#Why it's the only thing that can elicit a response of any kind from me

[ohnoitstbskyen]

The overwhelming misery of going viral on YouTube

In April of 2021, I posted a short to YouTube - a 60 second video in the format of their TikTok competitor. In the nature of shorts, it was a one-minute, necessarily un-nuanced hot take about a subject I like to talk about: character design. Specifically I made the mistake of lamenting that the character design of female heroes in major games tend to prioritize attractiveness rather than using their body shape to do storytelling about their lives or capabilities.

It did okay, garnering about 38k views in its first month. Didn't set the world on fire, but I got my point out there, and while there were some crappy comments, for the most part people seemed to understand what I was driving at.

The short had eventually climbed to about 100.000 views after a full year of being online, which is respectable, but in the world of YouTube Shorts a fairly middle-of-the-road level of success (these are extremely short videos being served extremely quickly to a huge base of users). Fast forward to November 8th of this year, and... something happens. More than a year after it was originally published, it starts gaining traction.

Slowly at first, a few thousand views, but by the 14th it's gained 80.000 views in a day. On the 16th, 400.000, on the 17th, 680.000. I have no idea why this is happening, there's no influx of viewers from any outside source, there's no topical news event that would make the video suddenly relevant.

I tweet about it, bemused by the sudden jump, but also hinting a bit at the other side of this story.

"There Is No Such Thing As Negative Press"

On YouTube, there is on the systemic level very little difference between positive attention and negative attention. If you create excellent work that brings joy into people's lives, they engage with your video and the algorithm reads that as success. And if you create miserable, hateful content that makes people angry and stokes them to responses of outrage, disgust or jeering, the algorithm reads that as a kind of success, too.

Hate-bait and rage-bait YouTubers operate in that latter space, churning out inflammatory or distressing content, hoping to elicit either reactions of horror, or gleeful cheering from people who like it when their favourite online personality trolls the Other.

But there's another way to garner negative attention, and that is to create content which is not at all designed to bait or elicit a negative response, but whose subject matter nonetheless produces a negative response from a certain kind of person.

That is the unfortunate slip-and-slide I have found myself on.

At the time of writing, the short sits at 6.8 million views, has been gaining on average 2 million views per day, and it still seems to be accelerating. Despite those skyrocketing numbers, however, it only ("only") has around 1300 published comments underneath it.

That is because, after the first couple of million views, I told YouTube to automatically hold all comments for review. That is, YouTube allows users to comment on the video, but those comments are not published until I manually approve them.

The reason I did this is... well, it's easier to show you with some pictures. Content warning, these are unfiltered YouTube comments, so expect casual bigotries.

These are screenshots from the "held for review" tab of my YouTube Studio backend. YouTube in recent years has gotten good at filtering out content like overt racial slurs and the worst of the worst insults, which is nice, but the filtered comments tab is still not a particularly pleasant place to read through right now.

Most of the comments are like what you see above: casually rude, fatphobic, homophobic, transphobic or otherwise unpleasant. Some of the comments are more intense, threatening me with violence, insulting me personally, "I hope your mom gets raped by a [racial slur]," and worse. The worst comments are a small percentage, but as you can imagine, they do stand out in the mind, and a small percentage of a huge number can still be a lot of comments.

And that's the thing. There are hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds of comments. I scrolled for fifteen minutes and did not see the end of it. YouTube doesn't keep a visible count on how many comments are held for review, but I'd not be surprised if the 1300 comments count would have been doubled if I hadn't stopped it when I did. And since the video is still accelerating, that number is likely to skyrocket as well.

This provides me with the best theory I have as to why the video took off: the YouTube algorithm started showing it not to people who it thought would like it, but to people it thought would dislike it enough to react, to comment. And the more people did comment, the more the algorithm showed it to other people just like those who commented, who were also likely to dislike it.

This causes a feedback loop of negative attention, which the YouTube algorithm (horrifyingly) interprets as a success and an incentive to keep pushing the video.

Moderating this comments section is now physically impossible - I would need a staff of a dozen to handle it, which I can't afford and who I wouldn't want to expose to it, and while this deluge is going on, moderating the comments of other videos becomes next to impossible as well, since the "held for review" tab is utterly monopolized.

One fix for this problem, of course, is to simply disable the comments. But in my experience, doing that only encourages the worst of the commenters to seek out your other content and leave even worse comments there instead. In fact, a couple of dozen particularly irate people have already sought out my other channels to post insults there, adding to the stress and workload of dealing with all this viral "success."

How YouTube Makes YouTubers Worse

This situation is stressful, because humans are monkey creatures with monkey brains that do not like being exposed to a constant stream of rudeness, cruelty and casual bigotry. However rational you try to be about it, however detached and cold, it wears on you. It chips away at your mental defenses and becomes a constant source of low-level stress and misery.

But as far as YouTube is concerned, it's a huge success.

YouTube's systems are all set up this way. They celebrate increases in numbers with cheerful messages and positive green arrows and "helpful" statistics showing just how much things are growing - meanwhile, if you post otherwise positively received work that doesn't attract as much attention, it will give you dour "your content received fewer views due to lower interest this month" messages and greyed-out downward arrows. If you have a video that does really well on the numbers, YouTube will even play a little fireworks animation on its statistics to celebrate.

It's a form of not-so-subtle psychological manipulation. As a YouTuber you are dependent on your statistics to inform your work - if your rent depends on making those numbers go up, you essentially have no choice but to pay attention to them and let them guide your decision making. And so YouTube designs its systems to push its creators towards the behaviour that the platform finds most beneficial: numbers optimizing.

And the thing is, if I went only by the numbers, I would look at the success of this short and go "oh, there's a viable content strategy here!"

I could try and replicate its "success" by creating more content around the same topic, by targeting the same kind of outrage-baiting, by identifying the contentious subjects and trigger points brought up by the angry people in the comments and hitting them repeatedly, hoping to make engagement fall out.

YouTube would reward me for that, quite handsomely, in fact, even as mental health and professional happiness would absolutely crater. I don't have the personality for that kind of content creation, it's not what I want to do with my work, it's not the kind of person I want to be.

But I am not immune to propaganda. I have already changed as a person from doing this job, I know this for a fact. My priorities have shifted, my wants and needs have changed. Not for the worse, I believe, not yet, but the platform is constantly, constantly pushing on me.

It's unpleasant and it's stressful. It's hostile design, coupled with primitive and insufficient moderation tools, coupled with an aggressive algorithm which will go out of its way to ensure your relationship with your audience is toxic, if that toxicity produces better numbers for the platform.

Viral success is often thought of as a desirable thing, something which can launch a career or skyrocket an unknown to success. The reality is, it is mostly just overwhelming. I'm a grown man and I have done online content creation for a long time, and I have learned strategies to manage toxic comments sections over years of experience.

But imagine if something like this happened to a sixteen year old. Imagine if it happened to a teenage girl just starting out making videos. Or a trans person. Or, hell, any person from a marginalized community. I am sheltered by my privileges, but I have seen how dark it gets and how fast it gets dark for people who don't have those extra protections.

Well, it does happen to them, and no matter how rancid, bigoted and horrible the abuse they receive, they will log in to YouTube Studio to see happy fireworks and "Nice! Your video got 20 million views!" with a little green upwards pointing arrow right next to it.

You might have seen articles and thinkpieces around "creator burnout," and I want you to know that a huge part of what burns creators out is the primitive, profit-optimizing, hostile systems that power these platforms and monetize our worst experiences on them as "engagement."

In case you're wondering how much money I've earned from those 6.8 million views, by the way, it's about $20.

YouTube says they're rolling out full Shorts monetization next year, so I guess I just picked the wrong month to go viral.

---

If this story resonated with you at all, do me a favor and leave a nice comment under the work of an online creator you enjoy. It helps more than you might think.

You can tip me on Patreon or Ko-fi if you want to.

#tb essay #youtube #hostile design #burnout

[holybibly]

Hello~~ I've previously asked anonymously but I wanna send pics and gifs, so I'm uncovering my identity batman style to lose my mind over Seonghwa 🤭🫣

Like what?? 😭😭

This man man makes me lose my mind so bad, like every picture I see of him just flips a switch in my brain and suddenly *I'm* the rabid wolf chasing after a pretty bunny

I feel like he'd maybe try to be really dominant at first but would so easily let himself be flipped and ruined, I wanna blow this man's mind fr

This picture even has his hands in the perfect position to tie them up ahsjshshsj someone take my internet away please 😭😭

Firstly, hi baby, good to see you. Secondly, should I even mention that I have been drooling over him on a daily basis? God, I think the Ateez have ruined my mind just a little bit. Third, I'm going to go and make that damn fic with the cute hybrid Hwa. So we can all (I really hope) quench our thirst for the whining, submissive, and subservient Seonghwa. God, I fucking need this. I am needy and not ashamed.

In the meantime, I give you this. Have fun, my brave bunny.

"God, why must you be so beautiful? Is that fair?" You coo, running your thumb over the sugary brown flesh of his nipple. He twitches at the touch—too sensitive. "Too beautiful, annoying."

Seonghwa's arms are lifted and tied to the bed frame with silk ribbons, leaving him helpless and writhing as you deny him his second orgasm of the night, bringing him to the brink of pleasure before you withdraw. He lets out a soft, needy whimper as he is unable to make any other sounds.

He looks lost in his pleasure, his pupils dilating so that only a small ring of iris can be seen, his sensuous lips parted, and his chest rising and falling in small breathless sighs.

"Oh, darling, you sound so anxious. Don't you want to cum already, my beautiful boy?" Your teasing elicits another moan from Seonghwa as you delicately run your fingernail along the bulging vein on his cock. He twitches in response.

Overstimulated, Seonghwa closes his big, shining eyes and pushes his hips into your hand, hoping to feel some kind of friction. You chuckle weakly and lower yourself to kiss his beautiful, sensitive cock. As you blow on his dripping, reddened head, you hear another pitiful whimper from him.

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do in the whole of the world. He melts so easily and submits to the sweet torture. It is too beautiful to ignore. You just want to eat him whole. Sue you for that.

Your soft tongue traces the same vein as your long fingernail did a few moments ago; pre-cum flows freely down his shaft, and you lap it up hungrily. Sweet. Covering his cock completely with your lips, you slowly lower your head down, a movement that you know will drive him crazy, but it's not enough to make him come. This only serves to make Seonghwa even more desperate.

"Please, I can't stand it anymore." He's got this wonderful voice; you could listen to it for hours when he's at his peak.

He lifts his hips, begging you to take him deeper into your hot, wet mouth, but instead he gets slapped lightly. Forcing him to stay still under your care, your hands rest on his hips. In an agonisingly slow motion, you slide down the length of his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone. You simply suck him into your mouth, warming him up and trying not to add any extra stimulation with your tongue.

His high is rising again. You can feel the tension in his lithe, elegant body. The sound of his lingering, unsatisfied moans is suspiciously quiet as he tries to hold himself back. Admiring his delicious, high-pitched moan of utter frustration, you remove your lips from his cock with a pop.

"My sweet, handsome boy." You're just mocking him; it's a little sadistic of you, but who allowed Seonghwa to be so handsome? All your actions are completely justified. "You've been such a good boy to me, Hwa. Are you ready for your reward?"

He nods feverishly; his long hair is spread all over the pillow, and he looks so wonderful in your eyes. You reach out and untie his hands, kissing his chest on the way and leaving a couple of hickeys.

"Seonghwa, this is your wish, isn't it? I need words, my beautiful." You whisper in his ear as you untie his numb hands.

"Yes, I do... I really want my reward." He breathes out.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me what your wish is." He's so unbelievably cute when he's winded. He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants, and you gently rub his wrists where they were bound with the silk.

"I want you so badly, please." He pulls you by your hips so that you straddle him, gently stroking your curves with his graceful, thin palms. Seonghwa reaches up to kiss you, his plump, wet lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss before you feel his cock enter you.

You let him do whatever he wants to you, but you lean down and put your hands on his shoulders to help balance you, whispering again.

"Come on, my beauty, fuck me good."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader

[ncteez]

Sacrilege (m.l)

the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with Mark Lee.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

wordcount― 5.3k

pairing― mark lee x fem reader

content― top/dom mark lee, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty  reader, 

warnings― DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE RELIGIOUS OR CAN NOT HANDLE CNC. i am not responsible for your experience with reading on tumblr. I am not holding this fic in front of your eyes and forcing you to read it. I have tagged everything appropriately and suggest you scroll past this fic to save yourself from triggers or adverse reactions. This fic contains extreme disrespect to christianity and catholicism, desecration of religious symbols, and mild cnc.

note― Probably not the greatest smut ever to be written considering i did almost 0 research on these religions, but it's dirty and disgusting. if the thought of a lacquered wooden cross being penetrated into someone sounds painful, that's ok. It probably is but this is fiction and she’s gonna love every second of it, okay? Okay.  Huge, fat, wet, squelching love to @domjaehyun​​​ for reading this for me and fixing all of my errors. 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― mild cnc (reader is unsure about the cross thing but mark is relentless), for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish,  reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), Mark is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering? 

~

           Mark wonders why you’re always making confessions, sometimes multiple times a week regardless of if his father is prepared or available to listen. 

           Once a week his father listens to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Mark himself is expected to do this. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he had been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Mark actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants. You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness. 

           Mark’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, needing to confess so much. Did she hurt someone? Does she hurt herself? Did she kill someone or maybe she is caught up in a situation that makes her commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such a need to be cleansed and saved time and time again. 

  Mark makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth for the second time this week. Hushed whispers were echoing through the room and only then did he realize that you almost always confessed when the church is empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.

           He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is that his father was silent from the moment you’d entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard. 

           His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but the words were coming out in a tone that he had never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes passed and he still hadn't heard his father speak a word. It was just you, addressing dreams, vision, wants, and needs. 

           You weren’t confessing, you were actively sinning in the presence of god, attempting to seduce his father. 

 “I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?” 

           Mark notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone. 

 “Aren’t you going to say anything? I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”

           It’s not that it was intentional, really, it wasn't. If anything at all, Mark is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more. 

 “You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”

           Mark leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, the hard-on growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cut you off. 

 “Enough.” The priest says in a stoic and harsh tone. 

           Not another word was spoken and Mark does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

           His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Mark can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Mark is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.

           Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounded when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.

 ~

 “You’re disgusting.” Mark narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you as if you were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. 

 “Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly. 

 “You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your confessions?” He takes a step forward as he whisper shouts at you. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?” 

           Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Mark to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum. “Wanna tell me why he always listens to my confessions then?” You question, smirking before walking away as if nothing had even happened.

           Mark watches as you leave, upset that he hadn’t gotten a rise out of you at all, and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You weren’t even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end. 

           Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your sweater and pull you back. 

 “You might as well not even wear clothes at this point with the way you act.” He barks, dragging you off down the hall and into a side room that should remain empty until everyone leaves the church. He intends to put a stop to this, because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a harlot. 

 “You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you.

 “Your father says otherwise.” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “What? You don’t find yourself thinking of dirty things from time to time?”

           Mark narrows his eyes even more at you.

 “Of course I do, but not this often, and not directly after a service.”

           You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument, because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than your priest. 

 “What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches. “Father won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. What about you?”

           Mark grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you. 

 “What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.

 “Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You cursed. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?”

           He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.

 “Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Mark bellowed, stepping back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed. You seem to be enjoying this. 

 “You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”

           Thinking for a moment, Mark realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, it would be the first day you weren’t heading for the confession booth. Here he is though, and there you are. 

 “He would never.” Mark laughs, mocking your attempts to seduce his father. 

 “What about you though?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat. 

           He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to. No one would even know. 

           Before you even knew it, you could feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you, he aggressively pulls your dress up to your waist and instantly he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs. A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh. 

 “I knew it.” You laugh bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movements. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses harshly against it. “I knew you were just as dirty as me.”

 “Stop,” Mark demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself. “If we are going to do this, I need you to shut up.” 

