Broke: Anakin doesn't have any jedi friends his own age because he didn't fit in/Palpatine isolated him
Woke: Anakin doesn't have any jedi friends his own age because all his classmates keep trying to sleep with his Master and it's driving him crazy. If ONE more person asks him for Obi-Wan’s number he's gonna scream.
Ahsoka: Skyguy! Did you know the senior padawans put out a yearbook?? You'll never guess who won MILF (Master I'd Like To Fuck) of the year!!!
Anakin, not looking up: It’s Obi-Wan.
Ahsoka: ...huh did you already see it?
Anakin, with a thousand yard stare: It's always Obi-Wan. It's been Obi-Wan for the last 10 years Snips.
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The shower is a safe space for you to cry, to drain all of the pent up emotion you've held onto. Plus, it's the best place to hide this side of you from your roommate, Bakugo, whom you've had a crush on for ages. You did your damndest to hide your sorrow from him, not because you're ashamed, but you didn't want to sour the mood of the apartment. You two were good friends, you didn't need to bring down the vibe by whining about how sad you are.
You don't hear the front door to your apartment open and him announcing he's home like usual. He's not supposed to be home for hours, but unexpectedly got off of work early. The sound of the water hides his presence from you; however, it doesn't mute the sobs coming from the other side of the bathroom door.
His heart drops into his stomach, he's never heard you cry like that before.
Bakugo rushes to the door and hesitates. Maybe you wanted to be alone, but he couldn't just sit in the apartment and wait for you to stop crying. Would it be better to sit on the couch and wait it out? For you to come to him?
Logically, yes.
But he wasn't thinking logically.
He taps his knuckles against the door a few times.
"Hey, y'okay?" Bakugo calls out, waiting for your answer with baited breath. He hears you gasp, sniffling and coughing before composing yourself.
"Oh...I didn't think you'd be home, Kat. I'm fine."
"You're a shit liar, y'know," he teases, but you don't laugh. "Seriously, though. Are you okay?"
You hold your breath, debating on whether or not to tell him the truth. Your answer slips out before you could stop yourself.
"...No."
It's a split second decision, but Bakugo opens the door and barges into the bathroom. He's rips back the shower curtain and carefully steps in behind you in a hurry, fully clothed, ignoring your obvious shock to his assertiveness. You're trying to shield yourself from him seeing you naked, but that all fades away when you feel his body engulf yours, holding you close against him under the stream of water.
He's so...warm.
"You can always tell me when somethin's wrong. Don't think I can't tell, or that I don't hear you cryin' at night. I don't want ya to hide from me," Bakugo whispers above you, hand holding the back of your head against his chest. "You're not alone, sweetheart."
You have no control over the tears rushing down your cheeks, mixing with the hot water and soaking into his clothes. You're shaking as you snake your arms around his waist and grip onto him for dear life.
No one's ever shown you this kind of support before - this kind of love.
"I got ya," he assures as he squeezes you tightly. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."
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ps!ghost is very interested, to put it mildly. can't seem to stop re-watching your debut video that was released a week ago. it's always the same premise. black leather couch casting. nice little bird in a modest dress or shirt and jeans who gets undressed because the "director" has to take in measurements and the like, only to end up getting railed from the back with their pretty face pressed into the cushion.
it's a thing male viewers like. they love to watch a professional break in the new girl. he, though, not so much. he doesn't go for the new girls. doesn't like to be the one to test the limit like others do. (big cock anal on their debut? ghost finds it a bit much.) he hears one tiny gasped ouch and he's not finishing the shoot.
no, what gets him going is the enjoyment one can get during sex. it's why he ended up in this business in the first place. he likes sex. a lot.
likes to have men, women, young and old alike writhing beneath him gasping his (stage) name due to the pleasure and not because a script said to. and the benefits of working in the porn industry means that he gets paid doing what he likes, and can stay safe while doing so.
this is where you come in. the only reason he'd sat down to watch your video at all is because you'd been given a contract by the same company he is under. he's bound to come across you at a later date, might as well learn what he'll be eventually working with.
and he's hooked. whatever initial nervousness you might've had at the very beginning (because this is your very first professional shoot, of course) bleeds from your shoulders once price, the lucky bloke, gets his hands on you. you're a bloody natural.
and you enjoy it. there's no faking the way your nails bite into price's scalp when he licks at your pussy through your thin knickers. you gently wrap your hand around his fingers that's rolling your hardened nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze. he's doing it too rough. you buck your hips into his face, riding it even though you're the one on your back.
ps!ghost has to swallow the mouthful of saliva when he notices strings of creamy white sticking to price's body hair, a frothy ring around the root. the best part of all of this, is that you're giving as good as you take. you're no passive participant. you could, under price's big bulk, just get folded in half and do nothing other than feel the sweet burn of his cock stretch you, turn you inside out.
but you don't. you know exactly what you like and how you like it. you look for your orgasm, make sure it happens under your manicured fingers or price's thick ones. you don't let him be too rough on you nor too gentle.
simon loves it. you're new to this. you could've just accepted what he gave you without so much as a peep of complaint and gone home to soak in an epsom salt bath. but you didn't. you didn't let him pinch your sensitive clit, didn't let him mindlessly claim a fistful of hair.
but you did open your pretty mouth so he could spit in it (fucking lovely, it was) and let him keep your soft hips in the air as john's pace turned frantic and the best of all (in his very biased opinion) you crossed your ankles around his waist to keep him there as he fucked you full of his come.
(had simon been there, he would've begged for a taste if he had to.)
he feels a bit desperate, after. can't get you out of his head. the thought of your slick pussy hot around his cock is what gets him to finish at times. the other times, it's your video. he swears he's found his equal (sorry, soap) one that'll forget that he's supposed to be putting on a show for the viewers.
sorry price, he's about to unfuck him out of your pussy until all it'll ever remember is simon.
(what he doesn't understand is that he's about to forget more than the viewers. why is price watching yall again? it's almost intimate the way you let him fuck you on a creaky mattress. he's drunk on the smell of you, your hair, your cunt. lost all thought when his fat cock slid with relative ease into your wet heat and all he'd done was let you make yourself come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you'd pleased. you'd latched onto his neck, maybe out of habit or whatever, it doesn't matter. he'll be telling the makeup artists to leave the bites you left. he earned every single one. and where he usually pulls out because it's easier to clean up for everyone? you'll not be wasting a single drop. it appears he has a lot bit of a breeding kink.)
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