#so if you'd like to share this it would be greatly appreciated! <3
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There are many new friends on the archive, and many are young and have only known social media, which is why I wanted to say something!
Ao3 does not have an algorithm! It isn't a social media site, it's an archive.
Posting fics on Tumblr isn't the same as posting fics on Ao3
Ao3 is like a giant virtual bookshelf, and everyone is able to add their own stories to the bookshelf, all stored with different tags and different fandoms. Works are automatically sorted by newest to oldest, but filters, looking at bookmarks, and using the search function can change that.
Certain works are not pushed to the top like social media posts. More kudos and reads don't push a single work to more viewers by some algorithm. Unless otherwise filtered, works will be at the top of the page based on how recent it was posted.
Smaller fandoms get less views, less kudos, less bookmarks, and larger fandoms get more simply because of the number of people inside the fandom.
Ao3 is a giant virtual bookshelf- there is no algorithm, and there is no man behind the shelf pushing certain books forward.
Happy reading, and if you'd like to have more people notice a fic, why not share it with them! Send a dm to a fandom friend and it might turn into one of their favorite fics!
#ao3#archive of our own#organization for transformative works#i have admittedly only been a member of the committee for a couple of years BUT ive been a member on ao3 since i was much younger#and it took me a hot second to understand how ao3 works; so i wanted to write a lil post about it after seeing this comment#no shade or blame to the person who wrote this by the way!#after being on social media so much it's a completely understandable mistake and i totally get it#and in fandoms populated by younger ppl typically it's even more understandable!#so absolutely no hate no shade no passive aggressiveness#but i do think it is important to learn how the archive works#so if you'd like to share this it would be greatly appreciated! <3#okay have a good day sorry this post/tags became so long haha
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Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader
Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.
Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)
WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox
A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.
Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.
“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”
“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”
“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”
The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.
“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”
The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.
You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.
Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.
Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.
You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.
The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”
“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”
Finally.
Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.
However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side.
Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.
Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.
“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.
“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”
“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”
Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”
“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.
“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”
“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”
“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”
“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.
“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”
“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”
“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.
“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”
“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”
Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”
“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.
“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”
“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”
“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.
“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”
There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.
“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”
Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”
You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.
“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”
“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”
“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.
“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”
“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”
The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.
“God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.
“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”
“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.
“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”
“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.
“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”
“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”
“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”
“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”
He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.
You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.
“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.
You freeze; you’re caught.
We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”
“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”
“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”
Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.
“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”
“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”
“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.
“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”
“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”
He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.
You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts.
“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”
“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.
“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”
“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”
“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”
“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”
“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”
“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”
“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”
“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.
“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”
You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.
You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.
Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for.
“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”
It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.
A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.
He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.
“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.
“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.
He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips.
“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”
“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”
“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”
“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”
“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.
“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”
“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”
“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”
“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”
You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.
“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”
“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”
Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.
You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.
“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.
“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”
You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors.
“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”
“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”
He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.
When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.
He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.
“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”
You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.
“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”
You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.
“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.
“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”
He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.
He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.
“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”
“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”
“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”
“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.
He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.
Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.
You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.
His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.
You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue.
His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.
“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.
“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”
He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.
That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.
“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”
“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”
“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.
His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds.
His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.
He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.
“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”
“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”
Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.
Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of.
He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.
A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.
Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?”
At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.
“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”
“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”
“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”
“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”
You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”
You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.
“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.
“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”
“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.
“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”
“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”
You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.
Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.
You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.
“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”
“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”
“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.
“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.
“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”
“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”
“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss.
Typical.
You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.
“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”
Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.
“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard.
He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”
His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.
“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”
“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”
“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.
“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.
“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.
“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”
The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.
“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”
Would have.
You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.
“But Anakin…”
“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”
“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.
“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”
He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.
“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”
Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.
You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.
“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”
“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”
“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”
“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”
“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”
You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly.
His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.
“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”
“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”
You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.
“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.
“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.
“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”
He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.
You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.
He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”
He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.
“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.
His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.
“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling.
You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.
“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”
In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.
You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.
Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.
“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”
You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss.
“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”
A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.
He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other.
The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.
“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.
“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”
He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.
You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.
“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.
“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.
He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all.
He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.
“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”
“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I’ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”
“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”
Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him.
It’s too meticulous.
After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.
“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.
“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”
His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.
“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.
It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock.
His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.
He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface.
You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.
Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.
“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”
He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.
“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.
He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.
“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.
“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”
“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”
“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”
You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.
You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance.
He comes undone.
His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer.
You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans.
All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.
“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.
“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.
“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”
“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.
He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.
You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.
If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.
He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does.
His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.
Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..
“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.
His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.
His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.
“Do you regret it?”
You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.
He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.
“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.
“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”
“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”
“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring.
“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety. “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”
You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.
“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”
A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.
“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”
“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.
“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”
“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”
Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.
“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”
“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”
“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.
“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”
“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.
“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”
“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.
“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”
“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”
Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.
“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”
The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”
“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.
Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like.
“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”
Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”
“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”
Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod,
“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.
“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”
You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.
“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”
Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.
“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.
“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.
He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.
“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”
“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in.
You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle.
There is a shirt on your bed.
It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.
It’s Obi-Wan’s.
You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.
It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.
The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.
The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.
You and Obi-Wan.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan kenobi smut#obi-wan kenobi fanfiction#obi-wan kenobi imagine#obi-wan kenobi fluff#obi-wan kenobi oneshot#obi-wan kenobi one-shot#obi-wan kenobi one shot#obi-wan kenobi headcanon#obi-wan kenobi headcanons#obi-wan kenobi hcs#obi-wan kenobi hc#obi-wan kenobi fan fiction#obi-wan kenobi fanfic#obi-wan kenobi blurb#obi-wan kenobi drabble#obi-wan kenobi dialogue#obi-wan kenobi x y/n#obi-wan kenobi x you
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OKOKOK BUT LIKE
Your idea about a reader who doesnt like tea BUT still drinks it just to spend time with wrio, and then they come clean eventually PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE that boy would cry </3 i need someone to write this omfggg
GOTCHU GOTCHU I GOTCHU BABY
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
This, all of this, starts because you're too polite. Too polite to refuse your boss' offer of tea one afternoon after sorting through files together, even though you cannot stand the stuff.
It was because he was very kind about it, you reason to yourself. Not to mention it's widely known that he's very fond of the drink. How would he feel if you refused? One cup wouldn't hurt. It's just one cup.
But turns out that it was not, in fact, just one cup. A few days after forcing yourself to drink the tea without cringing, after you've once again found yourself sorting and organizing papers in his office, he asks if you'd like tea again. So you gulp. And you say yes. Like an idiot. And now you're knee deep in the lie that you're as into tea as he is.
It's not all bad, though. Though you had taken his invitation out of politeness at first, you had found that his grace is actually very fun to talk to. He's much less rigid than other employers in the past, and you'd even dare to say that the atmosphere during tea is rather friendly.
Wriothesley lets you talk his ear off about whatever has caught your fancy recently— whether it be a new book you've read, or some news you've heard from the surface, he always listens whenever you talk. He gives you his full attention, nodding and asking questions where it's appropriate, sometimes even sharing bits and pieces of harmless gossip from around the fortress, too. And over time... well, you've found that you've become more willing to grin and bear the taste of overpriced hot leaf water, if just to be able to hang out with him. He's funny, what can you say. And nice. And he seems interested whenever you talk. And it 's definitely a plus that he's easy on the eyes too.
But the problem is that there is this guilt that weighs in your chest whenever you come over for your regularly scheduled tea time (regularly scheduled tea time!!! archons, the lengths you're going just to hang out with him) that only grows when he proudly shows you whatever new tea he's acquired for the both of you to have.
Wriothesley always gets this excited gleam in his eye, like a dog with a stick, and you'd be a monster to stomp on that excitement. So you nod, you ooh and you ahh and you always compliment the tea after, pulling flowery words and pretty descriptions out of thin air because even if it's just flavored water to you, he likes it.
Doesn't stop you from feeling guilty, though.
"I'm telling you—" Wriothesley says one fateful meeting for afternoon tea. You've yet to even touch your cup, but he's practically already finished half of the teapot. "I don't mean to assume, but I really feel like Jurieu and Lourvine? I really feel like those two are seeing each other, and just using their work as a cover," he sighs, taking a sip of his tea. "Not that it's even an issue if they are, but— hey, you okay? You're looking a little... unsettled, there."
And it's probably true. You've been sitting and debating if today was finally the day you're going to come clean. You've been pinging the thought around in your head before you've even stepped into his office. Worn you lip and the inside your cheek with nibbles as you feared how bad it could go.
You've no doubt that you look bothered. Your hands are gripping the teacup so tightly you think you might accidentally crack it any second.
"I... I have to tell you something," you blurt out, not meeting his eyes. The abruptness of it leaves him blinking.
"Is it the tea? If it's not to your liking, i can find a different blend," he offers, and you groan.
"No! Wait— yes! I mean, yes it's the tea but it's not—" the words come out a mess, and you're flustered. "It's not the brew of the tea I don't like. It's just that... I... Idon'tliketeaperiod." It's a jumble of words, slurring together as you spit it out so fast you barely understand what you said yourself. But you said it! You finally said it— oh, you can feel the guilt come off you like a weight, and you slump back into the seat, exhausted by the sheer effort it took to say that.
Wriothesley's lips are parted, brows furrowed as he looks at you, clear confusion on his face. "You don't... like tea?"
You shake your head weakly. "Nope."
"At all?"
"At all."
He pauses, like he's trying to process the concept of it. Then he laughs a little, finishing his cup in one swig, and leans back against his chair. He looks a little defeated, a hand running through his hair, mumbling under his breath that, that sure wasn't what he expected to hear.
"You could have told me sooner, you know? I do have more than just tea down here in my office. I can't imagine how many weeks you've had to put up with it."
You groan, hiding your face in your palms and cringing, because talking like this was not your definition of fun. Telling the guy you found attractive (despite his penchant for the worst tasting drink in Teyvat) why you stuck around was not what you had readied yourself to do today.