           You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if it’s a threat that he will stop, a promise that he will get his father to blacklist you from the church and never allow such a sinner to step foot inside again.

           Staying true to your word, you remain quiet as he trails his eyes down. He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monster, and for him at this moment, you definitely could be. 

           Lowering himself to the floor, he positions himself to look at your clothed core, seeing the small wet stain seeping through the fabric. 

 “Already?” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face. 

           You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands back to his feet and backs away. 

 “I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m going to give you my cock, don’t you?”

           Shyly, you smile with a nod. Isn’t that what’s going to happen? Isn’t that what this is all about?

 “Wow, you really are stupid.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross.

           Great, you think. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.

 “Please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “I don’t need you to try and bring me to salvation.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.

 “You think you know everything.” He argues, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you. 

 “What’s the cross for then?” You ask, a little nervous now. 

 “Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now. 

           Oh. Oh. 

 “You’re going to–” You swallow hard, realizing that the sins being committed aren’t just from you. They’re also not ignored by just you. This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying. 

 “I am.” He assures you. “Do you want that?” 

           For some reason, despite genuinely worrying for your soul at the very idea, you nod quickly as the temperature of your body rises to dangerous levels. 

 “Get on the desk then.” 

           You follow suit, shamefully walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it. 

 “Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place.

           You watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders and lift your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor. 

 “You’re acting so shy now. What’s up with that?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “Keep those on. No one wants to see that.” He says, chuckling at the way you didn’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service. Lucky for him, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return. 

           You stay quiet, doing as he’s told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now, and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes. His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least.

 “Suck it.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin. 

           You almost shake your head at him. Wouldn’t such a hard material such as wood hurt? Will it bruise your throat? Doesn’t seem to be a worry of his in all honesty, because he’s intent on pressing it against your lips.

           Not quite opening your mouth, you look at him with wide eyes. 

 “No?” He smiles, hooking your mouth and prying it mouth open.

           You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just. . . haven’t done it before. You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it. 

 “That’s it.” Mark coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Just like that.” 

           You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This, is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it. 

           Mark continues to press the cross further and further into your mouth, watching the way you swallow around it and relax your throat as it slides more and more down your throat. He wonders what it would feel like if it were his cock, because you’re taking it so well. You must have done this before, with countless other men, he thinks. How lucky for them to have someone so desperately wanting to be gagged. 

 “You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He insults, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat the right way to elicit a gag out of you. 

           You cough around it, pushing his hand back so that he can pull the object from your mouth. The tears are prickling at the corners of your eyes as you look up at him, wondering if he’s going to pry your mouth open again but he doesn’t. 

           He tilts his head to look at your panties, seeing that the spot had gotten bigger. 

 “I can’t believe you actually like this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to hurt for some sort of friction. “Again?” He asks, and when you open your mouth again, he almost moans. 

           You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while. 

           You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous at this moment over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? Just Mark, Right?

 When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that arouses him intensely. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse but he opts not to. Instead, he grabs your hand and places it against his cock. 

           Feeling a little shocked that he’s actually letting you touch him, you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against his hardened cock without any amount of shame, and you watch as he hangs his head for a moment. 

 “Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as bruised at your throat. 

           His head shoots up in response to that and he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”

           You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm. 

           Mark seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.

 You moan at that, grabbing his cock this time as your tongue fights against his fingers that are holding it down. Mark’s hips stutter at your grip and loses almost all composure when he dips down and moves his arms to either side of you, essentially pinning you there and pressing between your legs. 

 “You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than the cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily. 

           His hips continue to grind against your hand as he continues to assault your tongue with his own, groaning into it more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before. 

 “Do you want to fuck me?” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes widen in shock.

           More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants to fuck you in as many ways as possible. But he can’t, and he won't. 

 “Hah– I bet you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching a hand from between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you. “Go on, look.” He says, leaning up so that you can watch him jerk himself off in full view now. “You’d probably beg if I asked you to.”

 “Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking with precum.

 “I didn’t say to actually beg–” He laughs, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, picking the cross back up and looking at you with a smirk.

           Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right? You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like you’re body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.

 “Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”

           You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown. 

           Watching as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy, he releases his cock and looks at you seriously this time. 

 “You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” He laughs nervously, glancing at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.” 

           You shrug, looking back at him. “Who said I was going to tell him?”

 “Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”

 “Mark, you’ve already fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here.”

           He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, but. . . it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it. 

 “You don’t have to use the cross, you know.” You urge him in an attempt to use his cock, because it’s already sitting so heavy against you. It’s kind of all you can think about.

 “No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “I’m taking these off of you now.” He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before anything, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.

           Mark hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.

 “Sinful.” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you. 

           Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your entrance, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit. 

           Pulling back, Mark watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls most uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now. 

           When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. He does this until you finally moan. 

           Upon that little whimper of a moan, Mark is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more.

 “So sinful–” He coos this time, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it. 

           Fucking it back into you, he works his hand into the right rhythm and continuously thrusts the object in and out of you with a gentle, yet rough pace. Now, he makes a point to fuck his own fist at that same pace. Thrusting forward as the cross is buried deeper and deeper inside of you. If he thinks hard enough, it’s almost like he’s the one fucking you. 

           He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’s probably be rushing for the holy water to save you from whatever demon is possessing you. But he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.

           You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pussy is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more. And god, he keeps giving it to you.

           In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him. 

 “Fuck–” Mark stutters, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. It allows him to rest his arm as he continues to fuck into his other hand, still at the same pace as your hips. 

           He’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him, and he can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this for him. And then he loses it, and on the verge of his orgasm, he slips the cross out of you and lets it fall to the floor. 

 You can barely understand what’s happening until you feel something bigger slipping into you. When you feel his cock prying you open, pumping in and out of you at a frantic speed, you cling onto him with a bruising grip.

 Mark practically falls over you, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly slides his cock in and out of you. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.

 “I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, slowing his pace so that he can gain a rhythm back and fuck into you in hard, long thrusts. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “I can’t resist.” He insults himself this time. 

           You can barely make a sound from the number of sensations you’d been feeling for the past however long. You want nothing more than for him to rub your clit, or for him to let you rub your clit. And as if your prayers were answered, he does just that. 

           You can feel him squeeze his hand between your bodies just to harshly press into your clit in a way that provides more pain than pleasure, but you’ll take whatever you can get while he uses you in the way you practically asked him to.

           Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in his cock each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notices your climax. 

           Mark licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe. 

 “You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Coming on my cock like this?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence. 

           That alone makes you feel…different, in fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it. Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it. 

           Mark stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear. 

 “Are you going to come inside of me?” You whisper with a shaking voice, “are you going to love it as much as I will?”

           His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.

           He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants, thankful that you came around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor. He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father. 

           You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.

 “If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes, narrowing his eyes at you much as he had done before. 

 “Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into. 

           Mark is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled on the floor, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore you must be. 

 “Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand. 

 “Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.

 “Don’t you?” 

           You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.

 “Did I hurt you?” He finally asks, walking up to you with a soothing hand that hands your dress out to you. 

           You’re a little shocked by his kindness. 

 “Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.  

 “Oh.” Mark seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.

           In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed. 

 “It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you next Sunday?” 

           Mark dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to get out of this happening again. 

 ~

#mark smut #[cnc] #[religion] #mark lee smut #nct smut #[tw]

[allora1233]

𝔹𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕜𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

“𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪” 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗

𝕐/ℕ 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕜𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕤

Word Count: 1.6k

"I'm heading out!" Jungkook's voice echoes through the house as you finish cleaning up the kitchen from this morning's breakfast. "Alright! Have fun!" You call back, putting away the last of the clean dishes. As you close the cupboard, you can hear the front door closing and you are now left alone for the day.

'What to do today?' You ponder as you made your way up the stairs to the bedroom, finding yourself reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. This was pretty much your routine for days like these, when Jungkook would go out for his boxing workout. It's not that you didn't appreciate the time for yourself, but somedays it was just a bit too much alone time. Not to mention that the two of you had such a lovely time at breakfast this morning...

You sigh as you plop down on the bed and pull a pillow to your chest, resting your chin on it. You weren't really paying much attention to the movie on screen, having already seen it so many times before. As you take a deep breath in, your senses are suddenly flooded with his scent.

You miss him.

———

Jungkook smiles at you as your eyes flutter open from your deep slumber, looking up at him as your head was propped up on his chest. "Morning angel. Sleep well?" He whispers, his morning voice and bed hair making you smile as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. You let out a soft hum in response, not quite fully awake yet. You almost start to drift off again in your new position, but your boyfriend has other plans. "Come on baby. Don't fall asleep again just yet. I have a surprise for you."

You almost whine in protest, shaking your head and cuddling even more into his form, savoring his warmth. "5 more minutes... please?"

"Normally baby, I'd let you. But today your surprise won't be any good in 5 minutes. Come on." Jungkook sits up, eliciting that whine you held back a moment ago. "Let's go." He laughs as he lifts you up, carrying you downstairs. You definitely weren't complaining as you wrap your arms around his neck.

When the two of you get downstairs, Jungkook sets you down when he gets into the kitchen. As you rub the sleep from your eyes and your vision gets clear, a soft gasp escapes you at the sight in front of you. The dining table was laid out with food for breakfast: waffles, eggs, bacon, everything you could want or need. "Aw kookie... this is so sweet. What's the occasion?" Jungkook shakes his head. "No occasion. I just woke up early this morning and felt like doing this for you since you always make me breakfast on the days I have to leave."

You couldn't help but reach out and pull Jungkook down for a kiss. "Thank you bunny. This was very thoughtful of you." He smiles and guides you to the table, pushing in your chair once you sit down before taking his seat across from you. You happily fill your plate with some food, not wasting any time before you dig in.

You sit in comfortable silence, the only noises being the clanking of the forks and plates. The silence allows you time to think, not too deeply, but just enough for your curiosity to peak.

"Do you think I could come with you to your boxing thing?"

Jungkook looks up at you a little surprised. "Uh, it may be kind of boring for you, but sure! May I ask why the sudden interest?"

"If I'm being completely honest, I just miss you sometimes. Plus, I'm curious to see what exactly you do during your practice and stuff."

"Aw, well then you can definitely tag along with me. I'm going again tomorrow, but we have to wake up early. Around 7 or 8. Do you think you'll be awake and get ready by then?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" The look of suspicion he gives you tells all the doubt he had, but smiles regardless and nods. "Alright, 7:30 it is."

"Perfect."

The two of you continue eating breakfast, happily continuing conversation to another topic. The rest of the day unfolds and you're more and more eager for what the next day may bring.

———

Beep beep

The familiar sound of Jungkook's phone alarm goes off. With a groan, he reaches over and turns it off before sitting up much to your demise. You quickly cuddle up to his side, burying your face into his torso. His soft laugh fills the silence. "Morning baby. We gotta get up now, remember?"

"Just a little longer?"

"Nope. Come on." Your head falls back onto the bed as Jungkook stands up, making his way to the bathroom to get ready. It's not like you had the right to complain; Jungkook called you out on not being a morning person after all. After another minute of contemplating whether this was really worth it or not, you stretch and get up out of bed. Making a beeline for the wardrobe, you picked your outfit for the day, and put some clothes out for Jungkook while you're at it, before heading downstairs to make breakfast.

As you finish putting down both bowls of cereal, your boyfriend descends the stairs and walks to the table, bed hair tamed and fresh clothes on. You finish breakfast before rushing up the stairs into the bathroom, quickly getting ready. Brushing your teeth, washing your face and finishing up the rest, you rush back down, wrapping your arms around one of Jungkook's. He laughs and you both walk out the front door.

———

To say you were awestruck is woefully an understatement. You couldn't take your eyes off of him even if you wanted to, which you didn't . The pure concentration on his face, the focus in his eyes, his movements. They were oddly fascinating. He was so intense.

But what captivated you more than what he was doing was Jungkook himself. Holy shit, he's breathtaking. Well of course he is. He always has been, but it was so much more apparent now. It wasn't until he took off his jacket that you really noticed. The shirt you picked out for him hugged his body so nicely, his muscles contracting with every punch he threw, hair slightly tousled up.

Fuck.

Hopefully you weren't being completely obvious with how much you were staring at him. You forced yourself to look down at your phone every now and then, trying to distract the thoughts that start to cloud your mind. But, needless to say, it didn't help all that much. How could you ignore the literal beauty that stood in front of you?

The trainer let Jungkook have a break after about half an hour of practice, leaving the room to give him time. Jungkook grabs his water bottle and sits down next to you on the floor. After taking a big swig of water, he sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry, I told you it would be kind of boring just sitting here."

"No, no! I much prefer this over sitting at home all alone."

Jungkook was close now, softly panting to calm himself down from the workout he was just put through. He's stunning. Oh how whipped you were for this man. You found yourself scooting closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He whines, lightly poking your arm. "Nooo! Don't touch me right now, I'm gross." He laughs, gently pushing your shoulder. You push his hand away and nuzzle closer to him. "Like I care... You know, you look super cool doing this."

"Oh yeah? You think so?"

"Mhmm... Kinda hot if I'm being honest." You gently rub his arm, biting your lip as your previous invasive thoughts come back. As you trace random circles over his chest, you can very faintly feel his heartbeat speed up. Your mind starts running rampant again as you continue slowly running your hand up and down his chest. It wasn't until you felt a poke on your side that you realized you were so lost in thought that you didn't notice your boyfriend asking you a question.

"Huh?" You look up at him. Jungkook shakes his head and smiles. "I asked if you were having fun there."

"Oh, I, yeah. Sorry." You quickly retract your hand, feeling slightly sheepish as you place your hands back into your lap. Jungkook gently takes a hold of your hand and raises it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles. "I never said I didn't like it, angel." He winks, instantly getting you flustered as you avoid eye contact. His laugh fills the air. "I knew it." You perk your head back up, brows furrowing in confusion. "Knew what? What do you mean?"

"You really think I didn't notice you basically drooling over me during the entire session?"

Shit.

Once again, your eyes drift back to the floor. "Was I really that obvious?" You weren't expecting your voice to be so soft, despite the immeasurable embarrassment you were clearly feeling. "Only a little." He laughs, lifting your head to look back up at him. "Relax baby. It's super cute to watch you swoon over me."

His smug tone made you roll your eyes, mumbling a slightly ticked off "shut up" under your breath. "That sounds like a suggestion to me." You huff before grabbing the collar of Jungkook's shirt and pulling him into a kiss to shut him up. 

Tag list: @starstruckfangirls @parkdatjimin @twendou

#bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jk #bts jeon jungkook #bts x reader #bts x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #x reader #x y/n #bts fanfic #bts fluff #fluff #allora✿works

[mikiafina]

“Exotic Life Form — II”

Mesage:

I am finally free from Title Defense, now I can relax-ish but unfortunately I have to revise my group's paper because of too much mistake.. Anyways, the reader's pronouns in this story is not really mentioned but the reader I have in mind as I write this is female, so be warned.

Dear @genshinarchives, if you ever stumbled upon this work of mine and were felt like I stole your ideas and didn't like this posted anymore, we can talk about it peacefully so feel free to message me if so.

Note:

CRITICISM ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED! IF YOU NOTICED ANY ERRORS IN MY WORK, FEEL FREE TO POINT IT OUT SO I COULD FIX IT!

I DO NOT POST IN ANY OTHER PLATFORMS EXCEPT HERE ON TUMBLR!

Trigger Warning:

Grammatical Errors, misspellings, typos, ooc, possibly curse words, incorrect lore, slow burn, slight sagau(?), use of informal language and not proof-read

Synopsis:

The exotic blob that you have found in an alleyway woked you up and helped you with your day, albeit curious at everything you do.

