#and how much is forced out of necessity

[boywifesammy]

i feel like the boys’ representation in “it’s a terrible life” is a really accurate and insightful look into how they work on an Instinctual level.

at first it seems like just a funny bit for dean to be the one dismissing the ghost thing, but dean wesson actually fits perfectly into dean’s personality. i mean, think about it. hunter dean is OBSESSED with the job. he lives breathes and sleeps hunting. he’s proud of who he is and what he does, and he enjoys being a part of something. this episode shows how that’s part of dean’s intrinsic personality. he needs order. structure. discipline.

sam is mischaracterized as ‘the emotional one’, but i think dean’s a lot more of a romantic than him. he likes the idea of a stable life, whether that’s hunting or a cushy corporate job. he wakes up at 6am everyday, has a distinct routine and a circle of friends. he does herbal detoxes and drinks frothy rice milk lattes.

life is a package for him. dean likes fitting in. he doesn’t like breaking status quo. he instinctively looks to blend in, whether that’s in a corporate environment or with his father and other hunters. dean likes the idea of family. connection. he needs people, people who are familiar and trustworthy. he’s very community/family oriented. he’s not a lone wolf.

but sam on the other hand, he’s intrinsically in tune with weird frequencies. he’s strange and he picks up strange things. he cares about people and appreciates connection but he values himself and his gut instinct more. he loves sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. he doesn’t give a fuck about blending in. he didn’t as a hunter so he sure as hell doesn’t in a goddamn tech support cubicle.

sam straight up tells dean that everything about this feels wrong. and you can TELL that dean feels it as well. sam tells him that he thinks he should be doing more, it’s in his blood, he hates everything about this fake life. but dean deflects. no matter how uncomfortable he seems he pushes it down in favour of predictably and routine. even if deep down, he knows its wrong, it takes him a lot more time than sam to admit it.

this shows that sam is more than ‘hunting bad’ and dean is more than ‘hunting good’. it was never about hunting. sam refuses to turn a blind eye. he WANTS to rebel. it’s his nature. he instinctively looks for things that don’t line up and he calls that out. he doesn’t care about the backlash. dean needs stability. he needs people. he needs to feel like he’s a part of something. it’s why he brushes off that feeling of wrongness so quickly at the beginning of the episode, because he’s willing to overlook some of the bad for the benefits.

it’s just like how hunter dean is willing to defend john, defend the grisly violence of hunting, and convince himself into thinking this is his only choice. sam refuses to do that. he instead latches onto that feeling of otherness and rebels even though it costs him family and familiarity.

#oc #supernatural #spn #spn meta #sam winchester #dean winchester #4x17 it’s a terrible life #sam wesson #dean smith #ok u could argue that sam was getting those visions so he had more evidence of it #but honestly i’m not completely convinced dean wasn’t getting weird vibes too #like he must’ve felt this underlying sense of Wrong the entire time #but he seems so well adjusted and happy in the opening #just shows how good he is at pushing down his negative emotions #really makes u think… how much of his Zeal for hunting is actually excitement #and how much is forced out of necessity #and the most painful part is that i fully believe dean doesn’t even register that he’s doing this #he’s so used to manipulating himself that he doesn’t pick up on it anymore

[ink-asunder]

Having demand avoidance in a medical setting is literally hell. Like, patient autonomy is already absolute ass. It's only made worse when doctors CONSISTENTLY tell you what to do and act like you HAVE to do it instead of consulting with you first like normal fucking people.

#also “”“”medical necessity“”“” is NOT an excuse here. #ive been to plenty of doctors that thoroughly discuss a range/timeline of treatment and explain it IN DETAIL before saying “thats what i- #-recommend“ instead of just going ”okay were gonna do this. im gonna explain the prep to you a mile a minute and if you have any follow up- #-questions im just gonna repeat part of my spiel with no clarification. and if i cant answer your questions too bad :)“ #not to mention how many doctors just force you to do things that WILL NEVER WORK #like one therapist tried forcing me to do emdr when i was only IN HER TOWN for the summer and i had no internet access when i was at college #im pretty sure emdr takes several weeks to work and i did not have that kind of time available to me. i couldnt just drop out bc of ptsd. #also the number of times ive had to decline an ESI is stupid. I've already had 2! they didn't work! i had a bad reaction to the meds! #why am i being forced to do it again? #also back surgery. i cant do that because i am a white trash rural kid and our home (which we built ourselves) CANNOT be accessible enough #for spinal surgery recovery. but i went to the surgeon and he was like “thats valid! and also surgery literally wouldnt help you so idk why- #-they sent you here.“ : l It's cool to be right all the time lol #its like. no wonder i developed medical demand avoidance after so much traumatizing and malpracticy bullshit in my life #demand avoidance #medical demand avoidance #chronic illness burnout #chronic illness #chronic pain #medical tw #ptsd #disability #medical neglect #medical trauma #vent #this might be too personal. if i do delete it ill have it rb'd on my boar-deer-whitetrashbutterfly blog first #idk i just havent really been able to find anyone else talking about this specific effect of being chronically ill/disabled.

[floralovebot]

And Another Thing it's not like i Don't like roygarth or that i'm particularly Against the ship cause no. but i think their canon relationship is so much more interesting than this weird fanon version of them where they were always Best Buds.

like canon roygarth starts with them being angsty teens dealing with their own shit and fully refusing to understand each other. garth latches on to everyone who's even a Little nice to him and roy is stuck in his I Don't Need Friends They Disappoint Me stage. roy also has very high standards for himself and gets pissy with garth cause he feels like garth shouldn't be a hero. which obviously sets garth off because he Also feels like he shouldn't be a hero but the other titans were usually supportive and understanding whereas roy would actually say it and insult him directly.

And Then garth fucks off and only talks to the titans when they talk to him first, then he's Fine Again but goes through Rough Shit. meanwhile roy's life is Also falling apart. but they get older and they get more mature and they get to this point in their life where they don't Want to fight each other anymore. the titans are their home and they're constantly losing people and they don't Want to lose what little they have left. but they also won't apologize or talk about what happened because they're both emotionally repressed so they just never clear shit up.

it's obvious that later on roy Does respect garth and Does see him as a hero, but he never apologizes for what he said in the past so garth still has doubts. and garth starts to gradually leave the titans out of stuff and only update them once a fucking year so roy is like ?? What Are We??? and as adults you can see that playful banter and that familiarity they have with each other and yeah it IS genuine but it's also burying all the blood bad they never actually sorted.

they're just in this really weird zone where they're Family but they're not Friends. they would give their life for the other but they never talk. they pretend to understand the other but they don't know anything going on in their life. they're best friends and they're just some guys. like imo their canon relationship is so interesting and has So Many Layers that really highlight their individual problems but the fanon version is always like "yeah sometimes they sass each other :)". like.

#yeah im still thinking about them what of it what are you gonna do about it #ajhdgljagd #like i think its so interesting how they really only became 'friends' because theyre so familiar with each other despite not being close #like roy is Not close with garth in the same way that he's close with dick #and vice versa hell man garth feels more comfortable with Wally The Republican than with roy #but theyve known each other for So Long and theyve both lost so much that they just can't do it anymore #they can't fight they can't insult they can't force themselves to not understand the other #but neither of them want to bring that shit up either so they just... start acting like they were always buds #and its Weird and Awkward #roy still doesn't understand what jokes are okay and garth still takes things way too literally #but they're Trying and they do respect the other but they also REFUSE to actually talk it out #they both refuse to talk about their personal lives with the other and only give the most bare basic necessities #garth still has insecurities and feels like roy actually hates him and doesn't want him there #roy still feels bad but is also still burned from garth being too nosy or not understanding his addiction #and like. that's just so much more interesting than yeah sometimes roy calls garth a fish hahah funny right #dc #garth of shayeris

