide him with a valid excuse to socially detach.

Of the very few people he’s noticed wearing robes resembling his, they’re all far younger than him—much closer to your age than Obi-Wan’s, and stars, everything about this celebration is unbelievably unnerving to him—including, if not most of all, your response to it. One of the reasons he knows the food was grand, apart from the immaculate plating and lavish dinnerware of course, is because you momentarily excused yourself from the seat next to him to dish yourself out a second helping.

Even now, even in the skybox seats of this distressingly packed arena, Obi-Wan struggles to keep down what little food he could eat while you stand tall next to him and seem completely unbothered by the situation—and by the Maker, it bothers him. He isn’t used to this. He’s used to you being the emotionally turbulent one, the one whom he has to pacify, and it twists his stomach with the way the roles have suddenly found themselves reversed.

“I think the blue looks nice, by the way,” you lean sideways to mention casually to him, and he knows. He knows you’re just jesting, just trying to lighten the mood, but he feels the bile rising up his throat at the fact that you even commented on it aloud. “Fitting. Matches your saber. Your face, though.” The smallest hint of a smile tugs at your cheeks. “It’s beginning to match the color of mine.”

“Thank you for that, young one; your sense of humor is positively delightful,” Obi-Wan gripes, clutching the metal hilt tightly in front of him with both hands while he gazes out at the stadium before him, bustling with black hooded figures and a rare flash of blue. It does not escape his notice that in complete contrast, your arms are loosely meeting behind your back, your saber dangling in one hand while the other lazily holds your wrist. Your body is… open. Draped in garments somehow equally as opaque as they are revealing, presented to the wide panoramic view of the audience and stage with no qualms whatsoever.

“Wonder who I got it from,” you ponder with a tilt of your head, and… fair point. “How long is this thing supposed to last anyways?”

“Stars—‘this thing’ can’t get over with soon enough,” Obi-Wan grumbles, his eyes anxiously flicking down at the empty stage in the center of the audience. He’s struggling with butterflies and nausea like he himself is meant to have a starring role in this debauchery. “They’ll have… acts. Plural.”

“Heavens,” you sigh under your breath, and oh yes. He agrees.

He’s also painfully aware that he should be using this free time to continue contemplating his decision about… matters concerning later this evening with you, but he’s already feeling massively overwhelmed as it is. Right now, it’s all he can do to just breathe and attempt to face one trial at a time.

But then, as if the Maker is feeling just particularly malicious this evening, Obi-Wan’s stomach drops when something quiet flashes in the Force and the roar of the enormous crowd instantly falls to dead silence. The ominous sign rockets through him and while a Jedi should not know fear, this might be the closest he’s ever felt to truly terrified.

“Ooh, dramatic,” you whisper, but regardless of your laissez-faire attitude, his heart is positively pounding as he watches the figures of robed Force sensitives slowly file out onto the stage, and everything inside him lurches at the realization that—

They’re all wearing blue. Every single one of them is clothed in fabric that matches his current attire, the one that made him feel like a blot on the landscape the entire dinner and subsequent mass pilgrimage to the arena. A bright splash of color in the midst of an almost inescapably giant ring of black.

You’ve stopped talking. Truly, he has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing, not right now. The Force sensitives join hands and create a ring in the center of the stage while every single person in the arena sits in perfect silence, and Obi-Wan feels dizzy. He’s not getting enough air right now, but he doesn’t even want to breathe too loudly and somehow draw even more attention to himself.

Two of the blue robes break off from their fellow acolytes and meet in the middle of the circle, and to simply avoid having a heart attack, Obi-Wan very purposefully chooses to ignore—like he’s done multiple times this evening—the subtle flicker of curiosity he experiences at the significance of the color blue and what it symbolizes to the s’Ziscari. He can’t even bear to watch the way the two of them slowly lean in and allow their lips to touch from under their hoods.

Maker, if he turned his saber on and stabbed himself with it, could he convince you it was an accident? Probably not—no, definitely not, what a stupid thought to have—

“How does she wipe?” He hears your voice whisper, and Obi-Wan’s facial expression immediately screws up in confusion.

He turns to you, his tone equally hushed but the bewilderment sharpening his consonants. “How does who what—?”

Only—you’re not even looking at the scene unfolding in front of you. Your expression is just as confused as his is, but instead of looking down, your chin is lifted and you’re staring directly across the arena at the viewing booth opposite to yours. He still has no idea what you’re talking about though, not until he follows your line of sight and sees the way s’Zerthia has her jaw propped up in her hands on her throne, looking bored as usual, and how the length of her newly manicured fingernails curves halfway up her scalp from this angle.

“That’s dangerous,” you remark quietly. “They’re like talons. Gaudy little weapons she always has attached to her that she decorates, makes them seem less vicious than they actually are. I see them. I certainly don’t envy whoever she picks tonight to—”

You cut yourself off with a bit lip smile and turn your face away from him, and Obi-Wan is almost mystified by how casual you’re able to be about this.

“Whomever she picks to…?” He trails off with a sigh. “Do I… Do I want to know?”

“Never mind,” you tell him quickly, lifting your chin once more while still clearly trying not to laugh. You’re trying not to laugh, while… while that is happening in the center of the audience. “It was, uh… tasteless.”

He blinks, wondering what that could possibly mean. Everything about this is tasteless, the entire thing is just an absolute nightmare coming to life.

Though, after a moment of silence, Obi-Wan soon realizes he much prefers it when you fill the void.

“Members of the Royal Court take turns doing it for her,” he eventually replies, decidedly looking anywhere but where the man is slipping the blue robe from the woman’s body. It takes you a second to register to what exactly he’s referring, but when you finally do, you snort. It’s too loud. A few heads closest to your isolated seats turn as Obi-Wan very quickly thrusts his elbow into your ribs. “Quit being disrespectful,” he hisses under his breath.

“You just—!” You quickly clamp your mouth shut and face forward again, trying not to smile in an appalled sort of way. But then—“Oh,” you blurt, not loud enough for anyone else to hear in this open setting but still loud enough for him to glance around and be slightly anxious about it. “Oh. Wow. I wasn’t… expecting…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes automatically flick down to the couple, only just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of stark nudity in the center of the arena before his gaze immediately bounces back up again and focuses on the incredibly interesting steel beam currently propping up the Queen’s viewing box, clearing his throat. “I… did warn you.”

“Well, yeah, I expected them to…” Your hushed voice trails off and you stay quiet for too long, too long to imply you’re still formulating an end to your thought. You’re distracted by something, but then you appear to snap back to your senses and immediately clear your throat. “I just wasn’t expecting… the, uh. The… positioning.”

He says nothing in response. It… it doesn’t give him great comfort, wondering how you could possibly know enough about this type of profanity to have expected a different sort of positioning. The stark contrast between the color of his ceremonial robes and yours still remains completely unspoken, but it quietly pulls at the back of his mind nonetheless.

“What about it?” Obi-Wan immediately hears himself prompt and oh, no, this is completely inappropriate. Not only should he not be encouraging this kind of talk with you, but he also shouldn’t feel so… so negative, not about something so personal to you and something that’s certainly none of his business. Regardless, he… still has this buried, unexplainable desire to know the truth about it. Regardless of the indirect way he’s attempting to go about it, he wants to know the truth about whether or not you broke your oath, and while he recognizes it’s completely improper of him, the urge is still strong enough to manifest itself using his vocal cords.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just… It’s…” He doesn’t even have a visual reference for what you’re attempting to find the words to describe. He doesn’t want to. He just wants to know what you think about it. “…Bold,” you finally settle on.

Bold. It’s bold. Perhaps Obi-Wan wouldn’t be analyzing your verbal responses so closely if he had something more interesting to look at besides the general coliseum-like structure of the large outdoor stadium, but there’s a certain horizon he just won’t let his eyes dip below right now and unfortunately for him, being so high up above the crowd, the upper hemisphere of his visual field remains relatively dull.

“Who would've thought,” he eventually sighs, blinking up at the star-splattered sky now and attempting to see if he can use the Force to break off a piece of a satellite and have it impale him in a tragic accident. “Considering the s’Ziscari are such a conservative bunch.”

His eyes soon wander back to s’Zerthia, and—Obi-Wan startles to find her staring directly at him with a thin eyebrow dangerously quirked. She motions two long fingers in a V shape at her eyes and then points down towards the stage, her expression expectant and waiting.

Obi-Wan’s teeth hurt at how hard he clenches them together, his jaw flexing but the thick blanket of his beard doing well to conceal it. She’s playing with him, he realizes; he can see the hidden smile on her lips all the way from here.

Maker, maybe she’s right. Maybe he’s—maybe he’s being ridiculous about this. This is fine. This is fine. His stomach feels like it’s all his food might come up at any second, but he’ll do it, he’ll look. He can at least just look, right?

His gaze slowly begins lowering, trying to take in just a few things at a time so as not to overstimulate himself. Thousands of s’Ziscari lining the seats of the arena, almost every single one of them dressed in black. Lower still—the platform leading up to the stage. A perimeter of blue figures now sitting down in a circle and then, at its center, a… a naked man and woman.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds as he struggles to comprehend the sight, never having laid eyes on a nude woman before. She’s on her elbows and knees, forehead lowered and resting against the floor, and the man kneels behind her, one hand holding her hips and the other wrapping around his—

Stars, Obi-Wan wants to end it all. Right here. His aim will be true.

But then… oh, no, he’s an idiot. He’s a complete dullard, because he forgot. Consumed by his own sheer anxiety and unease, Obi-Wan stupidly forgot an extremely crucial detail of the incredibly little he’s been told about the Sh’inzith.

—the projecting.

All at once, he’s nearly knocked over by the strength of the two Force sensitives at the center of the arena as they deliberately cast their minds out across the entire audience, presenting every sensation and fleeting thought they’re experiencing in all its intensity. Obi-Wan immediately works to reinforce his mental shields as soon as he feels the shockwave about to hit, but there’s thousands of Force sensitives present—all of them congregated into one relatively small area, all of them tuning into the same two signatures and then suddenly… amplifying them back until it’s impossible for him to shut out.

“Oh, uh—” he just manages to hear you mutter through the whirlwind, just the slightest hint of panic in your voice peaking through the symphony of whispered thoughts and pulsing sensations coming from the stage, “—that isn’t good—”

Obi-Wan abruptly stumbles backwards and gasps at the awful, wretched feeling of something brunt pressing up hard against somewhere elusive, somewhere he’s never felt before towards the lower part of his body, and his mind fights viciously against it as he feels you spin around and reach out for his rapidly retreating figure.

“Wait, no—it’s okay, M-Master, it’s okay, it’s—” your voice cuts off and your hands suddenly fist into the robes at his chest, your forehead dropping to his shoulder against the sharp sting just continuing to push and push and push, “—i-it’s okay, it’s oka—”

He trips over his feet in the chaos and falls back on complete instinct and you’re so tightly attached to him that you’re yanked forwards with the momentum, the two of you plunging to the ground in a clumsy heap of grunts and tangled limbs. Obi-Wan immediately starts crawling backwards across the floor underneath you, still trying to escape the horrible, inescapable sensation digging into a part of his body that doesn’t seem to exist, but it’s like you’re of the same mind—you’re scrambling forwards in the same direction trying to get away from the same thing, frantically attempting to calm him and simultaneously deal with the agony yourself, and then suddenly—

Oh—oh, Maker—

Suddenly something gives and surges in, and then Obi-Wan gasps—his elbows buckling under him and as the both of you drop down onto the floor because stars, it’s nearly blinding with impression. Not only the aching, hard fullness stretching sharp and deep somewhere in his lower abdomen—but now a new sensation. A tight, wet silk he feels swallowing him between his legs, concentrated on a part of his body that… does exist, a body part that’s currently pressed up right between your spread thighs.

“Fuck,” you moan hot against his throat, trying to find somewhere to brace yourself next to his shoulders and push yourself up off him, and he tries—Maker, he tries so hard not to, but his hands shoot out to grab your hips before he even knows what he’s doing and then he’s dragging his lower body up into yours on instinct alone, clamping his eyes shut and groaning out a desperate sound he’s never heard himself make before as his head drops against the floor.

It’s staggering. It hurts. He can't even hear your muffled noises anymore, not over the roaring encompassing his mind and body. All he knows is that your hips quickly jerk back and grind down into his in response, sending Obi-Wan reeling while you bury your twisted cry of pleasure and pain into his neck.

The sound of it breaks through everything else.

Obi-Wan’s hands shake violently as they suddenly release you and then frantically shove at your shoulders, trying to push you off without hurting you. He can’t think, he can’t see, he needs to leave—

“Get away,” he rasps desperately up at the sky, blinking his eyes wide but somehow not seeing anything in front of him but blackness. “St-stars, get away from me—”

Suddenly you’re flipping off his body and onto your back next to him, too quick for it to be a mechanical movement alone, and he doesn’t even have the space in his mind nor the processing capacity to figure out if he Force pushed you off him or if it was you who did it to yourself. He just clambers to his feet and stumbles away in a terrified, graceless retreat, bent in half, limping and gasping and fighting for every step he takes.

***

Your Master was right to leave as soon as possible, you think. You were wrong to linger here for just a second to try and gain your bearings, because the more you work to grasp and attempt to organize them, the more mindless and disorienting they become.

You eventually have to heave over and drag yourself after him.

The further away you get from the arena, the easier it becomes to block the projection, but Maker, it’s exhausting. You’re resigned to start out with a crawl—one of those Jedi Core crawls you haven’t had to do since the Academy but this one exponentially slower, forehead dropped down and eyes closed, just focusing on alternating shifting your elbows and your knees forwards and dedicating the rest of your mental energy to just isolating your mind from the debilitating assault.

Consulars don’t usually see much of war—you tend to do absolutely everything in your power to avoid it. It’s the Guardians who experience the horrors of combat most often, who deal with ambushes and onslaughts from enemies of the Republic. But Maker above, every merciless thrust into that poor little virgin at the center of the arena is like a blaster shooting directly at you, but then couple it with the thousands of reflections and ricochets in robes lining the bleachers? You’re in the trenches of a deadly battle you had no idea was even about to break out and you have no weapon of defense besides retreat.

When you finally get far enough away to be able to push yourself upright as much as possible and continue staggering back to the palace on two feet, you have no concept for how long it’s been. You can still feel the projection vibrating and clawing sharply at the edges of your consciousness, but at least the majority of your thoughts are your own now, and it gradually becomes easier and easier to focus and speed up to a clumsy run.

Though, no matter how successful you eventually are at muffling the vibrant sensations and thoughts of the two Force sensitives behind you—when they cum, you stumble down to your knees again and have to bite the back of your fist to keep from screaming.

Maker, it takes you a minute to recover. You don’t even cum, you just feel it—the burst of energy from the Force in every direction, the violent explosion from the stadium that feels like it should fracture the ground beneath you.

You’re able to get up after a moment, if only because they decide to take mercy and finally cut off the projection. You know that it’s a temporary relief, that they’ll likely be at this all night, but you hope the palace will be far enough away from the arena to block out the sensations completely. You wonder if Master Kenobi felt that through the Force or whether he was too determined to block it out that he was able to simply ignore the nuclear missile that just detonated less than a few miles away from him.

You force yourself forwards and you want to hurry, you do—but strangely, in your wild state of exhaustion, stark reality is almost as debilitating as swimming through that endless madness was. It’s quiet around you but the noise of still air pulses deafeningly in your eardrums after breaking free from such a thick mental filter separating you from your surroundings. You still have your lightsaber clutched in your hand, Maker rejoice, and your thin robes are skewed awkwardly across your body, but you eventually find your way to the doors of the palace.

Though, trying to navigate the empty halls back to your Master’s chambers takes you longer than it should. His signature is cloaked spectacularly, concealed to a mere speck you wouldn’t even know was there if you weren’t so closely acquainted with it for more than a decade. You follow the flickering pixel of blue light through the obstacle ridden darkness, adjusting the front of your robes with one trembling hand while you wipe your brow with the other, closing your eyes and doing your best to take deep breaths. He’ll be spiraling right now. He’ll need a boulder to cling to in this tsunami, solid ground to stand on while the stars are falling out of the sky.

You… find him in your quarters instead.