Inspired by:

@genshinarchives

After the incident of investigating a ruin that mysetriously appeared out of nowhere as well as being blinded by a strange orb that he found at the end of the ruin and arriving in an unknown place in addition to being transformed from human into a seelie is not a desirable series of events that Aether was looking for but at least the human that he was founded by was kind to say the least. Had he not been found by the human, he wish not to dwell into the next scenario if so. Aether did his best with helping the human that took him while gathering some information around their home, connecting the dots only to get even more question than answer.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dusk arrived as Aether felt the fatigue begun swimming in his small liquid-like body from roaming around your home nonstop for hours in search for answers and clues, but to his wonderful luck, the only things he found is more question and confusing equipments. The only thing that made sense to him is the simple furnitures like the sink, couch, sofa, wall frames, tables, chairs, plates, spoon and fork and other various stuff.

After a few minutes of Aether sitting in silence as he watch the sun waking up from its slumber he decided to also wake you up from your sleep. Floating towards your sleeping form, Aether placed his tiny liquid-like hands on your forearm as he muster up every strength he has and begun shaking you awake. Aether stopped shaking you as he flew a few step back when you swat him away with your hand, mumbling ‘few more minutes..’ as you do so.

huffy and dismayed with your automatic response, Aether returned to your side and continued shaking your sleeping form awake. You groaned in exasperation as you sat up from your laying position and covering your mouth with the back of your hand while you yawn, as if the 4 hours or more of sleep is not enough for you. After remaining still for a solid minutes, you rubbed your eyes to reduce the sleepiness in them then you looked around and wondered why you were sleeping on the couch but as soon as your eyes landed on the small strange liquid-like creature in front of you that is seemingly pointing its miniature hands outside your window made you realize what had happened last night.

Distracted by your thoughts, Aether tugged at your sleeve as his small liquid-like body trembled while he squeaked frantically and loudly. His miniature liquid-like hand soon pointed out the window once again when he caught your attention, deciding that you'll indulge the little one's antics you looked out the window and tilt your head to the side in confusion, not seeing what the strange creature is trying to show nor tell you.

"What? What are you trying to show me, little one?" you query.

As if the strange creature answered you and floated towards the window and pointed repeatedly outside eliciting a confused ‘huh?’ from you, Aether got more huffy when you couldn't understand what he's trying to point outside so he looked around your living room trying to find something that may resemble the sun.

When his vision landed on one, Aether flew above you towards it and pointed at the sun that were drawn in the painting, you raised a brow and racked your brain for clues of what he may be telling you.

"Sun? Are you pointing at the drawing of the sun?" you query again.

Aether bounced in delight as he returned to the window and pointed outside again, this time you looked closely on where he was pointing and saw that the sun is out.

"Ahh, the sun is up. Wait.. What..? The sun is up?!" you shriek.

Looking up towards the wall clock above the entrance between the living room and the dining room, you saw that the big hand is pointing at number 8 and that the small hand is pointing between 8 and 9, telling you that it is already 8:43 AM, which means you are late for school. Frantically, you rushed off the couch and run up the stairs to your bedroom, taking a quick shower before wearing your school uniform, grabbing your bag from the bed and taking a loaf of bread from the cupboard then biting the half end of it before running out of your house with Aether following suit behind you.

When you arrived at your school you didn't notice that Aether was following you so you were walking towards your classroom with Aether flying just above you in the corner of the ceiling.

As soon as you stepped in the classroom you sighed in relief when you saw that your professor was also running late so you hurriedly went to your seat and pretended that you weren't late, after the third bell rung, your professor came in and the homeroom begun.

During in the middle of the homeroom, a classmate of yours gently tapped on your shoulder and threw a crumpled piece of paper in front of you. When you picked it up and looked at your classmate who's sitting on your right behind you, they gestured that you uncrumple the paper. Albeit confuse but obliged and read the written message inside;

[Heyyy, may I borrow your notes after homeroom? My hand hurts so I can't write the lesson right now, please? If you lend me your notes, I won't tell our professor that you went in minutes before her! Like just this once, please? Thank you! <3]

After reading the message, you looked at your notes then looking at the paper, repeating the cycle for a good seconds before crumpling the paper in slight annoyance. You can't believe they have the audacity to borrow your notes and blackmailed you while lying to you at the same time, you curled your first on the crumpled paper and threw it back to them but as soon as you did so, your professor saw you and called you out.

"Ahem. Ms/Mr. (L/n), I would appreciate it if you pay attention to my lesson and not passing garbage to your fellow classmate. After class, I'd expect you to stay for a little talk, are we clear?" your professor demands.

The slight irritation you had earlier were now stacked as you lowered your head, looking at floor.

"Yes, Mrs. Santiago. I'm sorry." you murmur loud enough.

Pleased with your response, your professor dismissed you and told you to pick up the crumpled paper and hide it in your bag, telling you not to pass your own garbage to someone else before scolding your classmate who gave you the paper in the first place.

After the whole incident, you ignored your classmate and continued on writing down notes and highlights as you grit your teeth in annoyance. Pissed off that you were called out for something you didn't do and got to stay after class. To say the least, your day was already ruined but it got even more ruined by your classmate. Great.

Few more minutes passed and the bell rung, your professor dismissed everyone except you. She beckoned you over the chair in front of her desk, sitting in hers whilst she clean her stuff.

"Now, tell me Ms/Mr. (L/n), what did really happen? You are not usually like this, you are one of my star pupils. What happened?" your professor query.

Albeit contemplating as you chew on your lower lip in habit, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at your professor. Sighing before you decided to take out the crumpled paper from your bag and handing it to your professor as you leaned back on the chair before crossing your arm and showed clear annoyance.

"A classmate of mine threw this in front of me while tapping me repeatedly on my shoulder, I tried ignoring her but she was distracting me so I have no choice but to look at her and get it over with. I planned on declining her request and giving her trash back, but I wasn't able to do so because you stopped me and told me to hide it it my bag. Which.. Became helpful because I was able to use it as an evidence.." you explained, murmuring at the middle to the end.

You expected her to be disappointed but to your surprise, she wasn't. Instead, she apologized for calling you out earlier in the middle of the class and told you that she'll talk to your classmate because it seemed that you're not the only one that's been bothered by her.

After the little talk you had with your professor, you went to your next class to the last until it was time to go home. For the remaining of the day, you hid Aether in your bag after you found out that he was following you since first class when you were eating lunch on the rooftop of your building. You made sure that your stuff is all in your bag and not one missing before going home with your bag in front of you as Aether stayed surprisingly comfortable inside.

When you got home, you kicked off your shoes and placed it on the shoe rack before slipping on the indoor ones. You gently put your bag down beside the couch and went straight to the kitchen to cook a decent dinner with a few desserts leftover from your previous baking. Aether is floating beside you, helping you with the cooking and preparing the dinner table as he ate dinner across from you even though he didn't need to do so.

When the two of you finished your dinner, you played tag with Aether trying to take the sponge from his tiny liquid-like hands. After successfully taking the sponge from him, you made him take the desserts and beverages from the dining table and bring it up to your room if he can. Amusing to say that Aether was determined to take all of the desserts and beverages to your room, seeing the tiny creature doing its best filled you with warmth and serotonin making you melt at the sight.

After washing the dishes, you grabbed your bag from the side of the couch and tread your way upstairs to your room and sat on your gaming chair, bringing out your notes and homework to the vacant table beside your computer. You also made Aether his very own chair on the table where he can view almost everything from his point of view and as if thanking you, he snuggled on your cheek, squeaking in a high pitch making you giggle softly in response.

It was already past 10 PM and you were almost finished with your homework and projects when you decided to take a break by doing an art commission from one of your clients before playing various games and of course.. Genshin impact.

Aether watched the whole time you were doing your homework to doing your work to playing many games until you play genshin impact where he saw his self, Aether squeaked uncontrollably beside you while his miniature hands pointed at his own model. Assuming that he wanted a name and heard you saying the protagonist of the game you were playing and got infatuated with it.. Wrong.

"Ahh you want your name to be Aether? I don't mind giving you that name, it suits you to be honest." you query before deciding.

Aether frantically bounced in front of you, pointing at his model. Amused with his reaction as you took it with him just being overly excited of his name, giggled as you caressed on what you assumed is his head.

Realizing that there would be no current way on telling you what he really thinks so he gave up temporarily, relaxing back into the haven of a seat that you made for him.

Needless to say, the day was rather tad bit eventful on Aether's side. He discovered lots of things in just a day and he knows exactly what to do next time.. That's a lie, he still don't know what to do, but at the least he has an idea what to do now compared yesterday morning.

Now, his priority is to stick by your side at all times second to his goal of finding out everything about the game you are playing, genshin impact.

‘I hope the others are doing okay.. Oh Paimon.. Lumine.. Even the others are in this.. Game. Hahh.. Let us just hope nothing bad happens from this day onwards..’

® mikiafina

#mikiafina🫐 #mikiafina #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact imagines

[faithinlouisfuture]

what do you think it is about louis that elicits such emotional involvement from fans? i’ve rarely ever seen it with any other artists and I follow/stan many

i can only answer this from my own perspective, i’m sure that if you asked other fans they might have different answers… for me first and foremost it’s his art; and by that i mean primarily his lyrics - i feel a strong connection to them, and that makes me feel a connection to the artist they came from… they’re a source of comfort and self expression for me, so that sense of comfort and similarity i get from the lyrics and music automatically extends to the person who made them

but by art i also mean the art/design elements he chooses to connect with his music (merch/ graphic design/ music videos/ lyrics videos/ obvious inspiration materials etc) and his musical/artistic persona (his personal fashion sense, his fashion brand), his overall design aesthetic - its right up my alley and it’s something that i’ve identified with before i even found louis so his being similar to mine is just another layer of why i connect with him

another very important thing to me is his morals, or what i can gauge of his morals from how he conducts himself publicly (both professionally & as much as he chooses to share personally) - i’m a firm believer of NOT separating the art from the artist

one of the reasons i first started to look into louis outside of his music was because of the interactions i saw of him with his fans, these were always so warm and borderline friend group 🥹 and i personally had not seen an artist of his level who treated his fans the way that he does, so that’s something that pulled me in too

and realistically speaking, it’s also the fact that once you become a fan and start to look into “all the content” from his past, you find SO MUCH! so much going back to SO many years, and it gives you this sense of “knowing him” because you see what he was like over so many years, you feel like he’s someone you’ve known for a while… that’s something that you normally don’t get with a lot of other artists because they haven’t in fact been in the public eye for THAT long and their every move hasn’t been documented to the nth (and frankly sometimes unhealthy) degree of detail

stemming from that previous point, it’s also the different layers of fandom content involvement available when it comes to louis - not every artist has active update accounts that report on their literal every move, fashion UAs that document the details of their every outfit, fans who actively gif their public appearances/ music videos/ concert livestreams etc, fans who create art & artistic edits of other types related to the artist, there’s A LOT to consume basically, and doing it amongst a group/community just makes it that much more fun & addictive

and last but definitely not least is the fact that he’s pretty as fuck (like disturbingly), with the most perfect ass known to mankind 🤤 anyone pretending that his looks don’t play a role in why he elicits this level of obsession from fans is lying to themselves and you

any way, i don’t know if this is the kind of response you were looking for but that’s my analysis of it… i honestly could go on and say more on the topic but i think i’ll shut up now

#anon #it’s disturbing how long this is #emmy rambles #why louis? this is why #👈🏼 i could have just directed you to this tag of mine instead 😝

[inlovewithgreta]

Flower Field — Miss/Jennifer Honey x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: You have a picnic date with your sweet lover and things get heated up very quickly.

Warnings: Praise, thigh riding, overstimulation, semi-public sex, fingering, etc…

Word Count: 1.9k

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Close your eyes." You urged your lover, earning a high raised brow and a small smile from her in response. "Now open your mouth." You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, picking up a chocolate covered strawberry and holding it between your fingers.

Jennifer followed your instructions, spreading her lips almost instantaneously.

You bring the fruit to her lips, the brunette sitting  in front of you slightly flinching at the sudden contact, but easing up after tasting the chocolate along her tastebuds. A small chuckle elicited from the woman as she opened her eyes after taking a chunk off the fruit.

Your eyes couldn't help but stare lovingly at the woman in front of you as she slowly finished eating the fruit. She looked ethereal in the sunlight. Pale skin seemed to glow from the suns light gaze, and hazelnut eyes shining brightly in your direction.

You were too caught up in her beauty to notice that she had asked you a question until the hand resting on your knee gave you a gentle squeeze, snapping you out of your daze.

"Hmm?" You knitted your brows in confusion.

Jennifer chuckled, curious eyes gazing into yours. "I said, do I have something on my face?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"You're staring at me."

"I can't help it." Your lips quirked into a small smile, "You're just so damn beautiful." You admitted, admiring the way her eyes lit up at your words.

She had the most captivating looking eyes you've ever seen. The kind that pulled you into a trance at just the slightest glance. She knew the impact she had on you whenever she glanced at you with those innocent looking eyes, and did it purposely whenever she could.

Tanned cheeks flushed when you tucked a short stray hair behind her ear. "You are the most precious thing I have ever laid my eyes on, my sweet angel." You pulled her face in with your hands on her cheeks, peppering her face with light kisses.

"I love you," She smiled against your lips.

"I love you more."

"How much more?" She questioned teasingly, hand sneaking up from your knee to your thigh.

"Someone's feeling a bit cheeky today, now is she?"

Your question got answered, not by words, but by the slightest tilt of her head and a subtle faux innocent expression that spread across her face.

"Let's just say I'm feeling a bit. . . adventurous today. After all, we do have the day to ourselves, and not a single person around us for miles." She lifted her sundress above her knees as she crawled into your lap, a sudden surprising burst of confidence coursing through her.

It made you happy seeing her so confident after everything that had happened to her. It had taken you ages to get this side of her to come out, and she was thankful that you were patient with her as she came out of her shell little by little.

You bit your lip, eyeing your floral surroundings. The two of you were in the middle of a flower field, a plethora of colors, shapes, and sizes towering just on the outskirts of your spread out picnic blanket.

"Who are you and what have you done with Jennifer Honey?" You tease, earning a small laugh from her.

"I can take it back if you want—" She goes to slide off your lap, but your arms wrap around her waist, and pull her flush against your chest.

"Oh no, darling. You've started something, and I think it's only fair that you finish it."

Her eyes dilated ever so slightly at your words before her arms wrapped gracefully around your neck. Brown orbs flicked from your eyes down to your lips, silently begging for them.

"I'll take that as a yes."

You were first to make the move, lips smashing against hers in a needy kiss. Her lip movements were gentle yet firm while her hands carefully snaked through your hair, meticulously avoiding pulling at your strands.

It amazed you how gentle she was no matter the situation. Whatever she happened to be doing, she did it as gracefully and calmly as she could. However in the moment, your sweet Jenny had thrown all she knew to the side to allow room for lust. Hips carefully moved themselves to hover over just one of your thighs as she sat up on her knees.

You instantly caught onto her not so subtle movements, hands dipping underneath her dress to slowly drag her lace thong down her legs. She followed your hand movements to allow you to remove the fabric off of her completely, lifting her legs when prompted.

Bodies never parted as Jennifer lowered herself onto your thigh, her cool wetness prominently dripping onto your skin as she sat herself down. Your hands guided her slightly curvaceous hips at a slow pace, back and forth along your thigh.

"Mmm," She lowly hummed, head lulling to the side and allowing you access to her bare neck.

You move her short hair away with your hand, and being your face to her neck. Light pecks turn into wet kisses, that ultimately led to the sucking and nibbling of the sensitive skin just below her earlobe. Hickeys we're placed meticulously along her neckline, leading down towards her exposed collarbone.

Your grip along her hips tighten, nails just barely digging into her smooth skin as you quicken her pace to allow for more pleasure.

"How does it feel, angel?"

Fingers toyed with your hair before sliding back to your face, soft hands placing themselves along your cheekbones and pulling you into a sweet kiss.

"Soo good. . ." She lowly moaned.

Mouths clashed in unison with lustful moans reverberating off your lips. Your hands left her hips to lean yourself back against your hands, wanting a better view of the scene before you.

