#Ohhhhh suddenly everything makes sense

[im-no-jedi]

guess who just discovered that dopamine isn't just related to excitement and pleasure, but also motivation and movement (like how active vs how "lazy" you are)

guess who also just discovered that people with ADHD have "broken" dopamine transporters, which is why most people with ADHD also have depression

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

[starflungwaddledee]

For the music thing! 11!! That’s my lucky number hehehe

11- astronauts by rachel platten (also asked by an anon!) for magicapple 🍎 happy happy endings

Let's meet up far away where astronauts and g r a v i t y Have opened up the atmosphere, we'll be so safe up here Navigating the space we'll create our own star And I'll name it after you My, suddenly the stars are flashlights The u n i v e r s e will make your eyes shine Can't you feel the way that time stops? Everything that hurts drops off

hahahahaaaaa ohhhhh this was The One i was most embarrassed about someone finding so great job!!! it's the cheesiest possible song i have for them but it is unfortunately so so perfect and it's one of my favourites. the final bridge regularly makes my eyes water

this song, with its narrative of escaping together and hiding away from things that hurt you both ("there are places up here we can hide//we'll be safe way up high") and that escape being in the sky/space in particular has an extremely strong link to awtdy au, where as things get worse and worse they wear the dream of running away to the stars together so thin it is practically transparent. additionally the 'create our own star' line is sooooo specific and yet!? honestly i did a double take when i found this track!

so yes. extremely cheesy but... if you like some poppy tooth-rotters in your ship, this is a great great song for it!

and regarding the picture itself: despite everything, they are happy in the end, i promise.

i do think whether it's more canon compliant or in an au, bandee is determined to reignite magolor's sense of wonder. he is, imo, just as smart and driven as magolor, if a little less ambitious. in awtdy au in particular bandee learns everything from astronautics to blacksmithing to microelectronics to astrogeology with great enthusiasm!

however unlike magolor, bandee knows how to turn these off in order to just relax or delight in things- like planetary rings- and he's going to make magolor remember how to do this too; even if it takes several dozen years 🍎

[thedevilshardy]

What they will do to you - Tom Hardy Character Study

Part III - dirty!

James Delaney

This man does not only do magic somewhere in his house or in the woods, but also inside you. Forget everyone you knew before you were allowed to climb into bed with James!

His seduction doesn't start with dating, no. He makes you dream of him, crawling into your pretty night's sleep like he belongs there. These dreams make you pulsing, your inner walls won't stop contracting, ruling your body and your whole soul. Your screams are so loud you know everyone will hear it. But all you can do is clawing to your sheets and be dream-fucked the finest.

God - there's teeth, nips, bites, howling hums out of the depth of his throat while he claims you. His hands are your new leader, and they keep you where he wants you to be. Only in high dizzyness, drunk with lust, will you know what he does with the velvet cuffs and ropes, that sneak around your body like the snake out of garden Eden.

You've never kept your legs that much spread just to let him rut between them. All wet sounds, rattling bed, bitten off moans.

You never knew an orgasm can keep up this long, leaving you shaking, leaving you completely boneless. But you can't move, these bondage stripes keep you there in your high...

Eames

He's smart, and you know he's a damn good player for everything that lies beyond the curtain. His sometimes terrible choice of colours still makes him even more interesting.

As a gambler, he knows how to play. He needs to keep his mind occupied - that's why he can lick your pussy and still tell you how fucking good you taste on his tongue, with a smug smile.

He loves games, that's why you find yourself wide-legged and wet on his lap, riding his swollen dick like there's no one watching. "Come on, show Daddy how you make him cum"- ohhhhh, that raspy voice so close to your ear.

Eames doesn't like to get off just in bed. You'll find yourself spread out on a gaming table, on the rattling washing machine when you wanted to do laundry, you get fucked mindless bend over the kitchen counter. Plus, he uses his skilled fingers to double your orgasm.

Would never admit it, but he's an absolute fan of cuddling after. Although he'll sneak out of the window at night, once you fall asleep.

Eddie Brock

He seems a bit shy sometimes, and it's you who needs to take the first step. Although you can feel his intense gazes right on you whenever you move.

Absolutely gentle at first, might push you over the edge even before you two get completely started. He just knows how to touch a woman and make her go all soft beneath him.

His in-and-out-game is goals. His dick just glides perfectly well into you, out of you, deep, hard, just fucking touching and pushing everything right. He's got a tight hold on you, keeps you all wet and wanting, whispering filthy things into your ear.

He goes wild, you can feel it, smell it, sense it, in and out - oh god, he's so good, but wait, was that a dark tentacle sliding around your wrist, pining you down to the bed...?

It is a dark tentacle, and it holds you tight, keeps you down, and there's another one, sliding wetly between your legs, it's so omgfuckinggood and suddenly you feel so stretched out and fucked open, longing for air...

So, that's it so far. I would have Max Rockatansky as a backup, if anyone wanna have him (did I miss someone else that is absolutely turning you on?) - and I'm always open for any wishes. Thank you so much for reading, sharing, liking, commenting! It means so damn much to me. 🤍

[xenajen]

Qiao Ling and thoughts with flower symbolism, spoilers for both seasons

(take a shot every time I say parallel and symbolism)

with so many visuals of Qiao Ling shown with red eyes, it really makes me think that she'll be taken advantage of in s2. Whether it’s being possessed again, or a death plot device, I hate to say it, but she is the boys' strongest and weakest link 

-she knows them extremely well (that Red Eyes took advantage of as we already saw in s2ep1 with the lie) 

-she knows the ins and outs of the case, being around capt. xiao from the start 

-she could very well best Cheng Xiaoshi in a fight or at least evenly match. When they were first taught, she seemed to have a better grasp than CXS (in the special eps!) 

-proximity, she's always close to them 

-the visuals in the op are too much for me to NOT raise an eyebrow. the last frame looks as if she turns her back on cxs falling.  In a sense for betrayal, it seems unlikely that there's a second layer to Qiao Ling at this point-- we know she’s trustworthy, but I think the plot has more to come for her. She’s playing more of a role this season and I always get suspicious when characters are suddenly given more spotlight. the visuals in question:

This also brings meee to another point! The moment I saw her flower was the Hyacinth I was like "oh, okay," but then the s1 finale hit and I was like "Oh... ohhh. Ohhhhh.... oh no..."

If you're not familiar with the legend of Hyacinth from Greek mythology.. the parallels will start paralelling. TLDR;

-apollo fell in love with a mortal, hyacinth, who dies tragically. there are two endings to the story:

-one where apollo kills hyacinth on accident, when they were passing a discus to eachother. hyacinth thinks he can catch it, but fails to estimate apollo's strength, and dies of a head injury

-and another where zephyrus, god of the west wind, is jealous of apollo because he fancied hyacinth, so he pushes the discus with the wind into hyacinth, killing him.

-apollo tries everything, anything he can do to bring hyacinth back to life. in the end, apollo turns hyacinth’s soul into flowers (or, hyacinths), refusing to give him to death. 

-BOTH of these endings reminded me all too much of our current situation and what we know right now.

-the former: not saying lg/cxs represent one or the other of apollo/hyacinth specifically, but how their situation now is made from a series of missteps and overzealousness even, by cxs and possibly lg’s past actions if the timetravelling!lg theory is true; a series of accidents that lead to tragedy when hyacinth oversteps

-the latter; where the two are with eachother, but someone has to come and fuck it up. see: the li siblings; the red eyes is fascinated w/ cxs. i think it's important that Zephyrus kills hyacinth because he couldn't have him. Almost like red eyes going crazy for cxs, obsessed w his power and shit

-ugh here’s the kicker though, hyacinths also symbolize rebirth. Apollo refused to give Hyacinth’s soul to Hades, just like how LG has (possibly) refused to give up and see CXS die in an alternate timeline, deciding to restart(?). 

Back to my part one including Qiao Ling: overall, hyacinths possess a wide array of meanings, and can be color dependent, ranging from “forgive me, i’m sorry”, to jealousy, to sincerity, joy, and rebirth

The question is; why is this QL’s flower? Maybe it’s symbolism of the situation as a whole, maybe an indicator of something more underneath. 

Specifically, red hyacinths represent play, or a more playful kind of love. On a surface level for her character, it can represent her joyful demeanor and dedication, especially to her 2 closest friends. At the same time, mixed with the other meanings of the hyacinth, this can even parallel to the person who possessed her- enamored with CXS to no end, twistedly playful and possessive. 

Perhaps it’s symbolism for forgiveness- for what has already happened, or maybe even for what is to come, if she falls into possession again. We have yet to see Qiao Ling’s inner thoughts on the matter, and how she feels about being used to nearly kill LG.

still yet, stay tuned link clickers! anyway's here's cxs doing the fortnite dance to lift your spirits.

end notes

-Apologies if this was dreadfully obvious or smth but I just wanted to put this out there

-how many of you were familiar with the story of hyacinth and apollo?