[kendallroygf]

the thing is. yeah kendall feels like his whole life now is worth nothing. the one thing he was always meant to do, since he was seven years old he now cannot do. he will never get to do it. so he might as well die, right? he might as well end it all but the thing is life is never that kind nor generous. so i think kendall will try and fail. and he’ll try again and again but the world will keep its grip on him and eventually he’ll just stop trying. and yeah maybe he’ll never be a whole person (we’re nothing) maybe he’ll take logan’s advice and collect sports cars or write a book or start a new company but either way he’ll be forced to start anew. kendall logan roy died it’s just kendall now. and this outcome in itself is generous in a way because circumstances out of his control have kind of forced him to hold some accountability for his own life finally instead of counting on broken promises his father made him at 7 years old. he’s actually being forced to Be instead of just living up to someone else’s name. and he actually has people around him who still undoubtedly care. he’s sick and horrible and twisted but he is still ultimately lovable. he is still a human being weeping on the dirty ground even though he has spent so long trying not to be. even though he recanted the very thing that made him Real. the world will simply not relinquish its hold on him! tragic but somewhat hopeful in a way

#like he’s never going to be happy. never ever. but being content or even ambivalent to your life is different than being happy and i truly #think kendall could get there at some point. something about the world forcing you to go on. i like how his last scene was surrounded by #earth and water. things that are Materially Real compared to kendall himself who is Not Real. like i think while some things can’t be #repaired it’s not too late for him to be a little bit involved in his kids lives. maybe a few years down the line. rava still cares about #him and offers him so much kindness even when she shouldn’t. he will have stewy forever like. stewy will love him forever. give roman a few #months. ultimately i think roman will push kendall away at first bc he spent this whole season maintaining his family out of Necessity and #i think kendall and roman have got to a place where it’s a bit sick. and roman will come around but he needs some time and so does kendall. #but ultimately they’ll be okay. #with shiv it’s like. well. god. like kendall will never ever be able to look tom in the eye ever. but i think they will not talk for years #maybe. but they’ll ache for each other a little bit. but also the resent and anger and hurt gets in the way. but i think give it like. 10 #years or idk maybe even less but 10 seems good to me. and they’ll slowly start to let each other in again. i think the three of them will #grow old together like ultimately they’ll always be kids when they’re with each other ykwim. #but idk i think kenshiv will be okay in the end jus rn it’s bleak asf. i think at different times in the next few years they will Try with #each other but the other will be so resistant but there will be a time where they’re just both so Tired and when tom dies shiv will call #kendall first even though they maybe haven’t spoken for god knows how long and he will be with her on the phone. and when connor passes away #they will hold hands again and idk. they’ll be okay. broken but okay. #anyway. i’m so over this <- girl who will never ever be over it #kendall

[todayisafridaynight]

Oh god I need to know it anyone else noticed Nanba and Saeko have a different relationship than she has with anyone else in the group? Plus Ichiban’s most natural flirting is aimed at Zhao even without player input 😭😭😭

nanba and saeko def have a really cute relationship, i adore their interactions immensely (❁´◡`❁)

and lbr ichi's matching zhao's energy alright. insert zhao 'kasuga-kun' compilation here

#snap chats #honestly i love how saeko interacts with everyone- like she never feels like The Girl of the group she just feels like a part of the group #yk what i mean ? like i feel like in a lot of other casts where theres one/few girls they stick out like sore thumbs #because of how the other cast members and the media treats her but with saeko its like #Yeah No She's Here. She's A Girl But That Doesn't Mean Much #like obvi there's some instances like her offering to be a hostess but Tactical Necessity right #and honestly even the party chats she has with everyone are so nice too i love them so much #i love the one where she and adachi are roleplayin having kansai accents that shits so cute and funny #sorry for the impromptu saeko rant i just never express how much i loved her character and contribution to y7 #yk whats funny tho as i was walking to my computer i thought about making a nanba post and lo and behold #it wasnt a major one it was just me going 'i cant believe that during my VA ramble i forgot one of my favorite fun facts #and that's greg chun also voices ike from fire emblem' because ike's been My Baby since like. 2008 #he's still jason adkins to me </3 but i mean greg chun also voiced luke from shadows of valentia #ok ill stop with the VA talk i promise thats the only one i wanted to update on #thats a lie but i'm forcing myself to stay semi on topic #ichi and zhao are funny too theyre such fuckin goobers #like ichi definitely dicks with zhao the most- or at least zhao matches his energy the most equally imo #Y7's cast and relationships are just top tier thats all i can really say #i love how despite eri being an optional character she still has party chats with everyone #i love eri.... BUT thats a post for another day #im either A.) going to continue trying to figure out how modding works B.) play smash ultimate

[fairuzfan]

AMAZING article about what it means to participate in anti-Zionism work both online and in person.

If your anti-zionism does not in any way acknowledge that it is a way of thought and practice led by and for Palestinians, then you need to reevaluate your "anti-zionism" label.

Some passages that felt especially relevant to tumblr:

If we accept, as those with even the most rudimentary understanding of history do, that zionism is an ongoing process of settler-colonialism, then the undoing of zionism requires anti-zionism, which should be understood as a process of decolonisation. Anti-zionism as a decolonial ideology then becomes rightly situated as an indigenous liberation movement. The resulting implication is two-fold. First, decolonial organising requires that we extract ourselves from the limitations of existing structures of power and knowledge and imagine a new, just world. Second, this understanding clarifies that the caretakers of anti-zionist thought are indigenous communities resisting colonial erasure, and it is from this analysis that the strategies, modes, and goals of decolonial praxis should flow. In simpler terms: Palestinians committed to decolonisation, not Western-based NGOs, are the primary authors of anti-zionist thought. We write this as a Palestinian and a Palestinian-American who live and work in Palestine, and have seen the impact of so-called ‘Western values’ and how the centring of the ‘human rights’ paradigm disrupts real decolonial efforts in Palestine and abroad. This is carried out in favour of maintaining the status quo and gaining proximity to power, using our slogans emptied of Palestinian historical analysis.

Anti-zionist organising is not a new notion, but until now the use of the term in organising circles has been mired with misunderstandings, vague definitions, or minimised outright. Some have incorrectly described anti-zionism as amounting to activities or thought limited to critiques of the present Israeli government – this is a dangerous misrepresentation. Understanding anti-zionism as decolonisation requires the articulation of a political movement with material, articulated goals: the restitution of ancestral territories and upholding the inviolable principle of indigenous repatriation and through the right of return, coupled with the deconstruction of zionist structures and the reconstitution of governing frameworks that are conceived, directed, and implemented by Palestinians.  Anti-zionism illuminates the necessity to return power to the indigenous community and the need for frameworks of justice and accountability for the settler communities that have waged a bloody, unrelenting hundred-year war on the people of Palestine. It means that anti-zionism is much more than a slogan. 

[...]

While our collective imaginations have not fully articulated what a liberated and decolonised Palestine looks like, the rough contours have been laid out repeatedly. Ask any Palestinian refugee displaced from Haifa, the lands of Sheikh Muwannis, or Deir Yassin – they will tell that a decolonised Palestine is, at a minimum, the right of Palestinians’ return to an autonomous political unit from the river to the sea. When self-proclaimed ‘anti-zionists’ use rhetoric like ‘Israel-Palestine’ – or worse, ‘Palestine-Israel’ – we wonder: where do you think ‘Israel’ exists? On which land does it lay, if not Palestine? This is nothing more than an attempt to legitimise a colonial state; the name you are looking for is Palestine – no hyphen required. At a minimum, anti-zionist formations should cut out language that forces upon Palestinians and non-Palestinian allies the violence of colonial theft. 

[...]

The common choice to centre the Oslo Accords, international humanitarian law, and the human rights paradigm over socio-historical Palestinian realities not only limits our analysis and political interventions; it restricts our imagination of what kind of future Palestinians deserve, sidelining questions of decolonization to convince us that it is the new, bad settlers in the West Bank who are the source of violence. Legitimate settlers, who reside within the bounds of Palestinian geographies stolen in 1948 like Tel Aviv and West Jerusalem, are different within this narrative. Like Breaking the Silence, they can be enlightened by learning the error of colonial violence carried out in service of the bad settlers. They can supposedly even be our solidarity partners – all without having to sacrifice a crumb of colonial privilege or denounce pre-1967 zionist violence in any of its cruel manifestations. As a result of this course of thought, solidarity organisations often showcase particular Israelis – those who renounce state violence in service of the bad settlers and their ongoing colonisation of the West Bank – in roles as professionals and peacemakers, positioning them on an equal intellectual, moral, or class footing with Palestinians. There is no recognition of the inherent imbalance of power between these Israelis and the Palestinians they purport to be in solidarity with – stripping away their settler status. The settler is taken out of the historical-political context which afforded them privileged status on stolen land, and is given the power to delineate the Palestinian experience. This is part of the historical occlusion of the zionist narrative, overlooking the context of settler-colonialism to read the settler as an individual, and omitting their class status as a settler. 