You nodded your head with a gentle smile on your lips, encouraging her to keep going so you could watch.

Jennifer had moved her hands to your thigh to support herself, along with her movements that quickly grew frantic.

"I-I'm so—"

"I know my sweet, let go. Let go for me."

You eyed as the teacher came undone before you, movements slowing as she rode out her high. Sweat trickled down her chest, both the heat from the sun and from inside her body toying with her.

An elongated moan filled your ears when she grabbed your hand to place between her legs. Her wetness coated your fingers. Hips bucked when your fingers teased her entrance.

"Please. . ." Jen pleaded, "More. . ." She whimpered at your teasing fingers.

"My not-so-innocent little Jenny," You toyed, "If only others knew how much of a dirty little mind you had behind those pretty eyes."

Her head felt empty, the feeling of your fingers playing with her but not doing anything was almost too much for her to handle.

"But, you're always so good for me. How could I ever say no to you?"

She gasped when three fingers slipped past her entrance, stretching out her inner walls. The pain was only temporary when pleasure completely took over her body.

"Oh my—" Jennifer's eyes closed, head falling back with her mouth agape.

Jen's hips followed your movements, bucking them with every thrust. Small tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, begging to fall with each press of your palm against her sensitive bud. Her walls threatened to close around your fingers when she was at the cusp of her second orgasm.

You felt her arousal drip down your hand but didn't let that stop you from continuing to pleasure the brunette moaning at your touch. Small tears fell from her eyes when you kept your movement's strong.

"I can't!" She shook her head while golden eyes met with yours, pupils completely blown out.

"You can, sweet thing. You're doing so good for me, just one more, okay?" You gave her a reassuring kiss.

"Okay," She mumbled out breathlessly, breath hitching in her throat at the curve of your fingers that hit her in just the right spot. "Fuck!" Her eyes widened at her own words, as she was not one to ever use expletives.

You raise your brow at her sudden swearing, with a smirk toying at your lips, "Such a naughty little thing. . . That sounded so hot coming from that beautiful voice of yours." This was the first time she had sworn in front of you, and it truly made you more aroused hearing a filthy word coming from such a gentle person.

"I can feel you close again, don't hold it back." You pressed your lips against hers in a sweet notion, wanting to ease her through her third orgasm. "You're doing amazing."

Jennifer pressed her forehead against yours, numerous moans filling your ears that grew closer together just before her legs shook frantically around your thigh. She unintentionally pulled your hair as she came, eliciting a low hum from you at both the pain and the pleasure from the quick action.

Her body stilled, allowing you to remove your fingers from her cunt. Tears continued rolling down her cheeks when she moved her body from on top of yours to shakily sit next to you.

"You did such a good job for me, angel!" You clutch her cheeks, kissing her tears away to your best ability, "My good girl." You swipe your thumb lovingly along her flushed cheek.

She returns your smile, exhaustion prominently spreading across her facial features from the effects of her multiple orgasms. You give her another kiss, this time more passionately than before.

"How are you feeling?" You genuinely ask her after examining her for any uncertainty or uncomfortableness.

"Tired," She admitted, doing her best to stifle a yawn that didn't go unnoticed by you.

"How about we pack all of this away, take you home to a nice warm bath to clean you up, then take a well deserved nap in each others arms. Does that sound good?"

Her eyes lit up at your words, a hot bath and a nap sounding amazing to her in this moment. "Sounds like heaven." She smiled warmly at you.

"Good, now let's get you up." You stood up with a grunt, holding your hand out for her to take. Her hand slid in yours, and for a second after she stood up, you thought her wobbly legs would make her fall but she took it like a champ.

You allowed her to step to the side while you tucked everything away in the picnic basket, which she appreciated you for from her tired state.

After getting to the car, your sweet Jenny was quick to lay her head against you, your arm wrapping around her to play with the soft strands of her hair. Her manicured hand rested softly on your inner thigh.

Not even a minute into the short drive home, quiet snores could be heard from the woman next to you, sleep completely taking over her from the days events.

You couldn't help but smile at her sleeping figure, legs tucked underneath her in a comfortable sleeping position. Fingers refused to leave her hair even while she was out cold, as you knew the second you stopped, she would awaken just to tell you to keep going.

#fanfic #smut #matilda #miss honey #jennifer honey #wlw smut #lesbiansmut

[jakegooglyeyes]

Emblem of Roses - 4

Pairings: Jake Gyllenhaal x reader, Maggie Gyllenhaal x reader (Medieval AU)

Summary: You were content with your quiet life as an illegitimate daughter of the King, hanging out with the maids and learning your craft. All that ended when your father married you to Lord Gyllenhaal, the Usurper, as a peace offering and a hostage.

Word count: 5,300

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI , RPF, DUBCON, angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, hate to pining, polyamory, slow burn with smut, political marriage, mean!Jake to pining!Jake, cunning!Maggie, kind!reader.

Chapter warnings: light smut, dubcon, dry humping, drinking.

*** Your online experience is your responsibility. You have been warned. If any of these content upsets you, DO NOT READ!!! ***

A/N: @gyllenhaalstories I did it, I finished the chapter. *cry* The chapter in which we learn why milord doesn't remember reader's face.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics​ 

The pungent aroma of fermented fruits and honey invades your senses as you tumble on the earth, bearing the burden of an entire grown man. His Lordship keeps muttering his apologies into your ears in his intoxicated stupor. His drunken struggles only push you further into the ground.

"My Lord, please move."

You croak, elbowing his chest to prevent the man from collapsing on you. The disgrace of your wedding night resurfaces in your mind as his body heat and musky scent envelop you, making the winter night almost too hot to bear.

"Shifty rabbit, I am no Lord to you."

His words come out slurred and a little upset. He pushes himself up with his arms, but his entire lower body weighs you down on the cold, dusty stone floor. He gazes longingly at your form in the dark, licking his lips dry from the excessive drinking.

With a subtle shake of your head, you dodge the air saturated with alcoholic vapor. You are grateful, at least, that Lord Gyllenhaal is oblivious to the identity of his own wife, or so you pray. Whatever ale-infused fever dream has taken hold of him, you decide to comply and bide your time, waiting for the opportunity to wiggle away.

"Cat's got your tongue? Have you forgotten the stupid name you call me?"

With his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, the Lord runs his fingers on your lips, giggling like a fool. Then, as if he has found an entertaining plaything, he begins to rub and stretch your cheeks like a pile of dough. He does not seem to care if you even want to participate in this nonsensical, one-sided conversation.

With a deep inhale, you marvel at this frivolous facet of his personality while suppressing the temptation to knee him in the groin. The last thing you want is for him to regain awareness. Fortunately, his childish antics fail to amuse him for long. His hands slow down to a halt as he cups your face delicately. Your eyes begin to distinguish his quiet, slumping silhouette in the dark. A comforting warmth spreads across your stomach, then your chest, as he descends to be closer to your face.

"Have you forgotten me?"

The Lord is now so dangerously close that the very tip of your nose brushes against his. You reflexively tilt your face to the side, extending your arms in an attempt to support his weight and maintain a distance between you. His cold lips, seeking the softness they desire, land on your cheeks instead, eliciting a displeased grunt. The roughness of his beard scrapes against your skin as he continues his search, led by his mouth. The frigid touch of his lips explores your cheeks with tender care, worried he would miss a single inch.

"Are you angry?"

Unable to get what he wants, he sounds defeated. He is so close to you that you can sense the vibration in his broad chest as he groans. You have no desire to answer him, and the drunkard probably cannot comprehend whatever you say.

"You must be. I didn't come back for you."

His incoherent monologue goes on as he cradles your face with adoration, fingertips dancing on your cheeks. The heat from the palms seeps into your skin, making you feel the rough patches formed by many years of wielding the sword.

You want to say something in response, but the sudden firm grasp on your breast stops the words in your throat, followed by the ragged breaths of the man looming over you. The Lord ceases apologetic fussing, and the underground chamber falls into silence.

Though you have never considered yourself feeble or fragile and are used to arduous manual labor, you find it a monumental task to dislodge him. Despite your best efforts to shake him off, his superior grappling skills, honed through years of wrestling with the bannermen, ensnare you like stubborn vines. Every time you successfully worm your way out, he finds a way to recapture you, trapping you once more in his arms.

The pathetic wriggling presents the Lord an opening to make his way between your legs. His body causes the thick linen skirt to hike up your knees. Any leverage you may have is nullified by the thighs pressing into yours. Your right arm is stuck between your body while you try to push him away. And your remaining arm is left flailing blindly as he keeps one hand underneath your neck. His free hand runs down your side, fondling and squeezing every inch of you he can reach.

Your breaths hitch as the sudden touch catches you by surprise. You can neither see nor move, but the hard protrusion grinding against your pelvis is a tale-tell sign of the Lord's craving. His boots dig into the ground like an anchor as he slowly rocks himself into your hip. Audible sighs of pleasure escape his lips while he looks for release.

The sound of your teeth grinding together fills your ears as you struggle to determine if you feel humiliated or upset. The Lord has never spared you a kind word since the moment you set foot in these walls. To him, you have always been nothing but the wretched royal spawn. Yet here he is, seeking pleasure from you, mistaking you for his dearly long-lost beloved. He is capable of displaying affection and tenderness, just not towards you, his lawfully wed wife, not even as a farce. You cannot help but feel envious of the woman you have never met, the servants, everyone. Your pride is injured, and a stew of repressed bitterness begins to simmer within your heart.

Inexplicable greed creeps into your thoughts, causing a yearning that is both intense and insistent. It whispers into your ear, urging you to seize what is being offered. And, as the Lord's grasp tightens and his fingers manipulate with dexterity, it becomes increasingly difficult to resist the lure of this inner impulse. The warmth emitting from him is simply too comforting.

Sensing that your resistance has stopped, the Lord loosens his hold, falling on top of you as his breathing roughs. You let your free arms lie still on your sides as you bear witness to the Lord's charade. His dry thrusts become more urgent as his fingers fumble with your clothes.

The chilling air current of a winter night licks your skin like the edge of a sword as your chest and belly are exposed after a sharp tearing noise. You instinctively bring your hands up to cover your breasts, only to find the Lord a step ahead. Your breath is caught in your throat when an unfamiliar blistering heat covers the frigid skin of your mounds. The direct sensation is wholly different from being felt through clothes.

You cannot hold back an embarrassing whimper when a hot, wet mouth encloses one of your nipples, sucking in earnest. The hand on the other breast moves in tandem, a motion you can only describe as a hungry kitten pressing its mother's teats for milk. Your face burns with shame as the Lord nibbles on your bud like a scrumptious morsel.

The noxious aroma of wine and the dank air of the basement make your head loopy. You must be ludicrous as the thought of indulging him until he is sated begins to seem plausible. Your hand rises, your fingers brushing against the side of his head, where you feel the heat of his flushed cheeks. The Lord emits a soft groan, interpreting your gesture as encouragement.

Your body and his entangle as he starts to rub against you with vigor. His fingers refuse to let any bare inch of skin escape, caressing and pinching your naked flesh. You whimper and writhe underneath the Lord, unable to cope with the unfamiliar pleasure slowly building up. Although your lower body is still clothed, you can feel his hardness sliding along your untouched private part. The nasal growls in his throat get increasingly desperate as he inches closer to his rapture.

Guiding by instinct and lust, the Lord props himself up and fiddles to undo his trousers, freeing his painful erection. Then, not having enough patience to get rid of your remaining clothes, he searches for your hand and pulls it toward his stiff manhood before wrapping your unwilling fingers around it. The Lord's shaft throbs as his precum slathers your palm, allowing him easy movement. You do not want to know what is in his fantasy as the Lord thrusts into your hand while vocalizing his ecstasy.

With a final jerk, the Lord lets out a shaky breath. Hot, sticky ropes of him land on your breasts and stomach. He falls on top of you, breathing heavily, having been spent and exhausted. Unbeknownst to your husband, a hidden contraction in your core makes you flustered and frustrated. You cannot explain the yearning emptiness you are made to feel.

However, you soon realize you do not have the luxury of caring about your needs. As you struggle to push the man off, you hear approaching footsteps from the stairs leading down the basement. Panic grips your heart as torchlight illuminates the previously unlit storage chamber. Quietly, you free yourself from underneath the unconscious man and seek refuge behind the stack of barrels, holding your breath and desperately clinging to your disheveled clothing as the footsteps draw near.

Loud splash echoes inside the chamber, causing the Lord to grumble in protest as freezing water dumped over his head. You strain your eyes, trying to peak at the yellow flame of the torch. Two feminine figures, Lady Maggie and the middle-aged steward, still holding the empty bucket, stand over the Lady's troublesome brother. Their presence starkly contrasts with the moment of intimacy that had just transpired.

"My Lord, please stand up. The guests are waiting for you."

The Lady's composure conceals her inward frustration at the shameful spectacle. Although you cannot discern her expression through the narrow gap between the barrels, it is clear that she is not happy. The Lord's eyes sting at the torch's lights as he looks up at the women. Finally, he tenses up and comes to his senses. The fleeting remnants of his drunken hallucination vanish, but the sage's fragrance lingers, albeit almost too faint to notice. With a muttered curse, the Lord fixes his attire, salvaging what is left of his dignity, before furiously storming out of the underground chamber.

Lady Maggie's blue eyes resemble two inky pools under the faltering torch as she stands motionless in the middle of the chamber. The sudden departure of her brother amid the feast has left her juggling with the phony sycophants and inebriated nobles. She correctly suspected that her brother was hunting for more wine to drown his thoughts with, so she went to the basement to look for him. With the feast going on, the basement is frequently visited by servants. She does not want the Lord to be caught in an intoxicated state or seen defiling a hapless kitchen maid. These could ruin years of her effort to build up her brother's image as a righteous man.

"My Lady." The steward cautiously approaches her mistress and whispers something in the Lady's ears, which you cannot hear. You can only see the Lady's brows furrow for a moment before she goes back to her mellow impression.

"The guests are demanding his Lordship's presence. What would you have us do?"

The steward asks. Though she is nervous, her voice is as calm as ever, befitting the Lady's most trusted servant. Lady Maggie's eyes finally shift from the empty space where her brother was only moments ago to the steward, and she lets out a deep sigh.

"Gather the servants and inform them that the feast is to be concluded early. Tell everyone my brother had one too many drinks and has excused himself back to his chamber. Ensure guests are properly escorted back to their quarters."

With that, the Lady turns on her heel and strides out of the basement, with the steward quickly trailing behind. The underground chamber once again becomes a dark, cold hollow. You wait until you no longer hear footsteps and leave your hiding place.

Lord Gyllenhaal stumbles up the stone steps leading to his chamber, his thoughts a jumbled mess. His mind berates him for his irrational behaviors. He cannot explain what came over him in the basement, and the pleasant scent of sage still clouding his senses only adds to his confusion. Pushing through the decorated door, the Lord collapses onto his bed. He finds himself in torment, struggling against his desire, still slowly burning inside. Despite his best effort to suppress it, he cannot resist the fixation on the past.

As he lies on the bed, the Lord is consumed by doubt. He tries to make sense of what has just happened in the basement and questions the authenticity of the experience. Was the woman just a figment of his imagination, a manifestation of his longing? The uncertainty plagues him, leaving him to wonder if his mind has played tricks on him.

In that fleeting moment of bliss, the Lord believed the person in the basement was her. The sensation was so familiar and endearing that he felt it ingrained into his flesh and bones. His nerves were ablaze with excitement as the Lord reminisced about the warm body beneath him back then. It was too dark, and he only had his senses to rely on. Yet, there is an earthy aroma that lingers in his memory.

The Lord takes a moment to calm himself, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and regain clarity. He shuts his eyes, racking his brain in search of the source of the scent. As the memory slowly returns, the Lord realizes the last time he encountered the smell was in your presence. He had overlooked it then due to its subtlety, but the realization now causes a wave of frustration to wash over him. The Lord rises from his bed and begins pacing the room, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling that has taken hold of him. He feels conflicted. He is not so blinded by hatred that he would blame a mere illegitimate daughter for everything her father has done. If anything, you are but a pawn in other people's twisted schemes. He knows that. And yet, he has been disturbed by your presence since the moment he saw you.