The door is open and his handsome profile is to you, the thick fabric stretching over his broad shoulders now an agreeable light cream, familiar and telling of his intentions. His hands are moving. Setting something down on your bed—your robes, you soon realize. He’s laying out your Jedi robes neatly for you across the fur blanketing the large mattress.

Master Kenobi begins speaking as soon as you step foot into the room, the tone of his voice very clearly impatient after having waited for you for so long.

“Change out of those ridiculous garments,” he tells you hastily, neatly laying out your leather belt across your dark tunic without even turning his head to look at you properly. “We must leave. Quickly. Also—tell me you didn’t forget your saber at the arena, because if so, I’m afraid it’s lost to us forever now. Ilum is only three days from here, perhaps we can stop there on the way back to Coruscant to find you another kyber cryst—”

You drop the hilt of your lightsaber on the floor and step forward, cautiously reaching out for his figure as he continues to ramble. “Master, I—”

Your hand is thrown to the side with a subtle flick of his wrist and you instantly jerk to an abrupt halt, holding your palms out in front of you and keeping completely still while he spins around, his jaw slack and staring at you wide-eyed. He takes a few steps away from you in shock.

“I’m sorry—” he immediately gasps, reaching out towards you even though the rest of his body is still desperately evading yours. “Stars, I’m so sorry—that was just… That was excruciating, young one. Why would anyone ever willingly—?”

“It—it doesn’t always—” you cut yourself off just in time, clamping your jaw shut before you can finish your sentence.

“We must leave,” he says once more as he turns back to your mattress, not appearing to hear you at all and shaking his head, far too frantic to sound like he’s just reminding you alone. “We can’t do that. I can’t do that—”

“It doesn’t always have to be—” Maker, what is wrong with you? Your heart kicks up in your chest and somehow stutters to a halt at the same time. It’s the lingering effects of the assault your mind just experienced coupled with your desperate urge to console him that’s making you so utterly careless, you realize, it’s making your tongue loose.

“Stars, what do you mean?” Master Kenobi finally snaps, and your blood runs ice cold. “How do you know that?”

It takes the sum of all your years of training to keep the raging hurricane of emotion from showing in any capacity. You feel like he’s holding his saber to your neck with how dangerously little you’re even allowing yourself to breathe right now, how utterly and completely still you’re holding yourself in front of him.

Lie, a little voice in your mind supplies quietly, the little voice you keep locked inside an impenetrable box of everything you are but have never been allowed to confront, haven’t been allowed to openly think just in case someone is listening too closely. Lie. Lie, right now. Your silence is giving you away.

Only—you can’t. You shouldn’t. It’s not fair to keep this from him, not when you’re asking him to do something so structurally compromising to his belief system. If… if you tell him the truth, perhaps he won’t judge you too harshly. Perhaps he’ll feel… reassured, knowing he’s certainly not the first Jedi to break a sacred vow when he felt times were desperate enough.

Besides. This might be the only secret that could potentially get you kicked out of the Order, but… it still isn’t your worst one.

“Because.” The word is out of your mouth before you can rethink it, barely above a whisper. “I… know.”

He doesn’t respond, and no.

No, you were wrong. You were wrong to tell him the truth, and the look on his face immediately shoots panic through your whole body.

He doesn’t look reassured.

He looks… alienated.

“‘It doesn’t always?’” Your Master eventually repeats back to you, and fuck—the implication is instantly clear. The implication is made so clear from the sharpness in his tone, the hard edge to it as he rounds out the vowels in the last word that makes your heart twist and throb in your ribcage. He might as well have just asked you how many times you must’ve violated your code of honor to know the difference.

“It’s not.” You clear your throat and flick your gaze up to the ceiling, feeling like he’s using the Force to squeeze your chest in on itself. “That was the absolute worst possible sensation that can be felt during… It’s—it’s not like that. It won’t… be like that. Not.” Are there tears coming to your eyes? “Not… with me.”

Utter quiet. So quiet that if you really concentrate, you can hear the distant sounds of the arena continuing on with the Ritual without you. You bite hard at your lip and wait for him to say something, anything. Yell at you, tell you how disgusted he is, banish you from the Order.

Instead, Master Kenobi quite suddenly… deflates. He sighs—not a heavy, exhausted one, but a soft one. A quiet, accepting sort of sound.

He slowly lowers himself to the edge of the mattress and closes his eyes, running both hands through his hair, and it’s just enough to give you pause. You glance over at him, trying not to let tears fall beyond the plateau of your lower lids with the frantic downward movement of your eyes, and you’re only just barely successful at it.

“It’s alright,” he says gently. “It’s… it’s alright, young one. I… suppose I am in no place to judge. Quite… quite literally,” he murmurs, gesturing to the space around him with a lazy wave of his hand. Maker, his figure is too watery and unfocused to make out his facial expressions, but you don’t want to blink to clear your vision just in case a sudden downpour escapes. “It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t have asked. You’re… not my Padawan anymore. I should have no reason to… even care at all, really.”

There’s something that feels… major in that, something monumental yet incredibly well hidden, but you’re still too full of blind panic to interpret it further. Your breathing is shaky and you wonder, quite stupidly and not for the first time in your life, if it’s somehow possible to use the Force to evaporate the water in your eyes before it turns into tears.

“I am certain it took place in your younger years, a long time ago,” he continues calmly when you don’t immediately say anything. “You did always have a… a rather unconventional relationship with the rules.”

Your only response is a quick jerk of a nod. Yes.

“Yes,” you immediately agree, hoping your tone sounds convincing enough through the lingering tremors. “It was… a long time ago. I’ve changed, since then. Grown up in many ways.”

It’s his turn to nod, and you manage to calm down just slightly. You’re still breathing too hard and you’re a bit too braced, too much of a stance to truly feel like relief, but your heart rate is beginning to settle back into a somewhat acceptable rhythm.

Master Kenobi looks over at you, and he says absolutely nothing about the traces of water still glistening along your eyelashes. He just smiles softly and pats the space next to him.

You cautiously make your way over to him after a moment, feeling more unsure now than you’ve felt this entire mission. You leave at least a half a foot of space separating the two of you once you carefully sit yourself down on the mattress, and you can’t even look in his general direction. You just focus on the long, draping sleeves of your black robe as you look down at your hands and wait for him to speak first.

“Sometimes,” he eventually sighs. “Sometimes I… feel like you’re the person I know best in the entire galaxy, you know. I’ve… I’ve known you far longer than I ever knew my own Master, young one. I picked you out of thousands, and I’d do it thousands of times again. Sometimes—especially since the day of your accolade and subsequent absence, I feel like I can know exactly what you’re thinking, even from across an entire star system. And yet somehow, you… always surprise me. Even after all these years, I am just. Consistently surprised by you.”

You don’t know how to take that. You just sit there in a guilty silence, still unable to turn your head or offer any sort of response.

“I chose you as a Padawan because you surprised me, you know,” he reminds you quietly. “I had certain expectations for you, and you did not meet those expectations. Instead, you presented an alternative I’d never before considered, an alternative that forced me to reevaluate you—and by extension, myself—far beyond what I had previously. That is not a bad thing. It has never been a bad thing. As is made blatantly obvious by the fact that I’m the one currently standing in the way of saving lives, and you’re…not.”

Maker, this is thin ice. You don’t know what to say that’ll express hesitant agreement with his sentiment without making it sound like you’re not apologetic for breaking your oath. You’re… well, you’re not, not really. His response itself is causing you to feel far more turmoil than any legitimate regret for your actions.

“It was—” On instinct, you almost say it was a mistake regardless of the conflicts you’re just so happening to encounter on this mission, but something stops you. You suddenly remember your place here, your goal. To save the galaxy from the Separatists’ reign. And, by extension… sleep with your Master. You can’t call it a mistake if you’re going to ultimately try to convince him to do the same thing. So instead, you scramble to finish your sentence with a different thought, knowing his full attention is pinned to you right now. “…A long time ago,” is all your exhausted mind is able to come up with.

“Yes,” he gives you a small, companionable smile. “It’s alright. Your prior lapse—or, well… lapses in judgement… will forever be safe with me.”

And still, you don’t feel relief. Not when Master Kenobi very quickly appears to look uncertain.

“I… apologize,” he offers after a moment, “if. If I ever made you feel like… like you could not confide in me about any struggles or… or urges you may have been experienc—”

“Maker,” you suddenly interrupt with a frantic wave of your hands, everything cringing inside you, “Maker, we don’t have to do this. None of it, it’s okay. Know what? Let’s just go home—screw the galaxy, I don’t care, just stop talking.”

He snaps his eyes over to you, a sudden bark of laughter escaping him before the rest of his face even seems to register something was funny.

It evolves. Eventually he’s covering his face and stifling ridiculous little snorts behind his hands, trying to apologize in between the chuckles but laughing even harder. It’s almost like… just a form of pure stress relief for him. So far beyond traumatized that it’s revealing itself in a slightly hysterical way, even if what you said wasn’t hysterical at all.

“Now you have a mere glimpse into what my experience has been like today,” he finally tells you with a sparkling grin once he composes himself, lifting his chin as he looks at you and scratching his beard with a quiet flicking sound. “Shall I keep going? If this mission has taught me anything, it’s that no matter what, things can always get worse.”

“They don’t have to.” You say it without thinking, the gentle reprieve caused by his laughter flowing through you in waves and making you throw caution to the wind. The four words serve to shut him up quite quickly however, even though it was the opposite of your intent, and your smile drops. Maker, just freely conversing with him about these things is navigating a minefield for his mental state.

“You… you say that, and yet even—” Master Kenobi eventually responds, cutting himself off with a cough. “Even the things I’ve heard are meant to feel… pleasant, were just.” He shakes his head and blinks his crystal blue eyes over at you. “By all accounts. Agony.”

“I know,” you nod. “I know. Projecting that specific situation was… sadistic of them. A distortion of the truth. Probably rooted in deep tradition, but also a great scare tactic if I ever saw one, playing with us by presenting the absolute worst of it before anything else. It won’t hurt. At all. I promise. In fact—I-I can make it feel—”

Maker, you don’t even finish your sentence, but you must think the general idea loud enough for him to understand. You don’t actually have a specific word in mind—good, great, amazing, euphoric?—and yet, something quiet settles over you two at the silent implication, the mere whisper of the possibility of you pleasuring him.

And him… allowing it.

“Master, I—”

“Don’t,” he quickly tells you. “Don’t call—You don’t have to… call me that. Just for right now, it’s. I don’t—” he takes a breath that sounds shakier than it looks, and then he paints an easy, fake smile on his face following the exhale. You recognize that smile anywhere, though. While you’ve never seen him wear it before, it’s the smile that politicians make when they’re about to present a lesser truth to you, a smile shown to you in negotiations all the time that signifies something… hidden. He’s hiding something, something important, and you have no idea what it could possibly be. “I don’t feel like I even deserve to be called that right now, young one. Perhaps you should be the Master, and I the learner.”

“Ah yes, the circle is now complete,” you can’t help but jest in return, wanting to keep the tone light even though the subject matter is heavy. “Is now when we trade lightsabers?”

“Indeed,” he smiles, this time more sincere, and… you can’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it appears you’re physically closer to each other now than you were when you first sat down.

“Do they, uh… actually expect us to…” You clear your throat and wave a hand around, “…Project the entire time like that?”

Master Kenobi quickly shakes his head. “No. s’Zer—Queen s’Zerthia informed me that. Ah. For us, projection will only be necessary during the… well, she called it the ‘closing ceremonies.’”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you nod. “I… see.”

It’s like you can physically feel his body start to break out into a cold sweat next to you at the sudden… realness of it all, the realization that it has to be getting late. Close to midnight, if you’re not already pushing it. It’s come time to make a final decision, you both know it. You want to console him, offer him some kind of solace or reprieve, but stars, you just don’t know how, not when you’re this much of a mess about this, too, but for entirely different reasons. You don’t have a single clue how to make him feel better about any of this.

“I just,” you rush before you lose the nerve, “I want you to know that—e-even if you feel like you’re somehow alone in this, you’re not. Okay? I’m… I’m really nervous, too. I don’t… I don’t actually know what to do at all right now. I don’t know whether to respect your apprehension or tell you it’s unfounded. I don’t know if I should remind you what’s at stake here or whether I should avoid mentioning it at all costs. I have no idea what position I should take, but I’ll—I’ll take whichever one you want me to.”

And it’s odd, because when you first launched into your confession, Master Kenobi gradually began to look more and more relieved, but at a certain point, something just goes horribly wrong. You don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it seems to rocket through your Master and suddenly his breathing stutters.

For a moment, you think he’s going to reach back, yank your neatly folded Jedi robes up from the mattress and push the dark fabric into your hands. Tell you he’ll meet you at the docking bay posthaste, tell you not to linger, tell you that the mission was a failure. But then—

“Before,” he suddenly says, the word almost startling you with how abrupt it comes out sounding. Almost like he wasn’t quite expecting himself to say it either. “Earlier today, you asked… you asked if there was anything you could do to… make this easier.”

“Yes,” you prompt immediately. He won’t look at you, and for some reason your heart begins beating faster and the inside of your thighs are getting warm.

“I… I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through with this,” he admits with a whisper, his voice sounding so quietly reluctant, like he doesn’t want to say the words aloud but is forcing himself to. “But… the Council put you in charge of negotiations.”

Your eyebrows furrow, trying to understand his implication. What does that have to do with anything? Is he saying that you’re supposed to be in charge, and therefore he’s defaulting to you? “I’m not sure I—”

“The Galactic Republic…” Master Kenobi enunciates very, very pointedly, still unable to look at you, “…put you in charge of negotiations.”

Specifying—or in this case, generalizing—doesn’t help much. “I’m still not—”

“Maker, for—for the good of the Republic, young one,” he presses under his breath and finally flicks his gaze up to meet yours, sounding urgent and torn in equal parts. “Negotiate.”

Stars, negotiate with who? With—with him? For the good of the…? Is he asking you to somehow reason with him beyond what you’ve attempted to do already, or persuade him to do what’s right for—?

Maker—Master Kenobi is asking you to seduce him.

Shock paints your expression blank and his eyes instantly evade yours once more. You have to sit there for just a second and double-check that you’re not dreaming. None of this seems real. All of it seems like an incredibly elaborate illusion of the Force, ever since you first laid eyes on him at the start of this mission. You know you missed him but stars, did you truly miss him this terribly? Your longing must rival something fierce to unconsciously conjure this wild of a scenario. Is he actually here right now? Have you been speaking to a ghost? Are you actually here right now? Are you going to wake up any second and remember he’s thousands of lightyears away and has been for years, risking his life on the front lines of galactic war while you’re left to play politics and negotiate treaties behind the scenes?

These thoughts aren’t safe to have in normal interactions with him, but nothing about this situation is normal, and while you know Master Kenobi has years of experience reading your signature, he most likely won’t be able to gauge the specific details of your thoughts when you can sense how intensely he’s focused on guarding his own chaotic mind from you.

So you let yourself think. If only for a second, you sit next to him and allow yourself to just… think about him. About how much you care for him, how desperately you ache for him—you let all these improper longings finally have their moment with you. You let yourself confront it, crack the lid of the hidden box tucked away behind your consciousness and brave it, because if there was ever a moment to do so, it’s right now.

Your heart starts slamming up against your ribcage and your hands feel like they’re tingling. He wants you to convince him to have sex with you. He’s asking you to corrupt him. He wants you to negotiate the galaxy’s survival with the last man standing in the way of its prosperity—a good man with strong, immovable morals, a man who understands the consequences that follow integrity around and won’t be easy to tempt.

“This was a bad idea,” suddenly comes Master Kenobi’s voice, quickly backpedaling after too long of a silence. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said that, we should just g—”

“Would you like to meditate?” You immediately ask him on a complete whim, shuffling back towards the middle of the mattress for the second time today. You’re careful to make sure he doesn’t see you carelessly flick your neat robes to the floor with the Force, clearing the top of the large mattress. “Let’s meditate.”

“Stars,” he breathes, shyly his head turning to follow you, “I’d love nothing more, but there truly just isn’t any time—”

You find it easier than you thought it’d be to pull a playful face at him, crossing your legs and straightening your spine. “Please, you’re a Guardian. You blue sabers practically invented battle meditation, did you not?”