"I know," you say. "I just... It was to be polite at first, but overtime i found hanging out with you fun. You're nice to be around, and to talk to, and you listen to me talk even if I ramble. And..." you sigh, one hand coming to rub your temple, still hiding your face away in embarrassment. "And I don't know— drinking all that leaf water was worth being able to be around you. Or something. Ugh."
You're ready to be evicted from the office. For Wriothesley to toss you down the stairs and out his door or something. You're not expecting him to laugh, to sport a blush high on his cheeks. He clears his throat when you look at him in surprise, but he can't wipe the small smile from his face.
"Honestly, when you said you had something to say, I had expected it to me more along the lines of that," he admits, running a hand through his bangs. You're silent, still rather lost on what to do next, what to do now that the man you're smitten with had practically admitted to having wanted to hear a confession out of your mouth.
Wriothesley reaches across the table and gently plucks your untouched teacup out of your hands, bringin it to his own lips. You can still see his smile behind it brim.
"Well, if you still want to see each other, I'm not opposed. How does this weekend sound? We can go someplace that serves more than just 'leaf water', so you can enjoy your drink too."
The blood rushes to your face and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. A date. Was he asking you out on a date?
"Yeah, sure," You respond when you get your mouth to work. Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest— you're excited. "This weekend works."
And Wriothesley's eyes gleam. He sets the teacup down, and that smile is back on his face. "Sounds good, sweetheart."
#astronetwrk#「 🐈⬛ 」 catcze.desserts#wriothesley x reader#genshin impact x reader#cw gn reader#genshin impact#wriothesley
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HIIII SALEM i hope ill be ur first req :3 can i have making out w TA geto in like your dorm room or smtg - i love that secretive/will they get caught dynamic <3 u can make it a little steamy but all in all i just want geto to relax after stressing over his masters 😇
contains: teaching assistant!geto, established relationship, afab!reader, making out, some suggestiveness, shoko cameo, pet names (my love, angel, baby)
word count: 1.1k
a/n: WAAAAH i finally got to writing this!!! i hope you're doing well seline, i miss you :( reminder that my requests are still open, please read my rules!!
reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!!
minors and ageless / blank blogs will be blocked immediately!
sugu bear <3: can i come over?
sugu bear <3: need ur mental support for submitting my thesis pls
you smiled at your phone, responding with ‘ofc baby get ur ass over here rn’ in light speed.
ever since he started his position as a teaching assistant, he has been even more stressed as usual. there was no doubt that he was enjoying it, sometimes even taking over the class for the day and doing the meticulous work of grading essays and tests. however, it would take up a lot of his free time and subsequently, your time together as well.
sure, you'd see him on campus and in your shared classes, sneaking in as much physical contact as possible. but you missed spending actual time with him. watching movies, cooking together, going on dates, you name it. you got used to it, but sometimes you would feel a bit lonely. so you were elated to hear him coming over.
even better, your roommate shoko was out on a date with her girlfriend so you’d have the dorm to yourself. getting all giddy, you decided to tidy up a little for your boyfriend.
just a short time later, there was a knock on your dorm door and you rushed to see your sweet suguru standing there. he had a nervous smile on his face, his laptop in one hand and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.
“this is all i could get, hope you like it,” he murmured. you flung yourself onto him, inhaling his familiar scent. oh, how you missed him.
you squealed, “are you kidding, sugu? these are beautiful, you didn't have to get me anything!”
his smile grew wider, walking you backwards into your living space and closing the door behind him with his foot. you parted from him, placing a kiss onto his plump lips. he leaned into it, closing his eyes with a soft hum. soon enough, you broke the kiss and took the flowers to put them in a vase.
while you were rummaging through your kitchen, suguru made himself comfortable on your couch. he opened the laptop and got to work, finishing up his thesis. he had stressed about it for so long, he was scared about making typos so he read over it until his eyes burned. you soon joined him, curling into his side as you watched your boyfriend add the last finished touches to the document.
after a few minutes of comfortable silence, suguru let out a heavy sigh.
“want me to submit it for you?” you offered when you saw his shaky hand hovering over the touchpad, the mouse set on the big red submit button.
he quietly spoke: “you know what? yeah, i’d like that. no way to back out now.”
you took the laptop from him, setting it on your lap and clicking the button. as the confirmation screen lit up, you closed the window and laptop to put it on your coffee table. turning towards him, you noticed how pale he had gotten over the course of the last few minutes.
“are you okay?” you giggled, tucking one of the stray hairs behind his ear.
he sighed, “yeah, it's finally done.”
he pulled you on top of him, making you squeal. you settled on his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders and playing with the hairs on his nape. suguru placed his large hands on your waist, their weight and warmth comforting against your skin. you squirmed a little to get more comfortable as he leaned back with a sigh. with his eyes closed, his long lashes cast tiny shadows on his cheeks.
opening his eyes after a few breaths, suguru looked up at you with adoration in his eyes. a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, mirroring yours.
“i'm proud of you, sugu. you've worked so hard. i was worried you’d get grey hair by the time i’d see you next.”
his heart thumped in his ribcage, threatening to burst out.
“don't i deserve a reward then, my love?” he mused. you chuckled, knowing what he was insinuating.
you leaned forward to gently cover his face in kisses. starting at his forehead, going down his warm cheeks and sharp nose and lastly, his lips. they were roughed up from all the biting but still plump against yours. after a few light pecks, suguru gave you a small appreciative hum, his hands sliding around to your back to pull you closer to him. the warmth of his body made you melt into his touch, your chest pressed against his as close didn't seem close enough. your eyes fluttered close, a small whine getting stuck in your throat as suguru’s lips locked onto yours.
his tongue swiped over your bottom lip and you obediently opened your mouth, gently pulling at his now disheveled hair. he moaned quietly, his scalp tingling from your ministrations. your tongues swirled around each other in a tentative dance, the air getting hotter by the minute. spit was exchanged, deep inhales through the nose as you got drunk on each other. one of his hands settled on the side of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further.
shivers ran down your spine at his gentle touch, the pit in your tummy getting hotter and hotter. your hips started gyrating on top of his needily, feeling how hard he was getting just from your lips on his own. a low rumble erupted from his chest at that, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly. guiding you gently, he bucked his hips up to your heated core, making you part from him with a whimper.
a small string of spit connected your mouths, heavy lidded eyes watching as you gripped his shoulders for leverage as your hips grew a mind of their own.
“missed you s’much,” you whined, placing your forehead against his. you were watching how he parted his lips to pant as your clothed core rubbed against his boner so deliciously.
he let out a small moan, “missed you too, angel. i’m sorry for neglecting my poor baby.”
his mouth stretched into a grin as he watched you use him to get yourself off, desperate to feel his skin on yours. suguru slid his hands under your shirt, drawing figure eights against your blazing skin.
you could feel yourself getting wetter and coming closer to your peak when at the cusp of it, a harsh knock resonated through the living room. following that, shoko’s voice came muffled through the door.
“can we come in or are y'all still humping each other?”
tags: @sttoru @kizoken @prncessrindou and thank you to @screampied and @redskyvenus for proofreading!!! :3
© kentophilia 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate or steal any of my works.
#༄ storybook#me 🤝🏼 our favs bringing us flowers#suguru geto#geto suguru#geto fluff#suguru fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#geto x reader#geto x you#suguru x reader#suguru x you#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk geto#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#divider by cafekitsune
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Brick by Brick 🎄
Leon S. Kennedy x reader
A/N: The holiday season is upon us!!! This is the first fic for my Christmas event, Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ <3 feel free to check that out if you're curious who and what's to come 🤭
~ Fi 🐝
Warnings: pure, whole hearted X-mas fluff, Mentions of readers mom, healing Leon's inner child <3
Word count: 2.2k
Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫
December was finally here. The most wonderful time of the year, undoubtedly. You'd been waiting all year for this. The lights, the beautiful tunes, and the atmosphere full of love and warmth. To say you were ecstatic was an understatement, the excitement had been burning in your veins since Halloween ended.
You were itching to pull out every box filled with Christmas decorations and absolutely drown your apartment in red, green and gold. Your Christmas PJs were already laid out, same as Leon's, and you'd jump him with holiday cheer the second he came home. You'd already prepared some apple cider and a few cookies. It would be such a nice evening, you knew it in your heart.
The Christmas songs would fill your apartment, the spicy apple cider and cookies would drench the room in nostalgic aromas. You'd decorate all the cabinets and tables while Leon would hang up the garlands around the living room. It was always a dream you had, decorating your little home with Leon. And since it was you we're talking about, you also got him a little something. An early present, if you will.
There was this tradition in your home, your Mother had started it one year and from then on it was something you'd enjoyed greatly. It might not be the most festive of activities but it reminded you of home, and you desperately wanted to share it with Leon. Your Mom made a habit of building Lego sets together as a family. Sitting around the table with a cup of cider, yuletide tunes playing in the background whil you were constructing your little plastic house brick by brick.
You were a little hesitant to share it with your lover since the anxiety of it being seen as childish always gnawed at your heart. But you knew him, he wouldn't judge you for something like that. He would appreciate that you wanted to share a part of your childhood with him, you were sure of it. You had gotten yourself a gingerbread house set, it was better than a real one in many ways; more fun to make, sturdier and there was no mess after.
But what you were really excited about was for Leon to see the set you had gotten him. It was a police station. As soon as your eyes landed on the set while you were scrolling through the internet, you knew it was perfect. You had warned him about a surprise so he wouldn't be caught off guard.
Your mother had an entire village of Lego houses that she'd rebuilt every year, and you couldn't wait to start your own little village with Leon. He was actually quite impressed when your mom proudly showed him last Christmas. He didn't stop talking about it for weeks after, it was quite endearing. If you could heal his inner child at least a little with this, it would be worth it.
You'd already changed into your PJs. You would've exploded if you hadn't gotten something plaid on your body. It was a long sleeve shirt with gingerbread men and women doing holiday activities. Ice skating, shopping, building a snowman. Your name was embroided in gold on the front.