As if possessed, the Lord makes his way toward his so-called wife's chamber. He pushes the door open and scans the room, expecting you to be inside. But you aren't there, just like the other day. The space is empty, save for a few pieces of furniture and a burned herb's scent drifting gently. The bed is neatly made, and the hearth is cold. He notices small herb plants dotting the windowsill that he did not see the last time he was here. The Lord walks over to them, inspecting the leaves and little flowers, finding it puzzling that they can grow during the harshest days of the year.

Lord Gyllenhaal gradually takes control of his emotions as he stands in your room. Despite his dislike for you, the subtle scent has a soothing effect on him. He inhales slowly, letting the air fill his lungs as a reminder to keep his composure. As he looks around the room, taking in the sight of the properly tended plants, he cannot help but feel a twinge of ill-suited sentimentality. He finds it laughable that this place brings a semblance of peace to his troubled mind and that he keeps giving himself to these late-night wandering.

As much as he is irritated that this feels like a game of hide and seek, where you have wandered is none of his concern. Any place you should not be is well-guarded enough to prevent you from doing anything stupid. He decides to let the matter be for now and takes a final deep breath, savoring the scent of herbs one last time before leaving the room and closing the door behind him, lost in thoughts.

You stand by the well, cleaning yourself with haste. The freezing water serves to wash away not only the dirt but also whatever the Lord has left behind, dissipating the heat on your skin. Your bones are creaking from the piercing cold, but you do not care. You only want to rid yourself of the evidence of tonight. Once done, you quickly get dressed, securing your torn clothes with a rope, and make your way back to an empty chamber, oblivious to the fact that you have narrowly escaped the Lord's sudden visit.

With a strike from the flint, the fireplace begins to crackle. You breathe a sigh of relief when you feel the soft bed underneath your back, snuggling deep under covers, trying to get warm from the chill that has seeped into your bones. Your thoughts drift to the ordeal you faced in the basement. You wonder if the Lord recognized you, and the idea of being caught by him is frightening. But the fear is accompanied by a strange intrigue. An odd warmth rises on your cheeks as the images of the night are replayed in your head. You ponder the nature of the Lord's beloved one and what kind of person could bring out such vulnerability in his Lordship.

Unable to sleep, you jump to your feet and quickly retrieve a piece of parchment from your belongings, along with a quill and a small bottle of ink. Your promise to your mother weighs heavily on your mind, and you know she must be worried sick. But writing to her has been a challenge for two reasons. First, the constant demands of the fortress have kept you busy day and night, with little time for anything else. And second, you need to figure out how to get the letter to her. You are skeptical about asking Lady Maggie or the steward for help. The thoughts race through your mind as you dip the quill into the ink.

You stare at the blank parchment for a moment, unsure of what to write. You have been through so much since you arrived at the fortress, but you do not want your mother to worry more than she already has. You tap the quill's tip on the ink bottle, trying to find the right words. You tell her you are well, and the Gyllenhaals treat you kindly. You write about the feast and how things are different from the capital. At this point, you realize you have yet to see much of the fortress apart from the inner bailey. You stare at where the words trail off, having nothing more to say. Nothing that will not burden your mother. With a sigh, you roll the parchment and place it back in your chest. You may try again later when your thoughts are less muddled.

A series of knocks on your door makes your heart skip a beat. Your chest tightens as you wonder who could be seeking you out at this ungodly hour. The door opens slowly, and in walks Lady Maggie, wearing a soft expression, accompanied by the stern stewart. You can't help but feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"I apologize for disturbing your rest so late," Lady Maggie greets you with a smile. "But I must speak with you."

The steward places a finely crafted gown on your bed before departing, leaving you alone with Lady Maggie. She gestures for you to take a seat, and as she sits in the upholstered chair next to the desk, the soft glow from the hearth illuminates her graceful figure. Right now, Lady Maggie seems like a divine being from ancient mythology, and you can't help but feel that your modest, bare room is not fit to receive someone of her stature.

"I hope you are feeling well, my dear," Lady Maggie looks at you, noticing the distress on your face. You don't know if she knows about the mess in the basement. Your eyes fixate on the floor, unable to look straight at the Lady. Otherwise, you would know she has been observing you closely since she stepped in, taking in every change in your body language.

"I must request your presence at the feast tomorrow. There will be delegates sent by the King himself in attendance. People will question if the Lord is not accompanied by his wife."

"What?"

You are baffled by the news, and your tongue slips. The thought of meeting the King's people makes you uneasy. Not many of the King's council know your face, but those who do look at you with disdain. Moreover, you can't fathom why the King would send anyone here in this current state of affairs. You quickly apologize for being blunt, but the Lady doesn't seem to mind. Instead, she replies with another question.

"My dear, what do you think about this war?"

The sudden question catches you off guard. You don't know how to answer. Lady Maggie patiently waits for you. The room falls into an awkward silence. You wonder what the consequences are if your answer crosses her.

"I... I believe the Lord's cause is just."

That is all you can mutter. It is a laughable answer coming from the princess. If anyone resented House Gyllenhaal and this forced marriage, it would be you. There is no good reason for a member of the royal family to side with the man who has vowed to kill them all. But this is your genuine thought. You loathe the Lord for how he treats you, but you can't deny that he is a hero in people's eyes. On top of that, you are not the real princess and do not feel any connection to the King.

The Lady bursts into an uncharacteristic fit of laughter. You can't tell if she is mocking you or truly feeling amused by your answer.

"Clever little kitten." Lady Maggie murmurs to herself, seemingly satisfied with what she heard.

"The King has suggested a truce with House Gyllenhaal. Thus, his majesty has sent delegates here as a gesture of peace. That is why I would love for the princess to personally welcome the convoy. After all, you were the key that led us to this peace."

"Of course, my Lady. It would be my honor."

You don't want to meet whoever the King sent, but you have no choice. Despite the Lady's courtesy, this is an order. Someone like you has no place to voice your opinion. Within these walls, hers and the Lord's will is absolute.

"Has Jacob done anything to offend you?" The Lady suddenly changes the subject. The tone of her voice softens.

"No, my Lady." You still need to get used to hearing Lady Maggie call the Lord by his given name. Your mind wanders to the time he noticed you weren't wearing warm enough and the time he saved you from the horse. You realize this would be an excellent opportunity to be in the Lady's good graces.

"The Lord has actually been very kind."

Although not to the "princess."

"That's good, then. If Jacob does something unbecoming for the head of the House, you can always come to me." 

"There is one thing I would like you to remember." Lady Maggie stands up from her chair and approaches you. She reaches out and runs her slender fingers on your cheek, making you flinch. Her fingers are cool to the touch but don't make you uncomfortable.

"My brother may not be tender towards you, but you are still a lady of our House. Therefore, do not appear weak or easily intimidated. Do not let anyone think that House Gyllenhaal is to be trifled with."

The fingertips brush ever so lightly on your face. Then, not sparing a second, the Lady quickly returns to her chamber, leaving the ghost of her presence lingering on your cheek.

Lady Maggie sits before her brother, her expression stern and disapproving as she chastises him for yesterday. The early morning light filters into the room through the window behind her, casting a golden glow on the scene. The Lord listens quietly to her scolding, his head slightly tilted, showing little remorse. Despite her reprimands, he can't help but find comfort in the rays of sunlight that warm his skin. His mood seems to have improved from the past few days of sulking.

The Lady takes a long sip of her morning tea after she feels like she has done venting. She can absolutely complain until her brother's ears fall off, but there are more pressing matters concerning the King's recent move. And you, the Lord's wife.

"The old pig demands a truce?"

The Lord mulls over the news his sister has told him about, not caring to hide his contempt for the King. Lady Maggie nods and quietly hands her brother the letter detailing the King's proposal.

"What is he planning now? He sent us a fraud, but he still wants to pretend she is the princess?" The Lord expresses disgust as his eyes scan the scroll ridden with false flattery.

"The King thinks he outsmarts us, sending an illegitimate daughter, but he has dug himself into a hole. The seaport was opened again under the condition of a marriage between Lord Gyllenhaal and the royal princess. What happens if words get out that the old pig failed to honor the terms of our demand?" The Lady asks, sharing her brother's scorn.

"The port is under Gyllenhaal's control. Betraying us means he would risk our retaliation. But there is no reason for him to go this far... unless the girl has other uses besides being a decoy."

"Perhaps she was ordered to take my life." The Lord speaks as he remembers the gleaming dagger underneath your pillow.

"Unlikely. If the girl was an agent, she should at least make an attempt to get closer to you, not run around like a lost kitten." The Lady stares into the golden liquid in her cup. There is no telling what she is thinking about. Lady Maggie's lips tighten into a thin smile before she replies.

"No need to do anything rash for now. My eyes are on her. The girl is harmless."

The Lord's eyebrows relax slightly at his sister's words. If the Lady says you pose no threat, he will leave you be. Not that he worries about you causing any harm. The fortress has eliminated more than a few spies and assassins. But Lord Gyllenhaal remains skeptical. He has yet to understand the intention of Lady Maggie. Without a trueborn princess, House Gyllenhaal will have no claim to the throne as their original plan dictates. The royal family and pesky nobles would never allow such a thing. A bastard daughter is more a less discardable in their eyes.

"You knew the moment she stepped foot in our Keep, did you not?" The Lord turns his gaze to his sister. Lady Maggie has lost interest in having you give the Lord an heir. If what his sister assumes is true, should the solution not be annulling this marriage and letting the girl go.

"The King agreed to our demand so easily. Naturally, I had my doubts... Say, brother. Would you willingly marry me off to your enemy?" Lady Maggie asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The Lord narrows his eyes as his question is met with another question. He stops and thinks for a moment. His eyebrows crease as his mind races through the scenario.

"No." He finally responds curtly. "I would never hand you to the enemy."

Lady Maggie nods in agreement. "Exactly. And neither would the King willingly give up his precious daughter just for a few trade routes. This bargain was risky from the start."

"So why keep her here?"

"Her illegitimate status is not ideal. But a bastard she may be, the girl is still the King's daughter and bears the King's mark. She is more valuable than you may think, brother." The Lady sets her teacup down.

"And one more thing. I ask that you treat your wife with honor and dignity. Regardless of who she used to be, she is married to you, as witnessed by the Gods."

The Lord scoffs at Lady Maggie's request. He finds it ironic that you avoid him like the plague, yet it was his sister that led you to be bound in this unfortunate union. He wonders what his dear sister would ask of him if you were the actual princess. Perhaps he must force himself on a drugged-up wife until you produce a child or something worse. Despite her talks of honor and dignity, Lord Gyllenhaal knows his own kin enough to know she is not above using despicable means to achieve her goals.

"You do not know where her loyalty lies." The Lord retorted. He does not feel obliged to be kind to the King's blood, bastard or not.

"Do not let your anger cloud your judgment. I know you are still mourning, but the girl is not to blame for what happened." Lady Maggie sighs. The topic clearly ticks her brother as the calm atmosphere is destroyed. She knows mentioning the past upsets him but has grown impatient with the Lord's constant brooding over a woman he spent a few weeks with.

A woman whose face he cannot even recall because at the time, his eyesight was temporarily lost due to an infection, having been imprisoned in a dark and filthy place for too long.

"Keep your nose out of my affairs, sister." Lord Gyllenhaal snaps.

The Lord stands up as he has done talking. He pulls the mahogany door open to find you standing there, wide-eyed and petrified at what you have overheard.

"How much did you hear?" The Lord's brows knit together as he questions you in a menacing voice. His pulsating vein on his temple tells you he is not too happy. You open your mouth to explain but can only gasp for air. The apprehension is simply too much. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see he has closed his fingers around the dagger by his side, ready to slit your throat if you can't give a satisfactory answer.

"Lower your voice. I called her here." The Lady speaks up from her seat.

You grip the front of the new gown until blood is drained from your knuckles. The last thing you remember is the steward told you Lady Maggie had requested your presence. You had presumed the Lady wanted to speak to you about the meeting with the royal delegates. But you did not expect to hear the Lord and Lady openly discussing your true identity. This whole time, they've known you are an imposter.

"Sorry to make you wait. Come." Lady Maggie calls to you with an ever-present smile as if nothing has happened. You swear you almost cry. The Lady could not possibly ask you to just squeeze your way past the Lord, could she?

Hearing Lady Maggie's reassurance is good enough for the terrifying man before you. He steps back and flicks his head towards the Lady, signaling that you are allowed to enter. You mutter a greeting to the Lord before walking in, keeping your head as low as you can, fearing it will be taken off your neck if you don't. You don't need to look to know the Lord's gaze is burning on your back as you approach the Lady.

"Beautiful." Lady Maggie compliments. "This one fits her perfectly. Do you not think so, my Lord?"

Her brother completely ignores her question. He follows you back in, closing the door behind him and trapping you between the two of them. The Lady pays no mind to his deathly silence. She asks you to take a seat opposite of her. The Lord leans on the wall, eyeing you like a cat watching a mouse unable to escape from an empty pot it has fallen in.

"Let's start from the beginning and properly introduce ourselves, shall we?"

Lady Maggie's smile vanishes.

"Who are you?"

Tag List:

@looloolily

#jake gyllenhaal x reader #maggie gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #maggie gyllenhaal fanfic #maggie gyllenhaal imagine #fic: emblem of roses #nat writes #fics #smut #cw: rpf #tw: alcohol

[scribble-dribble-writes]

heyy,

i’ve been feeling a bit down lately and am in need of some comfort, so i’m requesting an Obi-Wan x fem!reader one-shot. She has had a stressfull week and he wants to help her but for him to be able to help her she has to talk about the things that run through her head. But she’ll never do that cuz she doesnt want to burden him with her problems (she not used to having someone care for her that deeply). So he tries everything to make sure she knows that she will never be a burden to him and that he wants to help her the way she always helps him.

Hope u csn work with that. Feel free to change stuff. Lots of love<3

(preferably modern-AU)

Hey! It took me a while to get to this request but I hope it cheers you up 💖

---

Deadlines and confessions

You hid yourself in the most quiet and abandoned aisle within your college library. This week had been strenuous, with exams approaching and assignments deadlines not letting you sleep. You needed a moment of peace. All the uncertainties loomed over your head, you needed those grades, your rent was due in a week and your shift hours had been low. You felt alone and stressed, so sitting on the carpeted floor near shelves of books seemed like the perfect place to get away.

No one can find you here.

“Why are you hiding in the library?”, you recognized him by the sound of his voice.

Obi wan was the last person you wanted to bump into. You both started out as classmates but then ended up being best friends. But he had one of those rare qualities where he would go to any extent to help anyone. If he knew of your situation, he would jump in to help, even if you said no, so you didn’t want to exploit his kindness like that. He had submissions and exams as well, he had a life of his own and you didn’t want to be a burden to him.

“I’m not hiding.”, you replied, your eyes were heavy lidded and your answer didn’t have its usual zest.

“Yes, you are.”, he took a seat next to you carrying two cups of coffee.

“The abandoned mystery section is for hiding, the poetry section is for passing gossip and the romance section is for first dates.”, he reiterated your favourite spots within this place.

“I should have never told you about it.”, you rested your head on the wall behind you as he held a cup towards you. You accepted it, grateful that in small ways he could read your mind.

“You’ve also been ghosting my messages and ignoring me.”, he said it in a matter of fact tone as he slipped his drink.

“I’ve just had a lot on my plate. That’s all.”, you shrugged as you took a sip of the warm drink in your hand, letting the silence hang between the two of you.

“You only tell me the good stuff.”, he leaned back too.

“That’s not how friendships work.”, you rolled your eyes as he lectured you, trying to tip toe his way into solving your problems.

“Its called being transparent.”, he quipped allowing his hand to rest next to yours.