It is essential to note that Palestinians have never rejected Jewish indigeneity in Palestine. However, the liberation movement has differentiated between zionist settlers and Jewish natives. Palestinians have established a clear and rational framework for this distinction, like in the Thawabet, the National Charter of Palestine from 1968. Article 6 states, ‘The Jews who had normally resided in Palestine until the beginning of the Zionist invasion will be considered Palestinians.’ When individuals misread ‘decolonisation’ as ‘the mass killing or expulsion of Jews,’ it is often a reflection of their own entanglement in colonialism or a result of zionist propaganda. Perpetuating this rhetoric is a deliberate misinterpretation of Palestinian thought, which has maintained this position over a century of indigenous organising.  Even after 100 years of enduring ethnic cleansing, whole communities bombed and entire family lines erased, Palestinians have never, as a collective, called for the mass killing of Jews or Israelis. Anti-zionism cannot shy away from employing the historical-political definitions of ‘settler’ and ‘indigenous’ in their discourse to confront ahistorical readings of Palestinian decolonial thought and zionist propaganda. 

[...]

In the context of the United States, the most threatening zionist institutions are the entrenched political parties which function to maintain the status quo of the American empire, not Hillel groups on university campuses or even Christian zionist churches. While the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) engage in forms of violence that suppress Palestinian liberation and must not be minimised, it is crucial to recognise that the most consequential institutions in the context of settler-colonialism are not exclusively Jewish in their orientation or representation: the Republican and Democratic Party in the United States do arguably more to manufacture public consent for the slaughtering of Palestinians than the ADL and AIPAC combined. Even the Progressive Caucus and the majority of ‘The Squad’ are guilty of this.

Leila Shomali and Lara Kilani

#palestine #i should add this to my list #amazing article everyone should read it

[jumbojazzcats93]

Why are you like this? - Ghost

Summary - Simon is devastated coming to terms with being in love.

Tags/Warnings - Banners by @/saradika-graphics 18+ MDNI, mild angst, emotional constipation, cussing, slight manipulation but it's really not the bad kind (.?), premature ejaculation, squirting, biting, mentions of blood @glossysoap @divine--serenity @lordlydragon @violet-phantoms @ivymarquis @grizzersmamma @quietlyignoringyou

It's taken Simon SO long to realize he's in love. The realization sets in after almost a year. He had forced it to remain casual, even if you both knew deep down it was so much more. Over the long expanse of several months he had ignored the tightening knot of your close-knit bond and deluded himself into thinking he was going to come out unscathed at some point. The fear that you liked him too much and the necessity to tell you so was pushed further and further back by his growing fear of hurting you. The "outings" you would have together were definitely NOT dates. You were just such a treat to be around. You brought him so much peace. Everything about you two just clicked so well that there was no way to deny the connection.

A platonic connection.

The fucking was.... just casual. Friends with benefits did exist. That's all it was. There's really no telling how or why it started. When even the kissing had started. There was nothing wrong with a little physical intimacy here and there. You made him feel good, the sex was sweet, but it didn't mean he was attached.

The moment he realized he was, however... it made him want to crawl out of his skin. That deep rooted fear of intimacy churning in his chest as he looked at you. Now he was looking at you in a new light and he could barely play it off for a few days before he started acting out, then avoiding you. He couldnt be near you without feeling deeply uncomfortable with himself.

And you knew, of course. You knew he needed to do things at his own pace, so you kept quiet and went along with this odd little arrangement he thought you had. You knew everything about him after all. He was just so slow to catch on to the fact that you already classified him as your boyfriend and that the acting was all so silly. Of course his discomfort and standoffish behavior was obvious to you. Just like how the answer was obvious to you. Like always, when he was tense or overthinking; he just needed to fuck it out.

So... after an hour of sitting through some random top pick netflix movie, you looked at him from across the couch and took him in. He was chewing on his lip with his eyes zoned out at the TV screen and your legs intertwined under the blanket. When your foot gently slid against his dick his eyes came to life and flew from the screen. You were already watching him with a lazy smirk and heavy eyes. "Y/n?", but you said nothing, sitting up to crawl across the couch. His hand reached out to meet you as you crawled on top of him and paused. Lips just a breath away to give him a moment, you murmer, "You look so troubled lately, Si." You place a gentle kiss against his lips, "Not even really watching the movie." Another kiss, "What's got you so distracted, hm?" He grunts as you kiss him again and his arms wrap around your waist, locking you against his body. Your fingers slide against his jaw and into his hair, massaging the nape of his neck as you softly kiss him over and over.

He hasn't given a real response and you know that without more coaxing, he won't. You know sweet talking always flusters him so you decide to really pour it on thick in between kisses. "All I wanna do is take care of you, Si." You sit up and slowly take your t-shirt off. "How can I do that when you won't talk to me?", you lament. "You try so hard to be the perfect soldier-" You lean back down and slide your hands under his shirt, "-the perfect man." A kiss, "You have no idea how much I want to take that weight off your shoulders when im with you." You trail off quietly and he grunts again, a single hand sliding down your back to grab your ass. You assume he kisses you in hopes of shutting you up, but he still isn't giving you what you want... So as you slide his shirt off over his head you lean back down and decide to say it.

"You have no idea how much I love you."

Tension floods Simon's body and he jerks back to look straight into your eyes. His own eyes look wide, but you're looking down at him with such love; it makes his throat feel dry and tight. Anxiety flares in his stomach and heat flashes through his body. His chest swells with an unfamiliar feeling as he seemingly comes to with a shaky inhale. Your fingers brush over his cheeks as you stare down at him; waiting. His heart is pounding. That nasty fear of intimacy rears it's ugly head in the form of panic and mixes with the adrenaline your confession brings. Simon feels his frustration at the entirety of it all as tears sting his eyes. He clenches his teeth as you try to move in and kiss him again.

Hands abruptly grab hold of the backs of your knees and pull as he sits up, flipping you up and backwards. Now carelessly tossed onto your back, Simon follows to hover over you, gripping your wrists to pin them down by your head. He must look as distraught as he feels. With pinched brows, disheveled hair and a red hot face, he feels on the verge of losing his mind entirely as he practically shouts, "What are you doing to me Y/n?! Why are you doing this?! Why are you like this?" The last part is said softer. Quieter. Filled with pure desperation and its almost like he wants to blame you, but he's begging for any kind of reprieve you can grant him from the uncomfortable mess of emotions he feels. Both of you softly pant against each other's mouths in silence before you quietly say, "Because I love you, Si..."

The sound of the TV fills the silence. He just stares at you while he breathes heavily. Slowly pressing his forehead against the side of your face, he shifts to the side, sinking into the cushions at the back of the couch. Your eyes follow him and you turn your body to face his. Tucking one arm between your bodies and resting your other arm over his thick torso, you press your forehead against his. Caressing his back you mutter, "You don't have to think about it too much, Si. Nothing has to change." His already shut eyes squeeze tightly; his breathing being wrangled back under control. You brush your lips over his. "Just let me take care of you.", you whisper.

He inhales sharply, holds and slowly releases his breath before reaching up and tangling his fingers into your hair. "Want me to say it again?", you whisper against his lips. A pause... and he nods hesitantly. You kiss him and breathe, "I love you.", into his mouth. He takes a shuddering breath and chokes out, "Again." "I love you." "Keep saying it." "I love you, Simon." His hand grabs the back of your thigh and pulls it over his hip. "I love you." One arm slides under your waist and wraps around you, the other hand slides up your thigh and grabs your ass. "I love you." He grinds your pussy against his cock, separated by your underwear and his gym shorts. You moan and move along with him.