The pants were a red and gold plaid, matching the embroided. It was a gift from your grandmother. She adored Leon and said that when she saw the matching sleep attire, she just had to get it. It was him who made sure they were always ready when Decemeber was around the corner.
Even if he wouldn't admit it, there was something about the holidays that made him lower his guard and just be himself. Not a rookie, not agent Kennedy, just Leon.
The jingling of keys made you jump up from your place at the table where you had been waiting patiently. Leon stepped inside with a huff, closing the door behind him. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold as he dropped his bag on the floor.
"Hi, Baby-" he was cut off by a grunt when you smashed into him, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. "I missed you." Your words were muffled into his chest. He chuckled before leaning down to press a kiss to your head. "I missed you too, but I was only gone for 3 days." He stroked his hands down your back. "I know, I know, but it's extra special this time! We have lots to do, come on." You beamed, making him stumble as you dragged him behind you.
"Slow down, we've got all evening." He chuckled, still letting himself be pulled along by you.
You and Leon stood in the middle of the living room, admiring your work. The space was much cozier now, decked with and lights and ornaments. "We really outdid ourselves this year, huh?"
"But we need to decorate, and we have to make a shopping list for presents too, and then I have a surprise for you, and-" You stopped yourself. Leon had just come home, and you were already bombarding him with all the things you wanted to do. You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I've just been waiting all year for this." You gave him a bashful smile. Leon cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. All of your worries faded away. The chains of anxiety and embarrassment shattered the second you felt his touch.
"Don't be sorry. You're cute when you're all excited, you know." He teased, taking off his jacket and shoes. A blush settled on your cheeks. "Your PJs are on the bed, I'll heat up the apple cider, okay?" He nodded with a soft hum and you pressed a kiss to his still cold cheek.
You squealed in excitement when you thought Leon was out of reach to hear you, but you were wrong. He smiled to himself when he saw you being so happy over something so simple. He loved you so much, you made his life brighter.
The Christmas songs were already on, and you were stirring the apple cider while humming to the melody. "What's this surprise I've been hearing about, hm?" Two big arms engulfed you, wrapping themselves around your waist. You swayed from side to side, pulling him with you. You poured the cider into some very cheesy Christmas mugs and set them down on the coffee table.
"Decorating first, then you'll get your surprise, Baby." You smiled, kneeling on the floor to start unpacking the boxes. "I can't believe you're making me wait. You've been excited about this surprise for months!" He argued playfully, of course. "Shut it and come help me with the garlands, big guy!" You huffed. You weren't tall enough to hang them up yourself, but you had your tall and strong boyfriend who would do anything for you.
And the little perk of watching his shirt ride up and his biceps flex definitely didn't go unappreciated. "S'not my fault you came out so small." He grinned, ruffling your hair as he passed you. You pouted and continued getting out all of your decor from the boxes while quietly grumbling. Maybe he's just unnaturally tall?! You're not small, you're perfectly average height! Okay, maybe you were on the low end of the spectrum, but still. To be fair, those garlands have never been up faster.
Not to shabby, having a tree for a boyfriend.
"Time for the present!" You exclaimed, already dragging him back to the table. You were quiet strong for your height, you've almost knocked him off of his feet once or twice.
You glanced over to Leon who had you pressed against his side. "Yeah, but's gonna be a pain to take down.." he sighed.
"Let me enjoy my Christmas craze, will ya?" You huffed. Leon put his hands up defensively and laughed.
"Alright, alright."
You refilled the apple cider and then went to grab the surprise. You brought out the big box and Leon's brows raised both in shock and curiosity. You heaved it onto the table before taking a seat next to him.
"Christ, Honey, what's in that thing? You do know it's not Christmas yet, right?" Leon chuckled, turning the box in all directions. "Obviously. But I really wanted to get you this. Besides, can't I get my boyfriend presents regardless of the time of year?" You smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He looked over at you with a buttery soft expression.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"Once or twice." You grinned, before returning a soft smile. "Go ahead, open it." You encouraged him. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. You really hoped he liked it. It was a bit of a risky situation since you were worried it might open an old wound. He tore into the festive wrapping paper, revealing the gift inch by inch.
You were slightly squirming in your seat, both from anxiety and excitement. He examined the now revealed surprise. His brows furrowed but you saw the exact moment it clicked in his brain when he realized what it was. His eyes lit up like the ones of a little boy on Christmas morning, and a smile tugged at his lips.
Leon looked over to you and you caught the smallest glimpse of a shimmer of tears in his beautiful blue eyes. "Baby, I.. Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me- you have no idea how much that means to me." He said it with so much vulnerability and love that you felt like your heart was about to give out.
"Why wouldn't I share it with you? You're my favorite person. Let me tell you, my mom was thrilled when she heard about this." You chuckled, making him snort in response. His expression softened slightly, taking your hands and guiding you from your chair into his lap.
His hands wrapped around you tightly as his head fell to the crook of your neck. "I love you. You're truly something special and I don't intend of ever letting you go." His heartfelt confession sent shivers up your spine, yet your heart has never felt warmer. Your grip around his neck tightened as you pulled him closer to your chest.
"Oh, Leon.." there was a slight crack in your voice that you had tried so hard to suppress but failed. "I love you so much. You deserve the world and so much more." You whispered into his ear lovingly, you could feel him smile against your skin. You held eachother, wrapped in a warm and loving embrace a hallmark movie could only wish of replicating.
He felt safe with you. You were his great love, his home, the keeper of his heart. He meant every word when he said he won't ever let you go.
"Please don't say that."
You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep in his comforting embrace, so you decided that now was the perfect time to pull yourself from his arms. You were dead set on putting some plastic bricks together today, and if you regrettably had to leave your lovers embrace for it, so be it.
"You wanna get started on building that thing?" You grinned, leaning back so you could see his face. "Hell yeah, I do. Let's get bricking."
You were impressed with him, though. He had never done it before but it came to him so easily. "Well, I'm very good with my hands, as you know." He smirked, giving you wink before continuing to attach the blocks to eachother. "Can't argue with the truth, I suppose." You mumbled, setting a brick on top of another.
Leon had gotten the hang of it pretty quickly. Although it might be a rather simple concept, you've seen great men fall to the tiny plastic pieces (your dad). Leon was quite the natural. It felt like in the blink of an eye, he had constructed half of the building.
"How are you so fast?! That's like half of it done!" You were sitting there with your sad little gingerbread foundation done, and he was putting up walls and furniture already.
Leon didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He had just placed the last block on his very own Lego police station. He looked over his work triumphantly, but when his gaze fell on you, he made an effort to look outside the window.
You were knocked out cold, softly snoring by his side. Your brick gingerbread house wasn't finished, the blocks were thrown across the table, and you were in the middle of it, looking as beautiful as ever to him.
But what scared him, though, was that the sun was starting to come up. He hadn't noticed how late, or early, it had gotten. He had gotten so lost in this simple pleasure it made him smile a bit. Leon couldn't help but think as he carried you to bed, to finally snuggle up and let his body rest.
You had stayed with him. The whole night you had stayed. You didn't leave when your eyelids got heavy or the intervals between your yawns got shorter. You stayed, and watched him with a smile. He realized that he wanted this with you. A life with you, one that he would spend with you until the very end.
You were definitely getting promoted from girlfriend to wife next year. It made him realize what love could and should be like. He never thought it was in the cards for him, truly. But he couldn't be more grateful to and for you. He wanted to build a future with you.
And he would, brick by brick.
#bumblebeesfromvenus#FI'S CHRISTMAS MARKET ゜✭・.・✫#resident evil leon#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x fem!reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy fluff
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Please please please AKJason x reader where he's usually a big grump, but when his s/o starts to feel abdominal pain and can't keep food down, he gets all protective and caring. They spend the week together being all lovey dovey (reader even wears his clothes..) this can lead to smut or more fluff, writers choice!!
(also I've been having these bad stomach aches so that is why I ask.. thank you!! 😭)
AN: this is adorable😭 i hope your stomach feels better soon!! :( this is pretty much my first fic..feedback is greatly appreciated!!
I’ve got you.
pairing: jason todd x (gn) reader
warnings: none, pure fluff :)
you were lying in you and jason's shared bed in your tiny apartment. the stomach aches you'd been feeling for a few days haven't ceased and you had no idea what to do about them. pain medicine didn't seem to work so you resorted to lying in bed for most of the day. groaning, you buried yourself more underneath the covers, the blanket swallowing you whole.
the front door had opened and you already knew it was your grumpy boyfriend. his heavy foot steps were heard around the apartment as he groaned and muttered curses under his breath. he must've had a bad day, you can tell because he didn't shout an "i'm home!" like he usually does on a good day. stumbling into the room with half of his armor off, his eyes settle on you- or rather, the you shaped lump.
"babe" he grumbled, trying to get your attention. you only let out a "hnn" in response, trying to bury yourself impossibly more into the mattress. he sat down on the other side of the bed after he rid himself of the rest of his armor. 'hey, what's wrong? talk to me" he whispered. you loved this side of him that only you got to see the soft jason that would move mountains for you or go get your favorite snacks at 3 am. everyone else got the grumpy closed off militia leader jason, but you had a special place in his heart.
a whine was the only thing that left your mouth, it felt impossible to even speak with this goddamn stomach ache. he scooted closer to you, rubbing your back through the blankets you buried yourself in. "talk to me sweetheart, what's got you like this, hm?" your head peeked out from the covers and jason found himself smiling a little at the sight of you. "tummy aches. they've been hurting really bad, can't eat" you mumbled out.