He looks skeptical for a moment, as he has a valid right to be. “Is this a battle?” He eventually asks over his shoulder.

You say nothing in response to that, instead using the Force with a flex of your finger to tug at the loose cream fabric of his robe at his elbow. “Come on, it’ll do us good.”

He looks conflicted for a second, but then ultimately decides to humor you. “Alright,” Master Kenobi finally agrees, turning around and crawling towards you on the mattress, and you’re just quick enough to stamp down a flicker of arousal at the mere sight of it. “It won’t hurt.”

“Of course it won’t,” you agree with just a bit too much air in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. He just seats himself directly in front of you, facing you, crossing his legs close enough to yours that your knees barely touch, and—

—Maker, he’s lovely.

You purposefully let yourself think it as his eyes slowly fall closed and he takes a deep breath, beginning to tame the wild tempest of his mind. You let the word flitter around your thoughts without instantly repressing it like you always do, and just the mere act of allowing yourself to acknowledge the truth is freeing. He’s lovely. He’s lovely. You could scream it.

Your eyes trail down the lines of his ever softening, tranquil expression, not even bothering to pretend to meditate for his benefit this time. Your gaze roams shamelessly across his face, the way his hair is combed back away from it. The sandy, masculine beard leading down to the thick column of his throat, the broad lines of his shoulders draped in pale fabric, the way his chest slowly moves as he breathes. Lovely. Lovely.

And then you go… lower.

His abdomen is stretched long with how upright he’s sitting, his flawless meditation posture. His thighs are spread wide in this position, pants stretched tight into an elusive drum over his crotch and preventing you from truly seeing anything—but stars is it a thrill even just letting yourself look.

Especially knowing that the more his mind works to compose itself, the easier it’ll be for him to hear you.

You keep thinking, growing bolder the more you’re left alone with this box wide open. You think about how lithe and strong his body is, how it would feel under your hands. You think about all the different things you want to show him, all the… the mind shattering pleasure you can give him if he’ll allow y—

Master Kenobi says your name without opening his eyes.

It doesn’t sound the way you expect, though you don’t really know what you expected it to sound like. A sharp, frustrated bark? An exasperated, pleading attempt to get you to stop?

No—none of those. It’s a quiet, low growl of a sound, and the clear warning in it absolutely burns a hole through you like he picked up his lightsaber and used it instead.

You take practiced breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Stars, he just said your name, he’s said it so many times before, and yet hearing it in his mouth with that tone in this context feels like he just strapped rockets to your ankles and told you to stay put. You’re impatient. You’re turning yourself on, working yourself up, trying to get to where you can actually make a move on him after dedicating so many years to desperately repressing the longing to do so. Once he told you to negotiate this deal with him, however, it’s as if every ounce of the impeccable self control you’ve practiced so spectacularly throughout most of your life slowly started to unravel.

Reaching out tentatively so as not to startle him, you wrap both of your palms around the bend of his knees and squeeze gently. Master Kenobi displays no physical signs of—well, anything really, keeping his body completely rigid under your hands with no noticeable alterations in his breathing pattern. Biting your lip, you begin to slowly rotate your thumbs, making sure to keep your movements slow and perfectly symmetrical. Complete relaxation is your ultimate goal here—coaxing your Master into a serene state where physical contact is desired, not obligatory. He's so uncomfortable with the concept of intimacy in and of itself though, from the way his eyebrows start to furrow and his spine begins gradually tilting back and away from you, it's almost as if your ministrations are dampening rather than fueling.

“Relax,” you murmur, and stars, even though you make it sound quiet and gentle, it’s like the melodic lull of your voice appears to startle him more than if you’d just spoken normally. Maker—it’s counterintuitive; how are you supposed to turn someone on when the mere state of being turned on turns them off? “Relax with me, it’s okay—”

“But I just can't, young one,” he suddenly implores, his voice pressed up tight in his throat, his cerulean eyes popping open in frustration and something else—an honest, heartfelt emotion that's strikingly less familiar to you, even after years spent by his side: deep, hot, stomach-wrenching guilt. You watch your Master’s palms run the length of his thighs; back and forth, back and forth—almost like a nervous tick, you think—and it’s oddly endearing, if not increasingly concerning. “I just can't, this is all so wrong. Don't you understand? E-Even if the Council did provide a—well, a rather admittedly ineluctable blessing for this downright ludicrous endeavor, i-it’s… I don't…” He takes a deep breath, and visually, it looks like he's attempting to collect his thoughts and composure, but you know your Master all too well. You know what he's really doing, and at this point, it's almost… frustrating.

“What are you so afraid of?” You clutch his knees and whisper quietly, interrupting him before he can verbalize whatever perfectly logical reason he's trying to formulate as to why you both should leave the planet immediately, what he's going to say to the Council if they ever inquire as to why negotiations ultimately failed. He jerks his head up sharply to look at you.

“The Jedi fear nothing,” is his automatic response, though his previously intense gaze strays slightly from yours after a second of too much eye contact. “Fear is the path to the Dark Side, you know this.”

“And yet you are afraid,” you remark calmly, studying the way he’s turned his face away from you completely now, how you can still see his jaw clench under the thick beard with his profile shown to you like this. “I—I’m trying to understand, Master, but I—I don’t. Even if this mission were half as important as it is, your loyalty to the Order would follow you right into an early grave. But this?” You remove a palm from his knee to gesture between the two of you, the mattress beneath the both of you, “fulfilling this mission and these terms to save the entire galaxy is too ‘downright ludicrous’ for the Great Negotiator? I don’t believe it. Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

Only, he’s suddenly moving—away from you. Turning and planting his palms to fur, beginning to climb to the edge of the bed and sweep his legs around under him, and your voice has an unintentional edge to it when you address his back.

“Do you know how many lives over I owe you?” You ask, and he jerks to an abrupt halt, feet just shy of stepping on the floor. “Do you have any idea the stockpile of mortal gratitude you’ve amassed from me? How many times you’ve risked your death to save me from mine over the years—can you count them? I have. I know my debt to you, I know the weight of my life piled on top of itself over and over again. I remember each and every one of them like they happened yesterday, and not once did you hesitate even slightly, let alone the way you’ve hesitated today.”

”And?” Master Kenobi quite suddenly snaps over his shoulder as he grips the edge of the mattress, sounding sharp but not necessarily directed towards you. “What is your point?”

“My point is that if you’d so readily trade your death time and time again to prevent that of even one other person, let alone a difficult Padawan who caused the Order nothing but grief for years, then what is it that makes the deaths of trillions—” you nearly say preferable to bedding me before you realize how incredibly harsh that would sound, but something about the way he seems to tense his shoulders and curl inwards implies he was following the general cadence of your agitated signature more than the specific content of your words.

He says absolutely nothing, but he doesn’t move to drop his feet to the floor, either. If only you could punch a proverbial hole through his practically indestructible mental barriers, you'd see the real reason he's so flustered, why he's purposely attempting to deceive you. Unfortunately for you though, they feel like they're made of triple-reinforced beskar, a countermeasure gradually increasing in strength the more you try to probe.

But then—all at once, something clicks. Something… fundamental. An understanding.

Your Master is a gifted negotiator, yes. But more than that.

He wields a blue saber. Not a green one.

He’s a Guardian. A warrior. He fights. It’s something that has never truly been part of your nature, no matter how much you struggled with it over the years—but it is a part of his, no matter how exceptionally he’s been able to mask it for even longer.

So, all at once, you stop pushing. Your signature abruptly pulls away from him, gives him room to breathe and simply hovers within your own personal space, unassuming and careful not to disturb him. You see your Master lift his chin and straighten his spine slightly, immediately noticing your absence and the constant pressure you’d been applying, and you honestly can’t tell if he relaxes or tenses up even more because of it.

Finally, when you feel like it’s been long enough, you slowly reach out and gently place your hand on his arm. This time, there’s no underlying motivation attached, no inherent desire for him to fulfill any sort of obligation. Just a warm, companionable gesture to reinforce the simple knowledge that you’re both in this together, for better or worse.

Please tell me, Obi-Wan, you quietly whisper to him through the Force, allowing your tone and energy to transfer through your open palm and into his troubled spirit as softly and gently as you possibly can—a caress more than anything even close to a sentence or inquiry. Your usage of his first name is entirely unprecedented however, and your Master sucks in a sharp breath in response.

I don't… But then the subconscious, half-formed thought fades away almost as quickly as it’s offered to you from behind the solid, unyielding fortress of his mind. “W-what are you doing?”

You bite your lip, wondering how honest you should be with him right now. Though, you suppose, if you truly want him to confide in you, you should at least meet him halfway.

“You’re the locked door,” you finally settle on. “This is me knocking.”

Obi-Wan turns around and blinks at you, looking for all the stars in this galaxy like that was quite possibly the last thing he expected you to say. You can see the frantic thoughts pass through his eyes almost as if the clear blue was completely transparent, likely remembering all the times you’ve leaned on him for guidance, listened intently and learned from his wisdom and experience. And now you’re a fully grown woman patiently offering him your ear, wondering if you’ve earned enough of his trust for him to do the same.

“I’m afraid I’ll form an attachment to you.” The words tumble from his mouth even though his body all but whips away from you in the process. “It’s unreasonable for the Council to expect this from me. From us. I’m afraid our relationship will forever be tarnished from this, that neither of us will ever be able to go back to the way things were before. I’m afraid that regardless of whatever decision I make, I won’t be able to carry the guilt on my conscience and continue to call myself a Jedi and Guardian of the Republic. But mostly, I just—I-I—”

Your heart is pounding as Obi-Wan buries his face into his hands and his muffled voice groans raggedly, “—I’m afraid I’ll like it. I’m afraid I’ll want it again, and again. I’m afraid it’ll follow me back to Coruscant, that I’ll save the galaxy but spend the rest of my days aching for something I’ll never be able to keep, and that’s petrifying. Desire, passion, selfishness, possession; all of them lead to Darkness, and I can—I can feel it right now. Your soul is so gentle, so peaceful, and yet you… you inspire such Darkness in me, dove.”

Maker, you’re trying so hard. So hard to keep your legs from clenching together at the utter desperation in his tone, how his breathing has picked up now that the words have ripped themselves out of his throat, like the whole thing was physical agony even just to say. You have to take a second. You’ve been so patient this entire time, but stars—this one makes you need a moment. You’re so glad his eyes are clamped shut behind his fingers right now because yours lose focus trying to mask the absolutely debilitating wave of arousal that sinks down hot through your stomach.

Even when you regain the ability to speak, the ability to form a safe and proper response to the bombshell he just dropped on you completely evades you.

You purposefully don't say that you're already helplessly attached to him, that the colors of the galaxy somehow lost their brilliance the day you graduated to Knight, the day you left his side. You don't say that you want this so badly you can feel it in your neck, that it would probably break you in half if he said no to this now. Though it's the honest-to-Maker truth, you know discovering this information will only cause your Master to further distance himself from you, and somehow that thought alone is a million times worse than being denied the opportunity to be this close to him. Even… even if what you end up sharing is more emotional than physical.

So you take a deep breath to center yourself, and choose your words very carefully.

“A compromise, then.”

Obi-Wan suddenly raises his head, turning around to look at you and blinking twice. “A what?”

“You told me to negotiate. What do we do as negotiators, hm?” You raise an eyebrow, giving him a gentle smile and trying not to curl your fingers into the fur underneath you with how hard it is to conceal your burning arousal. Do it for him. Do it for your Master, you’re in l—you… care about him, and you care about the things he cares about, even if doing so feels like it’ll rip you apart. “We compromise. Yes? So, let’s find one.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t see h—”

“If you were to…” You cut him off and look down, trying to find the most delicate way to phrase this. “If you were to… find other means to bring yourself to completion, would you be able to convince anyone listening that I was the one doing it?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even blink this time. He just stares at you, holding himself like a statue in front of you. Finally, he seems to find himself. “I… I don’t—I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re stronger in the Force than anyone on this planet, Master,” you encourage softly, placing a hand back on his arm and squeezing this time. “I’ve felt it.”

“N-No,” he practically hiccups. “No, I mean I-I… I don’t know if… if I can.”

Your eyebrows narrow, a mixture of confusion and concern coloring your expression. “If you can…?”

He looks back at you almost desperately, his eyes practically begging you to figure it out so he doesn’t have to say it. Finally, Obi-Wan sighs, seeming to collapse in on himself with its intensity. “I—I’ve never… purposefully reached completion before,” he admits. “I’m—I’m not sure how to.”

Your eyes widen, wanting to kick yourself for making assumptions. Of course. Of course he’d follow his oath to its strictest interpretation, why would you ever think otherwise? “Oh, y-yes, of course not,” you stutter, sounding incredibly stupid and perfectly mirroring the embarrassed flush also painting your Master’s cheeks, “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s alright,” he holds up a hand. “We simply… view such things differently. So long as you do not pass judgment, then neither shall I.”

You nod and look down at your hands, wondering how else you can attempt to tackle this predicament. “What if I…” You blink slowly, almost wanting to keep your eyes closed in case he’s offended by the idea but figuring you should have them open to read his responses. “What if I… don’t touch you?”

Now he just looks confused. “I’m sorry?”

You blush and clear your throat, obviously phrasing this wrong. “If you can modify the context of your projection, then I can… get you there. Without touching you.”

“How could you accomplish such a thing without tou—” Obi-Wan immediately cuts himself off when you lift your hand and close your eyes.

His thigh. The right one—you focus on it. There. Right above the bend of his knee folding over the edge of the mattress, you concentrate all the energy from your fingertips and reach out, connecting the two together. And then you take a deep breath and begin to draw your attention slowly upwards.

Your Master’s breath catches in his throat as you use the Force to delicately trail further up his leg, not laying a single hand on him as his muscles start to visibly tighten and quiver.

“Young one, I—” His breathing stutters when you keep your hand raised but let your head tilt and drop down towards your shoulder with your energy, slinking down the inside of his thigh like water and getting dangerously close to his— “Stars, hang on—”

You blink your eyes open at him and continue concentrating right there, letting your focus melt warm and thick along the muscle and squeeze it—

“Maker—” Obi-Wan gasps and drops his head back, his legs nearly spasming apart. “Maker, hang on, I…”

“Do you…” You breathe tightly, flicking your eyes down to the way he’s fisting the fur under his hands and subconsciously flexing his hips up just the slightest bit. Even though the Force, his body feels good. Strong, sturdy, and braced tight under your attention. “Do you want me to keep doing this? I can… go higher.”

“You can…? The—the Force isn’t—” Obi-Wan groans, his eyes clamping shut, “—isn’t meant to be used in such… in such… If I’m to break my oath, young one, it needn’t be so… so blasphemous—”

Trying to conceal the hot sparks of arousal deep in your stomach, you simply allow your metaphysical hand to continue resting right at the juncture of his hip and thigh, waiting for a real answer. You bite your lip and wait for him to tell you to either cut it out or to keep going. He doesn’t even have to say it out loud if he doesn’t want to—he can just slide it under the impassable door still separating him from you, the door you’re eventually going to get him to unlock himself.

His back is to you, so you can only see a bit of his face from this angle, but you can hear him loud and clear when he opens his mouth and whispers to you, barely louder than a breath. “Go higher.”

Adrenaline rockets through your veins and slowly, your fingers curl in thin air while your gentle energy wraps itself around his cock.

Both of Obi-Wan’s hands instantly fly up to his face and he releases a tight, longing whimper into his palms, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds. You can sense the ghost of his thickness in your hand, and the way he’s already throbbing for it is like pure spice to you.

You can’t stop your crossed legs from shuffling and rotating your body to face his hunched spine more directly, just taking a second and allowing him to adjust to the sensation of you just holding him between his legs like this. Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing skin while he hides from you, and if only to get a little bit more of a reaction for your own sake, your thumb just barely angles to delicately brush up under his frenulum.

Obi-Wan shudders and makes a choking noise behind his palms, and oh good Maker, you really want to see his face. You know it’ll probably never happen unless you take your own initiative, but you also don’t want to overstep and snap him out of this blissful reverie. Still, something compels you to be so gentle about it that he hopefully won’t even notice.