"More. Say it one more time." He squeezes you briefly. "Please.", he whispers. Your eyes open; you both continue to grind against each other. Your pussy is dripping and smearing against his buldge, staining his shorts. Directly meeting his starstruck gaze you say, "I love you, Simon.", just to watch his eyebrows furrow as he moans. His eyes never leave yours, but his hips jerk once, his stomach flexes and he cums in his shorts. You moan at the realization of it. He's never cum so quick; he's getting off on hearing it. His long fingers slide from your ass to your wet underwear. He pulls them aside and dips two fingers into your pussy, slowly pumping them in and out. The realization that his cock is still hard makes your hips twitch and sink further onto his fingers.

"Simon-", you gasp. "I've just-", his fingers pull from your pussy and arm adjusts to slot between your legs. He pushes his fingers back in to the knuckle with a curl and pulls them out all the way; repeating. He won't say anything, he only kisses and caresses you. "I've been so worried.", you whine into his mouth. Low eyes with a langourous gaze are all you get. Despite his clear desire to have your confession burned into his ears, his reluctance to loose his own is obvious. He just pulls his wet fingers out of your pussy and rubs your clit with them. You gasp, "I knew you were avoiding me." Your hand leaves his side to slide between your bodies and pull his shorts out of the way. "I won't let you leave me because you're a-", a moan cuts you off as he grabs his cock and slips the tip into you.

"-Afraid of-" "Shut up, Y/N." Its a warning. The way he thrusts into you fully to punctuate your name is unfair. His cock so warm and big, his belly is so soft against yours. Simon slides his hand up under your thigh again and holds it higher, thrusting his cock deeper the higher your leg gets. In between breathless moans you push back, "You're afraid to be in love-" "Stop it" "-because it always ends poorly-" "That's not-", his thrust buries him to the hilt in you. "-true." His jaw is clenched and his grip on you is tight, but his eyes look vulnerable. You grip the back of his neck and brush your lips over his, whispering, "-but if I was going to leave... I would've left half a year ago." Panting, his eyes flit between your own. Your sincerity must be clear because he let's go of your leg and grabs your face, kissing you roughly. Tongue licking into your mouth and breaths mixing, all you can do is moan while he shifts you onto your back and cages you under him.

As your legs squeeze and wrap around his hips he begins pounding into your pussy ruthlessly. His face presses against your cheek and his tongue laves over your neck and jaw. You turn and kiss him briefly before biting his lip with a whine that sounds as sweet as can be to him. Simon jerks back and sits up. Still thrusting, he grips your hips, his cock dragging against the walls of your cunt, his eyes focusing in on your face. You. Sprawled out on the couch, hair wild against the cushion with blood on your lips. Your tongue licks it up and you gasp a moan as his hips still and his hands hold you down flush on his cock. A dangerous and low chuckle leaves his mouth as he leans down and licks into your mouth, tasting his own blood. His hips begin grinding into yours, your clit rubbing perfectly against his pelvis.

"I'm gonna fucking cum... as deep as I can in your cute little pussy." He gives one sharp thrust and you moan. "You love me so much? Huh?" He's grinding his cock head right against your g-spot so you just nod breathlessly. "Yeah. You're such a sweet girl." He murmurs, smoothing his hand over your hair. "I love you so much-", he whispers pressing his lips to your forehead, "-it makes me sick." His hand trails down your body to your clit and with just a few brushes of his thumb your pussy is pulsing around his cock. Slick is dripping from you onto the couch and you whimper and moan with your head thrown to the side, pressed into the throw pillow.

A hand grabs your jaw gently, forcing you to look up into Simon's blown out, adoring eyes. His thrusts are prolonging your orgasm and all you can do is moan and shake while he traces a thumb along your lips. Your tongue lolls out and licks his thumb. You bite the tip of it as he presses it passed your lips. A grunted moan and a renewed flash of red along his skin are the only indicators before he buries his cock as deep as he can get and shoots his cum against your cervix. The grinding of his hips against your clit and his cock against your g-spot as he rides his orgasm out triggers a second wave of your own. It's so intense that your toes curl and you squirt down his cock with a loud moan.

Simon's hunched over your body panting. You close your eyes as he wetly kisses your lips and rests more of his weight on you. When you open your eyes and turn your gaze back to the TV, a pop up saying "Are you still watching? Yes/No" is taking up the TV screen.

#141 x reader #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod 141 #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #mw2 141 #ghost smut #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #18+ mdni #cod smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy gif #ghost mwii #cod mwii #mw2 x reader #cod #watching the detectives

[strawberrysturniolo]

need a sub chris asap. giving you creative freedom but major sub/mommy vibes

wet dreams //sub!chris

summary: you decide to please your boyfriend when you see him experiencing a sex dream. sub!chris. mommy kink. male!receiving. use of vibrator on male.

Sleepovers at my boyfriend's house are nightly at this point. I practically live with him. I have a toothbrush here, a caddy in the shower filled with my necessities, a drawer of extra clothes, a few pairs of shoes, an extra charger. There’s even some decor that is mine. 

People are often surprised to find that me and Chris don’t technically live together. I just spend so much time with him, and he insists that he sleeps better with someone else in his bed. I have been told by his brothers that he’s tired of him trying to cuddle them while he sleeps. I’m here to fill that void. 

I woke up earlier than him today. That’s never surprising. I may not be a true early bird, but compared to Chris, I’m up at the crack of dawn. 

I put on some clean clothes, walking around the bedroom and watching him stir in his sleep. His mouth started out parted slightly, but every so often, a soft gasp left his lips and forced them open more. When his mouth wasn’t open, his lips were pressed together. 

I found myself watching him as he made subtle sounds. As time went on, he turned to his stomach, and my stomach dropped, knowing what was happening. 

His soft moans turned into low grunts as he started pressing his crotch into the mattress, his hips shifting ever so slightly. His toned back flexed as he moved, his briefs tight around his ass, and I only imagined the sight of his dick begging to be freed from the fabric. 

I swallowed harshly as I watched him, standing in shock. I knew he had sex dreams. He had told me about them before. He had them frequently. Maybe it was a guy thing, or maybe he was just horny all the time. I just had never seen it happen before my eyes. 

I made small, careful steps to the bed, making sure not to wake him. I want to see how far this will go. 

A sharp gasp left his throat, making me freeze. 

“Fuck,” he muttered before turning his head to the other side. His hand clutched a pillow, gripping it tightly. I was dying to know what he was dreaming of. What we were doing. How we were touching each other. 

I was struggling to keep myself together as I watched. I lowered myself to the bed, sitting down softly and moving next to him, watching him up close. 

His forehead had a small bead of sweat dripping from his skin. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as his desperate sounds of pleasure seeped out of him. 

It went on for a few minutes before he turned onto his back. He was still asleep, but his dick was throbbing inside of his underwear. I could see it twitch as his dream went on. A wet spot lingered on the gray fabric, growing by the second. 

An element of our sex life that had been discussed was the idea of consensual non-consent – an idea of us being more than okay with the other person waking us up with a sexual act. I had always been hesitant about the idea. I didn’t want to wake him up and have him complain about being too tired throughout the day just so we could have sex. 

But this was different. He was obviously desperate. He was practically fucking the mattress begging for a release. I had to help him. He would want me to. 

I carefully traced my fingers on his left thigh, feeling the soft hair that decorated his tan skin. He twitched a little more in his sleep, and his sounds of approval were enough to encourage me to go all the way. 

I placed my hand over his bulge, the wetness seeping through finding my palm. My heart is racing as I wait for him to wake up. He lets out a gasp at my touch, bucking his hips harshly. 

He’s still asleep.

A few minutes passed. My hand continued to stroke his dick as his moans grew. I expected him to wake up at this point, but everything I am doing is probably just pushing into his dream. He has no reason to wake up because he is getting everything he needs while he sleeps. 