"why didn't you tell me, baby? i could've gotten you medicine or something. how long has this been happening?" "didn't want to bother you, jay. medicine doesn't work and it's been going on for a few days". he hummed for a second, trying to think of what to do. "i have something that'll help. can you turn around for me?" he asks sweetly. you groaned and turned your body so that you were facing him. your eyes were dull, dark circles more prominent and hair messy.
even though you looked like this, he still thought you were absolutely perfect. he smiled and then laid down next to you, cuddling you as you put your face in his chest. "i think this might help, don't you?" he asked with a small giggle. you nodded and miraculously, your stomach was feeling better. "feels a little better, jay. thank you" you sighed out, placing a kiss to his shirt covered chest. he only hummed in response and you both drifted off to sleep peacefully.
the next morning, you stirred awake with a yawn and jason was already staring at you with a small smile. "sleep good?" he asked. you nodded with a smile and kissed his cheek. "you really know how to make me feel better. are you magical?" you teased with a small giggle. "hmm maybe i am..let's get you in the shower and then you can eat, yeah?"
jason would always take care of you, that's what you loved most about him.
divider by @cafekitsune
#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd#dc x reader#dc fluff#jason todd fluff#hearttjason
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title - all that was necessary.
pairing - chuuya nakahara x reader
word count - 383
a/n at the bottom!
"i can't sleep"
A single message was all that was necessary for a certain Port Mafia executive to be summoned up to your residence. You'd think he was harder to just call up, right? Well, the engine being parked in front of your apartment certainly said otherwise. You stayed there enjoying the comfort of your bed, because you knew he'd come to you. He always did.
A single message was all that was necessary for there to be a shadowy figure at your window sporting a lopsided grin. It was all that was necessary for there to be a gloved hand knocking on your window at the high hours of the morning.
And a single knock was all that was necessary for you, sporting a tired grin in return, to get up and open the window and pull Chuuya Nakahara into a kiss. Gentle as ever, with your hands cradling his face and his hands finding purchase on your back. A few moments passed before you pulled away, seeing the wonder and love in your gaze mirrored in his own. More shared grins.
"Did you make me come here at 3 in the morning just to kiss me by your window?" He whispered with a small chuckle. You gave a coy smile before pulling him in. "Get in here before someone sees you. They'll think you're breaking in or something." You whispered instead, the executive now standing in your bedroom. He laughed softly before pulling you into another kiss, just as loving and soft as the first. He pulled away and stared at you, pure adoration shining in his eyes. You nodded toward your bed, a silent signal to go cuddle up and sleep. He took your hand and led you to lay down with him.
He wriggled, finding a comfortable position for himself and let you rest your head on his chest. He began to slowly press gentle kisses to your hairline, the motion comforting, inviting, and so so soft. Your eyes drooped, exhaustion finally hitting all at once.
"I love you."
He murmured softly, burying his face into your hair.
"I love you too, my Chuuya."
You whisper in turn.
And that was all that was necessary to get the two tired lovers to doze off, happily in each other's arms.
pumkin speaks: it's me again! and here's a little something i wrote. pretty short, maybe a little shitty, but we live and we learn, right? any feedback would be greatly appreciated, and so would reblogs and likes! i really want to get back into my little groove of writing. i honestly adore chuuya, and ik a lot of yall do too. i hope this is good enough for u guys, since there's a lot of super talented writers under these tags. well, til next time (hopefully soon)!
also lookie! i found a little divider online! its adorable!! credits to r0se-designs
#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara#x reader#pumkin writes
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A Vaggie or Carmilla x fem reader smut? If that’s okay!
A/N: Y'all I'm so sorry for the late responses. I had exams. T>T Anywayyys, I'll try grinding out all of the requests asaap.
Thank you so much for the request hyenalover2630. <3
Also, an unrelated sidenote my roommate (I live in the college dorms) is not so silently judging me for being a degenerate. But she's one as well, and besides the anime simping she simps for K-pop girls groups as well. (the two of us are the K-pop and metalhead roommates trope and it's hilarious). Anywayys, back to the degenerate shit everyone is here to read, hope you enjoy it.
Note: Still looking for someone to proofread the mess I write because I ain't letting my roommate read it. (she already peeps on my laptop I do not need further mortification). Feedback is greatly appreciated and welcomed.
========= ︻┳═一 =========
Carmilla x Fem!Reader (Smut shot)
Carmilla seems like a usually gentle lover, like, she'll make sure both of you end up satisfied by the end of your love-making.
That said, "usually" doesn't mean always. When she comes back home irritated she will make full use of having a lover to calm down (of course, with your enthusiastic consent; we love a respectful queen)
Depending on the nuances of annoyed versus mad, she will get you to do different things for her.
If she is mad, well, she doesn't want to risk hurting you, she is a powerful overlord after all, and as much as she respects you, she knows you are still weaker than her. So, when she is truly mad, she will ask you to bring her a drink and as she calms down sipping from her glass, she'd have you sit on your knees beside her chair, her free hand stroking your head. Once she's calmed down, she will absolutely cuddle in bed with you, as she tells you all about what happened that day.
If she is annoyed, more specifically, if you are the one to annoy her, well, she has multiple ways of shutting you up. Most of the time you'd end up with your head buried between her thighs, a toy shoved up your pussy as you struggle to concentrate on eating her out. (to be furthered on ;] )
Carmilla is the QUEEN of aftercare. No matter how little time she has until she has to get started on paperwork, you can bet your sweet little ass that she will pamper you. And in turn, you'll give her a back massage. (with how much she stands bent over paperwork her back hurts a lot, so when your hands rub the knots away, she can't help but let her more vulnerable side out, letting out small moans and grunts of relief as your hands to their magic)
The two of you mostly have sex in your shared soundproofed bedroom. Carmilla loves her daughters a lot, so she doesn't want to risk them hearing the two of you going at it. On a few occasions, the two of you would make out or at most do some over-the-clothes grinding in her office. Anywhere else is a nope, she has a reputation to uphold and it's already mortifying enough that Zestial caught the two of you making out in her office once. (that is a story for another time; let's just say it ended up with you flushing furiously and running out of Carmilla's office with a squeaked-out apology)
========= ︻┳═一 =========
The Smut-shot
You were laying on the couch grinning like a fool while spamming the hell out of Carmilla's phone with random texts, memes, pics, voice messages, calls, and gifs. Your lover (or as you have her on your phone: wifey) has been busy with work these last few days. The extermination counter shortening, the secret to killing angels, and her business were taking up a lot of her time as she was planning for the worst-case scenario. You understood why she was so stressed. After all, you loved her and you loved her daughters like they were your own children. You were scared for their safety as well. That said, right now you were more worried about Carmilla. She spent the last few nights in her office, planning out every possible and impossible situation. So, you decided to do what you do best: get her attention. And like the annoying idiot you could be, you decided to spam her until she had to come home.
Your wishes become a reality pretty quickly as Carmilla storms inside the room.
"Our room. Now." she says her eyebrows furrowed as she stomps towards your bedroom, her heels clacking as she walks.
You follow after her, giggling. As you close the door to your bedroom behind you she presses you against the wall, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss before you can get any excuses out of your mouth. Her hand slips under your pajama pants and panties, her fingers quickly finding your entrance as she wastes no time before burying one of her fingers inside of your cunt. The finger curls up pressing up against a sweet spot that makes you whine into the kiss, your hips wiggling as you try to get more of that feeling. Her other hand, however, pins your hips in place. Her finger still making back-and-forth motions inside of you Carmilla breaks the kiss looking at you with an annoyed look.
"I will not hear any words that are not a safeword out of you today. Alright? No whines, no pleads, no nothing. You will lay on the bed like a good girl, you will eat me out and if I feel like you deserve it, maybe I will let you cum. Am I understood, love?" she says pulling her hand out of your pants.
You nod with a pout as you go to lie down on the bed shrugging off your pants and blouse. Carmilla heads to one of your toy drawers pulling out a bullet vibrator. You glare at the toy like it personally offended you since it was one of the toys that had a broader range of vibrations. Aka, more ways for your lover to make you regret spamming the shit out of her phone.
You muffle a whine a she sticks up the lubed-out vibrator into your pussy, mock-glaring at her as she quickly retracts her hand from your folds. The moment she lays down on the bed you lay your head onto one of her thighs trying to give her your best kicked-puppy look. Laughing she strokes your hair motioning you forward towards her folds as she starts up the vibrator.
"You know there is no chance of me falling for that sweetheart. Now, get to it before I decide that you being a crying mess is my new favorite look on you," she says her hand brushing off a stray strand from your forehead.
You kiss your way up her thighs, giving them small butterfly kisses and soft bites, making your way to her pussy, pressing a few soft kisses to her clit before pressing your tongue between her folds your tongue expertly running up and around her hole before moving your way back up to her clit lavishing it with attention. Apparently, you still being able to have some technique to your eating out was not a good thing since Carmilla suddenly turned up the vibrator to the max. You cry out, your voice muffled between her thighs. You struggle to keep your composure licking and sucking desperately at her folds your head becoming a fuzzy mess as Carmilla keeps altering the settings of the vibrator. You lap at her messily, your teary eyes looking up at her, small whining noises leaving your mouth. She smiles at you, her face flushed from pleasure, her hand grabs the back of your head pushing your head up toward her clit, and like a starving person you latch onto it licking and sucking desperately. Her thighs squeeze around your hand as she cums, turning off the vibrator before you can do the same. Carmilla pants smirking as she sees your teary-eyed face. She pulls you up pushing your head between her breasts. Pulling out the vibrator she replaces it with her fingers massaging your clit before two of them find their way inside of you. She tilts up your head kissing you as her fingers quickly bring you to your own orgasm. Panting you lay your head on her chest as she cuddles you.
"I know I have been busy with work darling, but you can always say you want to spend time together instead of blowing up my phone." Carmilla mutters out sleepily her days of constant work finally catching up to her.
You nod pressing a quick peck to her lips as you hug her, her warm body lulling you to sleep.
#hazbin hotel x reader#x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel carmilla#carmilla carmine#carmilla x reader
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I LOVE LOVE LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH!!!!! seeing your fic reqs r open, could i maybe get some (platonic) headcanons of hobie w a reader who views him as an older brother? Looking up to him, copying him (like things he says, copying his accent without realizing, making the same gestures he does, etc) generally seeing him as family even if it's not blood related!! maybe the reader also stays with him due to like, their dimension collapsing or something like that just to throw in some angst!!! ty have a nice day:3
HELLOOOOOOO ooo, i love this <:)) thank you for the permission to add angst here <333 ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!!!!!!