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly, but a tendril of your energy slowly slithers upwards, so quiet and full of caution that it hardly even counts. Very carefully, you start to flatten the lifeforce from your other palm over his stomach and trail it up, gradually urging him to stretch his slouched figure upright and then eventually start to tip backwards, never once letting your focus on his throbbing erection falter.

Your courageous efforts bestow prosperous rewards. Obi-Wan’s hands drag down the length of his face and he makes it almost too easy to keep pressing him back—back back back until his muscles give up what little fight they were putting up against it and his shoulders are dropping down to the mattress, his head falling into your lap.

“There we go,” you whisper under your breath, just loud enough to softly encourage him if he’s listening but avoiding a break in his focus if he’s not. “That’s not so bad.”

“It isn’t,” Obi-Wan gasps up at you, his eyes tightly closed but his jaw slack and his handsome features screwed up in rapture. “Oh, no, it’s… it’s really… rea—good.”

You bite your lip and your cunt flexes hard between your legs without your permission, feeling so empty. If you’re being honest, only touching him through the Force causes your hand to become increasingly bold, also feeling too empty. Obi-Wan’s head rolls to the side and he pants hot air against the thin black fabric covering your thighs as you tighten your hold around him just slightly and start to move up and down his cock in earnest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the dirty word and rasp in his voice contrasting brilliantly with the proper Coruscanti accent and the crisp enunciation behind it. “Fuck, this feels so good, I—”

His fingers grab at the fur covering the mattress top and pull at it, his adam’s apple bobbing sharp along the arching column of his throat as he groans and twists his head around in your lap. He confesses it like it’s so wrong, but it can’t be wrong when he fits so perfectly in your hand? How can this be wrong when it’s the only pleasure you can possibly give him that’s anywhere near close enough to match the way you feel when he’s around? Even then, it’s but a fraction.

Your gaze flickers briefly from his face to check your progress with his body, and—stars, there’s a startling wet spot staining the front of his pale trousers, his cock tenting up shameless and needy for you to ache and throb just as desperately for in return. Fuck, he deserves this, he deserves more—

“I can—I can make it better—” you can’t help but gasp, your eyebrows slanting upwards with need. “Oh fuck, I can make it so much better than this for you, Obi-Wan—”

“You…?” He blinks his stormy eyes open and sounds like he’s about to explode. “This can be—” he chokes out, “—better?”

You can’t stop yourself. Your pussy is clamped up so tight between your legs and Maker, you want to reward him for being so good to you, give him true adoration instead of phantom touches. You don’t think before you’re moving out from under him and slinking down onto the floor, slipping in between his spread thighs. You use the Force with a bend of your finger to tug his pants down just enough, just enough to let the swollen tip of his cock peak through the waistband, and then your head is dropping into his lap as you let it slide into your hot mouth.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and snarls at you—and something across the room shatters as you widen your throat for him and slowly sink down his length, curling your finger to stretch his hemline further as you go. His fingers aren’t gentle when they fist into your hair and neither is the way he immediately twists it sideways, feeling like he’s trying to pull you off and shove you down on him at the same time.

You’re stuck between going as slow as you physically can to drag this out and giving him the best oral you’ve ever given to make him dream about this for the rest of his life. You want him to want this as badly as you have for so many years. You want him to fall into this Darkness with you, to crave you and what you can give to him so much that he’ll never want to leave you again.

So you make it wet. You make it soft and slow and wet, switching between sucking gently at the tip and swirling your tongue around it, and then inching his length down your throat and swallowing around the thick girth of it once you can’t fit anymore in your mouth. Obi-Wan is just an absolute mess about it—he can’t sit still, he’s tugging uselessly on your hair, whimpering out his bliss into the quiet room while you close your eyes and ignore his squirming, just taking your sweet time enjoying him and the way he feels.

He tastes exquisite. Maybe it’s just because all your broken, stupid brain can think right now is slightly varying forms of my Master’s cock is in my mouth and it’s fucking leaking while you slowly nurse from it with your tongue, but stars—he tastes exquisite.

He’s swollen. Throbbing. Aching for you. Releasing precum from the tip like his body is producing way too much of it after decades of neglect and just needs to get it all out at once. Shifting and writhing underneath you but managing to never move his hips or cock a single inch away from the soft attention you’re giving him. You can feel his smooth skin pulse against your tongue as you continue your lazy pleasuring, finally giving him what you’ve both been denied for so long and steadily swallowing down the spoils of your endeavors.

“—Wait, wait, Maker—stop,” you faintly hear gasped from above you not long after you even begin, and it takes the sum of all your efforts to unlodge his throbbing cock from your throat and pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale automatically, trying not to slur your words as a bit of drool slides down your chin. “I’m s’sorry, Obi, I should’ve asked before I—”

“Something’s… n-not right,” Obi-Wan interrupts you and lifts himself up to his elbows, his abdominal muscles heaving and a wild, frenzied look in his startlingly bright eyes. “My stomach was—I-I felt—”

Heat blooms through you along with a realization, and your eyelids begin to droop slightly at just how sexy it is—the fact that this man, this fully grown, red-blooded, warrior of a man is currently teetering on the precipice of his very first ever orgasm, and you’re the only one with the power to give it to him.

You shuffle backwards slightly, grabbing hold of his thighs and squeezing to get his attention. “Hey. It’s okay, relax.”

Obi-Wan nods his head vigorously down at you, the exact opposite of relaxed.

“Listen to me,” you urge quietly, trying to ignore the sight of his thick, swollen cock twitching restlessly against his abdomen, precum still steadily dribbling at the tip. Is your mouth watering? “This is it. You’ll need to start projecting when you’re ready. It’ll be tricky, but not impossible. You’ll just have to imagine you’re inside me when it happens.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head vigorously from side to side, vehemently opposed.

“No, I don’t—” He croaks, “—I don’t know what it’s like, I won’t be able to—”

“Doesn’t my mouth feel similar at least?” You ask, looking down at his cock once more.

“I-I—” Obi-Wan sputters, “I don’t know, young one—you tell me!”

Okay, well. He… makes a valid point.

You settle back on your knees even further, gazing at your Master thoughtfully. His chest continues to rise and fall with heavy breaths, a thin sheen of sweat coating his temples and a mild flush high in his cheeks, but his eyes have regained a bit of their focus. “You can just try to imagine the, uh,” you try, your cunt nearly convulsing with burning need at the mere sight of him, “the same positioning and sensation from… earlier?”

“Alright, I can…” Obi-Wan nods, though his hands are shaking. “I’ll do the best I…”

You can’t help but lean forward to press a soft, encouraging kiss to his thigh, and he jerks under your touch. You try it again, receiving the same result, and it makes you pause for just a minute longer.

“I’m nervous,” he blurts unceremoniously after a moment of stillness, as if you hadn’t noticed. “Oh stars, I’m nervous, I—”

“Obi-Wan,” you let your voice lull, your hands squeezing gently around the bend of his knees once more. “Calm down. Clear your mind.”

He hiccups and you wait. You wait with your mouth a few inches away from his cock, waiting for his breathing to slow and for him to follow your lead.

Can you hear me? You murmur through the Force, and he quickly whimpers and nods. Focus your thoughts.

You gently kiss at his tensing thighs once again, and he doesn’t flinch away from you this time. His breathing slows into a calmer, steadier rhythm, letting you trail your lips gently along the curve of his leg.

Will you let me try something? You ask after a moment, opening your mouth just the slightest bit to brush your tongue out and taste his skin.

“Y-Yes,” Obi-Wan says quietly, his breath stuttering through the word.

And—perhaps you shouldn’t have, but you give him something; a suggestion, more than anything else. You give him a… visual. A reference to guide his mind through the Force.

You, still in your black robe, slowly standing up from between his legs. Widening your stance to straddle his lap, pull you robes up just enough, and then adjust your hips just slightly over the head of his cock.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at the vision, his eyes clamping tightly shut against it in vain. He can close his eyes, turn away, hide his face all he wants—he can’t escape the way your body looks as it slowly begins to sink down on his.

At the exact same time, you lower your mouth around his cock once more, and you try to make it as close to the sensation as possible. You don’t even move your tongue, you simply lift your soft palate and close your lips around his girth, beginning to carefully bob up and down along his length in time to the image you’re conjuring of you riding him.

Only, you already feel his balls tightening up and his body starting to go rigid with tension once again, and you can sense him still wanting to resist his approaching orgasm. It’s okay, Master, you encourage quietly through the vision, it’s okay, just let it come easy.

“I—I’m not—” he shakes his head back and forth against the bed frantically, his breathing getting shallower and almost immediately picking back up to where it was before you stopped. “I d-don’t want—”

Stop fighting, you tell him, continuing to mimic the sensation of him thrusting into your aching, neglected cunt with slow and steady movements of your throat. Don’t run from it, let it take you.

He grits your name tightly in response and subconsciously begins to rock his hips up to match your unhurried pace, his ragged breathing gasping out into the quiet room and gradually increasing in volume and desperation the longer he stubbornly tries to hold out against it.

You know not strong enough to use the Force to coax it out of him. You can’t alter your technique and break the illusion, either. So you have to resort to desperate measures.

There’s enough remaining wherewithal to your mind that prevents you from permanently damaging his clothing when you tear his robes open with the Force and allow the metaphysical image of yourself to rip them apart with your hands. Obi-Wan gasps when both versions of you reach up his bare torso at the same time and dig your nails into his chest.

Master—you demand, taking his cock down your throat as far as you can go and then clawing hard down his stomach—cum.

And thank everything good and right in the universe that he remembers at the very last second to start projecting, because being this close to someone as strong in the Force as Obi-Wan when he finally succumbs to his first taste of the Dark Side is just a fucking atomic missile straight to your nervous system.

It’s all you can do to just remember to keep swallowing.

The projection he casts out through the shockwave is utterly flawless—brilliantly composed, looking and feeling so authentic and overwhelming even from this distance that there should be no issue at all convincing any s’Ziscari in the wide vicinity who are tuning in right now.

Except—then you hear it. Through the roaring pleasure of his thoughts, a flicker of his subconscious he’s unable to mask through the mind blowing bliss.

Is she…? Maker above, she’s drinking it—

A ragged groan tears through the silence of the room, his cock pulsing spectacularly on your tongue. He just keeps cumming, and cumming, and so you just have to keep swallowing, and swallowing. You suppose you should’ve expected this from a fully grown man who lived a life of celibacy, but what would typically be a rather short moment with anyone else subsequently goes on long enough to where Obi-Wan is actually able to lazily raise his head up from the mattress and simply watch you continue to swallow his load, dazed and reverent in his stare, glassy blue eyes trained on the hypnotic movements your jaw and throat make around him. The remaining traces of whatever visual he attempted to maintain immediately flicker out of existence, replaced instead by the sight of your mouth around his cock, diligently taking down each rope of cum he gives you.

When he finally stops throbbing, you reluctantly let his cock fall from your mouth and slowly stand up as the botched projection fizzles out completely. His gaze eventually follows the movement like he’s on a five second delay.

“So, uh…” Your voice is hoarse. “We… need to have sex.”

“Alright,” he agrees dreamily, his eyes lazily dragging down your body. “Alright, we can have… I… Wait, what?”

“You, uh. I know it wasn’t intentional, but you might’ve, uh…” You shuffle awkwardly from side to side, wondering why you’ve chosen now of all moments to become shy with him. You’re literally still savoring the taste of his release in your mouth. “You might’ve accidentally projected a very specific thought towards the end there and let everyone know that we weren’t actually doing what we’re technically supposed to be doing.”

“What did… what did I think?” The question would likely be nonsense in literally any other situation, but you understand. And truthfully, for the life of you, you can’t find it within yourself to feel even a little bit mad about it, not when it means you can continue doing this together. You can’t even conjure up a single shred of disappointment in his failure, it’d just be a lie.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assure him, your heart continuing to pound. You know you should make your next move now while he’s still so loopy, the post-orgasm bliss causing his signature to vibrate with pulsing endorphins as he blinks up at you slowly from the bed. “Though we won’t be able to do it for a little bit, just uh. Just for general… anatomical reasons. But that should’ve at least counted for… initiating the Ritual, so I don’t think we have to worry about time anymore.”

Obi-Wan just stares at you, his Force signature feeling more serene and spaced out than you’ve ever sensed before. Oh Maker, how you wish you felt the same. You swallow thickly, still tasting his hard orgasm on your tongue, and then try not to clamp your thighs together with how embarrassingly turned on you are. Anyone with any experience whatsoever would know exactly what you’re going through with just a mere glance—you’re biting your lip with your entire body is subtly crumpled in towards your swollen, neglected pussy—and your Master has been watching you struggle through it this entire time.

“Are you alright?” He asks dumbly, finally managing to at least push himself upright, still completely unaware or unconcerned at his softening cock on full display for you and your starving libido. “You’re… shaking.”

“I—won’t die,” is the only serious assurance you can make to both him and yourself right now that’ll ease your suffering the smallest bit. The last thing you want right now is to come on too strong and snap him back to his senses, bringing everything back to square one. “Just, uh… r-really worked—worked up. Trying to just. C-Cool it?”

Your fingers flex at your sides because no matter what you try, you just can’t stop thinking about his. They’re right there. They’re so close, so strong and thick and—

“Aren’t you…” He trails off, letting his head tilt and then drop to his shoulder with a combination of confusion and exhaustion. “Aren’t you going to…?”

“To what?” You prompt shortly, your hands suddenly clenching into fists to deal with another violent wave of arousal at how unbelievably drunk he still looks. Maker, you did that. That’s all you.

“s’Zerthia said all—” Obi-Wan murmurs, blinking long lashes lazily up at you, “—all Jedi must… participate.”

Fuck. Just hearing him provide you an excuse to give into the boiling arousal causes you to suddenly break out into a sweat. You don’t know if he wants you to get yourself off or if he’s indirectly implying he wants to help, but you’re so far beyond desperate that you jump at the chance as soon as he so much as hints at the opportunity.

Very slowly, you move forward and lift one trembling knee to brace next to his thigh on the mattress, and then carefully swing your other leg over his lap, lowering yourself into a straddle in the same exact position he attempted to project earlier. You’re so unbelievably cautious about his cock, making sure you don’t accidentally touch it and jolt him awake. Instead of your newfound proximity scaring him away like you feared though, he stays so… docile. Still so relaxed from his very first orgasm that he even rests his large palms over the thin fabric covering your thighs, letting the loose silk drape and fold over his hands as he drags them up and down.

His eyes follow your trembling fingers as you work at the knot tying the material around your body, your cunt throbbing between your legs at how he’s just… staring. His eyelids are dipped slightly, breathing so calm and slouched under you, pliant and waiting.

The thin fabric slowly parts only enough to reveal the valley between your bare chest to him, and you watch his eyes fall down the thin strip of skin and catch on the dark line of your panties riding low on your hips. Maker, you can’t help but remember his terror at even glimpsing the two acolytes taking off their robes earlier—the way his eyes bounced around and how his cheeks lost whatever color they had left to them as soon as he finally made himself look. Now, though. Now he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the soft flesh of your tummy, the way your nipples are still covered by the thin fabric of your slightly parted robe but are impossible to miss while your breasts subtly move with your breathing.

You gently call one of his wrists to your hand with the Force and Obi-Wan is either mentally or physically too weak to resist your will. He allows you to catch his hand and slowly lead it downwards with both of your smaller ones to the part of your body that’s longed for his attention for years, though now it’s absolutely weeping for it.

You don’t want to scare him. You don’t want to scare him. Oh Maker, you need him to be brave for you right now, or at least just continue to be stupefied. You can work with stupefied, but you cannot work with panic, especially when you feel your own wanting to rise up the more you drag this out.

When the tips of his fingers brush against the waistband of your panties, Obi-Wan’s hand pushes under it without your guidance.

You’re throbbing. It’s been years in the making. Unable to stop the way your thighs contract and you lift your hips against his palm as it steadily curves down the slope of your soft curls, the sight of the finish line so within reach makes you reckless and too quick. You can’t help it. When he gets hesitant and eventually slows down to a halt right above your slit, you don’t even think before you’re suddenly giving his wrist an abrupt shove with the Force, pulling his hand down before he’s ready and forcing his middle finger deep through the soaking cleft of your pussy.