[bcbdrums]

Future SoulxMaka 📂? After the manga ending wouldn't he be Kid's weapon now?

ohhhhh no no no no no... that's a mis-reading of that moment, i think.

how i saw it was... Soul is now a symbol. a figurehead. he's the living symbol of that which they will NOT be returning to. Kid will keep his personal weapons, and that's fine cuz they don't need to be death scythes anymore. i also think Kid keeps Spirit as weapon/surrogate father/adviser. i won't go into it though because it's not what you asked about.

Soul and Maka. heheheh.

i'm gonna answer for immediately post-manga here, not far future. Soul will still be Maka's weapon. they'll take assignments hunting those on Shinigami's List as the assignments are given. there's just no witches on the list anymore.

also think there'll be a whole new type of mission everyone gets sent on, the more advanced meisters/weapons that is... and that'll be diplomatic missions. stopping skirmishes between witches and DWMA agents. stopping riots and various things as world politics have been upheaved and also witches are probably just...around more. no longer hiding.

additionally, it's possible some meisters and weapons would turn against Kid. to be suddenly told that everything they've been working for... the defeat of witches, to become death scythes (imagine those weapons who are so close) is all over?? there could be some civil war going on around the world there, at various DWMA branches... kishin's defeat ironically caused even more problems. the world is gonna be quite changed.

so Soul and Maka's relationship will continue to develop both professionally and personally. Maka will see that any worry she had about Soul drifting away is totally unfounded. he's simply becoming more confident in his identity, which will only make him stronger on his own and stronger for Maka.

and oh yes, yes i ship them. Soul will eventually make a move if Maka doesn't. they're both hesitant, and it's more likely she'd make the first move. the dude does everything except make a move for something more physical so it's like.... come on already. he just respects her that much, is what it is. she'd get impatient tho... i think it would be a mutual move-making, but she's really the one calling the shots if that makes sense. and then once he's sure like yeah this is okay with her. then they're golden

aaaahhhhhhh love them! sorry i wasn't more detailed, i hope this is what you wanted. thanks for the ask!!

[idyllic-affections]

the way kaveh unknowingly invalidates reader's feelings im about to

he obviously doesn't mean to. he never wants to hurt his younger sibling. he's just so caught up in his guilt and he clings onto that visage of faranak being the mother she was before everything (cuz deep down he's still that child that was left on his own to take care of himself AND his younger sibling omfg.)

ALSO READER JOINING HARAVATAT INSTEAD OF KSHAHREWAR JUST MAKES SO MUCH SENSE AND IDK WHY.. i just think kshahrewar, by watching their brother as they grew up, is more of something out of passion, you know? and. reader, having to grow up keeping things to themselves, i feel like they'd go for a darshan that focuses more on logic?? something that's not as innovative or creative, but more of facts and analytic.

basically bc kaveh's heart > brain and reader's heart < brain 🥺...

(maybe maybe bc they think they don't wanna be associated with smth connected to their mom since she was from kshahrewar as well i think or maybe they think even if hey did pursue it they'll never be as good as kaveh because of how different their minds are im CRYINGGG AGAHHGHHHHRR)

also because i see so many clips of "shameless" (that nextflix show, reminds me of kaveh n reader but,, yk,,, less chaotic), you mentioned that faranak wouldn't feel bad about it until later on?

well, what do u think would happen if faranak suddenly vists sumeru as a 'surprise' with her husband, asking kaveh if she could take them to fontaine (either temporarily or not, up to you) to 'make up' from all they missed out on because they're younger and there's still a chance (to redeem herself as a mother?). it's just a recipe for a disaster.

also its unrelated but i think alhaitham caring for kaveh's little sibling is so sweet 😭😭 thinkin about how alhaitham cares so much about kaveh that it extends to his lil sibling .. dies.... uueueueueeuieiie 😭😭😭

ANYWAYS i thinks thats all now i will stop 😇 ty for ur time ily /p mootie i swear ,, ur feeding my brain worms

HI HI HELLO AGAIN i love seeing you in my inbox btw 🙏🙏 please send me your silly brain worm thoughts whenever you'd like 🙏🙏🙏🙏

he ofc doesn't mean to :((

he loves his little sibling probably more than he loves himself and can't fathom ever doing something to knowingly and intentionally hurt them. but as you've said. his inner child is still so unhealed and he's still clinging to the image of what his mother once was rather than the poor parent she became. and what he fails to realize is that [name] has never known faranak as anything but a shitty mother. they were far too young to remember her being a good one. he doesn't realize it, but that's all they've ever known her as--a poor parent. he knows she was good once, but they don't. and he doesn't realize that. this is probably the root of the growing distance between them, i think.

AND YES EXACTLY YOU GET IT.... i think [name] was probably a very artistic and kind child, but as they grew up, their desire to work with their hands gradually decreased until there was none left and they likely found themselves reading more as a kind of escapism or maladaptive coping method. their passion has long since been snuffed out by the pain they've gone through, and architecture... it's a work of passion. they can't do something like that, not anymore.

if kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve, then theirs must be in something of a prison. because why should they let themselves be hurt again? there's no logical reason for them to put forth all their love and kindness, so they don't.

they've had to learn to be logical. haravatat simply provides a better environment for them to foster that protective layer of logic and reason.

AND GODJSKSGSNG MOOT...... "they'll never be as good as kaveh because of how different their minds are" OHHHHH YOU!!!! I LOVE THIS on one hand, they don't want to live in either faranak's or kaveh's shadow (and they also don't want to be recognized as her child), and on the other hand, they don't think they could ever match kaveh in any way shape or form.

oh. it would be a fucking disaster if she did that. i think, by that point, their anger would have gone from the kind of hot boiling "wet" sort of anger (which you know, involves a lot of visible feelings... crying, yelling, that kind of thing) to just. cold frustration. everyone would have expected a more visceral response, but they just give her a plain and cold "no." HNBSNDBDNBNV

YES SOBS EXACTLY alhaitham is not "taking sides" by caring for [name]. he cares for both of the siblings equally, albeit in different ways (teehee silly haikaveh enthusiast pushing their silly haikaveh agenda /hj /lh)... he isn't picking sides. he understands both kaveh and [name] from an objective pov. he believes they are both valid in their feelings. but what alhaitham also understands is that both of them are failing to see one another's own perspectives; kaveh remembers faranak as a good mother, while [name] does not. but he chooses to meticulously care for both of them anyways, because he knows neither of them are quite ready to sit down and really talk about it, so it falls to him to make sure that neither of them lose themselves in their trauma.

so he continues to care for both of them, piecing them both back together with tender attention and care that most haravatat scholars fail to display...... cries. they've both got unhealed inner children but alhaitham is there to help fix it........

alhaitham is just the peacemaker fr and i don't think ANYONE would expect that of him

kaveh and [name] just end up becoming such polar opposites and it has me losing my mind AUGHGBFNF.....

[lunarifie]

Rewatching Ninjago

(With no context other than the episode)

Hands of Time episode 7-8

(The time brothers and vermillion warriors joking and goofing up)

Wu (tied up as a prisoner):😐

I love how ppl recognize Nya as a part of the team now

Acronix: Im posting this on instabook.

Krux: Why must you ruin every moment with your devices!!!

theyre just like my family fr

Zane: My temporal scanner was damaged during our fight with the vermillion warriors

Jay: (giggles)

Zane: I dont see what you find funny Jay 🤨

Jay: I still think ‘vermillion warriors’ is a stupid name-

Kai, I get that your dad MADE that helmet but that thing is so clunky and huge like just put it down for a second my guy 😭

Lloyd: Wait, what’ll I use to get to the museum

Misako: Well, I WAS saving this for your birthday…

(Shows a whole ass ship)

Kai: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!? FIRST JAY NOW LLOYD???? DOES EVERYONE GET A NEW RIDE FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY!?!?!?

THATS WHAT IM SAYING!!!!!

where TF are these old parents getting these goddamn military weapon rides 😭💀

Its so fucking funny bc Misako was like ‘no, i shouldnt tell you, Wu made me promise.’ And Lloyd says one sentence and suddenly shes spilling everything

I love how excited Zane looks here.

The Ninja aren’t fazed at the fact that Wus aging AT ALL 😭

Kai: Youre soooo fixated on your samurai x suit 🙄

Nya: Says the guy carrying around the snake warriors helmet 🤨

Love when they act like siblings

Tell your sister Kai she deserves to know

Kai: Do you know who this stamp belongs to?

Nya: No…

Kai: Our father.