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
hobie brown with a sibling figure!spider person!reader headcanons
hobie's honored to have you think of him as an older brother, as family–especially if you didn't have the nicest or most well-off family, he would want to protect you, keep you company, be your home away from home.
he has nothing but utter adoration and respect for you as a person, because hobie knows that not every spider person out there has the best life–him included–and he knows that you've had your fair (or unfair) share of tragedies in life and he wants to keep you safe from all of that, or at least be there to comfort you when you're struggling.
he'd sneak you out of your personal quarters in the spider society even when it's lights out already, he'd sneak you some food you like when you miss home or don't feel like eating the food in the cafeteria, and he'd always stand up for you when you're being scolded by the higher-ups at the society.
he finds it really cute when you copy his accent or way of speaking, it makes him crack up every time. he likes that when he's upset, you talk to him in the manner he does the best you can and just... make him chuckle with how butchered it sounds and tell you that's not how he sounds while stifling a laugh in spite of the hurt, disappointment, or anger he was feeling before that.
when you subconsciously start speaking like he does randomly, to him and to other people, he laughs aloud while you're just confused as to why he's laughing. he tells you that's an actually good impression of him, when you don't realize you were impersonating him, and you embarrassed/flustered face just makes it all the more cute and funny for him.
you both dunk on miguel when he's not looking, especially if the two of you share the same rebellious sentiments. you both make fun of him and other simple minded people in your lives, it helps relieve you of stress and gets a good laugh out of you both.
he loved visiting your dimension and just seeing all the fun things you had going on for you there, and the one thing he wants to do with you while there is take you to the park. you'd ask him why, but he just takes your hand and guides you to the swing sets, and tells you that–as your honorary big brother–he has the duty of swinging you high up and until you scream to be brought down.
he loves going on the merry-go-round with you and just spinning you until you're both dizzy as hell and wobbling, though he catches you when you're about to fall, only to fall down himself–just breaking your fall.
when you end up showing at his place one day out of the blue, horrified and spent, just breathing heavily and being despondent to his questions of what happened to you, he doesn't pry any more and just brings you into his place, trying everything he can to make you comfortable.
after you find the courage to tell him your universe had collapsed, he feels his own heart sink as he extends his sympathy towards you. he offers his ears to be the ears that'll listen to you, his shoulder for you to cry on, and his place to be your place now, too.
he gets concerned for you after you end up not being yourself for a while, being a little too quiet and unresponsive when he speaks to you. he feels saddened about you losing everything and everyone you love, and knowing that you're the only survivor from your universe that had countless people... it hurt you, which made you recluse, and made hobie feel worried about you.
he can't reassure you that everything will be back to what it once was, but he can assure you that he'll do everything in his power to make everything feel a little less painful and scary for you. he'll keep protecting, comforting, and being with you until you're okay, even if that day may never come. he's gonna be here for you until the multiverse collapses, he'll be there for you no matter what, even if he's only holding on to a sliver of his life after protecting you the best he can–because he's your big brother hobie, and he won't let anybody hurt his beloved younger sibling, his family.
tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray
#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown fluff#hobie brown angst#hobie brown fanfiction#atsv#atsv hobie#atsv fluff#atsv angst#atsv imagines#spiderverse#spider punk#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse fluff
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Wizarding World ➵ Nsfw Alphabet
ʚ character ɞ harry james potter x nb!reader
ʚ warnings ɞ mentions of sex and sexual preferences, breeding, unprotected sex, use of sex toys, masturbation, etc.
ʚ notes ɞ this was surprisingly really fun to write! my inbox is open to anyone who would like to request specific characters or nsfw prompts. i'll be writing nsfw alphabets for most of the HP characters eventually. reblogs/favourites are greatly appreciated <33 (all characters written are 18+!!)
A = Aftercare (What happens after sex?)
Harry LOVES to cuddle with you after sex, he absolutely craves the skin on skin contact and doesn't care in the slightest if you're both sweaty or half asleep already. He'll place gentle kisses on your skin wherever he can touch and murmur how great you were into your ear just to put your mind at ease.
B = Bodyparts (Their favourite part of you)
Harry absolutely adores your thighs. He's definitely a thigh fucker. It doesn't matter how big or small your thighs are, he'll grab them whenever he gets the chance. He loves laying his head on your thighs, sometimes even going as far as biting/marking them when he's between your thighs. Overall he's just completely infatuated with your thighs!
C = Cum (And anything to do with it)
He tends to try and avoid being messy most of the time BUT sometimes he just can't help himself when you're so willing to let him fill you up or even cum all over you. He loves watching you swallow and lick up his cum after he orgasms, it turns him on so much just to think about it. He may not look like it but he has A LOT of cum to share so be aware of the potential mess it could make.
D = Desires (What sexual fantasies do they have?)
I wouldn't say that Harry is the kinkiest person ever but he certainly has a few fantasies he'd like to try with you someday. He's particularly fond of the idea of fucking you on/over his desk at work, the risk of being caught by anyone walking past his office would drive him crazy in the best way possible and it's one of those "I shouldn't be doing this but it feels so good" type of scenarios. You should definitely visit him at work more often.
E = Experience (Do they know what they're doing?)
Harry isn't as experienced as you'd expect the "chosen one" to be — sure, he's practically the most famous person in the wizarding world but he's quite traditional and often misunderstands flirting for friendliness. I'd say he probably only slept with 1-3 people prior to meeting you but he makes sure to communicate with you and loves learning what you like and dislike, he takes personal pride in making you orgasm.
F = Favourite Position (What do they like?)
He's definitely a missionary type of guy. He loves the intimacy that comes with it and he especially loves being able to see your reaction to his thrusts not to mention how easier it is to kiss you this way. As I've mentioned before, he CRAVES skin on skin even after sex so this is certainly a win-win for him. Even if he's just grinding against you or getting you off, he loves being on top of you while he does it.
G = Goofy (How serious are they during sex?)
Harry tends to take sex a little more seriously than others but that doesn't mean he can't have a laugh once in a while. Sometimes he'll find himself giggling if you two accidentally bump foreheads with each other or if one of you makes a particularly amusing or unusual noise. He'd never laugh at anything you could consider to be embarrassing but he loves the little moments where you both pause to giggle at each other when something amusing does happen in the moment. Not taking yourselves too seriously is what truly makes sex all the more enjoyable.
H = Hair (How groomed are they?)
Harry isn't much of a groomer because it's virtually impossible to constantly manage his hair growth, even with the help of magical potions. He's quite hairy in the 'downstairs department' and has a quite impressive snail-trail but he does make efforts to keep himself clean and manageable for you. In addition to this, he doesn't have any qualms about your hair growth either and tends to enjoy the more natural look anyway, as long as you're comfortable w/ it.
I = Intimacy (How romantic are they during sex?)
Harry can be very romantic during sex when he needs to be, sometimes it can feel clinical if you're both busy and don't have time to put in anymore effort but he always tries to go out of his way to make an impression on you. He goes all out during holidays like valentines day or your birthday, decorating the room with candles and rose petals, setting up a warm bubble bath that you both can share and enjoy yourselves in. Sometimes he'll involve different foods like whipped cream, chocolate sauce, different fruits to eat off each other but his biggest romantic gesture is his praise. He loves telling you how good you feel, how proud he is of you and how well you're doing, etc. Anything to make you feel good.
J = Jacking Off (Masturbation Headcanon)
It depends on the week he's having to be honest and also if you're available to help him with his needs. If the week has been difficult and or stressful, he tends to masturbate between 2/3 times a week. That seems to be his average, but it can fluctuate.
K = Kinks (Things they get sexual pleasure from)
As I've mentioned before, Harry isn't the kinkiest of people but he does have his fair share of quirks. His most riskiest kink would have to be breeding, it just drives him crazy to think of filling you up with his cum, watching it drip out and getting a rush from the lack of protection, even if it can't result in pregnancy. He also loves the risk of being caught, although he tends to be quite conservative sometimes he gets the chance to have sex with you at an inappropriate time, again the idea of someone catching the two of you in the heat of the moment drives him crazy in the best way.
L = Location (How adventurous are they?)
Harry isn't very adventurous when it comes to sex but sometimes, if the moment allows, he can be quite spontaneous. The riskiest place he'd fuck you is at his office, or in the bathroom at a friends house. The idea of having to be secretive and quick to avoid being caught is something that turns him on greatly.
M = Motivation (How high is their sex drive?)
I'd say that Harry has a moderate level sex drive, he wouldn't say no if you were to ask (unless it's at an inappropriate time or he's exhausted) but he also wouldn't be upset if neither of you had sex for a week or two, or even longer depending on the circumstances. It depends on how you're both feeling.
N = No (What are things they wouldn't do?)
Harry wouldn't do things that could seriously hurt either of you, in his eyes no amount of pleasure is worth risking your lives and safety. I'd say things that could restrict your breathing, cause scars/pain/blood as well as things that involve dubious-consent are all no-no's for him. He doesn't like hurting you or being hurt either.
O = Oral (What are their preferences?)
Harry wouldn't say no to receiving but he'd have some worries about giving, as long as you're communicating with him and being vocal about what feels good and what doesn't then he'll feel a lot better. When he's in the mood for it — he's REALLY in the mood for it, he'll slurp and lick and swirl his tongue all day long. Sometimes he'll use his hands if you're needing more stimulation but most of the time his tongue is good enough to use. He also loves when you go down on him, he likes the feeling of being deep-throated but he wouldn't force you to do it if you're not comfortable.
P = Pace (Do they prefer to be fast or slow?)
Harry prefers to use a slower and deeper pace but he isn't afraid to go faster or harder when you ask for it — sometimes in the heat of the moment he uses his initiative to decide what would be best, but he'll often ask you how you want it. "want me to go faster, baby?" etc. He tends to try and be as gentle as possible.
Q = Quickies (Do they do this and if so how often?)
Harry enjoys quickies but only when he's in the mood to do something a little more riskier. For example, if you're at his office or in the bathroom, he'd take pleasure in having a quickie with you to see how fast he can make you cum without getting caught and vice versa. He can get quite competitive sometimes.