A loud moan leaves his mouth, making my eyes shoot open. I carefully peel down the waistband of his underwear, watching as his tip leaks. I spread some of the pre-cum around his tip with my thumb before licking over his slit. 

“Please, baby,” he whines. “Please.”

I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his length. As his moans grow, I shake him by his shoulder while I suck him off, waking him up so he can bask in what’s real rather than his dream. 

His eyes open softly. He looks groggy and confused momentarily before he realizes that this pleasure is real. His head falls backwards and he lifts a hand to my hair, pushing my head down on him. 

“Fuck baby,” he groans. 

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask, pulling off of him and stroking him instead.

He shakes his head. “Don’t stop.”

I grip his balls, making him gasp. “Tell me.”

“You were bouncing on my dick,” he breathes out. “You held a vibrator to your clit. You were writhing on me, clenching like crazy. But every so often the vibrator would hit my tip. It was so much.”

I’ve never used a vibrator on him, but now I’m more tempted than ever.

“You want me to use a vibrator on you?” I ask.

His eyes widen. He nods frantically.

I spit on his tip. “Are you gonna speak or act pathetic for me and struggle to get words out?”

“I’m gonna talk,” he promises. “Please. I wanna try it.”

I nod, sucking his tip a little bit more before I lean over to my nightstand and grab my bullet vibrator. My theory is that starting small would be a better option for him before we use one that is bigger and could work on his entire dick. I want him to feel comfortable with this first. 

His dick is twitching relentlessly as he waits for my touch again. I love seeing him like this. He’s always dominant during sex. I never get to see the submissive side of him. It makes me feel powerful, and I crave control of him in this area of our lives. 

I turn on the vibrator, letting him hear the sound of the buzzing so he can decide if he wants to continue. His stomach heaves. 

“Please,” he whines. “I need you to touch me.” 

“Yeah?” I tease. I lick a stripe up his cock again. “How bad do you need me to touch you?”

“So bad.”

I lean my body over him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth. “You gonna be a good boy for me?”

Something in his eyes changes.

“I’ll be so good for you, mommy.”

Oh hell.

I slide back down to his dick, jerking him slowly with one hand before I trace the vibrator around his tip. His hips buck hard before I press them back down to the bed. 

“Don’t you dare,” I warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he cries out. “Ohhhh fuck. Please. It’s so good. Oh my god.”

The sounds he’s making are unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him. He’s whining, whimpering, panting, begging for me. It’s taking everything in me to continue to tease him, wanting to edge him from his high.

“I can’t- Fuck. I need to cum,” he says. “Please. Please, I need to.”

I shake my head. “Not yet.” 

He lets out a desperate cry. “Please!”

“Gotta be a good boy, baby,” I remind him. 

“I’m being so good,” he whimpers. His eyes are full, tears almost pouring out as he struggles to hold back.

“I know baby,” I nod, knowing he needs that praise and validation right now. I drag the vibrator up and down his cock before pressing it to his tip again as I stroke the area. 

“Fuck!” he shouts, his hips raising again with no control as he cums, catching us both by surprise. My eyes widen before I look up, meeting his eyes. He’s shaking his head like crazy as he continues to cum. “I’m so sorry, mommy. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please.”

I let him finish before I remove the vibrator, tossing it to the floor. I press soft kisses from his stomach up to his lips before peppering his face in kisses. “It’s okay, baby. Did so good for me, hm?”

He nods breathlessly. “Thank you for waking me up, but now I really need to go back to sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

I smile. “Let’s go shower and get back in bed, okay?”

He nods, pressing a tired kiss to my cheek before pulling himself out of bed. 

@freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #strawberrysturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

[mamayan]

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)

Part 1 (Here)

cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding

A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️

“Freak!”

“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”

“Jinx.”

“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”

You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.

Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.

Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.

“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.

Your fault.

“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.

You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.

So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.

Would Ava have killed her too?

You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.

You didn’t feel like you were home though.

“Look at me.”

He’s impossible to ignore.

“I will force you if I must.”

You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.

“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.

“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.

“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”

His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.

You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.

“I thought I loved a human once.”

You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.

“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.

He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.

He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.

“What was it?”

“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”

He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.

“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.

Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.

“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”

He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.

You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.

You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.

“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.

“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.

“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.

“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.

“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”

“Your potion not your presence.”

Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.

“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.

She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.

Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.

“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”

“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”

“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.

The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.

“Drink for me, petal.”

You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.

He would rather just take you by force.

This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?

You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.

You eye the delicate glass cup warily.

His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.

You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.

“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.

He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.

“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”

“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”

For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.

“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”

“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.

“For being so foolish.”

You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.

“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.

“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.

“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”

You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.

“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.

He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.

“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.

You speak with what little focus you have left…

“My sister…loved me.”

His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Always…she loved me.”

He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”

“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”

He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.

“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”

“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”

He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.

“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.

“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.

He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.

“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.

You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.

He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.

“Oh gods…!”

He’s trying to kill you. He must be.

You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.

“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.

His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.

He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.

He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.

“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.

“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.

“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.

“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.

“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.

“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.

You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.

“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.

“Let me rest…”

“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.

“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.

Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.

“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”

“Watch your tone and words witch,”

“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”

They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.

“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.

“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.

The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.

As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.

She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.

They’re the only fae that can lie after all.

Dividers/@cafekistune

#Fae #Dark Fae King #Yandere Fae #Yandere Fae x Fem! Darling #yandere x darling #male yandere x fem darling #Dark fae king x changeling reader #part 2 #faecore #yancore #monster smut #faery smut #fae smut #yandere smut

[luveline]

jade i am begging on my knees ….. any time you are up for it …… it would make me very greatly happy to see something with a bombshell!reader x hotch <33333

The office is hot today in the midst of a ninety degree summer, and your coworkers have been forced to strip down to their lightest layers, the women in linen blouses, men with their shirt sleeves rolled up high. Spencer has ditched his sweater vest reluctantly, cooling himself with a makeshift fan fashioned from printer paper, and Emily huffs next to you at her desk, overwhelmed. 

“How aren't you hot?” she demands to know. 

You lean back in your chair with a demure smile. “Mind over matter.”  

She rolls her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked.” 

Hotch's office door opens. You turn in your chair to watch him appear —even Unit Chief's get hot, apparently. He looks flustered in the heat, pink-cheeked and hair skewed ever so slightly, the most unmade you've ever seen him at work. 

You could get used to it. 

He feels you looking, narrowing his eyes. You'd like to think it was playful. For Hotch, it is. 

“Hot, handsome,” you say. 

“I'm fine.” 

“I wasn't asking.” You beam at him. 

“Enough. You know the rules.” 

He doesn't seem too mad, but he's right; you know the office rules. Don't flirt, don't start, and don't text him inside of work hours unless that text pertains to work itself. You'd started calling him instead —what are you wearing right now?— and he'd decided that text now meant any communication lest you find another loophole. You're pushing it. 

“Ah, the rules,” you say, throwing your arm across your eyes in mock distress, before peeking under it to see if he's watching. He always is. “You know rules aren't made for people like me, handsome.” 

“Stop it, final warning. Or I'll have you moved.” 

He makes being his girlfriend very difficult. You roll your shoulders and drop the act. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.” 

“Afterwards.” 

“No, right now. Please? It's important, I swear.” 

He gestures for you to come up. You take the stairs and cross the landing to his office, where he's already stepped back inside to open the window even further on its hinge. There isn't much wind to breeze, but there is a palpable difference between his office and the bullpen. You join him at the window and let the barely cooler air fan your face. 

“What's wrong?” he asks. 

“Can you give me a quick kiss? It would really lift my spirits.” 

He laughs somewhere deep in his chest. “No, honey. Now tell me what you wanted to tell me.” 

“I have a doctor's appointment next week, on the 13th. It's a Wednesday. I was hoping for PTO, but I can take a sick day if that's not agreeable.” 

Hotch gives you the side eye, brows gently furrowed. “Everything okay?” 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” 

“I would, actually.” 