HE TOLD HER 🎉🎉🎉🎉

Zane how are you NOT worried that Pixals still offline, like shouldnt you be freaking out 😭

He seemed to nonchalantly happy too

Like he was too excited being in Lloyds destinys shadow ship to be worried 💀

Does Lloyd even have a drivers license-

Kai: A blacksmith puts a mark on everything he makes. And our fathers mark is on every vermillion warriors helmet.

This is making me sad.

Wait, Kai doesn’t think his parents are alive? He thinks they USED to work for the hands of time.

Nya, girl, I love you but this IS concrete proof of your parents being traitors. Like, yes, its explained later that theyre not. But Kai IS making total sense and hes allowed to be angry about it 😭

Nya: Kai, that makes no sense!

YES IT DOES

ALL THE INFO HES GATHERED IS TIPPING INTO ONE CONCLUSION

Kai: (slamming his fists against the machinery)

(Whirs to life)

Nya: Whatd you know! Thought that only worked in cartoons haha…

Yeah.

Jay: All this stuff is junk! (Throwing around artifacts trying to look for a secret door)

Zane: (losing his shit by running after Jay and trying his best to keep all the museum artifacts safe)

HFNSJFNJSNT

Jay: (notices Zanes running after him)

Jay: (picks up a pot, jumps back in forth and watches Zane follow him, throws it purposefully to break it)

Zane: AAAAAA (catches it)

Jays such a little shit 💀

I love how much spotlight Nya and Kai are getting this season :)

Ohhhhh, i get it, the episode name is ‘secrets discovered’ because they all discover secrets…

I already know samurai x is pixal but I wanna know if Nya figures that out this episode

Honestly, this isnt that shocking since we, the audience, already knew half these ‘secrets’

the most exciting discovery is probably Nya and the theif behind her samurai suit

SECRET ENTRANCE IN KAIS PARENTS BLACKSMITH SHOP?!?!??!?

OMG I REMEMBER THIS

Its finally confirmed.

AAAA I LOVED THIS SCENE

Pixals such a fucking character i love her sm

Pixal (modifying her voice and changing it to sound like other people to throw off Nya): Maybe im ronin… or maybe Dareth???

This scene literally registered Pixal as a favorite character of mine.

Nya: Good moves, but thats takes you being Dareth out of the question.

Pixal (changing to Misakos voice): Your right, maybe im Misako?

Nya: LIAR.

Pixal: Or maybe im Garmadon, he always did have a nasty side.

You cant tell me Pixal is not having the time of her life toying with Nya.

Zane (in the time brothers secret lab): Whats weird is that theres no computers or modern equipment…

I wonder why.

They found the secret tunnel!!! Itll be so funny if they find the hands of times secret hideout when the time brothers themselves couldnt find it one time

Kai: Theres only ONE person who can understand what Im going through…

WHO????

Im genuinely curious who the hell else has an evil parent other than Lloyd and even then Garmadons not really evil.

OHHHHH SKYLOR

Pixal (using Nyas voice): I cant tell you my identity! I hide it to protect the innocent, my friends and allies would be at risk if my enemies knew who I really was. You were me once YOU KNEW THIS!!!

Yeah… and when Kai learned Nya was samurai x NOTHING BAD HAPPENED.

Nya isnt gonna tell the enemies who u are, like what??????

Nya: Whoever you are, you have proven you are worthy of having my samurai x suit :).

Pixal (in nyas voice): thank you :)

Nya: but stop using my voice. Its creepy.

I fr didnt get why some people shipped Pixal and Nya until I watched this episode, they have such strong chemistry, especially in understanding each other.

Nya: Also, reds my thing, you gotta find a new color…. Skylor 😏

HFNSJFNJSNFNER ITS SO FUNNY HOW FAR OFF SHE IS

Pixal (using skylor voice): A girls gotta have her secrets…

Honestly, pixal is so much better than me if I were her id be laughing my ass off in front of nya, tears and everything.

I cant believe Jay and Cole just ambushed and pummeled Scales and scales junior 😭 not to mention they kept beating them even when they weren’t fighting back until Lloyd put the lights on

The ninja are probably like the corrupted police to the serpentine

Scales: And this is my son, scales junior

Jay: Ha! How long did it take you to come up with that imaginative name???

Dude 😭 srsly?????? Not even an apology for beating up a kid like cmon

Scales Jr.: Out of my way, BLUE BOY. (Shoves jay)

YEAH FUCKING STICK IT TO HIM JUNIOR

Jay: Why are you looking for the vermillion warriors???? Trying to JOIN THEM????

Jay just stfu lay off them pls 💀

Scales: You don’t know what your dealing with, do you? The vermillion warriors are the pure first generation progeny of the great devourer….

THANK YOU SCALES. guess that answers the question of what the vermillion warriors are

I like to think Lloyd visits the serpentine here and there since he did control them in season 1. He had to have had made a few connections with some

Jay: Sorry if i uh, jumped to conclusions junior, haha…

Scales Jr.: DONT CALL ME JUNIOR.

Jay: I kinda like that kid!

Scales Jr.: AND DONT CALL ME KID EITHER.

Jay: Haha! Now I KNOW I like him.

Jfjjsnfhdnsntusnd

Kai: Its just so, shocking. To find our your father, someone you idolized your entire life, turns put to be evil… It makes you question everything you know and are…

Kais really going through it huh. like damn

Nya: I figured out who samurai x is!!! Its skylor!!!

Skylor: Am I now? I had no idea… does that mean I get that cool suit?

Love skylor

I am so attracted to her

Kai: Nya… Our parents are alive.

Howd you figure that one out kai 😐

Skylors so right tho, they arent their parents legacies.

Nya: Lloyd found Krux and Acronixs secret base!!!

Kai: Then what are we waiting for? Lets go!

Skylor: Wait! If you guys need any hel-

Nya: To-go bags? No thanks.

Skylor: ….

Skylor: I guess good quality noodles is all im good for…

If Skylor remembered skybound she probably wouldn’t feel this way ☹️

Im so pumped I cant wait for Nya and Kai to see their parents

Lloyd: And if we execute this perfectly… we should be able to save everyone.

Yeah we have 2 more episodes I highly doubt that

Lloyd: No pressure, but all of ninjago is depending on us.

Yeah. No pressure

Damn. Wu really has some issues.

I love how we delve deeper into Wus fears and insecurities this season

It makes you realize hes just human

I also hope Wu realizes hes made a lot more mistakes than he lets on

Wus nightmare Morro: Youve made many mistakes master… many.

THATS WHAT IM SAYING

oh

“You didnt have to do all this alone, we could have helped you.”

“Just ask for help.”

“You dont have to be alone.”

“You arrogance has left you alone.”

Damn, we’re really going deep into Wus character huh

Zane mission: locate cyrus borg

Jay and Coles mission: rescue the workers

Lloyds mission: save master wu

Nya and Kai’s mission: locating krux and acronix

Fuck yeah lets gooooo

Zanes acting like those guys who dont know wtf to do when their gf leaves for the weekend 😭 like bro do things yourself you dont need Pixal to do everything for you

Wooo lets go bruise team

Jay (whispering as he slips with he grappling hook): Not good not good not good not good 😰

Ohhhh i forgot that the time brothers kidnapped all the blacksmiths in ninjago

Jay: shhhh we’re here to rescue you- AGHH (gets jumped)

KARLOFF!!!!!!!!

I WAS WONDERING WHEN WE’D SEE ANOTHER ELEMENTAL MASTER

Karloff- Karloff. You’re choking him 😭

Cole: DAD?!?!?

Hcjsnfjdidnnrw

Is airjitzu a thing in newer episodes?

Krux is such an idiot

I feel so had for cyrus borg 🥲 hes trying his best to sabotage them but is always getting caught

Why is borg always kidnapped by villains, give my man a break 😭

Zane sounds so hopeless :(

Why is Lloyd so aggressive 💀 his first move is always a high double kick to the gut and he's ALWAYS the first to swing

Jay. I get that you can't airjitzu karloff out but to say the whole plan it a bust is just stupid. COLE HAS SUPER STRENGTH.

Sometimes ninjago has the stupidest plotholes

Jay: Does anyone know how to independently power a 200-foot industrial-grade carbon elevator in three minutes!!!?!?!!!!

Blacksmiths: ...

Cole: ... I was thinking ladder.

Can Kai stop keeping Nya in the dark-

Like dude just tell her your looking for your parents

GODDAMMIT KAI DONT FIGHT YOUR FUCKING DAD WAIT LIKE AN MILLISECOND FOR HIM TO EXPLAIN

God this scene is actually so good though

Kai's father: Your red like a vermillion warrior, but you are no snake...

Kai: I’m not, but you are, TRAITOR.

He must feel so heartbroken right now ☹️

Same for Ray (I think that's his dads name)

Kai: (hands light on fire)

Nya: (extinguishes it)

Idk why but that was such a sibling thing to do

It's like when your sibling is trying to do something and you slap their hand to stop them

At least Nyas being smart about this

Jay: (shakes the ladder)

(ladder collapses)

JAY.