“And then you can waltz into my life to be the knight in shining armor only to prove that I can do nothing on my own.”, you retorted but his silence only meant that this statement was too personal for a joke.

“Sorry.”, you apologized and pulled down your hoodie to hide your face.

“Well, atleast I was right. Something is bothering you.”, he nudged your shoulder to let you know he didn’t take offence.

“That’s when you turn into a grumpy troll.”, he chuckled.

“Now hold on a minute.”, you face him, his laugh eliciting the same response from you. But as you settled back into the silence, his expression grew serious.

“What is it?”, he proded again and you thought that by telling him a little, it might actually ease the weight on your shoulders.

You placed your head on his shoulder, to your surprise he took your hand in his. Always eluding to the fact that this could be more if only you could give him the password to your metaphorical door.

“My exams are near and I’ve haven’t prepared for it. I also have bills due and nothing is in my account. I am also exhausted and so so sleepy.”, you yawned finally as you heard him hum in response.

“Now, I know you are capable of dealing with all this on your own.”, he spoke gently.

“But maybe this once I could help shoulder your load?”, he asked as you turned to see him.

“What about your deadlines?”, you furrowed your brows.

“I’ll work around it.”, he smiled.

“Obi wan, you don’t have to go out of your way.”, you pushed away from him to which he called your name.

“But I want to. I want to be there for you. And I hate it that you push me away.”, he grew frustrated.

“When you can waltz into my life and fix it up or lend a hand whenever misfortune strikes, I can do the same.”, he spoke passionately and all you could do was sit there and be mesmerized. Your cheeks grew warm, it was as though he was reassuring you that no matter what, he was never going to let you be alone.

“I want to be more than the box you put me in.”, he said finally, saying your name in the end as though there was no one else who could know you like him.

“So give me a chance.”, he pleaded and who could say no to those blue eyes.

“Fine.”, you conceded.

“I’ll let you help, just this once.”, you placed your head on his shoulder again and wrap your arm around his arm, feeling much lighter than before because you didn’t have to worry now.

“Also you’re in the wrong section.”, he mumbled.

“You literally mentioned this was the mystery aisle.”, you spoke with your eyes closed.

“So that I wouldn’t scare you off. I spent the whole day trying to find you.”, he replied.

“What aisle is this then?”, you asked and he took a second to respond.

“Romance.”, he whispered.

You turned to him to find his gaze was already on you.

Give me a chance

His statement echoed in your mind and maybe it had a more deeper meaning, a cry he had kept away for years.

Just the way you had been pining for him, always putting it away because of the timing or the situation you were in. But right this second, it felt good, that this was how it had to be.

“The truth is I can’t stop thinking about you.”, he said quietly like it was his most coveted secret, his cheeks and the tip of his ears turned red.

There wasn’t much to say, you knew everything about each other, so instead you leaned towards him slowly, his hands reached to cup the side of your face with a determination that he was ready for this, ready for this moment. His eyes slipped to your lips and everything after that was a blur. It was like the world had stopped spinning and the stars cheered you on and so you kissed him, he pulled you closer as he hummed with delight.

Him, finding you in this aisle felt a lot like fate reassuring you that this was right.

So maybe the stressful week was the way that it was because it was leading up to this very moment.

To his whispered ‘I love you’ and the comfort of his arms.

#obi wan my beloved #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan #obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi #obiwan x fluff

[anxiouspineapple99]

Of Healing and Breaking Again

Chapter 5 Or The One With The Reunion

Summary: After the Batch reunite with an old friend, Avery reveals her experience with the inhibitor chips and vows to help them in any way she can.

Pairing: Tech x FemJedi!OC

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, order 66, youngling death

A/N: I cannot thank @dystopicjumpsuit enough for helping me with this chapter! I have been sitting on it for months and it’s finally ready to be seen.

New here? Start here

Masterlist

Tag list

“Go! Go! Go!” The sound of yelling, thundering footsteps, and Wrecker’s boisterous laughter brought her back from her deep meditation. She curiously leaned forward as Wrecker bounded on board with a metal crate containing some kind of lizard, followed by Omega who was beaming from ear to ear. Tech and Echo entered and immediately positioned themselves in the cockpit to prepare for departure followed by Hunter, his deece drawn yelling something that she really wasn’t paying attention to.

She turned her attention to the crate, “This is a whole lot of ruckus for whatever that is,” she pointed more bemused than anything.

“A job’s a job right now and we need the credits,” Hunter quipped as they ascended into the atmosphere.

“Sith’s hells who did you guys say you were getting the lizard from?!” Avery barked as Tech’s evasive maneuvers tossed them about the Marauder haphazardly.

“Ehh some Rhokai. How much longer until we're in hyperspace, Tech?” Hunter demanded.

“That depends on when Echo plans on getting the drive back online,” Avery heard Tech shoot back from the cockpit followed next by Echo’s irritated, “I'm working on it!” She stumbled to the jump seats and secured herself next to Omega while holding onto a panicked Nuna.

“I don't think Ruby likes this very much”

“She’s in good company, Nuna isn’t thrilled either,” Avery laughed and Omega giggled.

“You named that thing? What's with these guys?” Wrecker hollered incredulously.

“Well, we did steal from them,” Omega looked at Avery sheepishly.

“Technically, the Rhokai stole the lizard first. We are merely intercepting it,” Tech corrected her.

“They don't see it that way!” Wrecker’s fraying nerves were revealing themselves through the strain in his voice as he clung to the jumpseat.

Another evasive maneuver sent the crate tumbling causing the door to swing open, and the lizard Omega affectionately named ‘Ruby’ escaped. This immediately elicited panicked screams from Wrecker which only escalated when Ruby firmly attached herself to Wrecker’s frantic person.

“Stay calm! You're scaring her!” Omega scolded as she started to wrestle Ruby off Wrecker. Nuna hissed and scampered to hide in Omega’s blankets as Avery leapt to Omega and Wrecker’s aid.

“Hold still Wreck! I’m trying to get a grip on her!”

“Hyperdrive's online.”

“Got her,” Omega declared triumphantly.

Once certain they’d made the jump to hyperspace, Avery stumbled back into a seat and heaved a sigh as she picked up Nuna who’d re-emerged from Omega’s room. A growl emanated from the little loth-cat.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me. I didn’t let that lizard out,” Avery grumbled in response. She scratched her behind the ear but Nuna was having none of it. With a hiss and a swat she jumped from Avery’s hands and joined Wrecker who’d attempted to get comfortable on a rack.

The soft footfalls and slight creak of the seat behind him shifting alerted Tech to Avery’s entry into the cockpit.

He felt her boot come to rest on his arm rest as she softly spoke, “Did you know that kyber crystals sing?”

“Beg your pardon?” asked Tech, his attention never faltering from the Marauder’s controls.

“Kyber crystals, they sing. It’s how we find the crystal that was intended for us.”

Echo swiveled his seat to face her, “Really? What does it sound like?”

Avery paused for a moment giving a soft sideways glance before continuing, “Different for everyone. They are on the verge of sentience, but more accurately they have a type of… collective consciousness I suppose? They communicate with each other and with Force wielders. I’ve heard some say their crystal sounded like bells, others said a melodic hum. Both of my crystals sang to me through the Force, I mean actual words. It was unnerving as a padawan to hear a disembodied voice singing in my head.”

Echo’s eyes were wide with wonder as she spoke. Although Tech remained transfixed on the control panel he too, was still listening. He always listened. Besides, this was fascinating.

She paused for a breath, a vacant stare coming over her face, “They scream as well.”

Tech looked up from the control panel and glanced at Echo, noticing the shift in her tone. They tentatively looked at her waiting for further explanation.

“Red crystals, like our Inquisitor friend has, don’t exist naturally. Kyber crystals are naturally attuned to the light side of the Force. When Sith acquire a crystal they bleed it. Torture it. They force it to the dark side. And it screams. I could hear the crystal in that Inquisitor’s saber.” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “I’ve never heard it before and I pray I never hear it again.”

She looked up and glanced from Echo to Tech recognizing the deep concern in their eyes. “Well it seems my fun fact of the day has suddenly become a lot less fun. Sorry about that boys! I’ll see myself out!” And as quietly she’d entered, she left.

“I am so glad I’m not a Jedi,” Echo huffed.

Tech nodded emphatically in agreement. “That entire interaction has left me a bit perplexed. While I do enjoy the acquisition of new knowledge, it came out of nowhere.”

Echo shrugged, “Maybe being choked to within an inch of her life, you know, affected her.” He tapped his temple to emphasize his implication. “Or maybe she’s always been a little quirky. It’s not like we really know her yet. Regardless, it may have been unexpected but it was still interesting.”

Tech hummed in agreement.

For the first time in a long time, Avery felt as if the Force was beginning to flow through her like the rushing current of the Andrevea River. It wasn’t the powerful rush she’d been accustomed to but her connection to it was finally strengthening.

“What are you doing?” Omega’s curiosity had gotten the better of her, regardless of Echo advising her to leave well enough alone.

“Convening with the Force,” Avery opened only one eye as she cocked her head toward Omega.

“And what does that mean?” Omega sat next to her, mirroring her position.

“It means I’m listening to it. Communicating with it.” Avery looked around, as if to ensure no one else was listening and then dropped her voice to a whisper, “It tells me secrets.”

Omega’s eyes widened with awe and excitement. “What sorts of secrets?”

Avery inhaled and closed her eyes. She reached out into the Marauder only lightly touching the inhabitants. She’d vowed long ago she wouldn’t look into the minds of others without their consent barring extreme circumstances. It always felt intrusive and she hated it. But she still poked at the aura they released into the Force. That was more like reading a street sign.

She turned back to Omega and narrowed her eyes, “You want to let Ruby out of her cage again. Why?”

Omega’s eyes widened as a devious grin crossed her face, “Whoa…”

“Omega,” Avery repeated in the same firm tone she used with the younglings in the temple, “why do you want to let Ruby out?”

The smile never left Omega’s face, “I’m not going to. She’s just cute. And I think if Wrecker gave her a chance…”

A smile crept across Avery’s face, “I think Wrecker has had enough Ruby for now. And I’m thinking Nuna has too, based on the fact that she’s commiserating with him on one of those impossibly uncomfortable racks.”

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“I told you, the Force tells me secrets. Want to see something else it can do?”

“Yeah!”

“Nuna!” Avery gave a sharp whistle. The little loth-cat wandered out looking peeved. “The attitude isn’t necessary, miss.” Avery chided as she scratched Nuna behind the ears.

Omega watched intently as Avery closed her eyes once again. Nuna bounded into the cockpit. After a moment they heard the rumble of Echo’s voice followed by Tech’s. A devious grin crept to Avery’s mouth as she knew it wouldn’t be long. First there was a clatter followed by two indignant shouts, Hunter’s uproarious laughter, and then Echo’s bucket scooted out of the cockpit. It was promptly followed by Tech and Echo who were tripping over each other in the pursuit. Omega melted into a lump of giggles watching her brothers chasing the helmet around the Marauder.

“That loth-cat is a menace!” A grin pulled at the corners of Echo’s mouth as if the chaos was enjoyable for him.

“Nuna!” Avery gave another sharp whistle and commanded her through the Force to come to her.

She lifted the bucket off her and handed it to Echo, “It’s my fault. We were playing a game. I told her to do it.”

“Smart little thing,” Echo’s soft baritone was laced with a chuckle. He scratched the loth-cat behind the ears and returned to the cockpit.

“She did it with her mind!” Omega was awestruck by the show she’d been witness to.

“That is not possible, Omega. And may I have my hydrospanner back?” Tech was far less amused.

“Yes, sorry,” she plucked the tool from Nuna’s teeth and handed it back to Tech.

“Thank you. We are approaching Ord Mantell,” Avery didn’t need the Force to hear the audible grinding of Tech’s teeth as he walked away.

“I’m going to have to apologize for this later, aren’t I?”

“Yep!” Omega giggled as she and Avery strapped in for landing. “So do you know Cid, too?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Should I know Cid?”

“Echo said she was an informant for the Jedi during the war.” Omega’s query was innocent but struck a nerve none the less.

“Ahhh, I see. I wasn’t involved in the intel and fighting aspect of the war. I was the one fixing the damage inflicted.” Her tone was harsher than she’d intended.

“Oh…” Omega dropped her eyes as a pinkish flush dusted her cheeks. A twinge of guilt struck Avery as she hurriedly reassured her.

“But if this Cid is a friend of yours then they’re a friend of mine!”

“I want to gather my bearings so I’m going to take a look around. I’ll meet you at Cid’s.” Avery fussed with her datapad as the others gathered Ruby in preparation for delivery.

“How will you find it?” Omega worried her fingers, unwilling to leave Avery’s side without confirmation that she wouldn’t get lost.

“This Force will guide me little one. Besides I’m pretty familiar with all your Force signatures at this point. I’ll find you, don’t worry!” Avery gave her a gentle push toward her brothers who waved as they carried their bounty toward Cid’s parlor.

Avery took her time wandering the streets of Ord Mantell City, Nuna by her side every moment. The sea of faces varied from unsavory characters to benign individuals just trying to make their way in the new Empire.

She’d finally decided to make her way back to Cid’s after procuring some new clothes from a relatively unpleasant shopkeeper and found an isolated place just outside of the city to train. She allowed the Force to guide her to the squalid parlor, her boots crunching as she strolled the rundown streets.

The pungent odor of Cid’s parlor violently assaulted Avery as she entered causing her to slightly recoil while scrunching her nose. The lurch in her stomach was quickly forgotten when she heard the raised voices inside.

“What's in your head is more dangerous than you can imagine. I've seen what happens when the chip activates, and I don't want to bury any more of our brothers. Trust me. It is not something you can control. I couldn't. It's a risk you do not want to take.”

“How do you suggest we get them out?”

“Good question. I'll be in touch.”

Avery pulled the hood of her cloak tightly to her face as she and the stranger passed each other. Nuna followed close on her heels as she approached the bar.

“Hey…” Avery shimmied onto the barstool next to Tech.

Tech glanced up from his datapad with a curt nod.

“Can I buy you a drink? As an apology for the whole hydrospanner thing earlier.”

“As I mentioned when we first met, I will not say no to a free drink.”

“Great! Another round of what you’re already having?”

Tech nodded once more and Avery reached over the bar to grab two glasses and the bottle. The silence hung heavily between them. Avery shifted her weight on the barstool and cleared her throat.

“So what are you working on?”

“Analyzing the statistical probability of differing outcomes for our previous mission and how to improve efficiency for future expeditions.”

“Impressive!”

“Obviously.”

Avery giggled. Tech’s unabashed confidence continued to be undeniably attractive and his small quirks, such as constantly adjusting his goggles, were charmingly endearing. He was also very lovely to look at.

“Does this place always smell this bad?” She continued, scrunching her nose as she’d done earlier.

“Yes. Though you will get used to it.” Tech paused for only a breath, a sliver of hope creeping into the remainder of his thought. “Assuming you intend on staying here with us.”

Avery cocked her head slightly towards him, “I don’t have anywhere else to go. And you lot have grown on me.”

Tech hummed but maintained focus on his calculations. The tension was easing, however, and they soon slipped into amiable silence as Avery stroked Nuna who had fallen asleep on her lap.

Avery scowled as she sipped the cheap swill from her glass, “this moonshine really is terrible.”

Tech nodded and lifted his finger “Yes but it is affordable.”

“I can splurge to get us something better than this. Also is this glass dirty?” Avery held the glass up, scrutinizing the smudges that were clearly not fingerprints.

Tech shrugged, “I have counted at least seventy-five health code violations since we arrived. So yes, your glass is likely dirty.”

A moment later a patron exited the refresher. Avery’s eyes widened in horror as she grabbed Tech’s thigh. He started at the unexpected but not entirely unwelcome contact, and met her appalled gaze.

She silently mouthed “Did he wash his hands?”