“Yeah, well, you'll have to beg for it. Not everything in life is free, Hotchner–” You break into laughter as he grabs your waist, not expecting it, your hips tender as he squeezes. “Ouch, you're kinda handsy, you know that?” 

You sound beautiful like this, laughing as you talk, so happy it lines every word. Hotch pulls your front to his, arms crossing casually behind your back, his eyes expectant. “Tell me,” he commands smoothly. 

“Because you asked so nicely, I'm just fine, but I've been feeling a little under the weather. I think I'm anaemic.” 

“And this is the first time I'm hearing about this because…” 

“Because I'm not allowed to talk to you at work!” 

He rolls his eyes as you drop a considerable amount of your weight against his arms. Usually, Hotch would meet your eyes and say, You're punishing me for a rule created out of necessity, or something to that effect, but, despite everything that might say otherwise, he really likes you. Loves you.

“I know, honey, I'm sorry. Maybe we can… allot you a few texts a day.” He analyses your expression. “One a day.” 

You squeeze his naked forearm and lift up to kiss his cheek. He stays completely still while you do it, beside the small stroke of his thumb where it rests on your back. “Thank you. I'll leave you alone now, or we might get caught fraternising with one another and lose our jobs. Oh, wait, that's not actually going to happen–” 

You burst out laughing as Hotch once again squeezes your waist in warning, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[yandere-daydreams]

your puppy!yuuta got me thinking about being hybrid!sukuna mate🗣️he'd either be regular house cat(probably stray) or a tiger

i did actually want to write a hybrid sukuna piece sometime soon, but,,, he's such a hard character to pin down T-T there's a lot of options, but nothing that really clicks, so if i may present some options for the judges:

Stray Cat!Sukuna, who's the scrappiest, most feral tomcat you've ever met. He's quick to hiss, covered in scars, and yours is the only house he'd ever be seen inside of (and, even then, he'd rather not be seen spending time with a human). He lets himself in through open windows, helps himself to any meat you've got on-hand, and only ever purrs when he's asleep or ""scenting"" an article of your clothing. He's a nuisance of a cat, and even if you wanted to, you'd never be able to get rid of him. If he's going to put up with a human, that human's going to have to be his mate, and that's not a decision he needs your input on.

Tiger!Sukuna, who's less of a predator and more of a king. Most carnivorous hybrids only hunt out of necessity, but not Sukuna - he seems to take joy in cutting down anything that crosses his path. He's a beast, even for a big cat, but around you, he might as well be a housecat - always purring and sprawling across your lap, making sure that you know that he'd rather chew off his own foot than ever dig his teeth into you. It'd be a sweeter sentiment, if you weren't so aware that his kindness doesn't extend to those he feels have spent a little too much time too near to his territory.

Fox!Sukuna, who's as fox-like as they come. He's mischievous at the best of times, but he's more like a trickster spirit than a forest hybrid, always teasing and taking advantage of his kind-hearted, empty-headed rabbit mate. You're always getting stuck in his snares and falling for his silver tongue and somehow, you always end up on your hands and knees, drooling and sobbing as he forces you to take his knot. It's just unfair, but as a smaller prey hybrid, you don't have any other choice but to rely on him. No matter how mean he might be to you, Sukuna always makes sure to take good care of his stupid little mate <3

#personal #anon ask #yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader

[eternalsdiary]

#SOMETHING UNEXPECTED

pairing: Dina x Ellie x Reader

tags: smut, fingering, MY LOVES

Life seemed average, a repeated cycle you could never seem to get out of. Bland, overused and average.

“YN, you need to get out more! All you do is work and sleep!” Jesse complains. But how could you “get out more” if the whole world was under attack by human beings infected by fungus?

“Jesse, m’not going out tonight. I gotta patrol early tomorrow, I don’t have time f’drinking.” You scoff, closing the book you were reading and placing it in the nearby nightstand. “You’re so boring, you never do anything fun.” He rolls his eyes and exits the room.

You never enjoyed parties anyways. You always felt like an outcast to this whole group of people, you were surprised they even let you stay this damn long. You had showed up out of no where and yet they let you in after a check for infection.

The day continued like usual. Eat, Work, Sleep, Repeat, and obviously the necessities. You groan as you awake, your hair bed head a lot messier than usual. You rub your temples as you exit the hard bed that was seemingly put together from sheets and scattered pillows found around.

You somehow found yourself assigned to early patrol with Ellie and Dina. It wasn’t that you disliked them, it was that you liked them a little too much. Somehow, they distracted you from your daily routine, always pulling you somewhere you didn’t need to be, forcing you to explore things you’d never explored. But today it seemed there was a lot of tension in the area. The snow not making it any better as the freezing air made the freeze of the silence grow thicker.

Silence engulfed the whole ride, until they approached an abandoned warehouse that had a harsh smell of weed. Inside a whole farm of it, just growing like nothing. “Hey hey, I haven’t seen this shit in forever.” Ellie says picking up a jar. “Does weed expire?” She asks turning to Dina, having finally spoken a word to each other. “I guess we’ll have to find out?”

A loud bang was heard, causing you to flinch as you turned to see that the snow had trapped all three of you inside the weed smelling warehouse. “God, I did not want this.” You roll your eyes, removing the gloves you wore. “Fuck…!” You kick something nearby. “Whoa there, it’s not that big of a deal, we can just stay here until it dies down. Then we can try moving the snow.” Ellie suggests, removing her coat and settling in a nearby couch.

You watch as Dina does the same, grabbing a lighter that seemingly still worked to light the joint they’d found in the jar. “This still hits.” Dina says with a small smile, passing the joint over to Ellie. You sigh, removing your jacket and looking around to search for another exit. “Hey, why are you so quick to leave? Live a little and come smoke this with us.” Ellie says, looking at you with her low eyes as the weed seemed to already be taking effect.

“I’m good, I don’t smoke. I didn’t smoke before either.” You roll your eyes, looking around once more, seeing that there were no other ways out. “Just come and sit down. It’s like you have a stick up your ass or somethin’.” Dina says, tilting her head to look at you. You groan, stomping over to them both and settling on the couch. “Here, I think ya need it.” Ellie giggles, egging Dina to do the same.

“I said I’m good.” Dina takes the joint, “Just one time, it won’t kill ya?” She takes a drag from the joint, blowing it into your face, causing you to retract. “Fine.” You finally give in, inhaling the smoke. You cough quickly, the biting sensation in the back of your throat lingering. “Okay what the hell?” You ask, hunching over to cough. “It’s fine, happens when it’s your first time. Try again.” Ellie helps you sit up, guiding the joint to your lips.

“When you inhale, inhale it slowly. So, it doesn’t hurt as bad.” Dina says softly, placing her hand on your thigh unconsciously. You flinch slightly, inhaling the smoke, letting it drape into your lungs slowly. Blowing the smoke into the air, you feel yourself becoming a lot more relaxed. “That was better yeah?” Ellie asks, watching you as she inhaled the joint and blows the smoke into your face.

“I guess so.” You say quietly, everyone feeling the effects of the weed. It hits you harder, your head spinning softly, your eyes getting heavier, and the stir between your legs becoming a lot more prominent. “Should we have another Dina? I’m not sure she can handle two.” Ellie says, looking at your slouched appearance.

You shake your head. “I’m good, I think.” You chuckle. Ellie nods lighting another, placing it between her thin yet plump lips. You watch her, your eyes entranced by the way her lips wrap around the joint. Dina slides her hand further up your leg, catching your attention. You turn to her, a smirk dawning her lips as she tilts her head to get a better look at you.

Ellie hands the joint over once more, this time leaning over you a bit more than usual. The feeling of her skin warming you up a lot more then you already were, her perky and uncovered breasts swaying in your face. You blush softly, your face tinted slightly. The thoughts that run through your head becoming unholy, but you blame it on the weed. Dina takes a drag, inhaling slowly. Suddenly she leans into you, your lips parting as she connects her lips to yours and exhales the smoke back into your lungs.