OMG OMG OMG

THE TIME BLADE

Can Wu stop almost dying from tall heights

COLES LAVA HANDS COLES LAVA HANDS

HELL YEAH

It's safe to say they're not escaping stealthy anymore

Lloyd: Safe... Your finally sa- (has the gut kick happen to him and falls into a ditch)

Can he PLEASE catch a break

Kai's a mommas boy 🥹

Ohhhh I forgot that their parents made the time blades!!!! That's so cool

Ohhh so they kidnapped them as revenge. Got it

WAIT THIS ALL HAPPENED ONLY 40 YEARS AGO

Damn

Love Ray explaining everything for us.

God it must have killed them to be taken from their children

This is actually so traumatic

WAIT HOW FUCKING OLD WAS KAI WHEN THEY WERE KIDNAPPED HE LOOKS LIKE A TODDLER 😭😭😭?!?!?!?!?!?!

I need a fanfic of Kai learning how to take care of his sister at such a young age asap

The thing is, little Kai doesn’t even look as old as Lloyd did in season 1. And Lloyd was like, 10.

Can you imagine this 6 year old having to learn how to cook and clean the house.

Also i cant get enough of little freckled Kai he is too precious to me

Damn. Both Zane AND lloyd failed at their missions

Zane: I sense Jay and Cole nearby!

Lloyd: You sure?

Jay in the distance: BRING IT ON YOU VERMILLION DOOFS

Zane: Yeah, pretty sure.

I love Jays signature nervous laugh :)

Man, EVERYONES failing their missions

Ray: If the time brothers know you're the key to the last time blade then-

Krux: We’ll force you to retrieve it? Great idea!!

Everythings going to shit

[plenary-indulgence]

picked up my yuyuhase alt again recently, my friends wanted to do eden and i also took him to the all lalafell nier raids on siren last week to get him a proper nier glam (which every lalafell needs imo) so i guess it’s about time to put him through endwalker lol

my wol!yuyuhase timeline thus far:

pre-ARR is just his canon backstory. grew up a beggar on the streets of ul’dah (and an orphan too i think) and bootstrapped himself into a successful porter business until he got fucked over and lost everything then flew down the aetheryte guard -> brass blades -> immortal flames -> lolorito’s inside guy pipeline ARR echo/blessing nonsense starts up in earnest and most everyone with half a brain is like “oh don’t mind crazy ol’ yuyuhase” but being the enterprising and clever little bastard he is he’s like “ohhhhh there’s got to be a way for me to make some gil off of this” and basically takes up a fortune telling side hustle on the down low 1) because you can’t just go shouting from the rooftops that you’re suddenly psychic you’ll get thrown in jail or worse 2) the key to any successful business is building a core base of wealthy and reliable clients, not any riffraff off the street with 20 gil who just wants to be told all their dreams will come true 3) the immortal flames do not appreciate their recruits moonlighting and this is technically his side-side-gig after his original side-gig of “whatever lolorito tells him to do on the sly”

so he’s pretty discreet about it but is managing to make a pretty sizable little nest egg once knowledge of what he can actually do starts spreading through the upper class but the streets of ul’dah do not keep secrets well and so eventually rumors about a “queer lalafell who can really see the future tell you your fortune for a fee” get back to thancred and he susses yuyuhase out and is like “hey hey hey let’s have a quick chat about all this then” and determines it’s the echo and tells him about the scions and minfilia and says he should come to the waking sands to which yuyuhase basically tells him to go fuck himself. he’s got a good thing going here, he’s got plenty of his own irons in the fire, plates spinning, so on and so forth, why should he care about petty naive do-gooder nonsense like saving the realm? bunch of spoiled sharlayan bookworms can sod right off as far as he’s concerned.

and thancred is like ughhh ok this guy sucks but i can’t just go fuck myself on this one i gotta just get him in a room with minfilia somehow. so he uses his connections and pulls some strings, goes to the higher ups in the flames and says “hey so im doing this investigation in drybone and i need a bodyguard, i want you to assign me this guy as an escort” and they’re like “haha ok good luck have fun” and at first yuyuhase is like “ah fuck not this prick again” but ultimately he’s getting paid now and he’s on assignment so what does he really care. might as well just get it over with. which he does, and things proceed, and ifrit is slain and suddenly he’s a big damn hero and then a lightbulb goes off because like, of course it all makes perfect sense now. he’s special all of a sudden, and he’s in very high demand, and things that are in high demand can fetch exorbitant prices. so he does go back to the waking sands with thancred and let’s minfilia give him the whole spiel and listens very politely and when she’s done he hands her an invoice and is like “that’s for ifrit, my fees are non-negotiable, if you want me to save eorzea or whatever, you can pay for me to do it.” and now the rest of the scions too are like “oh yea this guy sucks” but minfilia sees a little glimmer, a little something there and she’s like “alright :)”

and tataru of course hates him. the rest of ARR proceeds basically as usual but every time he pray returns to the waking sands with another invoice she sits him down and tries to renegotiate his fees and every time he shuts her down like “nice try kid haha payment terms are net 30 as usual i’ll see you around” his relationship to the rest of the scions varies:

- he and yshtola don’t interact much, they obviously have nothing in common and are polite coworkers at best. they will probably never be close and that’s fine with both of them - thancred and yuyuhase got off on sort of the wrong foot and had a very mutual “hey this guy sucks” attitude at first but they sort of grow on each other. there’s a mutual respect for two guys who game from the same shitty background and “get out”. they aren’t besties or anything but they get each other - yuyuhase is not impressed by urianger at all. not by the stupid way he talks (which he thinks is affected deliberately to make him sound smarter) or by his shady “do wrong for the right reasons schtick” like man you just like to lie. own it. you aren’t fooling anyone. - he thinks minfilia is like insanely naive but she’s also young and clearly a good kid who means well (sucks for her) and from the MEAN STREETS OF UL’DAH like him so he does feel a little bit of solidarity. the whole “organization to save eorzea from itself” stings a little less coming from someone like her. - he doesn’t mind yda actually. she’s a lot of fun. - ok before we talk about papalymo let me just preface this by saying IT WAS JUST A JOKE, i was DOING A BIT and then i was like wait hang on this is actually ticking a lot of boxes for me. and now it doesn’t matter how stupid it is because it’s real to me HEAR ME OUT

- so similar but so different!! 2 blonde 40+ lalafell with attitudes but from two totally different walks of life. a scruffy street rat from ul’dah and a pampered sharlayan scholar... - i can make him better vs i can make him worse. papalymo is a steady, guiding presence that will literally scold yuyuhase into being a better person and yuyuhase is juuuust unhinged enough to keep papalymo interested and drag him out of his comfort zone - i think papalymo would actually be quite charmed by yuyuhase’s dry wit and pragmatism. conversely, yuyuhase would have a lot of fun riling up papalymo to get a reaction.

- sam and diane dynamic basically

so as ARR goes on they get closer and closer and there’s push and pull will they or won’t they so on and so forth and it’s a THING but it’s also NOT a thing because they’re both so stubborn and refuse to admit they’re actually into “that smug bastard/that arrogant scold”

sidenote: probably about halfway through ARR, just before titan he goes to lolorito and puts in his resignation as shady errand guy because being the champion of eorzea is now basically a full time job and he’s making soo much gil and really doesn’t need to be doing lackey work anymore. and of course lolorito is not happy about it because yuyuhase was actually only getting more and more useful to him but what could be done about it? what indeed...

post-ARR so life is pretty good by now he’s rolling in gil, he’s the champion of eorzea, savior of the realm (titles he’s not super duper sold on but it’s great from a marketing perspective so whatever) and alphinaud comes in with his crystal braves idea. now, yuyuhase HATES alphinaud, and i feel like he’s pretty justified in that. like, from his perspective he’s someone who grew up in the worst conditions, has seen the poverty and experienced the misery firsthand - you can say what you want about him being a bad person but you can’t deny yuyuhase is someone who is very familar with reality - and here’s this literal child from overseas, who has never been hungry or cold or known any danger in his life - spoiled and arrogant and he’s comes in here basically saying “i’m going to fix all your problems it’s going to be so easy i know better than you helpless eorzeans” and it’s not really all that different a tune then the one the empire sings and it’s just so patronizing and infuriating because even though 90% of his brain at this point is dedicated to the accumulation of wealth and power there’s still 10% that has dignity. so that’s where there’s a little more canon divergence; he really goes off on alphinaud and refuses to join the braves and washes his hands of the whole endeavor. which frees him up to be the perfect scapegoat with the rest of the scions to take the fall for the “assassination” of nanamo, and that works out so nicely for lororito because like, if his former goon wasn’t working for him anymore he doesn’t want him working for anyone, and this gets him out of the picture. adds a nice bit of color to the scheme i think.