Your shameless moan of his name comes out sounding so grateful—you pour everything you have into it and sag into Obi-Wan’s chest at the feeling, but he startles and all but rips his hand out of your underwear before you can stop him. He was a hair��s breadth from touching your clit and the denial of it—the sudden turnaround from your goal is just so massively overwhelming that tears suddenly spring to your eyes.

You can just barely make out the sight of him staring down at his trembling hand between the two of you, your slick shining wet and hot along the length of his finger.

“Stars,” he rasps, blinking his wide, sapphire gaze up to yours—and then he quite suddenly looks alarmed. “Did I—Did I hurt you?” Obi-Wan gasps, his energy beginning to outright seize with distress while you blink rapidly and try not to crumble on his lap.

“No—I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m just… oh, fuck, I n-need it,” you stammer. “Oh fuck, I need it Master, I’m so sorry—I’m trying to be calm but—”

“What is it, little dove?” He urges, reaching his hand up to your face and flicking his eyes back and forth between yours, sounding almost as panicked as you do from your desperation. “What do you need?”

“Oh stars, Obi-Wan, I need you to just—” You can’t fit anything into words, a tear finally making its way down your cheek when you clamp your eyes shut in frustration. You just need him to understand, to give you what you’ve been craving for so long—but when you blink your eyes back open, his troubled expression has suddenly resolved itself.

Your Master’s hands immediately grab tight to your hips and twist you around, easily tossing you back up onto the mattress. The jostle of bouncing back into the soft fur startles you, but not nearly as much as when he climbs over your body and braces an elbow next to your head, gently placing the tips of his fingers to your temple.

He pushes carefully but firmly against your natural mental barriers, flexing the energy shields inwards gently enough to not hurt you but with enough force to let you know he’s entirely capable of breaking through should you refuse to let him in.

So you do. You let him in without a single thought, never mind a second one. Obi-Wan gasps as your shields all but collapse for him that easily, and then he’s finally breaching the surface of your thoughts.

“Oh—Maker above, little one,” he grits almost immediately, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his other hand wrapping tight around your arm as he struggles to acclimate to the blinding distress you’re experiencing. “Collect—” he groans as your cunt clamps down at the rasp of his broken voice, “—collect yourself. I can’t—can’t think—”

Oh, no, it’s too much. It’s way too much, even just having him inside your head without being able to read him in return—it’s too much for you. You start hyperventilating and instead of wanting him out, you just want to drown out the sensation of everything else. The endlessly pulsing, aching throb between your legs that you’ve been dealing with for so long, the way you can feel his cock dragging against your tummy from this angle and how much you already want it in your mouth again, the way your nipples are so hard right now that even this soft fabric feels so rough and sharp against—

Your robe suddenly rips itself off your chest, and you whimper up at the ceiling as you dig your fingers into thick fur and writhe under him, almost completely naked and just desperate for him to do something, to at least just use his hands or his mouth to make you feel bet—

Obi-Wan’s head drops and his blazing mouth opens hot around your nipple, his tongue rolling soft and slick up under the hard bud.

You choke out the first part of his name and you barely even have a flicker of a thought—a brief flash of a rabid, baser desire you’re not even able to consciously recognize before you feel his jaw opening and his teeth closing gently around it, biting down just hard enough to make you spasm bright and urgent between your legs. “Oh, fuck—”

As soon as you feel the pleasure and twisting ache spark deep in your core, Obi-Wan flutters his eyes shut and wedges his hand back into your panties, humming low in his throat when your legs jerk apart for him.

This time, your clit is the very first thing he touches.

He zeroes in on it. The tip of his finger starts to rub it exactly how you’d do it to yourself, exactly the right angle and speed and pressure that your body suddenly feels massively overheated and dizzy from it. It blindsides you. It makes sense he’d be able to do this, after all, but for some reason, the whole thing just absolutely blindsides you.

“Maker,” you whimper at the ceiling, soft and pitched high in your throat, eyes rolling back when Obi-Wan gently bites down on your nipple again and continues to work to relieve you even as every muscle in your body feels like it’s tightening up.

“Stars—” he whispers when he pulls away, “This—this feels incredible, Padawan.”

You moan and roll your hips against his hand, on cloud nine at just how he’s slowly allowing himself to become filthier with you, to lower himself in all his righteous beliefs and descend into delicious sin with you, and—

—wait, did he just…?

Your cunt clamps down hard with realization as he continues massaging your clit better than you’ve ever even done it yourself. Maker, it shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does, hearing that word in this context. Padawan. Padawan, holding her legs open while her Master explores her pussy. Padawan, moaning desperately as her orgasm buzzes deep down inside with a rising, threatening resonance. Padawan, Padawan, Padawan—

“Oh, you liked that,” Obi-Wan remarks tightly, taking a second to tug on your clit. You nearly start to cry again, your insides pulling up and going rigid at the sensation. “I heard it, little one. You like it when I call you that?”

“Oh I like it when you do f-fucking anything,” you choke out helplessly, your words starting to slur together. “Oh fuck, you’re so amazing, you’re so good at everything, you’re the best Jedi in the whole entire galaxy Master, you’re so much better th—”

“My, you’re agreeable like this, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan grits, his touches growing stronger and quicker and rocketing you straight to the edge of madness. “Shall I take that to heart, my darling little Padawan? Or did you say such flattering things to the oth—”

“Wait!” You suddenly exclaim, desperately trying to push his hands away. “Oh, nonononono—wait, wait, wait, I—I-I’m about to cum—I need to—”

His hand yanks itself out of your underwear once more and you take giant, gasping breaths and try to compose yourself at least somewhat, but then your Master is quickly scrambling down your body and using the Force to rip your panties down your hips—

“Obi-Wan, wait—” you choke out, “that isn’t—you don’t… h-have to…”

He looks up at you, dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be able to—y-you don’t—” You have to take a few gasping breaths and remember how to speak Basic. “I used my mouth on you before because I… I wanted to. If—If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to. It’s not… oh fucking stars above, it’s not n-necessary.”

“Are you telling me this because you don’t want me to?” He immediately asks, though you both already clearly know the answer to that considering how exposed your wild thoughts are to him right now.

“Ah, no I, uh… I just.” You try to clear the thickness from your throat and you feel your body tremble while you focus as much effort as possible into trying to explain. “I just want to be sure I’m not taking advantage of you, that’s all, I—I want you to know the truth about these things. It’s not… necessary, b-but.”

“But.” He repeats the word meaningfully as he glances back down at your weeping cunt, nodding slowly to himself.

And then your Master leans in, flutters his eyes shut, and slides his warm tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever.

“Obi—Wan—!?” You gasp, somewhere between a squeak and a squeal, your entire upper body launching upwards around his head as your clit is immediately enveloped into a slick, dexterous furnace.

Hold still, you hear his voice warn through the Force, sounding so much closer than you’ve ever heard him before. Whether that can be attributed to the fact that the command came directly from wherever he is inside your head or whether it’s simply because his tongue is now tracing gentle circles around your clit as you whimper pitifully into the quiet of the dimly lit room, you’re not sure. All you know is that his mouth feels like velvet between your legs and his beard is scraping across your thighs and your fingers have buried themselves in his hair without your conscious permission.

Hold still, young one, he urges once more, but you just close your eyes and moan shamelessly at it this time, opening your legs wider for him. His voice, it’s… it’s maddening like this, coming directly from your own thoughts. Deep, precise, somehow sounding so true, so much clearer and full-bodied without your pesky ears in the way. Your hips are subconsciously rolling slowly against the lower half of his face when Obi-Wan apparently decides he’s had enough.

An invisible energy wraps around each of your individual limbs and snaps them against the mattress without any warning. You whimper high in your throat, arms and legs held so firmly against the bed with the Force that your internal struggles aren’t able to be translated outwardly; he doesn’t allow your body a single centimeter to move under him, no matter how hard you fight it. Which means you have to lay there and just take the way Obi-Wan’s hot mouth continues to lick and kiss at your clit slowly, taking all the time in the universe to properly explore you between the legs he’s forced apart.

“Obi—” you croak breathlessly at the ceiling, feeling a familiar heat start to burn hot and tight through your core, “Obi, I—I have to p-project—before I—ah!—before you—before you ma-make me cu—ugh, f-fuck—I have t-to—”

Then project, he encourages simply, gently fluttering his tongue over your clit. You gasp and he hums, murmuring through the Force once more to you. We’re not hiding anymore. They’ll all know I’m using my mouth on you like this. It’s alright. Let them know.

You realize you’re going to cum the second you hear your Master’s voice say the words using my mouth on you like this while he slowly sucks on your clit, and you barely have enough wherewithal to gulp in a giant breath and begin projecting your signature as far across the palace and surrounding city as physically possible before your body shatters hot into searing euphoria under him.

Obi-Wan groans deep in his throat and holds you perfectly still under him as you cum with a ragged, hoarse wail of his name, giant waves of white hot bliss beginning to radiate through the Force from you with spectacular power. The contractions are so much more pronounced when it’s one of the only sets of muscles in your body he’s granted permission to move. It’s like everything is concentrated and multiplied there because of it. You can feel each individual spasm your floor muscles make as they convulse against his tongue, how each blazing shot of ecstasy that shatters through your body wrings more and more wetness from your cunt into your Master’s mouth.

Never. Ever ever ever. Has anyone done something so mind blowingly sexy to you. Nobody. Ever. He’s a virgin, you frantically remember as Obi-Wan purrs softly into the folds of your pussy while it cums all over him.

Your thoughts, young one, you can just barely make out his voice remind you gently, just as gently as he sucks on your clit through the aftershocks, somehow sounding even more aroused than he did before.

After allowing your projection to flicker out of existence with a putter, you’re completely dazed. Incapable of moving regardless of the way he keeps you pinned with the Force long after he pulls away, slowly moves back up your body and waits while you work to regain your bearings. You don’t even want to open your eyes right now, knowing he’s looking down at your peaceful expression while you work to catch your breath. You’re too stupid with pleasure you almost don’t even process the soft touch of something against your lips.

You’re lovely.

The thought is so quiet you don’t even recognize it isn’t your own. Not until he keeps pressing his lips to yours so sweetly, not knowing to do anything else when your mind is too fractured with ecstasy to unconsciously act as his compass like before. Everything is innocent and gentle and not reminiscent of the fact that the robes you’re both wearing are wide open and your mouths tasted of each other even before he kissed you.

Instead of melting into the soft touches, though, they just start to burn you alive, the thick fog of your orgasm clearing more and more with each gentle press of his lips and your need for him steadily growing. He’s kissing you. Master Kenobi is kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds at a time before pulling away, pausing to look at your face each time to make sure your eyes are still closed, before leaning down and carefully pressing his lips to yours again.

The only part you can’t stand is that he won’t even let you move your jaw to kiss him back.

Kiss me, Obi-Wan, you urge desperately through the Force, not wanting to interrupt to speak.

“I am, little one,” he replies between kisses, and the sincerity in his tone tells you he’s not purposefully teasing you. No, this is him kissing you, genuinely, the only way he knows how to.

Let me— you start to struggle in earnest against his hold on you, —please, let me—

The warm breath from his nose puffs softly against your cheek with a quiet little sound from far back in his throat, and then you suddenly gain the ability to move from the neck up.

You immediately part his lips with yours and Obi-Wan pulls back just the slightest bit in response, but your neck lifts up to compensate as you lick deep into his warm mouth. He gasps at the foreign sensation and loses his concentration for a split second, enough for you to break free of it completely. Your hands quickly fly up to cradle his face as soon as they can move and your fingers hook around the thick beard blanketing his sharp jawline, urging him back down into you.

Your legs come up to wrap around his lower back and he sags against your strong will with a needy groan, dropping down closer and obediently keeping his mouth open for you to taste. As soon as he presses his body into yours, his cock strains and drags against your lower stomach, already throbbing hot and leaking precum along the soft hills of your skin.

Maker, you want it but somehow you… you don’t. You just want to savor tonight as long as you physically can, keep holding him and kissing him like this for another few hours at least before you try to take his cock, but he’s unintentionally grinding it against you while his tongue shyly dances with yours, needy and already raring to go in his own timid way.

Do you want it, Master? You finally murmur to him, running your fingers through his hair and gently biting his bottom lip, scooting your hips up to let him rub himself against something better than your tummy. You feel… ready.

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. Your feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, and Obi-Wan finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck.

“Yes, I—” he moans into you skin, “Oh stars, I want it.”

With a gentle wave of your hand, you use the Force to drop his hips down to the proper angle and tilt the head of his cock to line him up perfectly.

And now this is the part you don’t want to rush. This is when you take Obi-Wan Kenobi’s virginity. You’ll savor just being able to remember this for the rest of your fucking life. You’ll see him in Council meetings years from now and be reminded that you’re the only person in the galaxy to know the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room. You’re the only one who will know that sound, that sound is yours, that sound belongs to—

“Padawan,” he grits, hips stuttering into you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “your thoughts—”

You groan up at the ceiling and your pussy tightens at the reminder that he can still hear you, but your body is just too bold and desperate for it. Your thoughts begin to flare bright, growing more possessive by the second, and you can’t even wait for him this time. Every single muscle in Obi-Wan’s body goes rigid when you tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow.

It stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you as Obi-Wan instinctively tries to lift off you and away from it, but you’re clinging too tightly to him. Your whole body hovers off the mattress to stay with him.

“You said—” he gasps, “—it wouldn’t h-hurt—oh—”

“It doesn’t,” you groan, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. “Oh, Maker, it feels so fucking good, Obi—feel it—”

His elbows shake where they’re locked and braced against the mattress but he drops his head and holds strong like this while you work your muscles to take him as far as you can from this shameful angle. Your body feels like it’s on fire while you desperately cling to him and the length of your robe brushes against the mattress while you just keep trying to get him deeper inside you—

Suddenly something grabs hard at your hips and tries shoves you downwards and off his cock, but you want it too badly. You summon the hidden strength of your energy and then channel it into your legs where they’re hooked around the curve of his lower back.

Obi-Wan chokes at the unexpected resistance and his elbows buckle, dropping you both down to his forearms with a jolt, but you’re too busy mentally clashing with each other for it. The result is… well, it’s maddening.

Every time your pussy is able to swallow him more than halfway, you pull back and let his energy shove you down his length—but then dig back in right before you drop completely and use the Force to bend your legs and fight the uphill battle to his cock once more. Your Master gasps, beads of sweat gathering at his temples while you fight him with every ragged breath in your body to keep fucking him.

Except—he’s the fighter. And you should’ve known.

You’re no match for the sudden blast of energy from him, easily hinging your legs apart from around his back and then ripping you down off his cock with a wet sound, bouncing back down into the mattress once more.

In order to stop the desperate tears of defeat from coming to your eyes, you immediately clamp them shut and twist your face away from Obi-Wan’s, but he makes a low growl and uses the same ferocious royal blue energy to keep your knees pinned open and wide against the bed.

And then drops his hips and rocks back into you, giving you those last few precious inches of his thickness you weren’t able to get at before. It hits sharp nirvana up inside you with his thighs pressed tight to your hips like this. His name rips itself from your throat while Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed with the Force while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you.

He’s so gifted, so strong in the Force, he’s able to use your mind as his anchor and give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. And in return, you want to do the same to him. You want to read his thoughts, instantly be able to give him everything he never knew he needed—

“You do,” your Master chokes out, “darling, you already—”

Everything inside you surges up at the admission, aching that much harder to hear him, to hear everything the way he can hear you. The tips of your fingers find his temple, slick with sweat, and you press just hard enough to tell him your intent.

“Let me in,” you whisper, wicked arousal swirling tight in your lower muscles as they start to bear down on his cock.

“I—I can’t—” Obi-Wan gasps breathlessly, “I can’t—”

“Open—open the door, Master,” you beg, “please, open th—”

“Fuck,” he cuts you off, his voice rising in pitch while his his hips snap just a little harder against yours and his rhythm falters, “—It’s too good, Padaw—I’m going t-to—stars, are you—are you r-ready?”

Some terrifying, swirling darkness manifests itself deep in your thoughts. It rises up, part of the desperate, hidden subconscious that you’re typically capable of stifling. No, it says, don’t let this be over. Not yet. You don’t want to go to sleep alone, wake up and remember you’ll never have this again. You need there to be a next time, and a time after it.