R = Risks (Are they up for experimentation?)
As I've mentioned before, he does like a bit of risk when it comes to sex but not all the time. He's definitely up for experimenting with you but there are things he will be unwilling to try. He would ask you about your boundaries beforehand and make sure to respect your decisions as you should with his own. I think he'd be interested in trying different positions, different methods of dirty-talking and even trying out a few different toys.
S = Stanima (How long can they last?)
Harry tends to finish between 5-15 minutes, his average would likely be around 5-7 minutes depending on the circumstances. If you're both trying to be quick for whatever reason you have then it's likely to last between 3-5 minutes. If you're both trying to last longer then it can reach upwards of 30 minutes to an hour (although most of this would be spent on foreplay and exploring each other)
T = Toys (Do they use them and if so what are they?)
Harry would be open to using toys like vibrators, dildos (although nothing too big), he'd also be open to using some kind of wrist restraint like handcuffs or rope if he knew how to loosen or remove them. He'd also enjoy the use of a blindfold on special occasions.
U = Unfair (Do they tease or do they like to be teased?)
Harry isn't much of a teaser unless he's feeling particularly mischievous. He does get whiny and easily frustrated when you tease him, and he enjoys being teased over teasing you. His favourite kind of tease which he often inflicts upon himself is watching you change your clothes around him. He finds it hard to resist touching you when you're hardly wearing anything around him. If he wants to make himself last longer in bed, he tends to pull out before he can cum, which usually results in the two of you being teased/edged in the process.
V = Volume (How vocal are they during sex?)
Harry isn't the loudest when it comes to sex but he does get more vocal if he's in the privacy of his own home, he'll moan and whine if you encourage him but he loves to hear your voice and often doesn't want to intterupt your moans or words in the moment.
W = Wild Card (Random Nsfw Headcanon)
Harry definitely has a second favourite position which would be doggy-style. In this position he can absolutely lose control of himself, clinging onto your waist and hips whilst he feverishly pounds into you from behind. He wants to be as close to you as possible, even in this position, so he often ends up hunching over to hold you from behind, moaning and whimpering into your ear and occasionally biting/marking your back and shoulders.
X = X-Ray (What do they like to wear?)
Harry tends to wear loose fitting boxers instead of tight fitting ones, however during sex he likes to wear little to nothing unless he needs you so bad he can't be bothered to take off his clothes.
Y = Yearning (How long can they go without sex?)
Harry can go weeks without sex, months even if there's a reason why you can't participate. Although he enjoys having sex with you, if you're unable to participate and explain why (if he doesn't already know) then he'll respect your decision. If neither of you have sex for extended periods of time, he'll just masturbate.
Z = Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep after?)
Harry tends to fall asleep quicker if the two of you are able to cuddle after sex but it doesn't drain him completely. Sometimes he'll stay awake to talk to you, or if it happens during the day he'll take a nap if it's absolutely necessary. But generally speaking he can stay awake after sex for hours depending on the circumstances.
@ʷⁱˢᵉʷᵒˡᶠᵖʳⁱⁿᶜᵉ
#harry potter smut#harry james potter x reader#harry james potter x you#harry potter x you#harry potter x reader#harry potter imagine#harry potter headcanon#harry james potter smut
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hiraeth
Bradley Bradshaw × Reader
wc - approx 2k
warnings - none!! a highly self indulgent fic, mainly fluff with a little angst thrown in.
disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!
comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
It was a common occurrence for you to fall into a deep slumber whenever you got into bed during the past few months. Work was hectic in the run up to christmas. People were just rude - coworkers and clients alike. This isn't how you imagined this would be how you'd be spending your time, you'd worked tirelessly at college in hopes of landing your dream job, but after several months of endless rejections and failed interviews, you'd managed to land a dead-end job.
At first you were ecstatic, but that initial joy was short-lived.
Your co-workers weren't welcoming to a newcomer, especially so close to the crazed holiday period, and the clients and customers, they just piled on their distaste for things out of your control, as if you had made all of the 'stupid and pointless' company policies. Realistically, it wouldn't have been such a tough adjustment if you had your boyfriend home with you, but life had seemed to be against your happiness this year.
Your loving boyfriend of the past two years was a naval aviator, and earlier in the year, he and his squadron were sent on a new deployment. What started out as a short 3 month deployment, was extended to a six month one. That was followed by another extended deployment. You didn't even get to see Bradley or any squadron members before they left again. They had missed you submitting your final college assignments, you receiving your final grades, they missed all the highlights of your senior year that you were so eagerly anticipating to share with them - Bradley especially. But what hurt the most is that they missed your graduation. Initially, you weren't even going to attend the ceremony, but at the insistence of the dagger squad, you'd planned out your outfit, booked tickets for everyone, to then be faced with no one to celebrate with when it rolled around, and a feeling of disappointment and frustration weighing heavily on your heart. You spent the day drowning your sorrows at the Hard Deck, Penny having taken pity on you, and kept your glass full on the house. You couldn't have cared less, despite how much you viewed Penny as a mother figure in your life.
The one person you wanted, needed, to be here, was somewhere in the middle of the ocean, unreachable.
It had been a major conversation point early on in your relationship with Bradley. Deployments were inevitable, especially if your relationship was going to last. The inconsistent contact would be more frustrating than knowing you are facing radio silence, whether voluntary or mandatory, despite Bradley's insistence you'd regret it once he was deployed. That is what you had naively said when Bradley got his first deployment papers a short six months into your relationship. Those initial six weeks flew by, spending it bonding with the rest of the dagger squad, soon being adopted into their tight knit dynamic. More so, Natasha and Javy dragging you out of your shared home with Bradley every few days, ensuring you ate and looked after yourself - on clear and strict instructions from Bradley.
Having no one this time around? Well, that was worse than you could ever imagined and you now understood why Bradley had been so insistent to talk this over extensively before he left, and why he insisted you'd crave what little contact you could get. Now, it seemed all too easy to give up and leave, like many military partners had done before. But you couldn't do that to Bradley - especially not in the middle of an extended deployment.
At the end of another emotionally and physically demanding shift, you'd decided to skip the tedious task of dinner, and just curl up in your bed, the emptiness you felt, pathetically you had tried to fill with several fluffy blankets, you knew deep down that you only bought more to end up snuggling with Bradley at the end of a long day. The mere thought of how he would teasingly complain at your evergrowing blanket collection was enough to send you sobbing into his pillow. His cologne had long since faded, and the little he had left behind on the dresser had been finished a few months earlier when you had initially kept spraying his pillow and the one hoodie he would always let you steal. He'd often leave it out for you on your bad days, and it was fair to say, you had been wearing it 75% of time he had been gone.
Your eyes and throat burned with overwhelming sadness, your heart ached in a way you never thought possible. This is how you'd imagined it would feel to die from a broken heart, a pain once so incomprehensible you were skeptical of its existence, now was your day to day life - and you still had Bradley in your life, you just hadn't seen him in nine months.
Tonight was far from the first night you'd spent crying yourself to sleep. Winter had just made it so much easier to cry your heart out and harder to drag yourself out of bed in the morning. Where you had once been met with a fresh breakfast shared with Bradley, you now faced an empty and cold house.
The cold wasn't just from the changing seasons, you were barely living - wake up, work, home, sleep and repeat. The once homely feel to your home, had faded the longer he was away.
The incessant beeping of your alarm was your nemesis, groaning you screwed your eyes shut, the tear tracks on your cheeks causing an unpleasant tightness as you yawned. You rolled over to face Bradley's side of the bed, a content smile on your face as you snuggled towards the warmth emitting from next to you. Immediately you froze, your body tense and eyes still screwed shut in fear of who was in your bed, thoughts racing.
Did you forget to lock the doors? What about the window Bradley was insistent you double check due to its temperamental lock? Maybe it was Penny who left you with an extra hot water bottle in case you got cold like she often did? No, this was too warm.
It wouldn't have been the first time you had blacked out and phoned her in the midst of a sob session, desperate for someone who understood your pain, and she would then spend the next sat next to you, ensuring you did actually manage to look after yourself, and not let yourself waste away from your bed.
Furrowing your brows, you took a deep breath and-
Your body reacted faster than your mind could comprehend and catch up. That once faded scent was stronger, almost overwhelming.
Bradley.
Your eyes shot open to be met with his honey brown eyes sparkling in the early winter sun, that streamed through your blinds. You blinked once, twice and when he didn't disappear and actually spoke, you choke on a hoarse sob.
He was home.
You launched yourself on him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, in fear he'd disappear if you didn't hold him tight enough.
His rough and deep morning voice was your favourite and that being the first you heard from him after the exhausting last nine months, was the cherry on top of the most perfect wake up call you could have dreamt of, "Morning babygirl."
When your voice failed you and you sobbed into his bare chest, he rubbed his hand gently up and down your spine, with the exact pressure he knew you craved, to ground you back in the present.
You had often dreamt of a similar situation in the months he had been away, but it always ended with you waking with a start, hope blooming in your chest, only to find your house as empty as it was when you fell asleep.
You were aware that Bradley was talking lowly to you, you could feel the vibration of his voice through your tight embrace. You'd missed the sensation of feeling his rumbling voice while holding him. It was such a small, almost trivial thing to miss, but to you it was everything, something that you swore to never take for granted again.
He nudged you gently, kissing the top of your head once again, trying to prise your head away from its place tucked tightly against his neck. you whined softly, hating to any physical space between your bodies. "Good wake up call?" His teasing tone brought a watery smile to your face. You nodded, managing to press a soft kiss to his lips, "| love you." He reciprocated, "I love you too," running his hand through your hair, helping to further ground you.
A second wave of tears welled in your eyes upon hearing your second alarm, work was beckoning, threatening to burst this joyful bubble you were in. Bradley stretched, sitting up and bringing you up with him. You whimpered, heartbreaking at the thought of having to leave him so soon, "Please...Can't we just stay here a bit longer? I just got you back…"
Bradley's heart broke hearing the utter sadness in your voice, he nodded slowly with a small smile on his face, rubbing his hands down your spine again. "I called you in sick to work already, we just need you to get some breakfast." And as if proving his point, your stomach grumbles lowly.