HW: anyway still stupid rich and powerful but now a fugitive on suspicion of high treason and murdering the sultana (as we know he’s not necessarily opposed to a little bit of treason as a treat but he’s real sore about this because he’s taking the fall for something he didn’t even DO) and off to ishgard, where it is very cold, with two of his least favorite people in the entire world by his side.

this is a low point for wol!yuyuhase because he’s cold all the time and hates snow and does not give a fuck about ishgard or the dragonsong war and oh also, papalymo - probably the only person who he’s managed to build a genuine connection with - is missing presumed dead. it’s bad, he’s miserable, probably more than a little depressed and for the first time is really starting to question who/what he actually is and what he’s even doing. but now there’s a bunch of wealthy ishgardian’s willing to supplement the income he lost when the scions exploded so he stays on his grind; ends the war, unseats the theocracy, bills time and a half, trips alphinaud into snowbanks whenever he can and then pulls the most innocent and angelic “who, me?” face which is always a small light in the otherwise dark winter of his journey. this is also the time when, at a low point, he is finally defeated by tataru, who is really starting to come into her own and is like “ok listen i’m not your client i’m your AGENT and actually you need to be giving me a cut on every job :)” and that settles that matter.

post-HW: finally reunited with papalymo, and their time apart has made them both realize there are GENUINE and UNRESOLVED feelings between them that NEED TO BE ADDRESSED except you know papalymo then like immediately fucking throws himself at a primal and dies lmao.

STB: these are the bad times. i think up until this point yuyuhase was starting to grow and improve as a person but papalymo’s death sends him spiraling right back to square one and, if anything, only hardens his belief that the only thing that matters in this life is wealth and power and looking out for yourself. this is the second time he’s allowed himself to hope otherwise and the second time that he’s (in his mind) been punished for it. well, not again no way! fool him once, shame on you, fool him twice shame on HIM. a harsh lesson twice learned 40 years in the making. all that being said, lyse is basically his last connection to papalymo and his last wish had sort of been that she walk her path. and there’s plenty of profit in revolution for someone who’s shrewd enough to take advantage. i think yuyuhase is a person who has basically always had hardship at his back and as a survival method simply refuses to engage with his actual feelings and instead pushes forward. because what else can you do? it’s something i don’t think someone who hasn’t experienced it can understand but when you’re TRULY hungry you don’t sit there and wallow in your hunger, you do whatever you have to to ensure that you never go hungry again. that is to say, he’s in a lot of pain but instead of letting himself heal he just cuts a huge swathe of destruction across the continent and liberates two nations and makes an assload of gil. at this point he’s probably actually in the top 1% wealthiest people in eorzea, but he’s still not happy, and he’s still hungry, and that hole in him still hasn’t been filled up so that must mean he just hasn’t gotten wealthy enough yet. he hasn’t gotten powerful enough yet. more gil, more strength - he just needs to get a bit more and then all the bad will finally go away.

the actual plot stuff in stormblood is all secondary to his internal struggles; like ishgard he doesn’t actually give a fuck about ala mhigo or doma but that’s the path lyse is walking and the one he’s following her down getting paid all the way. zenos beating his ass is noteworthy - it reinforces that yuyuhase is still not top dog, there’s still someone who has power over him. there’s no thrill in it for him, he just wants zenos down.

post-STB: more politics he doesn’t care about. he’s kind of getting to the end of his tether here. maybe a fresh perspective, or a change in scenery will help?

SHB: but not like that!! ohh he was soo pissed off when g’raha dragged him to the first. didn’t want any part of it. but really at this point he’s so worn down eventually he just starts marking up his invoices (billed to the exarch and the crystarium of course) 200% for out-of-area service and goes with it. they start pumping him full of light and it’s just like “well this is definitely corrupt but in general yuyuhase is already a corrupt person so how much worse can it even get it’s probably fine” he’s really kind of enchanted by eulmore and vauthry (much to the horror of the rest of the scions) but to him that seems like a logical conclusion to everything. who wouldn’t want to live out their days in luxury - no struggles, no grindset, just everything you could ever want, always? towards the end, he really considers just giving up and retiring there to die but dulia-chai of all people sits him down and sets him straight like, “well yes of course it’s a lovely sort-of-life. we never want for anything material. always safe, always warm, always fed. but there’s really nothing there. it’s just as empty as it is full my dear. and there are so many people who want better than that for you.” and she had no way of knowing about papalymo but that’s who he thought of and it sort of started to snap him out of this 2 xpac long downward spiral. ryne absolutely adores him even though he’s kind of like that weird uncle who is probably harmless but still a bad influence so your parents don’t want you hanging out with him. she’s convinced he’s actually a good person deep down and it’s possible she’s not wrong? but you’d have to go like, real deep. emet-selch also finds him kind of fascinating, this selfish little bastard and at one point asks him “how much would it cost me to to have you fuck off and leave us to it (rejoinings) and yuyuhase’s response was pretty much “don’t worry about it you couldn’t afford it” the implication of course being that he does in fact have a price and can be bought for even the worst of intentions but it’s also possible the number in his head is so absurdly high that that amount of material wealth may not even exist. hmmm!! definitely don’t need to read any more into that or what that means!! post-SHB: here is where he’s currently at. he’s been very clear that he’s going to start billing the scions again for all this work getting their souls back to the source and NO tataru does NOT get her cut this time this was ALL HIM. i’m going to be soooo annoying with gpose once i get him to aitiascope lmaooo

[jacksgreysays]

60) things you said as the bottom dropped out; for your OCs or whatever you feel like

I’m gonna be honest anon, I think this prompt fill will actually be more of an outline/planning/ideation.

Because I’m gonna be even more honest, I did have to look up what “bottom dropped out” means. Like… I had a vague idea I knew what I meant but then I second guessed myself and looked it up to make sure because it’s not a phrase I use/hear often. But, for those who are also not sure, the bottom dropping means something ends/goes awry 1) suddenly and with the option of doing so 2) worse than it has ever been before. So not just abruptly hitting rock bottom but also maybe plunging straight through to the crust of the earth.

Which is hilarious.

I also appreciate you for requesting one of my OCs and/or whatever whim may take me which does make this… very open ended on who gets absolutely destroyed and what they say while being so but also means it’s so open ended that I have to ideate what I would write about.

I was also thinking that the particular phrasing evokes the sense of falling, which should be obvious, but… how do I put it… while the bottom of a boat disappearing would put its passengers in a bind the idea of them falling into water doesn’t seem as abrupt. Or, like, doesn’t evoke falling necessarily. Then I was thinking, a step to the side, what about an airship? But that involves a good chunk of world building which isn’t where I’m at for the moment.

And also, I shouldn’t take it so literally.

So, what do you say the moment of the worst thing suddenly happening to you? Let’s see…

If I go through my OCs, my usual go to is, of course, Tetsuki but weirdly enough nothing bad happens to her so suddenly and that she can’t mitigate/recover from. After that is Leanne, but in an equal and opposite problem, bad things are happening to her almost constantly, and also nothing is the absolute worst she’d be subjected to because the purgatory that is her existence is already the bad ending (in as much as a time traveler can have an ending)

And of course I have other OCs but…who has their entire world ripped out from under them all at once…

Ohhhhh, oh noooooo, I know who it is: it’s Curtis/Apex from Twelve Sessions.

It would be about the fight that effectively wiped out the rest of the team—Brian/Griever is dead, Alvin/Silverfang is not dead but definitely unable to continue vigilantism somehow, Leanne/Anachron is lost to time (again), Joy/Jaguar’s fate is uncertain she’s probably not dead but definitely not going to continue vigilantism.

The problem is, while I do know what he says before the fight I don’t know what he would say during the fight and I also don’t actually happens in the fight since the point of Twelve Sessions is the more human/vulnerable side of superheroes having to face consequences of being a superhero. Anyways, he would definitely say something encouraging like “We got this” before the fight and then everything goes bad and it becomes a horrible irony that haunts him forever even when he does eventually heal and forgive himself.

So then is there anyone else?

In the same superhero trend, I was thinking of maybe a Tim Drake fic because he is one of my faves and he truly did have one of the worst years of existence if I’m remembering right in which basically everyone he loved died and then Robin was taken from him, but that’d basically be the whole fic and that’s just retreading old ground?

My brain did then jump to DoS since I had already crossed the fanfiction line even though you had specifically mentioned my OCs, but Shikako so very frequently is hit with extremely unfortunate events that she then so often adapts and lands on her feet if I go back to the falling interpretation as a metaphor. BUT THEN, I remembered I do have my own DoS OCs: specifically Shikako’s genin students. And while they’re learning to be as adaptable as her and as casually irreverent about the most bizarre situations, I think that largely depends on her being there. So for them, the bottom dropping out would be something that removes Shikako from the equation.