You try your hardest to push the longing downwards when you recognize it, but your Master is too quick, too talented to deceive when he’s this close to you. He easily plucks it from your mind and expands it, enlarges the chaotic string of thoughts until you feel them pulsing at the edges of your consciousness.

And then Obi-Wan sees it all, immediately playing out in your memories as you helplessly watch on. Every desire you buried for him unearthed, every whimper you stifled with the back of your hand when you touched yourself at night and thought of him amplified. The years of repression, the blind hope that simply ignoring it would make it go away. How hard you worked to deaden the burst of affection that radiated through the Force when you finally saw him after two years apart. The circumstances behind the night you lost your virginity—not a long time ago, as he suggested before, but only just last year. So desperate in your loneliness and longing for his presence that you began routinely sneaking around and fucking other Knights—Guardians with blue sabers whose souls were just marginally close enough to Obi-Wan’s, and you thought of him the whole time. Every time.

But, perhaps, worst of all. The… fantasies.

He sees himself dropping to his knees and congratulating you for passing your trials by burying his tongue inside your warmth and telling you how proud of you he is. He sees you opening his trousers and slowly licking his cock while he meditates, trying to get him to break his concentration. He watches the two of you fucking in every conceivable position, how incredibly ready you always are to take him when he needs it. Most importantly, he recognizes your inherent, blazing desire to drag this out as long as physically possible, to permanently brand every moment in your memory to get you through his impending absence.

And then… then Obi-Wan does something unexpected. Something incredibly uncharacteristic.

You watch as he morphs the fantasies right before your eyes. He's still on his knees with his head between your legs, but now he’s telling you how proud he is of you for negotiating the mysterious, confidential deal that ended the Clone Wars. You’re licking his cock as the ship autopilots itself through the week-long journey back to Coruscant from s’Ziscari, letting him slowly cum in your mouth as he sprawls lazily in the captain’s chair. He’s taking you against the wall of your quarters after a mindless and dull Council meeting; you’re riding him quietly in his bed after lights-out at the temple; he’s rubbing your clit while he sits behind you and advises you on matters concerning your own Padawan you’ll be choosing sometime soon, two fingers deep and squeezing a bared nipple when he whispers in your ear how much he absolutely adores you.

Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill the empty spaces of your mind, a lovely pale blue tenor to harmonize gorgeously with the soft green alto of your own consciousness. The resulting color of your combined energies fills your soul with Light, a stunning turquoise of a color you’ve never loved more, one you wish you could live in for the rest of your life.

For every debased thought of yours he sees, he shows you one even more revealing. The way he used to dream of you at night, especially after a close battle where many Jedi and Clones fell, and then he’d wake up in a cold sweat with an erection pulsing feverish and so terribly shameful between his legs. How he tried to shove a pillow down there once to somehow relieve himself of the aching hardness, and then had to rip it away and launch it across the room with the Force when he realized he’d been dragging himself against it and thinking of you.

“I’m gonna—cum—” your voice scrapes across your throat, and you can already sense him throwing his beautiful consciousness out like a net. You match him with what little mental strength you have remaining, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your ankles around his lower back and pulling him down into you.

Obi-Wan’s energy keeps swirling a brilliant aquamarine with yours, presenting his every subconscious thought to you, one right after another, so quick you can barely keep up. How he’ll always be with you, no matter what. How the Maker himself won’t be able to drag him away from you now. How quiet jealousy still tugs at his heart just thinking about the fact that you broke your oath—before you both could do it together.

Everything swells up inside you and you scream when it finally crashes over, your blended signatures sealing themselves together permanently and then detonating in a debilitating shockwave that ripples the air around you. You’re blinded and deafened by its vivid energy, powerful and dazzling every shade between blue and green and Light and Dark, all balanced perfectly together.

You lay there in the gentle afterglow afterwards and feel your pussy still clamping tight to him, pulsing in random intervals while Obi-Wan slouches into you and every muscle in his body trembles with the comedown. Everything is right. Everything in you sparkles.

“Stars, Obi,” you start chuckling up at the ceiling, the sheer joy overwhelming you and bringing tears to your eyes. “Stars, did we just—”

“We just won the Clone Wars, my dear,” he slurs into the crook of your neck while his cock still throbs inside you, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping up his spine, every single thought in his mind completely dead at the moment.

“How long do you… do you think it’ll take before it’s over?” You ask quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair. Obi-Wan groans and buries his face deeper into your neck.

“Few months, maybe. Time for s’Ziscari…”

He stays like that for just a second, and you press your nose to him and breathe him in, marveling at how utterly gorgeous his signature is right now. Clear blue with the lightest touch of teal, rippling like quiet water in a crystal calm riverbed.

Lovely.

You keep softly playing with the hair at his nape, and then quickly wrap your arms around him when he goes to try to brace his forearms next to your shoulders and lift up just the slightest bit.

“Wait, don’t—it’s—” You bite your lip and feel him sink back down into your body without another word, clearly having only attempted it for appearances. “This is good, let’s just… stay for a second.”

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move, and—a few months, you think. A few months of his absence, of wondering where he is but never being able to ask. It burdens your heart, but you understand it’s necessary.

The Council may… grant me a position with a more permanent location after this mission, he responds quietly to your dip in the Force after a moment, too tired to even talk anymore and exhaustion weaving his every thought. On Coruscant.

Your heart pangs with sudden hope, and you know he can feel it. “They would do that?”

I could ask to oversee the s’Ziscari’s assimilation into our ranks, he offers alongside a stifled yawn into your collarbone.

He’d… request that? To be closer to you? But why?

He doesn’t hesitate before offering the words to you simply, not even considering them before they’re the only thought in his mind. Because I care for you more than there are stars in the sky. I always have.

Lovely.

No, no, not even, that’s just. Love. By itself.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly into your neck, and your soul feels like it grows wings.

You both lay there in silence for a long time after that, and it takes you even longer to realize he hasn’t succumbed to sleep yet, even as the aching fatigue weighs heavy on his back. He’s resisting it, keeping his eyes purposefully open against your neck while yours are blissfully shut.

“Master,” you eventually whisper up at the ceiling, and his cock twitches inside you. Oh stars, you’ll have to remember that. “Go to sleep.”

I have one more confession. The thoughts are slurred and distorted, barely conscious as he desperately tries to outlast the sleep trying to pull him under. I didn’t even want to mention it before because I didn’t know how this was all going to go, but… He blinks slowly against your neck even as his eyes droop, only just a few seconds from passing out with exertion. The Sh’inzith lasts six days, dove.

Your eyes pop open in shock just as his finally fall shut, and Obi-Wan stops fighting.

#WE OUT HERE #obi-wan kenobi x you #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan X reader #obi-wan x you #smut #fanfic #no-droids

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lemonpeter · 3 years

Text

🧡Day 3: S*x Work🧡

Harry has my brain right now I’m sorry lol I’m trying to think about Tony instead. I hope y’all enjoy 🧡

Warnings: Tony/Peter main focus, established Harry/Peter relationship, starker nff, s*x worker!Peter, Peter is over 18

***

Tony knew what was going on as soon as he saw the young man.

It wasn’t unusual for a host of an event to show up with someone hired. It looked good to have something pretty on your arm, and a hire was an easy fix when there wasn’t a partner in their life.

Although it did shock him to see a man on the arm of one Harry Osborn.

It was practically Harry’s coronation, a prince taking the throne of CEO. And Tony expected that he’d continue to be sucking up to his father. Doing everything just as he expected.

The looks of disdain that Norman kept throwing the two young men told Tony that he had been mistaken.

Who knew.

No matter what, the man was gorgeous. And was really good at his job.

He laughed at just the right moments, he mingled with every stuck up guest surrounding them, he gave the younger Osborn looks that could have fooled anyone into believing that they were actually in love.

Anyone but Tony, of course. He knew how it all worked.

After a while he lost track of the couple. He did some mingling of his own with business partners and former clients until the few drinks he had told him that it was time to find a restroom.

The venue was unfamiliar, so he found himself wandering down the hall and looking for signs that would lead him in the right direction.

Eventually he found a door that seemed right and he opened it before slamming it shut again. “Sorry!”

The image of that gorgeous arm candy on his knees was burned into his memory, though.

“Fuck.” He heard Harry mumble through the door. “Get up, someone’s already looking for us, Pete.”

A heavy sigh. “We’ve barely done anything. We can keep going for a minute-“

Tony was frozen, listening to them.

The door opened a moment later and he came face to face with a very flushed Osborn.

“Oh, fuck. Of course it was you.”

“I was just looking for a bathroom,” Tony blurted out. “Not looking for you.”

Harry didn’t look convinced. “Please just- don’t tell anyone. Although I know you have no reason to do me any favors.”

“Tell anyone what? Kid, I’m pretty sure that’s his job. No one cares.”

The other man stepped out, still straightening himself out. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not here as an escort.”

“So you’re not-“ Tony didn’t buy it. Although maybe he was just hoping for his own sake.

Knowing that the angel in front of him was out of reach just might have broken his heart. He was that attracted to him. But he just couldn’t help it.

“I am. I mean, not an escort per se...” The young man crossed his arms. “But this isn’t a job.”

Harry groaned, covering his face. “I’m pretty sure this is making it worse, Pete.”

The other man - Pete? - just looked up at Tony, cocking his head to the side. “But it doesn’t matter. Harry, we’re out tonight, we’re out. Who cares what he says to anyone?”

Tony was stuck on the previous thing. “So you are a- well, whatever you want to call it?”

“Yes. I can give you my information if you want. And I don’t need a title, just call me Peter.”

He did want. He definitely did want that. But he was still confused. “If this isn’t a job then, what-“

“We’re together.”

That definitely wasn’t what he was expecting. He might have even staggered back a bit with how surprised he was. But maybe that was just his flair for the dramatic. It really was pretty shocking, though.

“O….Kay.” He’d ask later. For now, he was sticking with the information he had. And he had to find out how to get time with gorgeous Peter.

“How much for an hour?” Tony asked.

Peter didn’t miss a beat. “A grand.” At an annoyed sound from Harry he laughed. “But I’m not available for the next few hours.”

“I’ll pay ten if you’ll be with me right now.”

The couple exchanged a look. “Half an hour,” Harry countered.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Tony grinned. “Get back out to your party. Promise I’ll return him to you in one piece.”

Peter snorted, setting a timer on his phone. “Your thirty minutes starts now. What do you have in mind?”

Harry watched them warily. He kissed Peter’s cheek, sighing. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. It’ll be fast, don’t worry.”

Tony scoffed. “Was that an attack on my stamina? Because-“

“Thirty minutes isn’t long, Stark. That’s it.” Peter grinned. “So defensive.”

“You’re wasting my time, Osborn. Skedaddle.” Tony waved his hands.

Peter snorted, pulling him into the same room that they’d come out of.

Tony grinned at him. “Feisty. I like it.”

“Okay. Seriously, what do you want? Because we really don’t have that much time.” Peter was already reaching for Tony’s belt.

“First? I’m actually going to go find a bathroom. What I was trying to do before all this.” He felt a little bad about interrupting them, but figured that they could pick up where they left off later. And the thought that he once again pissed off an Osborn made him smile.

“K. Should I just wait here?” Peter moved his hands and leaned against the wall.

“Why would you follow me? Yes, stay here. Just a minute.” Tony opened the door again before pausing. “I still...don’t know where it is.”

“Maybe I should follow you.” Peter laughed under his breath. “You were, like, two doors off. To the left.”

“Thanks. Don’t go anywhere.”

Tony left and was back within a couple minutes, but he knew that he had very little time to waste. Half an hour wasn’t much at all.

Although he would definitely be getting Peter’s contact information for another time.

He was back in the small room where he left Peter, raising an eyebrow when he saw the younger man with his tie loose and shirt unbuttoned. “Eager?”

“Figured I wouldn’t just stand here while I waited. What, is this not what you wanted?” Peter teasingly moved his hands over his chest.

And how did he keep getting more and more perfect? The unbuttoned shirt revealed hard abs and a v that nearly made Tony drool. There needed to be statues of that body. He was halfway to thinking through the costs of such a thing when Peter’s laugh snapped him out of it.

“Down, boy.”

Tony snorted, a little surprised. “I’m not paying you to tell me to stop ogling. Remember, I’m way overpaying you for this.”

“It’s my personal time. I get to decide what’s overpaying.” Peter stepped forward, his fingers starting to unbutton Tony’s shirt. “Now. You have like…twenty three minutes left.”

“Half of what’s gone was because your boyfriend wouldn’t leave.”

“Mmm. You could have taken advantage of your time anyways. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen me with a client.”

Why was that so appealing to think about?

“Right. Well, first I actually want to talk. Is that okay?” Tony didn’t stop him from slowly unbuttoning his shirt anyway.

Peter nodded, confused. Everyone wanted to jump right into the good stuff, especially with such a short time. Although he never usually did less than two hours.

Maybe he was just curious as to what Tony had in mind.

“Alright. So you said you and Osborn are a thing, how long has that been going on?” He really had so many questions about that alone.

“Officially? Today’s our first time being out together. But we’re been a couple for a little over a year now. But we’ve known each other our whole lives. Grew up together and all that.” Peter made his way down Tony’s shirt as he talked, until it was hanging open.

“Huh. That’s interesting, I always assumed he was straight. Scandals with girls, yknow.” Tony slid his jacket and now-open shirt off.

The younger man nodded, hands on Tony’s hips. “Yeah, everyone assumed. But he hid it for a reason. His dad is pissed. And we knew he would be. So he just…tried to look one way. Threw everyone off.”

“Did a good job. I’ve never seen you before,” Tony commented. “I would have remembered.”

“That’s because I’m not associated with the company in any way. And the media isn’t interested in a random kid from Queens.” Peter shrugged, undoing Tony’s belt.

“Interesting.” The older man helped. “Well, I think that’s most of my questions. Can I touch you?”

Peter nodded, laughing a little. “You can. And happy to answer.” It was more than he would have answered with anyone else. He wasn’t really sure why he was so open with Stark. “What are you thinking you want me to do?”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to get on your knees for me, honey.” Another thing popped into his head as he watched him get down. “So he’s okay with this? Being in a relationship while being in sex work?”

The younger man nodded, pulling Tony’s pants down his hips and thighs. “Yeah. I think sometimes he gets a little jealous but we work it out. We talk. I assure him that he’s the only one I actually love.”

Tony licked his bottom lip, nodding. “That makes sense. Alright, now I’m done. I don’t want to talk about him any more, I just want to think about you, gorgeous. Is that okay?”

“Perfectly okay.” Peter got his boxers down and let the man’s cock rest against his cheek. “Let’s really get started….”

***

They went over the half hour.

Not by much, only a couple minutes, but still. Tony noticed. And he mentioned it. But Peter only waved him off and finished getting him off.

They straightened themselves out when they were done and Tony pulled his phone out.

“I should have done this first, but do you have some kind of account I need to send the money to? Or-“

Peter shook his head quickly, taking his phone and adding himself as a contact. “Just think of this as a…test run. I’d feel bad charging you all that for one bj.”

Tony blinked, taking his phone back when it was pressed into his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now go away, I’ll come in in a minute. We don’t need to look like we’re coming in together.” Peter pulled his own phone out and winced when he saw how swollen his lips were.

“Okay. Thank you.”

The young man shot him a small smile. “No problem.”

Tony made his way back to the ballroom, still trying to make sense of everything that happened.

He made eye contact with Harry as he came in and gave him a small nod. He didn’t know what else to do, his mind still fogged by everything.

He’d definitely be calling Peter soon.

#starker #parksborn #starker nff #I’m fixated okay lol I warned you #peter parker #tony stark #harry osborn #my writing #bri’s kinktober 2021 #idk what all to even tag this lol #don’t come after me I’m just tagging things correctly #been there done that #block the tags you don’t like

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cherry-stained-blood · 3 years

Text

soft shinobu headcanons

Synopsis: nothing much other than you making the wisteria girl crack her tough shell <3

Request (sent via DM’s): Hmmmmm, soft Shinobu Headcanons please?

Pairing: Shinobu x GN!reader (they/them)

A/N: this blog has existed for a hot minute and I already got a request (not complaining tho, I love Shinobu). This is more like an imagine rather than headcanons but it’s too late to change that I’m sorry— . Anyways I hope y’all shinobu simps got your juice, enjoy!