Nodding along, you shifted away from him to sit up fully.
It was okay. He called you in sick. Wait-
"You knew."
There was nothing else needed. His face full of guilt said it all.
Now, your tone is short and seeping with hurt. "You got home yesterday. You've obviously been to the Hard Deck to see Penny to even know I'd got a job. You've been home almost an entire day, you all have-" Tears spill down your cheeks rapidly, "And you- you never thought I'd want to welcome you back home...”
Your voice trailing off now that the initial anger was over, and now you were left feeling truly hurt.
Bradley was quick to scramble back to your side, realising his mistake. He cupped your cheeks gently in a desperate attempt to gain your full attention, despite your best efforts to pull away, no long craving the comfort his touch and presence provided.
"Hey, hey, hey, baby- l'm so sorry, I just wanted to surprise you.” His brows were furrowed in concern, eyes full of sincere regret. When you eventually stopped fighting his hold so much, he pulled you back onto his lap, still cradling your face between his large, callused hands. "I never, never meant to hurt you. You know that.”
When you didn't reply, instead screwing your eyes shut as more tears ran down your cheeks, Bradley swiped his thumbs under your eyes, wiping them away as quickly as they fell.
Shakily, you exhale sharply and peel your eyes open to meet the epitome of puppy dog eyes in Bradley.
"I am so so sorry." Tears of his own we're now glistening in his eyes. "Phoenix said you'd hate me for this plan- I should've listened. God, I hate I made you this upset." Sniffling, you shift closer, nuzzling your face into his neck, Bradley pressing a soft kiss to your head in response.
"Please don't leave me."
"I’m not going anywhere."
#allina writes#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster x you#bradley bradshaw fic#tgm fanfiction#tgm#top gun maverick fic#bradley bradshaw imagine
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UPDATE 9/2/23
Wow, it's almost fall and I'm still kickin', so here's a proper update about what's been going on with me. I do feel great most days, and with Halloween in season around the US, it makes me very happy. As far as stroke recovery goes, my leg has a newly made brace and my walking in general has greatly improved the past few months. I really don't roll my left foot anymore, in other words, my foot can go flat instead of landing on the ankle and possibly causing injury.
My arm is still mostly nothing but a couple weeks back I was able to move my shoulder again so there's hope. I also got a home electrical stimulation device so I give my arm and hand a jolt for an hour everyday. With time, I feel confident i'll recover.
A great help with my recovery has been the amazing @dagdasgoddess , a fellow young stroke survivor who has been watching out for me and offering encouragement every day for a couple months now, exactly when I needed it. Mentally, stroke recovery is pretty damn tough but most days I feel positive about it, with great thanks to her.
And now on to some business. Shortly before my stroke I was planning on celebrating the 10th anniversary of my blog (which would have been in December of last year, but I was still in the hospital, obviously...) And one of the things I was going to do was photograph and review all the smt demon figures I have, using my special diorama table. I got around to starting the project a couple weeks before the stroke, naturally starting with the Leonard figure. Here's one of the pics:
I also made something of an anniversary banner, just because, I guess:
I also want to talk about some milestones reached, starting with some follower counts. By December last year I finally surpassed 2k followers, so thank you so very much. This is after Kanekos Crib Notes quickly dwarfed my own blog followers shortly after its establishment in like 2014. But now my own blog is even ahead of kcn, as undoubtedly its current annual schedule limits its growth and reach. (But hey, it's almost October, aka KCN MONTH)
The last milestone is above: my Stealing Knowledge blogger has reached half a million views! Unbelievable, thanks for reading and sharing over the years! Identity crisis part 3 remains the most viewed, with over 50k on its own.
Finally, I want to talk about the future. Another 10th anniversary plan was to try and monetize the blog somehow, probably via a Patreon for new articles and such and many other ideas, maybe even doing YouTube videos to answer asks instead of them being all text. I have lots of other ideas too, but they'll have to wait until my arm works again. So instead of monetizing the future, for now I'm just going to ask y'all kindly to chip in for the blog's past. I'm amazed at how much activity the blog still generates from--let's call it "legacy content".
To that end, I have set myself up a kofi account where you can show your appreciation for that "legacy", kuwabara, kuwabara, if you'd like. All money earned will go towards paying down bills accrued during my recovery, like my hyperbaric treatments. In perfect honesty, it's been around 3000 US dollars so far. Don't feel obligated to contribute and thank you all for still sticking around with me despite my relative inactivity. And if course, continue keeping @sorenblr busy if you wish.
I would also not expect my own recovery before next year, that's just stroke for you. Thank you all!!!!!
p.s. I was featured as a stroke survivor again on another therapy facebook post:
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My kitty is sick. :(
Honestly, I don't know how to do this and if I'm doing this wrong, I do apologize. But I need a bit of help.
My cat, Loras, who is 7 years old, has fallen ill with a fever sunday 12/3/2023 and has consistently had this fever come and go ever since then. My family and I have taken him to the doctor for testing and xrays to try and pinpoint what has made him ill and how to better treat him. However, up until now, despite all the testing, his fever is still considered something of unknown origin. And while we try to keep his temperature down - the vet bill has gone up considerably. While it is my family and I's top priority to take care of him and provide him with the best care, I know this isn't going without causing considerable stress on every one within my family especially as this takes place while we are enduring other ongoing financially taxing events (car troubles and paying off vet bills from my other kitten's (Binx) surgery). If you could spare anything at all, to help with paying off the debts made by the vet bills it would be greatly appreciated. if you can't donate, sharing this with others would be just as much help. So far, Loras has an appointment with the vet again on thursday (12/7) and friday (12/8) for a recheck. We are hoping his fever stays down and he wont require more extensive testing but if it comes to it, he will be given all he needs.
I've changed my kofi goal from getting a tablet to paying Loras' bills because honestly, he comes first. I don't need an upgrade, i need my baby better.
Here is my paypal link incase you would prefer to donate to paypal: here
( & This is a link to the original kofi post I made of this today if you'd like to donate through kofi. )
Thank you for everything, even if just reading about my bby loras.
P.S. please excuse any typos i may have. Im tired.
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nightmares
pairings/characters: kaeya alberich, diluc ragnvindr, albedo kriedeprinz x gn!reader [all of them are seperate !]
warnings⚠️: skin to skin contact (hugging), nothing I can think of tbh other than that please lmk if I need to add anything !:3
synopsis: what they do when your having a nightmare
wc: 0.8k ~
note: this hc was my first version for nightmares [I posted the 2nd/harbinger version first tho bc I couldnt resist it hohoho] hence why its considerably shorter than the one with the harbingers [which you can check out here !] as always feel free to give me feedback and likes and rbs are greatly appreciated !:) <3
kaeya alberich (凱亞)
☁︎︎ hugs you until you fall back asleep.
☁︎︎ you wake up frantic one night from a nightmare that had you drenched in cold sweat, your heavy breathing loud as it echoed through the otherwise quiet room.
☁︎︎ thank god you hadn't woken him up. After the long day he had with the knights you really didn't want to disturb him from some much needed sleep he was missing out now. ☁︎︎ tearing the blanket off yourself you quickly making your way to the toilet to wash your face, trying to get rid of the memories from the nightmare.
☁︎︎ you padded back to your shared bed, tucking yourself in as quietly as you could in an attempt to go back to sleep. what you didn't expect though was to feel kaeya's hands wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you close to him.
☁︎︎ "are you alright dear?"
☁︎︎ shit. crap he woke up. you tried to turn to face him, sputtering out apologies for waking him up.
☁︎︎ though, instead of doing anything, he snuggled up against your back and pulled the blanket securely over you guys.
☁︎︎ "don't worry about me, are you… ok? do you want to talk about it?"
☁︎︎ even when he was exhausted from a day full of paperwork and teaching new knights how to fight, he somehow found the energy to try and start a conversation with you. at 2.43 in the morning no less.
☁︎︎ "of course kaeya, im ok. it was just a bad dream that's all, go back to sleep it's so late."
☁︎︎ "once im sure you're ok, only then can i sleep in peace. good night dear."
diluc ragnvindr (迪盧克)
☁︎︎ wakes you up to soothe you
☁︎︎ it's not the first time his witness someone have nightmares, (he's seen kaeya have nightmares in the past) but he doesn't think he's seen anyone with nightmares this bad
☁︎︎ he realised you were having a nightmare when you started to shift around in his arms and mumbles what sounds like a please, no, don't. please.
☁︎︎ he doesn't immediately wake you up though. he wants to make sure that you're actually having a nightmare before that (otherwise you'd be losing sleep)
☁︎︎ he confirmed that you were having a nightmare when you started kicking off the blankets and almost smacked his face with your arm.
☁︎︎ "hey… hey y/n wake up, wake up-"
☁︎︎ ah shit. you just had another one of those nightmares and you were currently drenched in cold sweat as you tried to slow your breathing, quickly realising diluc was awake and the one that had woken you up as you got more aware of your surroundings.
☁︎︎ Ah. It was probably him who woke up from the nightmare again.
☁︎︎ "it's ok y/n, I got you. you're ok." he said as he moved nearer to you, leaning his forehead against your own.
☁︎︎ you hugged him, tight, not wanting to let go of him. afraid that whatever happened in your dream might come through.
☁︎︎ "i'm not leaving ok. no ones leaving you darling, you're safe."
albedo kriedeprinz (阿貝多)
☁︎︎ he wakes you up and offers you a potion he made
☁︎︎ that day you were together with him at his campsite at the foot of dragonspine
☁︎︎ as we all know, albedo is very… observant.