But wait, didn’t I just say she always lands on her feet? And yes, she does. At this point I would say recursive fic of her almost always has the implicit agreement that she wins/lives/survives/succeeds/protects the people she wants to. Which I do love and would love to hold to. But then I harkened back to ask box fake fic title prompt, Edge Of The Stars in which Shikadai tries to solve the mystery of his missing aunt and it turns out it was aliens/a Stargate.

Which… I still don’t know anything about the Stargate franchise. But the concept still holds: everyone is still alive and I’m sure she’s kicking ass and taking names wherever in the wide universe she got sent to, but as far as the people who love her are concerned Shikako disappeared and never came back.

So a fic in which her students—whether or not they’re still genin (probably not, tbh, considering their sensei’s fast tracking)—cope with her disappearance and really dig down to the core of what she taught them. Because another literal interpretation of the bottom dropping out is that the foundation is what fails or disappears even before the falling even happens.

But I’m also realizing that fic would just be me rambling about those OCs going from students to adults in the absence of their teacher when the more interesting story would be… where the hell IS Shikako and what is she doing?

Like… maybe I’m just overanalyzing the prompt, but I’m trying to figure out which is the most fun part: is it the foundation disappearing? Is it the person falling? Is it the person hitting rock bottom and then dealing with that?

[apollos-boyfriend]

OHHHHH everything suddenly makes so much more sense now

[alltimefail-sims]

94% ! For any or all of your strangerville ocs!

94%. Your character is falling in love. Do they take things slow or fast? Do they make decisions or do they make a lot of compromises? How secure are they?

Ohhhhh man this is a sneaky cheeky question. I am going to be very careful answering this 🧐, but the responses will likely be long because ya'll know I loooooooove love!!

Zoe is demisexual and demiromantic which is important to note because falling in love for her has always felt a little different than it did for her peers. Growing up she was never relationship-crazy, she has had very few "crushes" and even fewer relationships. For her, falling in love really would happen slowly as the connection builds, but then, all at once, she would have a moment of realization where she realizes oh shit, I'm in love. If there's one thing she's gonna do, it's marry someone she sees as her best friend - she cares about a person's soul/heart/character. Zoe's love would come from such a vulnerable place as she has never had a serious enough relationship where she "fell in love" before. As for as the dynamics of a relationship, she would not date anyone who she didn't fully trust and compliment, so I actually think she'd be an even balance of decision-making and compromises (it would just depend on her partner, the situation they're faced with, etc.) She's a team player. If Zoe is saying she's "in love," she is all in and 100% secure. I'd say the most secure she has ever been was with her previous boyfriend who she dated from the last few months of high school (12th grade) to the first 3-or-so months of college (they broke up for a number of reasons) and she was only ever like 63% secure on any given day with him.

Erwin believes he'll never fall in love, full stop, for a number of reasons. Frankly, he's not even sure if he should fall in love and subject someone to the metaphorical baggage he carries around. His self-esteem is kind of all over the place as he's always been considered different, yet hookups and flings have always been accessible to him. What little actual relationship history he has is pretty toxic, if we're being honest. All that said... Erwin falling in love would scare the shit out of him lmao. I think he's the type of person who would scoff at the idea of falling in love quickly, but then it would happen to him and he would get it. Suddenly everything would make sense, the world would feel a little less heavy, he'd find himself wanting to be better for this person who he would treat like they hung the moon and the stars...he might even be happy for once and God is that foreign to him. He'd definitely tend to be the compromiser, not in a negative way but in the way that he's just happy to see his partner happy. He's spent so long alone and doing things "his way" that he'd be happy to let someone else take lead (and he'd probably welcome it because he is kind of a mess and notorious for making bad decisions lmao).

Anwar has only ever been in casual relationships, much to his family's dismay (he hasn't had a partner reach the "meet the family" stage, and he often jokes about being a bachelor for the rest of his life). He's very independent and very logical, but he's also got a bad habit of being a little too guarded with his heart. He comes off callous, but really it's just so he doesn't get hurt. But once you break through that and gain his trust he moves fairly quickly and he is very decisive, he is the type to fall hard and fall fast (but he'd be wary to scare off his partner with his intense feelings). I would argue that as tough as he seems, he's actually super chill and more likely to compromise. He's actually a big softie when it comes to the people he loves, he's very protective of them and he doesn't like fighting in general. He's definitely more of the "what can I do to help you," "how do you feel about this," "whatever you're comfortable with," and so-on type. He's always going to put his partner's comfort first, not because he feels like he has to but because he genuinely wants to.

Junia's first, honest reaction to falling in love would be to push the person away without question (literally making physical space if that's what it takes). She doesn't really want to fall in love and she's emotionally constipated in my opinion lmao. It isn't until the feelings are unbearable to bury any more; when she's sketching their smile, thinking about them while laying in the dark, is looking for excuses to do little things for them or to just subtly touch them that she would admit she has feelings for them. She is going to move painfully slow, she's going to resist it as much as possible, and she would never tell someone that she is into them first even if she was grossly in love with them. Once the relationship is on though, she's very upfront about her needs and boundaries. She's probably more of the decision-maker, but in all likelihood she's the one with a more difficult past so she has barriers to work through that her partner might not have. It's important to note that even though she is the decision-maker, this mostly goes hand-in-hand with her "she asked for no pickles" demeanor in the relationship lol. Idk that she would ever be 100% secure in any friendship, nonetheless a relationship, but I'd argue she would try her hardest to be (she knows she's fiercely loyal and wouldn't leave her partner, but loving someone requires a lot of trust that they won't leave, and that's hard for her).

Tashia is pretty straightforward: her preference would always be to move quickly once feelings are there. She wants kids, she wants a big family, she wants a life-partner and is a super romantic. If she was falling in love she would be obvious about it, she would be really flirty and thoughtful and wouldn't think twice about making her intentions known. She's a fine-ass, educated, confident woman! In relationships she's always been very decisive, but I imagine she knows when to take the lead and when to let her partner call the shots. She's a great listener and likes to see things from more than just her own perspective, so as long as someone isn't asking her to compromise one her dreams/ambitions/long-term goals, she's very happy to try things a different way than she originally planned.

Beckett's answer is the most difficult to me because he is a little bit of everything - for him, his response time and stature in a relationship is situational. With some people he moves fast, and in general he just feels like there's no reason to waste time if he is into someone. On the other hand, he's also sooooo shy and kind of terrible at flirting so sometimes things happen slower than he originally intended. He is very passive by nature, so he tends to opt to his partner to be the one making decisions, but he is opinionated - he just generally feels like his opinions don't really matter or aren't important enough to share. If he were to fall in love he would be sooooooooo sure of his feelings though, he'd be super vocal about it, and he would feign a lot of confidence with his partner like, "you know I'm hot" or "you know you love me." He'd be lying though if he didn't admit that he deals with the fear of not being good enough and he would need a little reassurance from his significant other from time to time.

Prompt here - ask me about my OCs!

[megatraven]

Meg, I just had a sudden sad idea. It’s like 11 PM at night and I can’t stop tossing the idea of Alex switching places with another Alex.

Like.

I think either you or another user or anon said the idea of MC from Astraeus’s route switches to Hades MC and I’m just thinking of Alex in their own route switching places with the Alex in Astraeus route.

Like oh my gosh. I hope that made sense bc what I’m thinking of is pure pain and it won’t leave my thoughts. They go to bed one night holding MC, only to wake up in an entirely different situation that just breaks their heart.

And to make mine feel better, I like to believe that once they get back to their own spots, they forget about it so no more pain is caused. Especially on Alex in Astraeus route like. They see that in another universe, they have MC in their life as their WIFE. They’re together, she’s a demigod, and they’re both running HERA, when in their reality, Olympus has been destroyed. And then the Alex from their own route is destroyed at seeing what had happened to their mother and Olympus and are struggling and get even more upset bc they learn what MC went through and what caused everything and oh my-

I wanted to tell you this because it’s pretty sad and idk if you’ve made a post about it before and I’m just retelling it, but this is a sad AU I had suddenly.

ALSO! That little AU you said on my dream post was so sad but so good😭😭. Alex snapping at Hades and so afraid to lose anyone else when they lost MC. I love the amount of surprising sadness we can add into AFK lol. Whether it’s unconsciously or consciously.