TW: light swearing, other than that it’s all fluff

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Let’s be real here, Shinobu is not a softie at all (to strangers at least, close friends is a different case)

She’s a strong and independent woman who can and will kick your ass. She’s a Hashira for a reason anyways

But that all changed pretty quickly when you walked into her life

Hashira or not, the moment you entered the demon slayer corps, she was the first person you talked to

She’d treat you like how she would with anyone else, carefree and laid-back nature, a tad bit of teasing here and there, all with a soft smile

But you knew that under that smile she was only giving a slight facade

When going on missions you’d usually be her backup, as you were still pretty new into this whole demon slaying world

And during those times you’d get to talk to her quite a bit

Most of the conversations were small though, as the work of being a demon slayer always had your hands tangled up

You walked around the small town with the butterfly girl, looking around and keeping your senses on high alert as you scanned the area to look for the demon. “So uh— where do you think the demon could be?” You asked attentively.

“I’m not sure… we’re gonna have to keep watch for th—“ the insect Hashira’s words were halted as she heard the familiar footsteps she grew to learn about during her expeditions, of a demon. “We can chat later— we have to follow the demon.” Shinobu spoke as her light steps turned into a quiet sprint.

You sighed to yourself, trailing behind her ‘there goes my plans of making small talk with her…’

You don’t know why, but you’ve taken a liking to the purple haired warrior, and you were determined to make her shell crack

The two of you were already good friends anyways, so all you had to do was get to know here a bit more

Shinobu has also taken some interest in you too, as she started treating you like how she’d treat Giyuu— but less mean of course

She’d poke light fun at you, tease you, and throw joking insults towards your direction

However the playful facade still feigned over here every-time you spoke to her

And you were willing to change that

Well one day, you both, along with Giyuu, were assigned to assist the Mizunoto slayers back at Natagumo mountain, where the spider family crawled around

You quirked an eyebrow at the task you were given. “Natagumo mountain? Isn’t that the place where the rookies are at?” You questioned, holding onto the hilt of your sword lightly.

“I supposed so… ara ara~ and here I was thinking they didn’t need our help, such a shame I must say.” The insect Hashira cooed to herself playfully. Giyuu just sighed to himself as he looked up. “Well we should get a move on it, we don’t want to peril the lives of more people now don’t we?”

Upon arriving at the place, you managed to keep surviving slayers safe, and meeting two unique souls. A red haired kid with red eyes and a demon girl with a bamboo muzzle

They were quite unique in your eyes, but Shinobu tried to attack the demon girl

Luckily, Giyuu came in time to save the poor girl, as you stood directly in front of the pair, holding your sword tightly

You sighed to yourself mentally as Shinobu started bullying Giyuu lightly

However Shinobu never let her smile waver as she saw you two defending the younglings, but you knew that under that smile her attitude was quite sour at the moment

The water Hashira told you to chase Shinobu away while he took the other two to a safer area

You agreed as you chased away the butterfly girl away from them, a slight wave of guilt piercing your heart for going against your friend

Her smaller figure let her dash through the trees with ease as you bolted after her, but Shinobu’s heart sank a bit knowing you are going against her, however she wouldn’t falter so easily

As she hops away into the starry night over the forest, you caught her off guard by appearing right in front of her and tackling her out of the tree she was hiding in

The position you held her still in was… questionable to say the least

You held her upper body in your left arm, as your right hand was holding your sword, with your fist locked behind your back, making Shinobu bend over slightly and loose her grip on her sword. Her arm was jammed between her head and your arm as she gripped onto the sleeve of your haori

You could tell by her shaking and tone in voice that she was upset, but you didn’t know what to do about it, other than talk to her

“Why are you doing this, Y/N? You know it’s against the demon slayer corps to help demons, and you’re preventing me from killing that demon. Why is that?” Shinobu asked, slight desperation lacing her tone.

You just sighed to yourself, and replied back. “I will let you go and then explain to you, but you have to promise not to run after the demon.”

If it was any other person, the insect Hashira would’ve just gone dashing off without a second thought, but instead with you, she complied and agreed as you let her out of your grip. “Alright then… explain.”

You explained to her that they seemed like good people and how the kids you encountered were different, and how Giyuu said they were different and unique

The feeling of meeting them was oddly familiar to you in a sense you could say

Shinobu didn’t know what to say, other than just crack a smile, but it was genuine.

“I’m sorry for thinking irrationally. I just didn’t want to see someone I cared for die to the hands of a demon again.” The purple haired girl spoke, sincerity present in her tone.

You were quite surprised at this behavior, going to speak to her, but the ravens that were trained by the corps already interrupted you about the two kids you saw earlier

You were gonna speak to Shinobu further, but she had already disappeared into the night, which left you dumbfounded

However you sure did just process what happened

You finally cracked her shell to reveal her true feelings <3

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#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer shinobu #shinobu #shinobu kochou #kny tomioka #shinobu headcanons #headcanons #fluff #fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #shinobu x reader #x reader #reader insert #kny tanjiro #kny shinobu #kny nezuko #fanfiction

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sortasirius · 4 years

Note

what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still

OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.

I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.

This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.

So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.

To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.

Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke

Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble

Seasons 8-11ish: Carver

Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb

So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.

Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.

We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season. I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.” It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.

It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?) I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.

In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet. This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that. He comes right out of the gate with it.

Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again. This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.

Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone). And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas. He still can’t kill Cas.

Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean? Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery. It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.

But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance. This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.

This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content. “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying. An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life. And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation. And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds. I also wrote more in depth about this episode here. There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape. The most tropey of tropes mixtape. Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.

And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas. Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot. The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs. Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken. This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13. Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.

Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.

I mean.....

Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so). So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time). Listen. This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from. With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.” Talked about it here.

This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done. They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else. The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow.

After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes. They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.

And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.

And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time. What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before. Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.” Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season. Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really? This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.

And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).

And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens). And here’s the thing. These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something. Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.” We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to. But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.

Who got this change to happen? Who got the network to change their minds? It wasn’t us. It was them. I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas. They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step.

So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do. Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s. They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.

Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?

I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do. They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show. I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.

Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is. He says he’s the writer, right? But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters? A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”? That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.

They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going? I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.

#supernatural #destiel #spn #my writing #anyway yeah i love these writers #welcome to my essay lmao #spn writers #anonymous #lilly answers

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spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years

Text

Deserve (KSJ x reader) 🔞

Genres: angst, smut, & fluff

Tags: brat tamer ksj, brat!reader, dom/sub elements (obv LMAO), references to cheating (no actual cheating by jin or oc dw), spanking, fingering, established relationship, possessive sex, unsafe sex (be safe irl y’all), insecurity, mentioned breeding kink, mentioned hand kink, sexting, jealousy, aftercare (always important!), lots of hickeys, whooo this one is wild

Warnings: ksj uses some mean language in this fic (slut, bitch, etc.)

WC: 3835

Reminder: 18+ ONLY

You grin to yourself at the sight of Seokjin readjusting his pants to hide his erection. The camera is angled low enough that no one notices, especially with the winter coat on top of his clothes, but Seokjin is embarrassed, you can read him well.

You love the sight of his large member tenting in his pants, even more so when it’s because of your actions.

You stopped by the set today to surprise him with dinner after a long shoot, but then you got jealous.

You and Seokjin haven’t seen each other in a few weeks due to his work, and he hasn’t been picking up your calls lately. You decided to put up with that, since it hasn’t even been a year of dating yet. Most people don’t call ten month long relationships “serious”. But when you were waiting on him to finish work, you saw Seokjin’s fans talking about his newest interview on Twitter.

Seokjin has such good chemistry with her! One fan commented.

Yeah he totally does 😍😍 I wonder if they’re dating on the DL HAHAHA. Another added.

That makes sense actually! I hear she also majored in acting, and at Seokjin’s college, too!

You watched the interview and you agreed, he had been too friendly with her. You know it’s all work, as an actor Seokjin has to be charming and suave. It’s the only way he can convince the audience he is deserving of the roles he plays. But something bothers you about the way they interact. It almost feels real.

Out of jealousy, you go to the bathroom and take a picture of yourself topless and send it to Seokjin. You pinch a bit of your skin until it reddens, making it look like a hickey. Then you do it again, in another place. They’re hard enough pinches to start to bruise, and you bet they’ll be deep purple in a couple hours. You caption the picture as if you don’t hurry, I’ll go back to him soon.

There is no ‘him’ of course. You’re exclusive to Seokjin, both romantically and sexually. But hey, you can’t be the only one that’s a little jealous.

You leave the dinner you packed for Seokjin in his dressing room and leave just in time to see him open the text out of anyone else’s sight (as he opens all your texts to prevent people finding out about your relationship).

You turn around and happily skip back to your car. Seokjin can be the frustrated one now, you’ve had it.

When Seokjin comes home, it’s nearing midnight. The shoot went on another 3 hours after you left, 3 painstaking hours you laid in bed and pretended to sleep.

Seokjin knows it, too.

“Covers off.” He says instead of hello, not even turning the lights on. When you stay still, he shuts the bedroom door and locks it even though you’re home alone in his apartment. You don’t usually use the house key he gave you since you always felt it was a bit early for you to even have one, but Seokjin had insisted on giving one to you (although oddly he never demanded one to your house in return). But tonight, you’re not shirking away from any sort of commitment. You don’t care what Seokjin thinks of you using his house key and waiting in his bed, if it looks clingy. You’re clearly not that important to him anyway.

The only light Seokjin turns on is a small bedside lamp he only keeps on when you have sex, to be able to read your facial expressions even when you’re tied up or blind folded.

Seokjin pulls the covers off you, leaving you cold. “Y/N. I’m here. Quit pretending to be asleep. If you want to come tonight, show some fucking respect.” He snaps, shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and glare up at him. Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Get on your knees.” He orders.

You do so. You’re dressed in only a pair of black lace panties and one of his oversized long sleeve shirts. You showered and shaved for tonight, and you’re sure he can smell his own body wash on you. But you’re not anywhere close to behaving yet, and you stare ahead. Seokjin tugs down the collar of your shirt to reveal your collarbone and the top of your chest where there are two bruises that look uncannily like hickeys.

At your unusual silence, Seokjin stops to check on you. “Colour.” He states rather than asks.

“Green.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue in disapproval at you. His temper is worse with you today. You have obviously pushed him further than he has ever gone tonight with your picture. “Look me in the eye when you tell me your colour. Have I not trained you well?”

You look him in the eye, anger flashing on your face. “No, you haven’t.”

Seokjin tightens his jaw. A muscle quivers in his cheek as he does it. “Is that the right way to ask sir to fuck you, princess?” He asks in a threateningly calm voice. His voice is just above a whisper and sends a chill down your spine.

You know what you’re asking for though. You both do. You smirk up at him. “Green.”

Seokjin sits at the edge of the bed. “Over my lap this instant.” He tells you. When you continue to glare, he smirks. “You know it’s been a month since we did this. I won’t fuck you for another month if you push me any further. Write down the fucking date if you want to, Y/N.”

Knowing Seokjin always keeps his promises, you quietly bend over his lap. You can deal with being spanked or even edged until you’re crying, but being deprived of Seokjin’s touch altogether is the worst and you both know it.

Seokjin chuckles, tugging his shirt up and over your ass. He begins to knead your ass between his hands roughly, making you whine. “Who asked you to stop by the set today?”

“No one.” You answer.

Seokjin slaps your ass hard. “Does this look like a regular conversation to you? Use your manners.”

“No one, sir. I stopped by because I wanted to.” You correct, already breathless. Seokjin’s first few hits are usually lighter, but he doesn’t have that kind of patience with you tonight. He gives you the kind of smacks he saves for the end right at the start.

Seokjin scoffs, continuing to knead at the same part he just hit. You wriggle in his lap at the touch, making him laugh at you. “Are you that sensitive because I haven’t fucked you in so long? Or is it because your new dom is too soft on you?”

Another hit to the opposite cheek when you take too long to answer. “Do you want to go another month without coming?” Seokjin growls in your ear.

“N-No, sir.” You answer.

Seokjin scoffs at your answer. “Sir, my ass. If you had any respect for me you wouldn’t cheat. I bet you act all coy with him because he doesn’t know you like I do. I bet he thinks you’re some soft little sub that can only be fucked in missionary position. But he doesn’t know you’re a disobedient bitch, does he, Y/N?”

Two more hard smacks, followed immediately by him kneading your ass. “N-No, sir.” You reply breathlessly. Seokjin didn’t give you a number of hits tonight, which means he is going to punish you until you’re crying. Those nights always left you sore the next day, but tonight you feel sore already. Even just sitting tomorrow will be an achievement, forget walking.

“What do you even like about him?” Seokjin asks in a cold voice. “Is he your ideal ‘type’ or some bullshit?”

You close your eyes, envisioning your ideal man. Tall and muscular. Large biceps but a small waist. Cute dimples and round cheeks and shiny eyes when he smiles. Long fingers with rounded nails that look beautiful adorned with jewellery, but the most beautiful when wrapped around your hips, your neck, and especially when inside your––

Four hard smacks in succession, two to each ass cheek. “I asked you a fucking question, didn’t I?” Seokjin asks coldly. When you tremble under him, he pauses. “Colour.”

You sniffle, brushing tears away. “Green.”

“You already took eight. You don’t have to take anymore if you don’t want to, you know that.” Seokjin reminds you, no longer angry. He actually sounds a bit guilty. He gently rubs over your ass, making you wince. “Sorry. I did too much this time, right?” He whispers, now rubbing your lower back in apology.

“I want more.” You tell him through your tears. You turn your head so you can look him in the eye. “I want as much as sir thinks I deserve.”

Seokjin considers it for a moment. Then, he chuckles. “There’s my girl.” He says softly, even though there’s nothing soft about how his hands come down on your ass.

He gives you four more, two to each ass cheek. By the time he’s done, you’re sobbing. It burns, it really does. But you like it like this, like being all his. Even if he’s smiling at some other woman while he’s working or even dating her, you like being just his in this moment. And because you’ve made him jealous too, Seokjin will definitely remind you of that fact tonight. Even if he doesn’t really believe it anymore.

Seokjin manhandles you onto the bed, making you lay down against his pillow. You hiss in pain but Seokjin is quick to kiss you. He does a great job of distracting you, kissing you deep and making you moan in his mouth. He only breaks away from the kiss to unbutton the shirt you’re wearing.

“So fucking dirty. Letting some asshole get his hands on what’s mine all because I left you alone for a few weeks.” Seokjin curses, pushing you further into the mattress as he lays on top of you. You gasp as he sucks hard hickeys on your neck, your collarbones, and the top of your chest. Seokjin takes special care to cover the two bruises you made with larger ones, pinning you down by the waist as you wriggle against him.

“S-Sir.” You whimper, but Seokjin keeps going lower. He even leaves hickeys on your breasts and on your ribcage, refusing to leave you unmarked anywhere. You’re sure you will have over a dozen on you tomorrow morning.

When he’s satisfied, Seokjin returns to your breasts. He is all tongue and teeth as he sucks at them until they’re both hard. You whine as he pinches them both hard afterwards. “You let some other guy do this to you? When only I can fucking work you up like this?” Seokjin demands, anger returning to his voice. He clamps one hand over your throat, not hard enough to block your breathing but enough to make your head spin. “Answer me, Y/N. Right fucking now.”

“S-Sorry, sir.” You answer, not really sure what you’re sorry for. You haven’t cheated on him, but his reaction makes you more sorry than if you had. You hadn’t known Seokjin could look at you with that kind of fire in his eyes. It’s different from other scenes, where Seokjin was turned on but carefully in control. Tonight, Seokjin is angry. But under it, there’s another emotion that shines just as brightly. Hurt. Seokjin is hurt by what he thinks you did.

Seokjin takes his hand off you. “You’re not sorry yet, princess. But you will be.” He warns.

Seokjin sinks lower, pressing kisses to your pubic bone and lower. He pulls your panties down and discards them. Then, Seokjin starts making new hickeys on the insides of your thighs without breaking eye contact.

When Seokjin finally pushes his middle finger into you, you’re half out of your mind and so wet it makes the insides of your thighs glisten. “Did he do this to you, princess?” Seokjin asks you, stretching you easily.