It was random, causing you to flinch softly. “Did ya like that? Or should I stop?” She slides her hand up your thigh further, her thumb gliding over your clothed cunt softly. Ellie watches, her eyes lingering over your figure. You look at Dina, the sinful thoughts running through your head starting to take over. “I-I don’t do this. I’ve never-“ Ellie silences you, putting the bud of the joint into the couch to let it burn out.

“We got you.”

Like usual, with Ellie and Dina you were doing something you didn’t usually do. Your legs spread open as Dina licked up the slit of your wet and dripping cunt. Ellie grips her hair, guiding her to eat you out just right. Your hands gripping the side of the couch as you whine and groan Dina’s name out into existence. Her arms wrapped around your thighs to keep your legs open as you shake, throwing your head back as she hits the spot that makes you tingle just right.

“Fuhh-ck!” Your head falls back off the couch, Dina’s fingers mingling with the hardened buds underneath your shirt. “Feel good pretty?” Ellie asks softly, looking down at you. You nod, droll pooling at your lips. Dina slides her finger into your core, your back arching into her as you fuck yourself with her fingers. “Fuc- Dina! Oh good-“ You grip the couch harder, the knot in your stomach growing tighter.

She eats you like it was her last meal, her eyes never leaving yours as she penetrates you with another finger. Ellie continues to guide her, hitting all the spots inside you just right. Her hands come down to your chest, running her thumb over the nipple as if she was admiring the way they bounced as you used Dina. “Yesyes.. right there!”

You grind against her face, feeling yourself become a lot needier. The high you felt earlier could never compare to this one. Her hands spreading you open just right, your eyes shut tightly. “Look at me hun.” She says softly, diving back into you as you open your eyes to look down at her. Ellie watches in awe at the way you open up to Dina’s fingers. “Oh shi- I’m gonna cum Din-“ Ellie suddenly moves Dina’s hand away.

You catch your breath, confused as to why she was depriving you. “I wanna turn too.” Dina rolls her eyes. “You could’ve at least let her cum first. I’m sure she can handle two orgasms.” You watch as they talk about you like you're not even there. “Okay then, think you can handle two pretty?” Your eyes pan to Ellie, nodding slowly as you lean back once more. “Good girl, see I told ya.” Dina says, sliding her digits back inside of you.

She decides not to start slow this time, her fingers using you quickly. “I wanna taste you c’mon.” You feel the high you were on coming back, your hands gripping her hair softly. Your eyes don’t leave her as Ellie leans back, watching the both of you as she waits patiently for her turn with you.

“C’mon hun, wanna taste your cum.” Dina speaks sinfully, causing you to fall over the edge. “Oh- cumming! Please!” You release on her fingers, back arching over the edge of the couch. Your legs shake as you orgasm like you never have before. She sucks softly on your sensitive bud, you whine softly. “Gotta take one more for Ellie, she wants a taste too hun.” Dina slaps your cunt softly.

You nod, spreading your legs once more. The adrenaline running through your body causing you to work against how sensitive you were. “Go in then you needy fuck, go get your fill of her before she changes her mind.” Dina slaps Ellie’s arm softly, wiping her face of your essence. Ellie leans in, kissing your stomach, kissing the inside of your thigh, then kissing your fold softly. “I can’t wait anymore.”

She suddenly licks, causing you to close your legs. “Ah Ah C’mon now. You keep ‘em open f’me do the same for El.” Dina spread your legs back open, leaning against Ellie. You whine, feeling sensitive as Ellie continues with her endeavor. She spreads your folds, sliding her finger inside to replace Dina’s. The length of her finger hitting a spot inside you that Dina didn’t hit before.

“Ah, wait! You- god!” You try to close your legs once more, but Dina slaps your inner thigh, holding them open. “Hey, stop it. You said you could take it so take it like a big girl.” Dina giggles, rubbing your inner thigh softly. You chant Ellie’s name, her fingers curling slighting inside you. You grip her hair, riding her face as if she were a dildo and you were a pornstar.

Dina feels her arousal pooling in her pants, sliding her hand down into her jeans as she touches herself at the sight of you. Your bottom lip I’m between your teeth as you groan, Ellie’s hair gripped in between your fingers. She enjoys the sight of it all. Ellie kissing your stomach again as she adds another finger, speeding up just enough to make you scream. “I’m- oh shit! Ellie please…!” You hold onto her wrist to keep her from moving away, riding her fingers and clenching around them.

“Gonna cum pretty, I wanna taste you as bad. S’not fair Dina got to try it first.” You whine, unable to speak. Dina throws her head back as she feels herself about to release around her own fingers. “Gonna cum together yeah? Cum with me YN.” She says breathlessly as she rides her own fingers. Ellie snickers, “ya just couldn’t wait could ya?” Diving back down to devour the essence about to release from you.

Your head spinning softly, your back arching, you ride her fingers until suddenly. You burst, cumming and squeezing around her fingers, your head falling back and your legs shaking like never before. “E-El oh Fuck! Yesyesyes!” You spread your legs more as she licks it all up, not leaving one drop of you behind. “Taste so good pretty.” She says quietly into your cunt.

Dina cums as well, her legs shaking as she slows down, circling her bud slowly. “Oh yes..” she leans back, pulling her hand out of her jeans. “Wanna taste?” She asks, leaning forward and placing her fingers into your mouth, allowing you to suck them clean. Your eyes low, the high still rippling through you.

“Let’s do this again sometime.”

I want them both so bad...

#ellie x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #dina x reader #dina tlou #ellie x dina #dina woodward #dina the last of us #tlou smut #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #tlou #tlou fanfiction

[murdrdocs]

ZOMBIE!LUKE SAVE ME 🙏

imagine going out on a supply run with them (bc you two are the “big kids”) and you get stuck somewhere… forced proximity… sweat… “just the tip”….

hints of perv!luke; implied voyeurism; unprotected sex; forced proximity; just the tip; MDNI 18+. 2k words. w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

Think about something else. 

The steady step-slide of the walkers just outside of this small room. The heat that is permeating the small space, having nowhere to go other than circulate around you and Luke’s bodies, and then puncture through your shirts and pants until it makes your clothes stick to your skin. Maybe think about the two kids depending on you just thirty minutes up the road, or about what they could be up to right now. Think about anything other than your current position. 

But telling yourself not to think about it only makes you want to think about it more. The more you resist feeling Luke pressed up against your backside, the more you feel him. His arms brushing against the back of yours. His hips pressed into yours, but a little higher since he’s taller than you. His chest against your back, his chin knocking into your head every so often, his breaths just a tad off from yours and mingling with your own. 

It’s a position born out of necessity. As soon as Luke heard the sound of walkers approaching, he pulled you into the first room he saw, which just so happened to be the tiniest and stuffiest janitorial closet ever. In his haste, you foolishly left your only weapon on the counter outside, and although Luke had complained about your amateurish mistake, he made the same one. 

Which left you and Luke unknown-last-name in a janitor's closet, pressed up against each other until however many walkers were outside decided there was no good food for them in this CVS and wandered off to their next restaurant. 

Your position wouldn’t be so bad if Luke hadn’t been making it a nightmare. He isn’t doing it on purpose you figure, but you can still place the blame on him. At least on his body. 

In an attempt to give him some space, you slide your foot forward, only for the softened toe of your shoe to thud against the wall. Instinctively, as least you’re assuming, Luke’s hand flies to your waist and he pulls you back against his chest, not moving even when you collide with force that should have sent him staggering. He’s holding his breath, so you hold yours, and when nothing happens and only then, he exhales and you do the same. Though, he doesn’t let you go. 

“Stop moving,” he hisses right against your ear, almost too silent but the lack of any other noise in this space amplifies the sounds that do exist. Like the way your breaths speed up. 

Instead of replying, you rear your elbow forward as much as you can, and then jab it back into Luke’s side. He groans.

“You stop.” 

Luke takes a moment. He starts to clear his throat and then stops midway through as if realizing just how loud that would be. 

“I’m not … ‘m not doing anything.” 

You wish you could glare at him. But not only can you not move, it’s also too dark to see anything but the tiny sliver of light coming through the crack in the door. 

You don’t know if Luke senses your unbelieving attitude or if he’s just overcompensating when he adds,“I can’t help it.”