Also, now that I’m thinking it Astraeus, I’m just thinking of that moment of Alex shouting, “I LOVE YOU.” I think that’s what they say but like ohhhhh the painnnn. Anyways, I hope you have a nice night and love youuu💙💙. And I’ve seen your art recently (the Alex ones recently) and they’re beautiful🥺💙.

yep those were my posts! :) (mc swap post for anyone interested)

and i have a really similar au except instead of alex being swapped, astraeus route!alex is stuck in alex route alex's world. (post 1, and post 2)

but i really like the idea of universe-swaps :) theyre so fun, there's so much you can do with them.... augh i love them..........

u know me sarah, i love astoria angst more than anything <333

and yes that's one of my FAVORITE scenes in all of astoria, alex releasing mc from their aura's hold and crying and shouting "I LOVE YOU!" and then letting her go and disobeying hades' orders to stop her....... oh i love alex so much <33333

AND!! thank you so much <3 im always doodling alex when i have the chance hehe

[xfilescat]

re: your vecna post! i kinda dig vecna but for a really specific reason. im so with you in that i liked the more nebulous, more science fiction-y villains the most. the demogorgon was my fav villain of the whole show, but i kinda like the vecna angle because it explains why the demogorgon attacks in the first place.

it’s like how i’ve always felt about the aliens thing you know? like people have always feared aliens attacking the earth and i always felt there was something really uniquely and bizarrely self-centered about that. cause it’s like, ok Why would aliens care about us literally at all. do you know how big the universe is. why do you think aliens care about you!!! you’re not the center of everything!!! right??

so i think in that way vecna kinda gives a level of legitimacy to the other villains/creatures attacking human beings. it’s like wait why are these inter-dimensional creatures killing people suddenly when they were just minding their cool little business …. ohhhhh…. there’s another human behind it all. exploiting another dimension’s ecosystem for the sake of revenge and warfare. got it.

does that make sense ?? sorry i am literally inarticulate but i really liked your question and i hope more people engage w it!! :) <3

YOOOOOOOO this is legitimately such a cool take! like… you’re so right. if henry hadn’t corrupted them, the democreatures in all their forms and the mind flayer would’ve been in the proto-upsidedown just like we saw in 4x9, going about their business in peace. thank u so much for sharing, my friend!!!! wonderful food for thought :)

[mrs-gucci]

Mr. Handsy {Clyde Logan x wife!Reader}

@icarusinthesea :

Okay, okay. I think I've thought of something. Eh, it's a mediocre idea, but it does it for me. Fighting with Clyde followed by sweet, hot, nasty make up sex. I can not think of anything else. But whatever you write I'll love. 🥰

author’s notes: hello, hello! writers block has been hitting HARDCORE as of late, which is kind of a bummer, but luckily I’m feeling a bit better now! @icarusinthesea​ thank you for this request!! I hope it was worth the (very long) wait, and I send love to you, friend <3 <3

warnings: fluff. smut. club brawls. violence against an asshole. protectiveness. dom!Clyde. oral sex (m receiving). rough sex. unprotected sex/creampie.

(possible) tw’s: non-con touching (not by Clyde). physical conflict. sex in a public restroom.

word count: 1.9k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum @charliesahottie​ @gotham-city-uber-driver​ @gildedstarlight​ @slytheriin2002 clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings​ @icarusinthesea​ @lumdelacour​ @readingreaver​ @eagerforhoney​ @trubluepensfan​ @beachwoodmonet​ if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, the sign up is linked here and can also be found in my description :)

You had a bad feeling about this place from the very beginning, from the moment you stepped into this stupid sleazy club for your co-worker’s birthday.

Clyde decided to tag along, mainly to hang out with the other poor guys whose wives dragged them along tonight.

The bass pulses your eardrums as you make your way over to the booth that they’d claimed, saying some very loud ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’ to everyone before taking a seat on Clyde’s lap.

Your outfit certainly matches the locale of tonight’s party, sexy and risqué while maintaining at least some coverage and dignity for your larger areas. Clyde’s been having some trouble keeping his eyes, and now that he can, his hands, off you.

His calloused flesh hand runs over your thigh and hip in a soothing manner, mindless in its movements over your exposed skin.

Soon, a good dancing song comes on and no matter how much you try to beg Clyde to join you on the crowded floor, he refuses, insisting that you go have some fun with your friends.

His eyes keep a close watch on you, knowing that unfortunately, it’s highly likely that some bonehead Joe will come along and think he can touch without permission.

He finds himself in a sort of entranced state, watching the way your hips move when you dance, watches your skin bounce and jiggle with each motion, sees the way the multicolored lights bounce off the sequins on your dress…

Sure enough, said bonehead Joe dances his way over to you, not-so-subtly checking you out from a bit of a distance before making his approach.

Clyde almost instantly leaps into action when his hand touches your hip and he slides in behind you. Thinking that the man behind you is Clyde, you start grinding against him a bit more, smirking.

But, only after a second or two, his motions and touch begin to feel awfully foreign. You’ve just truly begun to doubt your dancing partner’s identity when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Keep dancing like this and I’ll just have to take you home, babygirl.”

Goosebumps form on your skin in disgust the moment you hear an unfamiliar voice, yanking away from his grubby grip.

“How dar—“

“Hey, you!”

Your eyes widen and you look around the man to see a very angry-looking Clyde storming his way over to where you’re standing.

He turns the handsy man around with a hand on his shoulder, then gives him a shove. “Can’t ya see she’s married, asshole? Don’t you ever think ya can just go ‘round here, touchin’ what ain’t yours.”

“Cly—“

“Don’t ya even start with me right now, Y/N. I can’t believe ya didn’t stop ‘im, can’t believe ye kept grindin’ against ‘im.”

Your eyes widen. “Clyde, p-please, it’s not like tha—“

“I thought I told ya t’ can it, Y/N.”

You shudder at his commanding and harsh tone, immediately backing down and biting your lip as the tears swell in your eyes.

The man wears a small smirk, giving Clyde an equally rough shove backwards. “And what, you’re telling me she’s yours? Bullshit she is. Who’d ever wanna marry a one-armed redneck like you?”

Big mistake. Clyde used to just stand down and shut off whenever someone made fun of his disability, but usually now, he just gets fucking pissed.

Sure enough, his jaw clenches and he quickly lunges at Mr. Handsy, forcefully knocking him to the scuffed dance floor. Often times, mostly due to his kind and gentle demeanor, you forget that Clyde’s a veteran. A special ops veteran, at that.

You can’t deny that bearing witness to his unbridled anger and dominance isn’t at least a little bit sexy, even if you do feel incredibly guilty about not realizing sooner that it wasn’t Clyde.

Like the coward he truly is, and that many men like him are, he flees the scene quickly when he looks up and sees the anger in Clyde’s eyes.

Meanwhile, you instantly rush up to him, apologizing repeatedly. “Clyde, I’m so sorry, I thought it was you and I didn’t mean to—“

He snatches your wrist, bending down so that his hot, slightly strained breath wafts across your face. “You’d better yer slutty ass into the restroom right fuckin’ now.” He growls, letting you go.

You nod, whimpering under your breath as you scurry off into the bathroom.

He follows after you, pushing you into the single stall before reaching around to lock the door.

“Clyde, please, I’m so sorry. I promise that I didn’t know it wasn’t you until he spoke and I pulled away right after that. I would never…”

He holds a hand up and you trail off, then crosses it back over his chest along with the other. When you look up at him, ready to apologize further, he gives you a subtle head shake and a faint smile.

“Get m’ cock out.”

You know, then, that he’s not mad, and you know exactly what he wants from you. You step up to him with a small smirk and pop the button on his Levi’s, pulling the zipper down before reaching in to fish out his half-hard length.

“Now stroke it. You know how I like it.”

Your hand holds a steady grip around the protrusion, starting off slow but quickening randomly, just as he likes it.

His head tilts back onto the cheap tiled wall, nostrils flaring as he exhales shakily. “Thaaaaat’s m’ girl, just like that.”

You speed up just a bit, focusing your pressure and ministrations on the upper half of his shaft, moving the little bit of excess skin up and down his shiny pink head.

“Mmmmffhhh.” He groans through pursed lips, hips rutting forward into your touch.

Suddenly, he pushes your hand away, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to cope with the sudden loss of stimulation on his pulsing arousal.

“Knees.”

You get onto your knees, using his shoes as cushioning.

“Mouth open.”

Your jaw falls open and he wastes no time in moving himself into proper position, sheathing himself fully in your mouth.

“Ghhhohhh, s-shit.”

You’re choking right off the bat, shoulders shaking with each violent cough.

“Yeah, take it. Gon’ make ye choke on me, shove m’ cock down yer lil throat ‘till ya can’t breathe no more.”

You somehow manage to moan around him in between your gags and coughs, lungs panicked for the rough cutoff of airflow by Clyde’s length. Tears begin to swell in your eyes, soon running down your cheeks.

His eyebrows are tightly knitted in the center of his forehead, skin glistening with the beginnings of sweat as his hips rut into your cavern even quicker and rougher now.

Clyde has to physically pull himself away from your mouth, shuddering as his cock bobs and throbs angrily at the loss of friction. His hand splays out on the wall, chest heaving as he takes a moment to re-gain composure.