You shake your head, pushing your hips to get him to touch that spot. Seokjin grips your hip with one hand, nails digging into the skin as he holds you in place. The pain is what reminds you that he asked a question. “No! No one can do this to me.” You answer honestly, panting from the force of not coming. It would be so embarrassing to come from being fingered a little, and knowing Seokjin’s mood, he might not let you come the rest of the night if you come without permission.

Seokjin re-enters, two fingers this time. When you moan, he kisses one of the hickeys he made to cover your bruise. “That’s what I thought.” He says in a sing-song voice, mocking you. You grip his shoulders, grateful that Seokjin hadn’t tied you up as part of punishment. You dig your nails into the strong skin there, feeling him tense at how hard you do it. You don’t mean it as pay back or anything for him gripping your hip, you’re truly just that worked up tonight. But no matter his anger, Seokjin always checks on you. “Colour.”

“Green, green. Oh fuck Seokjin. Please can I come, please, please?” You beg, tipping your head back as tears roll out of them. As you clench around his fingers, Seokjin just chuckles and scissors you.

A few pumps later, he adds a third finger. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight?” He mocks you. “Look at how tight you are, I don’t even think you can take my cock tonight. That’s what happens when you fuck someone that isn’t as good as me, I guess.” Seokjin mocks you, rubbing his thumb against your clit to rile you up more.

“Ugh, I said I’m s-sorry! Sir, please.” You wriggle.

Seokjin smirks down at you. “You said it yourself, princess. ‘As much as sir thinks I deserve.’ And I think you deserve to be reminded who you fucking belong to, not to come. But if you beg really well, I might come in you. I bet you’d love to be bred by me after so long, stuffed full of my come like a dumb little slut.” Seokjin slows down, tightening his jaw again. “That is if it’s even special to you anymore. Assuming you don’t let him come in you too, of fucking course.” Seokjin punctuates each word with a hard thrust that has you scrambling for purchase on the bed sheets.

“I don’t, sir! I don’t! No one has except you.” You tell him. It’s true. You have been on birth control for years, but have never done it raw with any man until you met Seokjin. You had always been too afraid in case you missed your pill a day and wound up pregnant. But Seokjin had made you feel safer than any ex-boyfriend of yours had. Only a few months into dating, Seokjin made you feel safe enough to let him go raw, and never made you regret it. Hell, he even picked up your prescription for you when you worked late.

Seokjin’s fingers slip out of you. He pushes a stray hair back from your face, making you shiver as he gets some pre-come on your forehead. “And why’s that, princess?”

“I belong to you. I’m yours.”

You jolt in surprise as you feel the head of Seokjin’s cock press against your entrance. You grip his wide shoulders as he eases into you, but Seokjin pulls your hands off. He pins you down against the mattress, a hand to each wrist. “Correct.” He replies, before starting to move.

You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips with each of his movements. They’re not loud, actually the opposite. Seokjin’s punishment and teasing tired you out, so you can only let out soft moans and whines now. Seokjin pins you down, eyes pitch black and piercing in the dim light. There are no words needed for what Seokjin is doing right now. He’s trying to prove himself to you.

That only makes you feel more guilty. Even a simple nude while he was working would’ve riled Seokjin up, why did you have to make him think you cheated? In hindsight, you hadn’t been thinking straight. “I-I’m sorry.” You whisper as you look at Seokjin.

Seokjin looks away from you and down at your chest, at the darkening spots on your body. “Shut up.” He whispers back. His grip tightens on your wrists and he picks up the pace.

You’re getting close and you know Seokjin is, too. “S-Sir. Please.” You beg.

Seokjin pulls your arms up, taking both of your wrists in one hand and holding them away. You arch your back as the head of his cock rubs against your g-spot. “Sir!” You cry out. When Seokjin’s hips start to stutter, you finally lose your patience. “Fuck, Seokjin!”

Seokjin lets go of your wrists. One hand comes to grip your thigh hard, pushing it as far out as it can go. The other comes to rub at your clit. His pace picks up again, filling you up in a way that feels entirely different this time.

When you come, it feels like a flood of emotion. You tremble and clench around Seokjin, moaning his name and crying. When Seokjin comes, it’s with a deep moan and his fingernails digging into your skin, sure to leave marks tomorrow morning. You both know it, but you’re not upset at all. You have always liked the reminder that you’re his and only his.

Seokjin collapses on top of you as you both come down from your high. Seokjin pushes his bangs back from his forehead, wiping at the sweat on his face with one hand. He doesn’t look you in the eye. You try to kiss him, but he pulls away. He sits up, pulling out of you. Seokjin grabs tissues off the nightstand and wipes himself and you down gently.

“You can use the shower in the guest bedroom.” Seokjin says.

You grab his hand before he can go. “Why can’t I use your shower? We’ve showered together before.”

Seokjin pulls his hand away. “That was before you cheated on me, Y/N. I know we fucked tonight, but this is it. I’m not your boyfriend after tonight.”

Your heart sinks. “Seokjin. I didn’t actually cheat on you.”

That makes Seokjin look at you, eyes still dark but now sad. “Don’t lie to me now, Y/N. You told me clearly in your text that another guy made hickeys on you and that you were going to go back to him.”

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours. “I actually pinched myself. I only meant to make it look real and tease you, but I went too far. I’m sorry baby. I really am.”

Seokjin looks at you like he can’t believe his own ears. “You gave yourself bruises that look like hickeys just to make me mad?”

When you nod and look honest, Seokjin pulls you close. “Why?”

“I watched your newest interview.” You say.

A long moment passes and then Seokjin seems to get what you’re saying. “Were you jealous of me interacting with her?” Seokjin asks, surprised. When you pout he starts to laugh. He tips his head back and closes his eyes at how funny it is to him but it’s not funny to you. When you smack his chest lightly, he looks at you with a fond smile. He brushes your hair behind your ear. “Say it. Were you jealous?”

You bite your lip. Seokjin notices immediately you’re not finding this funny and grows serious. You look away from him. “I was jealous. But I was also insecure.”

“Insecure?” Seokjin repeats the word. “Why?”

You play with his hands. “Don’t know.” You mumble.

Seokjin cups your face and makes you look at him. “Be honest.” He tells you. “You know I like it when you’re honest the most, right?”

You chew your bottom lip. “I...I saw some stuff on Twitter. They said you two looked like a couple. And to be honest, you were kinda too friendly with her.”

Seokjin looks sad. “And that’s why you teased me? Even though you knew I’d think you were just playing and punish you?” You nod. Seokjin’s brows knit together. He pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve thought more.”

You shake your head, but tears fall on Seokjin’s shoulder anyway. “I liked it. I always like it when we have sex like that. But I also wanted your attention.”

“You always have my attention.” Seokjin pulls back, cupping your face again. His eyes are wide and genuine. You love that the most about Seokjin; even though he’s an actor, he’s never lied to you. “Let’s take a shower.”

So you do. The two of you get in the shower together. Seokjin washes your chest and between your thighs for you, gentle as he touches the hickeys he made. You wash his back for him and his hair, giving him little kisses every now and then. You grab a spare pair of panties you left at his house and another one of his shirts.

When you get in bed, Seokjin turns you onto your back and applies lotion onto your ass. You wince at the burn of lotion on your sore spots. “Sorry baby. I got really angry thinking about you sleeping with someone else and lost my control.” Seokjin apologizes for the 1000th time.

“It’s okay. I wanted this.” You reply to him for the 1000th time. But still, Seokjin is really gentle with you.

“I only want you, okay?” You tell him when you lay on top of his chest later. “Even though I know after tonight, I don’t deserve you.”

Seokjin kisses your forehead. “Don’t ever say that baby. Of course you deserve me.”

You make yourself comfortable against him and he tucks the blankets in around both of you. “Do I?”

Seokjin rubs your back. “Someone like you deserves the best, Y/N. And naturally, that’s me, Kim Seokjin.” He ends jokingly.

You scoff but kiss his cheek anyway. “That’s true. My boyfriend is the best.”

Seokjin smiles at you lovingly. “I love you.”

Your eyes widen. Seokjin’s eyes widen too. “Shit. I mean, no. Well, no, I mean yes.” Seokjin stammers, ears turning pink. “Sorry, this is too quick right? Fuck, we haven’t even dated a year but I already said that.”

“I love you too.” You reply, feeling yourself blush too. It’s so odd how you’ve been entirely naked before him before but you feel more vulnerable now.

You and Seokjin smile at each other. “I must’ve saved the country in my past life to deserve you.” You whisper.

“That’s my line, baby.” Seokjin teases, kissing your lips sweetly. You melt into him, safe and comfortable. This is home.

#bts smut #bts angst #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x you #seokjin x oc #seokjin smut #seokjin fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff

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skaterbeth · 4 years

Text

the seven + others playing among us

because i fucking love this game

annabeth

so good. like. too fucking good

prefers the imposter role because she is amazing at sabotaging and killing without getting seen

a master at travelling the vents unnoticed

very good at making sure she doesn’t form a pattern in who she kills

only self reports when she knows she won’t be suspicious

changes her behavior in real life to be less suspicious in game

percy always gets so offended when she kills him out of convenience

(“i can’t believe you killed me!” “you were literally in a room alone doing your task it was too easy”)

memorized every task so she always has an alibi

when she’s a crewmate she just finishes her tasks and always saves the crew when they imposter sabotages the reactor or something

is always able to figure out who the imposter because she memorized everyone’s tells like the little shit she is (and percy can’t even lie to her anymore like he’s the worst liar)

wears white

percy

is kinda good at being the imposter but definitely kills certain people on purpose

those people: jason (duh, he liked to piss him off), piper (cause he thinks it’s funny when she’s mad), reyna (bc he considers that a fucking accomplishment he would totally go around camp jupiter telling everyone he killed the praetor), and leo (no explanation needed)

refuses to kill: annabeth (bc he’s a simp), hazel (bc he loves her too much), grover (🐐)

people he’s indifferent to killing: frank and nico (but he still feels kinda bad bc my boy is too sweet)

when he’s the imposter he’s so bad at defending himself

and annabeth can read him super easily

so when she accuses him he’s just like “yeah just vote me out lolz”

when he’s a crewmate he kinda just does his tasks idk

but he never saves the crew when their being sabotaged cause he doesn’t like that pressure

always reports the body and immediately goes on the chat like “guys who killed my girlfriend 😡”

always blames it on jason cause he likes seeing him get mad

and when it’s not jason percy’s like 🤷🏾

wears blue

leo

he’s the most chaotic to play with adskjskdjk

he’s such a good imposter but he also accidentally brags when he kills someone

“so who do you guy think it is?” “idk but whoever it was is a really good imposter” “... ok so it’s leo”

even if he’s not the imposter people vote him out when he’s being annoying

loves sabotaging

always kills frank first cause he thinks it’s hilarious

next would be annabeth because she’s super smart

but everyone tries to kill annabeth first

doesn’t kill hazel because he thinks she’s too pure

also doesn’t kill nico

very good crewmate

always finishes his tasks first

and when he’s done he just follows people around to freak them out and make them think he’s the imposter

wears orange

piper

also chaotic

always kills annabeth first but like makes it a point to do it so everyone always knows it’s her

in the off chance she doesn’t kill annabeth first she always tries to pin it on her

has definitely accidentally revealed herself as the imposter multiple times

definitely charmspeaks people into thinking it’s not her

and it actually works a fair amount of times

if someone kills her she gets so annoyed it’s so funny

cusses so much

they have to kick her out bEcAuSe hAzEl

but hazel thinks it’s hilarious

decent crewmate but she definitely prefers imposter

wears red

frank

hates this game

cannot stand it

but he doesn’t want to be left out so he plays it

he hates being the imposter so much

he doesn’t like to kill people so he just sabotages

but he’s not very good at that either

if he ever does kill he always accidentally does it in front of someone or he gets caught immediately

when someone accuses him it’s super obvious when he’s lying

but he’s a very good crewmate

always does his tasks and helps save the crew when things get sabotaged

will literally watch the imposter kill someone and when he reports it he accidentally says the wrong color

(this makes it seem like i hate frank i really don’t this is literally just how i play)

wears brown

jason

he’s literally dead he can’t play

kidding kidding

definitely still hasn’t figured out the map

easiest to kill because he just wanders around aimlessly til he finds a task he was assigned

is so bad at the admin card swipe he gets kicked out (which has actually happened to my brother)

every time he gets killed the chat fills up with “was it a brick” or just 🧱

leo and annabeth make an animation of jason’s color getting hit on the head with a brick by reyna’s color

never saves the crew when they’re sabotaged because he can’t get there fast enough and he doesn’t have the ability to do it fast enough anyway

he’s like an ok imposter?

idk like there’s not much to say for jason

wears purple (because camp jupiter. yes he’s that boring)

hazel

y’all

hazel is

a fucking RUTHLESS imposter

and no one ever thinks it’s her

and she loves it

being the imposter is definitely her preferred role

always kills leo first

never kills jason cause she thinks it’s funny to watch him try to play

but she rarely sabotages

she just kills

if she does sabotage it’s the lights

because she’s smart

self reports all the time and tries to act traumatized by discovering a dead body so no one suspects her

she’ll always tell nico when she’s the imposter so they’ll pair up but he’ll always vouch and say it wasn’t her

she always wins as imposter

and when it’s revealed it’s her everyone is liked 😧

good crewmate

gets her tasks done and saves the crew when they’re sabotaged

wears purple (but bc she likes the color not cause of camp jupiter)

nico

pretends to hate this game but secretly loves it

doesn’t really care about being imposter or a crewmate he just likes to watch how everyone else plays/interacts

if he is the imposter he’ll never kill hazel

who he kills (in order): leo (just cause he’s annoying), jason, annabeth, reyna, percy, piper, frank, grover, (never hazel)

definitely makes random accusation because it’s funny

he’ll never say it but if annabeth kills him he doesn’t care and roots for her to win bc he loves annabeth

finds percy and annabeth’s banter super entertaining

if he’s not the imposter he definitely follows people around and freaks them out for fun (specifically jason, leo, frank)

good crewmate and always saves everyone’s asses

will call the emergency meeting to say he watched leo kill someone (which he didn’t) or just to be like “yo im hungry y’all want mcdonalds after this?” (they can’t even be mad and everyone definitely gets mcdonalds after)

wears black duh

reyna

mix of annabeth and hazel

super good at the game and definitely enjoys the killing

main difference between her and annabeth is that annabeth is more strategic whereas reyna just kills whenever she feels like it

that being said

she does kill jason first

then percy

definitely hesitates on killing annabeth because she likes her enjoys watching her try to figure out who it is

annabeth and reyna have an unspoken agreement that when reyna’s the imposter annabeth won’t say anything as long as reyna doesn’t kill her

i just love reynabeth ok

master at traveling the vents

if she’s a crewmate she follows around grover, frank, leo, and jason for fun

because she finishes tasks fast obviously

saves everyone’s asses when they get sabotaged

will randomly accuse leo when she has no idea who it is in the first round

(the girls all go along with it)

originally wears blue but she doesn’t wanna match with percy so she switches to white to match with annababe ❤️

grover

is so bad at the imposter it’s so funny

but him and percy always partner up and vouch for each other

but if percy’s the imposter and grover knows he’s very bad at keeping it a secret

and annabeth knows those two the best out of anyone so she always figures it out

sometimes she won’t say anything though because those two are dumbasses but they’re HER dumbasses

he’s so sweet and doesn’t like to kill

would rather sabotage

he’ll definitely lock the doors on people cause it’s funny

good crewmate

knows the map really well

never does the tasks to save the crew when their sabotaged cause it stresses him out

idk what else to say for him lmao

wears dark green

when there’s two imposters

best most dangerous duo: annabeth and reyna

deadliest duo: hazel and reyna

most chaotic duo: leo and piper

boring but funny duo: jason and frank

chaotic but cute and funny duo: grover and percy

funniest duo: percy and annabeth (because their banter on the side and the fact that percy gets distracted by how cool his gf is)

duo that bickers so nothing gets done: frank and leo

duo that doesn’t work together: jason and percy

duo that no one expected to be really good together: nico and annabeth

stealthiest duo: hazel and nico

duo that would expose each other: leo and percy

(i’m tagging @tridentgum because i remember you asked for this lmao)

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

Text

SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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