☁︎︎ he noticed [almost since the start] that you had frequent nightmares; whether you were aware of it or not, he frequently saw you flinch in your sleep and let out small whines of discomfort and it pained him to see you in that state
☁︎︎ because of this, he would often time wake up in the middle of the night for you so that he could shake you out of your nightmare
☁︎︎ but he knew that wasn't efficient for the both of you so he decided (with your consent) to try and experiment a little. making concoctions in hopes that it would hopefully help with the bad dreams
☁︎︎ he had brought you along with him and klee once to the outskirts of mondstadt to go forging for some local plants and herbs
☁︎︎ you had to say that was blast, seeing the pair bond and they helped you to the best of their ability, it was so sweet of them
☁︎︎ he sat you up, walking over to his table where a vial of purple liquid reast
☁︎︎ "thank you albedo." you said after drinking the bittersweet liquid, barely above a whisper with a droopy smile on your face, showing your gratitude towards him.
☁︎︎ it wasn't long before you fell back asleep. he laid you back down on bed, pressing a kiss on your forehead and then your lips.
☁︎︎ "sweet dreams my love."
#kaeya#kaeya alberich#kaeya x y/n#kaeya x you#kaeya x reader#kaeya alberich x reader#kaeya x gender neutral reader#genshin kaeya#kaeya fluff#diluc#diluc ragnvindr#diluc x reader#diluc x you#diluc x y/n#diluc ragnvindr x reader#genshin diluc#diluc fluff#diluc headcanons#albedo#albedo kreideprinz#albedo x reader#albedo x you#albedo x y/n#albedo genshin impact#genshin albedo#albedo headcanons#genshin#genshin impact#albedo fluff#sage🍂 scribbles
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Hi sex witch! I could use some advice about how to approach having sex for the first time.
I’m in my mid 20s (lesbian) and I’ve been in 3 relationships, but none of them lasted very long and I didn’t have sex with any of my partners (or the few people between them, who I’ve mostly intensely made out with). I’ve realized that I have issues around romantic relationships specifically and commitment, and done a lot of reflection so I know where those issues are stemming from but not how to deal with them. One day I do want to take the time to work through it, but for the moment I’ve decided I don’t have the capacity to prioritize that and don’t want a serious relationship in the near future anyway.
However, I really want to have casual sex. Through some past experiences I’ve realized that my relationship hang ups are purely emotional and frankly I’m horny, I just want to get laid (preferably by someone I barely know). It’s genuinely not a big deal to me emotionally that it’ll be my “first time” (past some embarrassment that it’s taken me so long, though I hate feeling it and I know there’s no “correct” age here), but I feel like I’d have some responsibility to let the other person know? And I’m worried that it will be a big deal for the other person or it’ll change things for them, because there’s this culture around virginity. I guess I don’t owe anyone that info, but when I think about not disclosing it I feel bad that I might be terrible due to inexperience, or have to admit during sex that I don’t really know what I’m doing, and then have to justify why I didn’t tell them. Basically I just don’t know how to navigate my first time considering all of this, I know this isn’t about the physical side of things but any advice you have would be greatly appreciated!!
hi anon,
listen: you're overthinking this. generally when embarking on a new activity for the first time, you're going to have the best experience if you just tell your partner(s) up front that you haven't done this before. that doesn't create a better or worse experience, but it is a different one that not everyone is up for. that doesn't mean you're wrong for not having sexual experience or that they're wrong for not wanting to have sex with you; it just means you're incompatible.
look, it's like d&d, okay? personally I LOVE running games with new players, because getting to help them build their first character and walk them through the rules and watch them gain enough confidence to take big roleplaying swings and get really strategic during battle is really satisfying for me. but not every DM wants to do that; not everyone has the patience or inclination to show other people the ropes, and they'd just prefer everyone knows roughly how the game works upon arrival so they can get right to it. this is actually a great metaphor because even experienced DMs and players who have been sharing a table for years still need to actually talk to each other and come to agreements about their players and the rules and, like, what Mage Hand can get away with, but it's a different kind of communication than you'd have with someone who's still learning which dice do what.
if you don't like dungeons and dragons and this metaphor sucked for you, here's a slightly more universal one about visiting a museum for the first time.
anyway, the point is that I'm an advocate of sharing information, not because you have some kind of moral duty to out yourself as a virgin, as if that's a weird and bad thing to be, but because I think sharing relevant info makes for better sex and sexual history is part of that info. it doesn't reflect poorly on you in any capacity, any more than someone having a large number of sexual partners would. it's just one more thing to talk through with your potential future sexual partner(s) as you figure out exactly how you want to have fun together.
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hello once again prefacing with saying i love ur blog and ur headcanons :3 tbh amongst all the relationship hcs this one feels almost odd to ask but idk this is what i care about: what kind of cake flavours do u think the fellas like? if u were gonna treat em to something or get them a birthday cake, u gotta know what theyd like, right?
Last one for tonight, also anon how did you know I've literally been musing on this idea ever since I first started this blog? Same braincell fr fr. Your mind is huge and wrinkly and powerful. Long one since this now includes characters all through Yakuza 7. Enjoy!
Also, INBOX IS OPEN AGAIN. I finally have less than 10 asks so I feel comfortable taking more on. Hit me with em.
Kazuma Kiryu
Most people think he doesn't like sweets, but in reality he's just kind of neutral on them. Grew more accustomed to them when Haruka was younger as she really liked them. More than anything he's just baffled and really touched that you'd want to treat him to cake of any kind.
He likes simple cakes, preferably without frosting or a lot of decorations. Things like bundt cake or castella cake are great choices for Kiryu.
Majima Goro
Also kind of shocked that you'd want to treat him to cake but also at the same time is very excited at the prospect at being treated to cake. If you surprise him with some, he'll give you a big hug and a very enthusiastic thank you.
Tends to lean towards richer, darker flavors. Chocolate cake with a simple dark chocolate frosting is great for him. Also enjoys Black Forest cake, if you can find it.
Saejima Taiga
The poor gentle giant cannot remember the last time he had cake. It's not really something they serve in prison. Genuinely treasures the gesture and really savors it.
Honestly hasn't got a favorite. Likes cakes with some texture to them, like carrot cake. Does get easily wowed by fancy decorations or toppings.
Akiyama Shun
Out of all the boys, the most likely to return the favor of treating you to cake immediately the next time he sees you. The others would save it for an occassion but Akiyama would immediately pay you back by treating you to your favorite cake.
He's a sucker for Devil's Food cake or Red Velvet cake. Likes cream cheese frosting as it provides a nice tart contrast to the sweet intensity of the cake itself.
Tanimura Masayoshi
People rarely treat him to much of anything so he's giddy as all hell to be treated by you. Would totally love to treat you to your favorite meal on your next date as a thank you. He'd treat you to cake himself but he doesn't really know where to get good dessert. He's better with savory foods.
Likes fruity flavors, especially if they're leaning towards citrus. Pineapple upside down cake or a lemon cake would be good.
Ryuji Goda
His position means he's been treated to a fair share of desserts but it means a lot coming from someone that he personally and emotionally cares about deeply. If you make him a homemade cake, he would be speechless.
Likes cakes with some creaminess of some kind, like Boston Cream Pie (which is in fact a cake despite the name) or any kind of cheesecake.
Nishikiyama Akira
Says something like "Ah, for me? You shouldn't have!" but inside he's like "Oh wow, they got me cake? I don't know if anyone's ever done that!" and he's really happy.
Impressed by cakes with fancy layers inside, like opera cake or battenburg cake. Crepe cakes are also a good idea. Cakes with fillings are also nice. He's more about what's inside the cake than outside.
Daigo Dojima
Similar to Ryuji, his position has shown him a fair share of desserts or birthday celebrations. However, someone treating him personally is a little new. If you make him something homemade, he might actually cry a little.
Partial to coffee flavored things. Although it's not a cake in the most traditional sense, he does like tiramisu. However, a regular coffee cake is also greatly appreciated.
Mine Yoshitaka
Probably the only boy that is kind of opposed to cake. He appreciates the gesture but he just doesn't have a sweet tooth. However, as long it's milder in flavor and not intense in sweetness, he will eat it.
If he had to pick a favorite cake, he'd go with Baumkuchen as it's pretty popular in Japan and easy to get. The sweetness is pretty mild and he likes the vanilla taste as it's not super saturated.
Shinada Tatsuo
Has the strongest sweettooth out of all the boys, even more than Ichiban. Just happy to be having cake with you, honestly. You don't have to be fancy with him either. In fact, fancier cakes are kind of lost on him so don't go getting him something complex like you might do for Nishikiyama.
He's a little embarassed to say it as he thinks it sounds girlie for some reason but he likes strawberry shortcake. Victoria sponge cake is also good, as it's basically the same flavor profile but built slightly differently.
Kasuga Ichiban
Second most fond of sweets of all the boys. Type of guy to share cake with all of his friends. He's more about enjoying it all together than eating the whole cake by himself, if that makes sense.
Genuinely has no preference over what kind of cake you get. Ichiban's got a pretty open mind when it comes to food. He likes the texture of chiffon cake the most as it's super light and fluffy. When it comes to flavor, he likes the caramel taste of flan cakes a lot.
Joon-Gi Han
A sucker for a pretty and aesthetic dessert. Likes his cake almost too pretty to eat. Similar to Nishikiyama in that he will hide how excited he is to be having cake with you.
Likes chocolate cake the most in any form. As long as it's chocolate flavored in some aspect, whether it's the cake itself or just the frosting, he likes it. Dobos cake or Sachetorte are great if you really want to impress him.
Tianyou Zhao
Prefers Eastern style cakes to Western style cakes but will eat both. Actually likes more bite size desserts like cupcakes or moon cakes.
For flavors, he likes coconut or mango cake. A box of really nice moon cakes will also do but it must be at the appropriate time during the year or else he's going to wonder why on Earth you're giving those to him. Also fond of those pineapple cakes from Taiwan.
#majima megaphone moment#yakuza#yakuza headcanons#yakuza imagines#ryu ga gotoku#ryu ga gotoku headcanons#ryu ga gotoku imagines#goro majima#majima goro#akiyama shun#nishikiyama akira#akira nishikiyama#shun akiyama#kiryu kazuma#kazuma kiryu#tianyou zhao#tatsuo shinada#taiga saejima#saejima taiga#joon gi han#ichiban kasuga#daigo dojima#ryuji goda#mine yoshitaka#yoshitaka mine#masayoshi tanimura
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