Tech leaned forward squinting at the patron’s bone dry hands and adjusted his goggles once more. He turned back to face her and somberly shook his head in dissent. They both stared, completely dumbstruck, as he proceeded to down the remainder of his drink, drop the glass with the clean dishware, and left.

In unison Avery and Tech flatly added, “Seventy-six.” The unexpected synchronization drew a chuckle from Avery and a soft smile from Tech.

“Well that has right put me off this.” Avery sighed and placed the half full glass and a few credits on the bar. “I passed a few shops on the way here that sell alcohol. I’m going to buy a bottle of something at least drinkable for us. I’ll meet you back on the Marauder.”

She slid off her seat, her hand brushing his arm gently as she walked toward the door. Tech couldn’t help but notice that the new pants she’d purchased hugged her thighs quite alluringly, unlike the more Jedi-like trousers she’d worn prior. Nuna padded to him and jumped into his lap, making herself right at home, purring contentedly, jarring him from his excessively long appreciation of Avery’s backside. He couldn’t help but think those pants alone would have convinced him to forgive her.

“So who was your friend and what was he so concerned about?” Avery poured Jaffa cider for Hunter, Echo, and Tech and tucked her legs beneath her in the copilot seat. Omega and Wrecker could be heard playing with Nuna elsewhere.

“That was Captain Rex,” Echo said flatly before taking a drink.

“Rex? Of the 501st?” Avery narrowed her eyes. The memory of the 501st marching on the temple still sent chills down her spine.

“Yes, the same. He is concerned about the inhibitor chips.”

Avery cocked an eyebrow and swirled her drink, “Why would Rex be worried about those?”

“He is worried our chips will activate and thus put Omega and anyone else we may care about in danger.” Tech's matter of fact statement churned her stomach. The thought of another child being endangered by the Kaminoans blatant disregard for life was unacceptable.

“You know, the Kaminoans told us the chips were implanted to suppress aggression.” Avery huffed a scornful laugh. She was just as angry at herself for not pushing back more.

A heavy silence befell the cockpit as Hunter and Echo glanced at each other and then back at their drinks.

“Fascinating.” Tech leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “That was not entirely true but also not entirely false. In addition to making the clones more…obedient and thus easier to train, the chips activated with Order 66. It is why the regs turned on the Jedi…as you already know.”

“And you?” Her shoulders collapsed inward slightly as she drew her cup close in an effort to shield herself.

“Our deviant nature and Echo’s enhancements courtesy of the Techno Union appear to have made us immune to the chip's effects. With the exception of Crosshair. However Rex insists we have our chips removed. To be safe.”

Tears burned in Avery’s eyes. She pulled her knees to her chin and pressed her face to them. She had to stop running from the pain but it was agonizing still.

“Are…you okay?” Hunter reached out hesitantly, worried her reaction was that of volatile anger. She pressed her head back into the seat, teary eyes clenched shut. She sighed, wiping her face.

“When talking about Jedi, what do you think of? Who comes to mind?”

Echo spoke up, “General Skywalker…Commander Tano…General Kenobi…why?”

“Adults, right? Or late adolescence in Ahsoka’s case,” her voice was even and unreadable.

“Well…yeah. I suppose,” Hunter dragged his words slowly trying to decipher the meaning behind Avery’s question.

“Not every Jedi in the temple was an adult or older adolescent. Many of them were younger. Much younger. I wasn’t just a physician. I was one of the carers for the youngest Jedi in the temple. Those developmentally aged five and younger by human standards. I was the one who found them…after. I was able to help a few, very few, out of the temple when the 501st…” she took a shaky breath. “But I was too late for most… They weren’t a threat. They weren’t traitors of the Republic. They were…babies. Some were barely walking. It didn’t matter. Order 66 called for the execution of all the Jedi.”

She stared at the control console as silent tears streaked her cheeks. “Master Shaak Ti told me about the presence of the inhibitor chips. She said the Kaminoans insisted they were for suppressing aggression but…I didn’t believe them. We were at war. Aggressive soldiers would be ideal. I tried to research on my own but I was already banned from Tipoca City and the Jedi Council was adamant on keeping the chips a secret so I was shut down fairly quickly. When Order 66 happened and I heard the internal struggle of some of the troopers, I put two and two together. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Echo and Hunter looked on, horrified. Tech could only look away, jaw and fists clenched.

Avery continued, “Rex is right. I have seen what happens when the chip activates. It’s not just adults in the line of fire,” she glanced out the open cockpit door at Omega blissfully playing with Nuna and Wrecker.

“I’ll help you boys any way I can. It’s the least I can do. I failed every trooper that was in my care during the war by not listening to my instincts about those chips. I can help you now.”

“You…are not angry?” Tech’s brow furrowed.

“At who? You? The rest of the clones? No. You all had already had your autonomy denied you once in not being given a choice whether you wanted to fight or not. Even if Order 66 were carried out by choice I couldn’t exactly blame them. Everyone reaches a breaking point eventually.”

“I…we…are so sorry,” Hunter rubbed the nape of his neck and grimaced knowing the apology would be little comfort.

“You owe me no apology. The only ones who owe me an apology are those bloody Kaminoans and whoever told them to put those chips in you.” She stood up and studied the empty bottle.

“This calls for another round. I’ll be back.”

Avery pulled her hood up as she slipped past Hunter. And as she left down the boarding ramp, Omega and Wrecker called after asking for her to bring back more Mantell Mix.

Tag list babes 💕: @wolffegirlsunite @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @littlemissmanga @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @dystopicjumpsuit @wizardofrozz @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @the-bad-batch-baroness @clonemedickix @mooncommlink @808tsuika @msmeredithrose @starqueensthings @stardusthuntress @ladyzirkonia @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @freesia-writes @mandos-mind-trick

#star wars #the bad batch #anxiouspineapple99 writes #tech x oc #tech x jedi!oc #oc: avery leto #clone force 99 #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb tech

[spaceyflowerswriting]

hi I'm back again, I requested the vin jin study date one and it was the best piece of literature I've read. It was so good that I wanna request another vin jin one cause I'm down so bad. This time could it be a scenario with him but he shows his eyes to the reader?

p.s. dont forget to take care of yourself ❤

connection (vin jin x reader)

details: soft oneshot, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and vin jin are dating

summary: your boyfriend decides to finally reveal what's under his sunglasses to you.

a/n: thank u for requesting anon <33 thats rlly high praise,, im happy u liked that one so much T_T 💘 i hope this works for u, and i hope ur taking care of urself too :]

×

Vin Jin NEVER made plans. Things just happened and he rolled along with it, or he would make things happen, and whatever happened would happen. He just wasn't the careful kind of guy, and often he acted without thinking.

For once, though, he made a plan. A plan revolving around something very important to him, one that needed much consideration and steps to take. He even did it without any help! Yes, maybe some advice from his smarter friend Mary would've been helpful, but he wanted to be as genuine as possible so he chose to do things in his own unique, messy way.

That was part of his charm--according to you, anyway--and he wanted to utilize it specifically because this plan involved revealing a secret to you. What better way to go about it could there be?

~

"Vin Jin, where are we going?"

"It's a secret!" He turned to make sure your eyes were still closed. It was really hard to see with his sunglasses and the darkness of night, but with enough staring, he could kind of see that your eyes were still closed. He smiled triumphantly and faced forward again to continue leading you by hand.

"Why? So secret you can't even show your lover the way to get there?"

"Can't you let me be romantic for once?"

"Pardon?" You wheezed and Vin Jin turned a little red.

He cleared his throat and attempted to defend himself. "Didn't this exact thing happen in the K-drama you were watching with Mary the other day? You were talking about how sweet it was." He turned a little more red when he remembered walking by and almost blurting out about how cringey and cheesy the scene was until you stated your opinion on it.

His response only elicited more laughter out of you. "Vin Jin, you are so cute."

"Man, shut up," he muttered, "I regret doing this."

"And yet you're still walking~"

"Because--" Vin Jin's small annoyance was quickly replaced with excitement at the sight ahead of him. "We're here!" He started sprinting and you yelped.

"Can I open my eyes now?! You're gonna make me trip!"

"Yes, whatever, c'mon!" His hand still held tightly onto yours as he ran until he felt he was at an appropriate distance to the small lake. He took a deep breath of the fresh air in the open space and then looked behind himself at you.

Walking forward to stand by his side, you looked around and asked, "This is where you wanted to bring me?"

You didn't sound as awed as he hoped you would and frowned a little. "Why? Is this place not cool?"

"You brought me here before to have a picnic."

"I did?" Vin Jin scrambled to find a memory of this and turned red once more when he did. "Fuck."

How lame. This was supposed to be a heartwarming moment where you say, "Wow, you brought me to a place personal to you?" and he was supposed to reply, "Yeah, because you're my number one, babe." Actually didn't that happen the first time he did bring you here?

He tried to brush his scenario aside when you started laughing. Again.

"Never change, Vin." He huffed when he felt you press your lips against his cheek.

"You know I won't. Now let's sit." He started to sit down and practically dragged you along.

"What are we doing?" You hurried to sit with your legs crossed.

Vin Jin let go of your hand to snap with both of his fingers. "We're going to stargaze." He grinned at your amused expression.

"Okay, I'm ready when you are."

"But first..." Here comes his plan. "Uh." Vin Jin had never so intensely felt the pain of "easier said than done" until now. "I need to take off my sunglasses, y'know? Can't stargaze if you can't see shit."

He tried to watch your expression to see how he could proceed. All you did was widen your eyes. It seemed like you were going to say something so he waited, but it only resulted in an awkward pause.

"So... uh... yeah, gonna take off my sunglasses," he eventually continued, slowly bringing his hands up to his shades. "Don't mind me."

Yup. This was his plan. Be as casual as possible; because he knew if he tried to take himself seriously, he would only trip over himself and possibly end up clamming up.

This way he could also not pressure you with his anxieties. He knew it wouldn't be right to tell you, "I'm going to show you my fucked up eye and if you scream or make a single disgusted reaction I am going to dig a hole and live in it for the rest of my life," no matter how much he wanted to say it.

If you wanted to break up with him because of his eye, so be it. He didn't want to lose you no matter what, but if you left because of an "ugly" part of him, he knew you wouldn't be worth it anyway. No loving person would leave their partner for something like a physical trait considered unusual.

Well... that's what he was trying to tell himself.

Vin Jin gulped, growing frustrated that he couldn't stop his shaky hands. Your eyes still on him didn't help. At this point, he had his hands on the sides of his sunglasses but was just holding them there.

Nearly a whole uncomfortable minute passed before you spoke. "Sorry, do you... want me to look away?"

The gentleness in your voice combined with the sincere look of concern on your face was the last push Vin Jin needed. He took a steady breath before replying, "Nah, it's good." He didn't let you say anything more in case it would've stopped him from what he was about to do, so he just quickly took his sunglasses off and set them aside.

Immediately he looked away from you out of instinct and cursed at himself before trying to casually lay down on the grassy floor. He glanced at you to see you looking away as well. If only he could see your expression.

He crossed his arms behind his head while you laid down next to him.

It was silent again. The mood was too tense for a peaceful activity like stargazing.

"I walked into this, I better damn finish it."

Vin Jin slowly turned his head towards you. He tried to start a conversation, but only opened his mouth to close it. He knit his brows as he let a few more seconds of silence pass before relaxing his facial features and saying, "It's way easier to stargaze in the countryside."

"Yeah, I'd imagine. All these city lights are ruining stargazing." You replied lightly, chuckling even, but you appeared as tense as the mood. Your eyes were focusing intently on the sky above; as if looking back at Vin Jin would cost you your life. It honestly made him feel bad for how sensitive he had been in the past about trying to hide his eyes, but at the same time was glad you were so respectful of his boundaries.

"Right?" He continued to stare at you, hoping he would not have to prompt you to look at him. "I wanna take you there one day. Not where I'm from, but somewhere in the countryside."

"I'd love that."

A soft smile formed on his lips. "There's also a lot more space in the countryside. Less people plus less streets and places to navigate. I think it'd be nice to run around there with you."

"Mhm. I'm guessing that's why you like this place so much. Does it remind you of the countryside?"

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the city, but it's nice not having to worry about running into something every five seconds."

"Hm, well, maybe that has to do with the sunglasses you wear?" The way you were easing into the conversation made Vin Jin give himself an internal pat on the back.

"I got you and Mary to help me navigate around, don't I?"

"Can't do that for the rest of our lives, you know," you chuckled again.

"No choice, you're both stuck with me until the day I die."

"Guess I can't complain then. I signed up for this after all."

"Yes, you did."

The talking continued as topics and bantering bounced back and forth between the two of you. A few minutes in, Vin Jin turned away from you to admire the stars with you. He knew he was "chickening out," but tried to convince himself this was part of his plan to be casual. He did say he wouldn't force you to do anything.

~

It finally happened, albeit an accident.

While telling you an embarrassing childhood story about Mary, Vin Jin and you had turned to look at each other as he was saying, "She got all mad and looked at me like this--"

He was pretty sure your eyes widened at the same time as his. He froze up, his brain yelling at him to hurry and put his sunglasses back on, but he did his best to ignore it and tried to finish his story.

"Uh." The words were caught in his throat. "She..."

You were staring. There was no look of disgust. No look of fear. Only simple curiosity and surprise. Dare he say... entranced? As if you were observing an artpiece and trying to figure out its meaning, rather than looking at a freak.

Suddenly the fear Vin Jin was feeling was replaced by him getting flustered. He couldn't stop himself from turning away and that was when you seemed to have realized you were staring.

"I-I'm so sorry!" A waterfall of words spilled from your mouth, but mostly apologies. You tried to explain yourself but could barely form a sentence. It would have been cute if you didn't sound so panicked.

Vin Jin said your name, which got you to become silent, and then, "It's fine."

"It's--it's fine?" you repeated, now sounding confused.

"Yeah." Vin Jin forced himself to turn back to look at you. You were looking away once again. Now that you finally got a look at his eyes, he decided to be less indirect. "What's wrong?" He plastered on his iconic grin, playing dumb. "You never seen someone's eyes before? Weirdo."

"I... but... you..."

Turning to lay on his side, Vin Jin put his elbow out so he could prop his head up with his hand. "But what? You can turn back around, I don't care." Despite his confident tone, he was still physically shaking a little but he just hoped you wouldn't notice if you looked back.

"Vin..." Your voice softened. Still, you did not yet turn. "I don't understand. Why are you suddenly okay with showing me your eyes?"

"Ah, fuck." Time to get serious, he supposed.

Vin Jin sighed. "I just think it's about time I show you. I can't imagine never getting to see you properly for the rest of my life 'cause of my darkened shades."

You took a few seconds to process his words. "Aren't they an insecurity of yours, though? I'm just confused about why you're so carefree about them now."

"That's..." Vin Jin swallowed whatever pride he still had at the moment. "Because I figured it was the best way to go about it for me. There was no way in hell I was gonna sit down with you and seriously talk to you about an insecurity." He tried to crack a joke to ease his nerves. "Besides, how awkward would that be, right?"

"Huh." The silence that passed made Vin Jin beg you to say literally anything at all--internally, of course. "Are you absolutely sure it's okay for me to look at your eyes?"

"Yes. I think it's like..." Vin Jin wished he was better with his words. "A sign of trust, you know? And I trust you, a lot."

"I see." He watched as your body tensed up and then finally, you turned back around. The immediate eye contact made him tense up with you.

It happened again.

You had the same look full of love as you always did for him. There was just other emotions tossed in, but nothing bad.

This second time was a confirmation of sorts for Vin Jin that you viewed him the same. He didn't become a monster to you, he was only just your boyfriend. A human with an unordinary eye. And you still loved him.

Relief washed over him.

"May I ask what happened...?" you carefully questioned.

"Polycoria," he said, "is the name of the condition. I, uh, I'll tell you more about it another day. Probably." Nervously smiling, he moved back to lay down on his back and look at the stars. "This was. A lot." He spoke through gritted teeth, cringing at his every word and feeling like he was a sweaty mess. "I don't have anymore... um. Vulnerability to share. I'm done today."