Then, he looks down at you, gaze sizzling your very skin.

“Up. Turn yerself ‘round n’ bend over, ass out n’ legs spread nicely.”

You put yourself into the position, wiggling your ass just a bit for play after pushing your jean shorts down, earning you a harsh smack across your newly-exposed skin. He smirks when you squeal softly, giving himself a few lazy strokes as he steps up behind you, lips instantly attacking your neck.

“Yer gon’ walk outta ‘ere with all o’ my marks on your neck, hickeys n’ bite marks. Maybe then everyone’ll understand who it is ya belong t’."

His chin digs into your shoulder, then he’s thrusting forward, filling you up and stretching you out to the max. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Ohhhhh.”

He groans into your ear, chin digging into your shoulder as he begins fucking you fast and hard. There’s nothing gentle or romantic about this union; it’s hunger and wanting, it’s pure carnal lust.

Tears quickly swell up in your eyes at the sweet pleasure currently surging through your body, tickling every nerve ending and igniting every pleasure center. 

It’s humid in the club, the bathroom no exception and already, a sheen of sweat has formed on the surface of your skin. Clyde’s good hand takes an even firmer hold on the meat of your hips, hips thrusting at an impossibly fast pace.

“G’damnit, wrapped ‘round m-me so tight, fffuck Y/N. Such a lil’ cccunt, love shovin’ m’ b-big cock in ya, ssssplittin’ ya right in half--christ.”

You love how his accent gets thicker and thicker at times like this, so much so that sometimes you can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. It’s adorable.

“Mmm, C-Clyde! Please baby, please mmmake me cum!”

His lips latch onto the side of your neck, sucking as hard as they possibly can while he reaches around to rub your clit with the cool metal digits of his prosthetic. 

Your hips instantly grind down on him, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. “Ohh god, mmmmmfffuck--right there! Yes, yes, Clyde!”

“Say y-yer mine.” He growls into your ear, panting. “Tell everyone who ya bbbelong to. Scream ma name w-when ya cum.”

“Y-Yours, all yours, Clyde. I’m yours!” You whimper. 

Clyde fucks you with everything he’s got, biting into your skin and sucking more of the flesh until you’re littered with marks. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, body trembling as you release all over his shaft with a shout of his name.

“Clyde! C-Clyde, fuck!”

Not long after you, Clyde falls over the edge, desperately rutting and fucking each drop of his hot load deep into your spasming cunt.

“Y/N, g’damnit...fuuuckin’ s-shit!”

Both of you are rendered breathless as you come down from your respective highs. His lips and tongue gently soothe the harsh bites and bruises that have been left behind in his wake. 

He sighs softly when he pulls out, helping you pull your shorts back up before tucking himself back into his pants. When you turn around, he crashes his lips into yours, hands resting gently on your hips. 

“‘m real sorry fer that, Y/N; dunno what got int’ me. I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

You smile, cradling his face in your hands. “Clyde, there is no need to apologize or feel bad for that. You know if I was uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped you or said something. I loved it, more than I probably should have, and I love you.”

His lips tug up into a soft, lopsided smile, relief flooding across his expression.

“I love ya too, Y/N, so, so much. Thank ya fer puttin’ up with me n’ bein’ mine.”

“No ‘thank you’ necessary, baby. I’m yours, always yours.”

Clyde grins, pulling you in for a hug as he repeats your words out loud.

“All mine.”

[no-droids]

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

No, his robes are blue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—the projecting.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh—oh, Maker—

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

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

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

The sound of it breaks through everything else.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You… find him in your quarters instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t respond, and no.

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

He doesn’t look reassured.

He looks… alienated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And him… allowing it.

“Master, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maker—Master Kenobi is asking you to seduce him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Maker, he’s lovely.

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

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

And then you go… lower.

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

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

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

Master Kenobi says your name without opening his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wields a blue saber.  Not a green one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A compromise, then.”

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

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

He shakes his head.  “I don’t see h—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well.  He… makes a valid point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—wait, did he just…?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kimberly-spirits13]

Teen Titans Having Crush on Red X Reader HC (Request)

Beast Boy:

So when this boy falls, he’s whipped

That’s just what happens and he cannot help it

This means that when he notices that he’s starting to fall for Red X, it just happens and he cannot stop it

He doesn’t really know what to do since Red X is so morally grey but he does go to you for advice

Hehehehehe well chille

Hate to break it to you BB but there’s a slight problem there

It was complicated cause he really did like you but he also had this growing crush on Red X

Like you can love two people at the same time for different reasons, he liked your different aliases at the same time, one for stability and one for the chase

And then he slowly started finding out that you were Red X

You finally got so tired and felt kind of guilty that he was falling for you in two different ways that you finally came clean

“Look Gar, I’m not who you think..”

“How do you know my name?”

And you take of the mask and he basically goes brain dead for a second

Wait wait wait wait so you’re telling me that you’re Red X

Yeah that’s what you were telling him

he’s confused at first cause now you’re good and bad or more so good and morally not all there

He does still really want to be together as do you, but he’s gotta make sure that you’re not doing anything too villainous

When that’s over, he’s totally whipped for all of you

Cyborg:

If he comes to have a problem, he’s the kind to keep quite and figure it out without help

This is the same when it comes down to you and the entire Red X thing

Wants to make sure that any choice he makes is the right one

We also do know that Cy already has pre-established thing for for the anti hero or villain

So when he sees that he’s falling, it’s weird cause he doesn’t want any help but there are two important people for him and he cannot make any decisions

Then one night he’s up thinking about everything in life and watching over the security cameras and he sees Red X and decided to get you to check it out

That’s when Red X picks up the Titan comm and your voice comes over as they talk

Wtf

He just does a massive double take and it starts to suddenly make sense

All of the times that they fought this foe and you weren’t there

The times that you had extra bruises and scrapes weren’t just because you trained hard or were clumsy sometimes anymore

He calls you back to the tower for an emergency and sees how Red X reacts in a hurried manner and slightly irradiated

When you get back, you find that there’s nothing but an angry Cyborg and you have to come clean

he’s mad at first but when you give your reasons he understands and just is okay with it

When you’re rambling on and on about it, he just kisses you and accepts you for everything you are

Raven:

She can read you like a book

Isn’t stupid and knows that something’s up

The difference is that she won’t question it cause she doesn’t want you to be who thinks you are

It was when she realized that things just weren’t adding up

It would be simple things like weird scratches and broken or sprained bones that didn’t make sense to be there

And then the fact that you so easily could remove the giant red X from her mouth without pain when it got slapped over her mouth

That and you were never at the scene until later or before

It was very suspicious

And so when she started feeling the same way about X that she did you, it was very strange cause the relationships and feelings were the same intuitively

She wasn’t angry, and that was the scary part

Raven had to tell you that she wasn’t mad since she could sense you getting nervous when she talked to you about it

And that was when you just took a breath and spilled it

She also accepts you for what you are even if it’s not what she believes, it’s what you think will bring justice and it has been working

Even if it can be pretty darn illegal

Robin:

The is so smart but so dumb

You weren’t trying to make it hard for anyone to figure out that you were Red X but you weren’t making it too easy

Just going with it and making the most out of it

Like you weren’t a villain you’d say, just an antihero

And that was enough

That was until it slowly, very slowly started to all come together

*it’s all coming together now*

And suddenly he starts to notice that you’re never there when X is and how you’re always doing stuff outside of the team

it’s weird and not cause you have another life, but it seems such an intense life that you’re never around

Especially at night

there are no movie nights anymore like the two of you had cause you’re always busy and that makes you two drift

You don’t want to but you’re sure that he’d do the same thing so yeahhh

He doesn’t confront you like normally

He captures you and de-masks you just to be sure because now he’s annoyed that his best friend that he loves is missing from his life and suddenly he’s starting to feel similar ways about this masked anti hero running around his city

And then and there you two just have to work through that because otherwise that would be the end of everything that you had

He just decides that you’re still enacting justice and what you are sure is right and that’s enough

Starfire

Girl reads everyone like a book and knows that something’s up from the get go

Point blank periodt she knows there’s something fishy going on

And since she’s had a crush on you since forever, she knows that it’s something big

So then she starts to notice little flurries of feelings towards this character

And that’s when it gets complicated

Goes to Raven for help since she doesn’t want you to know about her crush on you and X

Raven is the only one that she thinks can help

So then she starts to follow you as regular hero and Red X and she discovers that you’re one in the same

You know that she knows when you get your ass into trouble and she swoops down and saves you

“Ohhhhh this is awkward”

And asks a ton of questions and wonders why you do that and what led you to be Red X

And she forgives you and later the relationship develops

She doesn’t shun you at all, just wants things to calm down some

Tag list: @cipheress-to-k-pop