Whatever emotion was running through him was indescribable, but just like how you looked at him, it wasn't bad so that was something.

Thankfully, your melody of laughter came along and soothed his soul. "Alright, that's understandable, Vin." You also turned away, joining him to stargaze. "Thanks for sharing this part of you with me. I'll make sure to take good care of it."

Vin Jin wondered how he ever scored someone as kind as you. If he wasn't overwhelmed with emotions before, he was now. All he felt like he could do was grab your hand and say, "I love you."

You hummed, rubbing his thumb with yours. "I love you, too."

His heart practically exploded. He was also starting to feel a little dumb. How could he have ever doubted you? Why did he take this long to show you his eyes when he knew you would still love him the same?

Ah, it didn't matter. That was done and over with now.

Vin Jin smiled at the sparkly stars above. Until he remembered he should finish his story about Mary, so he turned back to you and continued. He stared at you lovingly as the conversation carried on and felt glad he pushed himself for this moment.

Tomorrow morning would be the first time he would properly get to see you with sunlight shining on your skin, without his sunglasses in the way.

#lookism x reader #vin jin x reader #vin jin #requests #whew i had to rewrite this entirely but i love how this 2nd version came out #way less rushed + cuter and more in character imo ^_^;; #anyways [clenches fists and shakes them] vin jin my beloved bastard u fill me with so much emotion #btw shoutout to lofi music that shit carried me thru writing this 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 #youtube channel syros in particular #the playlist is called 'its all about the simple things' if anyone is curious <3

[lynnarang]

Afterglow

cw// smut (or rather what comes after)

Arang laid on her back, eyes tracing the bumps on her popcorn ceiling, panting heavily as she felt each individual bead of sweat trickle down her nude body. By her side, Sephina was in a similar state, with her wings splayed behind her as her arms weakly embraced her lover.

Seeing her girlfriend's nude, vulnerable frame, feeling her chest heave against her side as she took deep breaths, Arang felt lust stirring within her again-- but the angel was clearly way too exhausted for another round, and while the idea of violating a spent angel whose only defense was gasped pleading moans did sound enticing, the wolf-demon had enough self-control to swallow it back down.

Instead, her eyes landed on a peculiarity of Sephina's body, a set of 3 near evenly space lines that ran for several inches along her outer waist. While Arang was no stranger to scars, her own body covered in several, this was her lover's only one (or three, depending on how you counted it).

And it was one Arang had left herself.

Gently, the demon reached down and traced a finger down the length of one of the lines, sending a shiver and a soft moan to elicit from Sephina. The angel, whose eyes had been closed in a blissed out stupor until now, sluggishly opened her eyes and blinked up at her girlfriend.

"Babe...?"

Arang remained silent, thoughts flashing back to those vivid moments that had burned into her brain. The feeling of angel flesh beneath her claws, the glistening of golden blood reflecting the sunlight as it splattered across asphalt, the way Sephina's face had contorted--

"Ran!"

Arang snapped out of it just in time to catch her lover staring up at her with concerned eyes. Fuck, no matter what expression she made, she was always so pretty. Finally, the demon spoke.

"Does it still hurt?"

The angel sighed and shifted her shoulders upwards in barely perceptible shrug. "Sometimes. But what does it matter if it does? You have way more than me." "Because I-" "Yes, you left it. This was from you. But I was kind of asking for it at the time. If anything, I'm glad it left a mark, so I won't do something so stupid again." "Seph..." The angel reached up and stroked her partner's cheek, shushing her as she did. "Don't look so glum about it. You could have hurt me a lot worse back then, you had ever right to. But you didn't, and now we're both here together fucking each other's brains out and I, for one, could not be any happier with the situation." The gleam of her halo showed that she really meant what she said, but Arang was still left with doubts.

"I wanted to hurt you even more back then. I wanted to..." "I know, darling, that's why I'm so thankful that you didn't. Lord almighty you can be such a big puppy after sex sometimes." This brought a pout from the half-wolf, the desired response.

"I'm not a puppy..."

"Yes you are, you're my big strong puppy who gets all mushy about feelings because she feels bad about silly things that happened so long ago. " Sephina giggled, the muscular woman she was coiled struggling to find a retort. Eventually she gave up, instead leaning into her lover's embrace with a grumpy huff of breath.

"See, puppy." "Shut up before I change your mind about not pinning you down and fucking you again."

Arang growled out, drawing a nervous smile and a blush to Sephina's face. The thought excited her, perhaps even more so because her legs were too weak to do more than wiggle fruitlessly right now. But no, she seemed to realize it was probably in her best interest not to stoke the fire anymore than she had, instead closing her eyes and resting her head against one of her girlfriend's large breasts.

"...I love you Ran."

"I love you too Seph. I love you too."

#empty spaces #microfiction #writing #my ocs #arang schütze #sephina fairheart #smut #everytime sephina swears i have to pause and then go like yeah okay she would do this

[solomons-poison]

Hi Tarren! I read (and re-read) your Geto Suguru + 7. 'Sharing a kiss after not seeing them for an extended period of time' and must say it elicited quite a bit of emotion from me. It cut deep and pulled quite a few tears from me lol 😅 Initially unexpected but then again I did request suguru who is the pinnacle of tragedy and with the upcoming episodes about him, I should have expected a heart ripping romance 😣

I honestly have been slacking on typing this feedback ask because life has been busy (as always 😌) but also because i was indecisive in articulating myself and whether to scale back or just come forward with some personal things that resonate with parts of your writing. Complaining about the cold and pumpkin spices are one thing but more serious things are another beast altogether 😟 In the end, I know it is a matter of comfort levels on both sides so I made sure to re check your pinned posts on both of your blogs before sending this so I wouldn't be crossing any of your boundary lines.

Basically, I related to this a lot. I know all too well the pain of being separated from a lover and being unsure if I would ever see them again only to give them as much love as I can when I am with them before being inevitably parted. It is one of the reasons I actually requested this in the first place. I had gone into this with love for suguru but also for another.

The moments you encapsulated stood out to me in multiple sentences from 'It probably should have been enough of a red flag for you to reject him when he tried to court you. But his levels of charisma were just too powerful' to 'It was just for a few days at a time, but when it happened, he was completly unreachable' to 'As days passed and he didn't show, didn't send you any kind of message, a feeling of dread formed a ball in your stomach, hard and heavy' to 'All you could do was keep moving, keep your mind occupied on anything but your missing lover, before you got overwhelmed with a thousand what-ifs' and finally 'putting on tv or music to fill up the space, make it feel a little less lonely'.

Overall, I am glad you didn't make him into kenjaku (i am never forgiving gege for pulling that on us I swear 😤 why couldn't he have just been a dude with a stitched forehead as either a weird tattoo or healing from a nearly fatal blow from satoru since he did not have shoko to heal him 😭) and I am impressed you were able to convey this all without a single line of dialogue 😮 I already thanked you in advance but I would like to thank you again for writing this. It means a lot to me and I hope that despite my vigilance to make note of your rules, I have not made you uncomfortable with my personal baggage. I noticed another fic with my name on it and I'm definitely coming back with another feedback ask after sleep and groceries 😏 (if you aren't sick of me yet 😖). In the meantime, I hope the rest of the day treats you kindly (as you have with surprising me with another gojo piece 😍)

You are always, ALWAYS appreciated for your feedback!!!!! It means a lot to me to hear people's thoughts on what I write. I don't want to sound egotistical, but at that risk, it's really nice having someone point out particular things I put in and how it impacted them, because as the author, of course it means so much to me that someone noticed. Or especially, that what I did worked as intended/had the impact that I was looking for. And thank you for taking the time to send me this response, too, when you're busy!

Yeah I am also not happy with the Kenjaku route that Gege took (not as in bad writing, but because poor Geto already went through so much and then now to have his body used like a puppet?? Is awful). I couldn't really think of a reason Geto would disappear for a while, which is why it ended up that angsty idea instead haha.

Like I just imagine knowing/loving Geto before he leaves, trying desperately to keep him there before he completely falls to the "dark side". You know that something is wrong, but you don't really know what you can do or how to help. It would just be heartbreaking watching him slowly leaving...

I'm glad I was able convey him! And no worries about it making me uncomfortable, I'll usually be pretty straightforward about what I don't like or isn't allowed, so if there ever is a problem, I'll just let you know. :) and the kiss requests were pretty generic in prompt, giving me a lot of freedom in choosing why you/the reader and Geto would be separated, so it was my fault that it ended up as sad as it did haha, you're not to blame.

And yes! I made a second post for Geto for you that has a much happier note haha, that I hope you like~ but no rush to read it, get your rest and errands, and I'll be awaiting your feedback~

#˗ˏˋ꒰ minx replies ꒱

[daquanshell]

Crimes of Adolescence

I took a few days off from publishing on here to really work on more stuff behind the scenes, the kinds of things that will improve my personal life and, by extension, improve my ability to consistently and completely engage in client builder activities. I've really come to terms with the fact that the environment in which you work is just as important as the nature of the work itself, and I'm past the point where I "try to save a few bucks" by working in less than ideal conditions, since saving money seems to equate to wasting time, and I feel like I've wasted plenty of time in the entirety of my 20s.

In addition to that, I feel like my exposure is wildly imbalanced, as it feels like I have little exposure to the market and absurdly high exposure to stimuli that serve to do little more than bamboozle my enthusiasm, divide my focus, and make it nigh impossible to build or maintain the professional image I desire.

Becoming a Ghost

As the title of this blog post would imply, my current objective is to become a "ghost", which, rather than being an actual person, is more of the archetype of a character.

The character is groomed, well-dressed, successful in business, married with children, and can pass a background check. The idea of the character is to appear put together on the surface and to maintain a specific persona in public appearances. I used to think that the surface was less important than the content, but recently, I've learned that the surface is objectively more important than the content.

The contents are important, obviously, but the surface is what determines our reactions; it is what catches or evades our attention. The surface is the first line of defense for preventing unwanted attraction and the first line of offense when seeking to elicit a desired response.

In Theory vs. Practice

This character is slightly different in theory than they are in practice. The most significant difference is that theory accounts for the entirety of the character's lifecycle, whereas practice only really accounts for the parts that are visible. Think of this like "movie magic", unless it happens on camera, there shouldn't be too much thought put into it, yet when the cameras are on, maximum effort is given.

For example, if you live alone and do not participate in things like video calls and streaming in your home, then there is no real need to physically dress up or get into costume. If you don't actually have to make any mass or direct communications, then you effectively don't have to get into character at all, so it's important to understand when you have to "turn it on and off". Personally, I think characters you can turn off are better, since they are less demanding, which is the biggest reason why I feel the need to make a massive change to my character.

Idealism

I'm holding on to the idea that all will go well. That in a few months I'll have not only no desire to look back, but an impenetrable defense in doing so. Anyone who "knew the old me", is effectively a stranger, and should be a referral. I have to make a greater effort to make my business less personal, while still retaining that personal touch.

When I say less personal, I really mean not personal at all. Factual is more like it, with the rare joke or personal anecdote. Maybe doing something like, quoting my past life,

"Easy Day"

"I'm not mad at you"

"I'm not going to hold you"

Employing Nostalgia and Deja vu.

[tielt]

Heya.

I’d like to state that I would certainly be a disappointment as a guru or spiritual practitioner. If you are Christian and wish to be more open Baha’i people learn from all world religions and are Christian similar to druidic practice. If I was Christian that would be where I would be if even just for the please toss my body in a hole at my house and be done with it... strange and legal funeral, only and specifically for Bahai I think. A Klingon rite haha. She, a Baha’i, was my best friend at 17 when I left the nest; spent 1-2 years smoking and drinking coffee all night at the Denny’s, she formed more of my current beliefs than did the first 14 years of my life as LDS and she has also influenced me later in life. Helped me become slightly less naive. She has a mosquito tattoo maybe because the existence of a entity as thoroughly irritating parasitic and useless says something about god and reality, it’s seems maybe anti-Daoism, she would ask as if you really feel kinship to Trump who has absolutely no human value and yet supposedly is just another us in a different washing machine at another time. Fierce human being and honestly a harder hitter than me spiritually. Has a deaf child which has given me a curiosity towards sense disabled people I've never been able to entertain. She is a writer/teacher hardcore punk. My wife in some other life where I didn’t leave rural Oregon. (Maybe, but definitely first soulmate)

Religion/spiritual studies follow definitely skip-able just leaving access if anyone wants to know.

I have an affinity to Shinto because it’s warm bubbly paganism without any specific carnal or violence worship. Modern Shinto is for me hayao miyasaki on the positives and mushishi on the destructive, it’s acceptable stories for children to learn how to coexist in a ecosystem and the scientist bits of me approve and there’s no doctrine which is why I am openly recommending it as it is entirely non hostile and about coexistence. Shinto does believe one obvious principle that Kami pervades all things like us in that radishes are essential of the same stuff. This feels like what I learned from shaman type journeys.

I fibbed before when I said I blame objects I did that specifically to elicit a response in opposition as I want you to be on the side of your stuff as you should want to protect sacred things and have that state of mind. That rare use of false manipulation was slightly premeditated, but it is a unusual thing for me and it was done intuitively. I like to believe stuff can have magic in it. I think the guru/teacher archetype is hard wired in all of us but my relationship to that part of me is not one trained to nor would recommend to others but for fun and enjoyment of being aliveness.

The original Kino’s Journey is a really interesting combination of Buddhism and what it is to go through living and dying and how to act ethically. Little bit like Starmaker(Olaf Stapleton) or maybe Star Trek but old school. The remake is decent additionally but i stan the original. I dislike the stodgyness of Buddhism and it seems like they washed their historical humanitarian abuse from what they claim is their origin, they also believe that abortion should not be allowed which if you believe that you can be warmer there than I feel about that. I do think they are a good thing for the world in a cognitive and modern compassionate sense. Similar to why I didn’t find to much interest it Aboriginal cultures I’ve gotten to know it’s often a old dude being traditional in a lot of cases. Every tribe is different though right.

I have weird feelings saying it, but I’m much into liberation of bonds and freedom of choice where your choices are within proper ethical standards of harm and kindness and I didn’t really realize it till my 30s how U.S. of an ideal this is. About Buddhism if you didn’t know rebirth doesn’t work the way most external parties believe of Buddhist reincarnation. Death means heaven or hell realms and what is reborn is the continuation of the causation that was your imprint or dharma and following your death that thread is continued by another entity and that is prev/next life connection. A different person. I don’t believe in heaven or hell but just the hum of matter becoming energy becoming matter again but I disbelieve more of my superstitions than I believe. I may discuss random superstitions later who knows but a lot of them are obviously caused by anecdotal patterns. (Synchronicity aka pattern match which the brain excels at)

It seemed necessary to write this, if you want faith or devotional sources I don’t currently practice those intentionally and don’t see it happening. I was into Krishna for a while, but I like worship through what is in my presence in a complete form. I like not knowing; that can be uncomfortable if you are used to faith. I think it’s mystifying and amazing that there are so many mysteries that seem to be agnostic as the only rational principle of access. I just know I’m ruled by magic of emotions and heart and the brain forges through in disregard. Curiosity and convincing yourself to try on belief is something I hope is of wider utility to the human experience. I do not believe doubt is bad for you and I feel no need to apologize if I have created it in you. Repeating the intro I’m not an answer guru nor plan to be I’m just another curious cat.

Safe Journeys

#bio #spirituality #religion

[killapunk]

refuse to spend today pissed off so im honest to god gonna mind my business and have a good time at the show

#But I have no patience this year #It's 7:30 am and I'm already awake #I have no drive to create bc nothing inspires me much #The best I can do is create cursed content that I find fun but leaves me wondering #Why it's the only thing that can elicit a response of any kind from me #And half the time I'm plagued with like the thought that one day someone's gonna go apeshit at me #And not knowing who or when it'll be has me on edge #It's been fun for the most part but like. Idk #Kinda wanna disappear and reinvent myself again