You’re just about to tell Luke to try to help it, but then footsteps begin to come towards the door. They stop right in front of you, and Luke grips your waist with more force. You can feel his stance tighten behind you like when he’s preparing for a fight and you mirror it. You both stand like that for a couple of minutes, waiting for something to happen, and then the walker moves along and leaves you and Luke there to deal with his problem. 

Maybe if you ignore Luke’s problem in the same way you have done with the walker, then it will go away. 

‎

“How the fuck do you still have a boner?”

The sun has set by now. You know so by the old watch on your wrist and the now darkened crack between the door and the frame. Walkers march around tenfold, Percy and Annabeth are left on their own, there’s so much to worry about, and Luke still has a boner pressed into you. 

The thunderous sound of their heavy feet dragging against the tile shrouds your voices, allowing for you to finally talk to Luke after hours. 

You’re both sitting on the ground now, but the way the closet is arranged makes your leg have to sling over Luke’s lap, allowing you to feel the stiff erection confined in his cargo pants. Luke has his flashlight propped up in front of you both, but currently flipped off to conserve the battery and to avoid alerting the walkers. You don’t need the fluorescent lighting to tell that he’s shrugging. 

“I don’t know. It’s not like it’s something I can help.” 

You roll your eyes for dramatic effect, even if he can’t see you. “You definitely can.” You’re being unreasonable, but now that the sun has set and there are worries surrounding you on every end, you would rather focus on this minute worry over the two bigger ones hopefully in a mansion down the road. “Just think about your grandmother or something.” 

“Oh yeah, thinking about my dead grandmothers that I have never met will get rid of my boner.” 

“It will! If you can be horny and sad at the same time then there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Oh says you!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I can hear you crying and mo–” Luke stops while he’s ahead, but the damage is already done. 

You give him a second, perhaps to retract his statement, apologize, explain, or do something other than sit there in silence. When he doesn’t even attempt to add onto his already incriminating confession, you take your stance. 

“You listen to me?” Again, he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. “You’re such a fucking creep, Luke.” 

You try to sound peeved. You try to sound disgusted. And maybe it comes across that way, but you only barely feel that way. Especially when you’ve been putting on a show for days with hopes to get his attention. 

When you’re with Luke, there’s a tendency for things to turn on its head quickly. One moment you’re bickering with Luke over how he could have a boner in a situation as dire as this, and then the next you’re letting him sweet talk you. Before you and Percy encountered Luke and Annabeth, you were tougher according to Percy. You were less likely to give into stupid plans, more likely to think for longer before making a decision. More logical. 

You didn’t believe Percy when he claimed Luke had changed that about you. But maybe there was some truth to his accusation, because there was no one else in the world other than Luke Castellan who could have convinced you to do this right now. 

It’s so fucking stupid. You’re too young, too responsible for lives other than your own, too clueless, and too many other things to even be considering this. But you’re more than considering, your arms pressed against the door and your legs spread for Luke who is situated between them from behind. You’re going to let him do this, because you want it as much as he does.

Besides, it’s just the tip. 

“Ready?” he whispers. You nod. 

He has his flashlight turned onto the lowest setting and diffused through his shirt, providing just enough illumination for him to see your backside. He takes a breath, you take a breath, and you breathe out together. At that same time Luke nudges forward and pushes the tip of his cock into your cunt. 

You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. Luke has one hand on your hip holding you steady and he uses his thumb to rub circles into your skin, nonverbally telling you to relax. You do as told, but not much relaxing is needed before Luke stops, pulls back out, and does it again. 

The sun might have gone down, but the heat is still there. It clings to your skin, creating a sticky film that you want nothing more than to wash away. Unfortunately, it only multiplies whenever Luke begins to fuck you (is that what he’s doing?) a little faster. It feels so good, but it’s not nearly enough. You know that more length creates more possibilities. More danger for a massive mistake to occur. But you aren’t thinking straight when you push back during Luke’s next thrust, sheathing more of his cock into you with one motion that catches him off guard. 

He grunts, a painful sounding groan that comes out strangled. Instantly, both of you stop. You wait. You listen. And you feel Luke so intimately, just situated inside of you like this, unmoving. He fills you up in ways you could have only imagined. Luke rolls his hips into yours. You don’t know if he means to do it, but he does, and it feels so good that your eyes are rolling back into your skull and you’re starting to fuck yourself back onto Luke, walkers be damned. 

You both manage to control your noises from your mouths, but where the two of you are conjoined is a whole different story. The sounds are loud—sloppy squelches of your arousal coating Luke’s dick, squeezing out onto him from how tight your entrance is. There’s a loud clap when your ass hits Luke’s hips, and it only stops when Luke holds you still and fucks you himself. But like this he isn’t going deeper, he isn’t going all the way, and you understand that it’s too loud when he goes all the way in but you need it so bad. 

Luke can get so deep within you. Granted you haven’t had sex for a long time, but god it feels like the first time. Minus the excessive discomfort and awkwardness. 

When Luke slips in all the way once more, you can feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s just so good and so worth it. 

Letting Luke come stay with you and Percy was so worth it. Compromising your rules and adopting some of his was so worth it. Embarrassingly fucking yourself on your fingers when you knew Percy and Annabeth were outside, leaving you and Luke alone was so worth it. Even this fucking supply run gone wrong was worth it. Because it all got you here, nails digging into the painted metal of the janitor closet door while you let Luke fuck you way deeper than just the tip. 

He’s close. He doesn’t have to tell you such for you to know. He’s clicked his flashlight off by now, leaving you both surrounded in darkness. He whispers, “Touch yourself”. And you do. 

When you flutter around his cock with an impending orgasm, Luke pulls out, fists himself, and spurts cum onto your ass while you’re coming down. 

Your heavy breaths heat up the room as Luke wipes your backside with something that you think is his shirt, and then he blindly helps pull your pants up. Your panties end up a little twisted so you fix them yourself before doing the best that you can to turn around. 

“Time?” 

Luke clicks his flashlight on for a second and you see how flustered he is. Eyes wide, hair sticking to his forehead, tanned cheeks redder than usual. You wonder how you look. 

“10:43.” 

“Leave at first daylight?” 

He grunts an affirmative reply and clicks the light back off, leaving you both submerged in the darkness, locked in a room, with nothing else to do for a few hours. You entertain yourselves in the best ways that you can.

#lukesworld! #zombie au!luke #/chats #+ loverschatbox #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you

[like-a-diamondinthesky]

the pepper thing | l.m.h

pairing... bf!minho x gn!reader tags... domestic fluff, established relationship, minho loves kisses so so so much

it's a routine, it's a tradition, it's a lifestyle. it's the pepper thing.

wc... 1.4k words a/n... this is inspired by a little something that @astraystayyh and i rambled about 🫠 i hope you enjoy it because i have not stopped thinking about this since it came into my mind!!! also thank you so much for 400 followers! almost halfway to 1k i'm mindblown tbh!

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Lee Minho is a morning person. He loves waking up early, making breakfast, playing with his sleepy cats, and watching movies. But most importantly, he loves kissing you awake.

Whenever the sunlight makes its way through the curtains and pries his eyelids open, Minho is more than happy to be greeted by your sleeping figure. It's the greatest way to start his day. He still remembers the first time you woke up next to each other—the day your little tradition began.

It was the morning after Minho had finally moved into your apartment. You had fallen asleep in your now shared bed, his arms embracing your body and pulling you to his chest. When he woke up, he had moved further away from you, not so much that you were no longer cuddling, but just enough so that he could see your face. The side of your face was buried into the pillow, squishing your lips into a slight pucker. Your hair was sticking out in multiple directions and your shirt was twisted. He thought it was the cutest sight in the world. Lord, he's whipped.

He watched your sleeping figure with so much love in his gaze, mapping out your entire face to store in his memory forever. As his eyes trailed over your every feature, they halted at your mouth, taking extra time to admire the curve of your cupid's bow.

Slowly, Minho found himself leaning in, pressing a kiss as light as air onto your soft lips. 'More,' he thought, 'I need more.' He moved his lips to the corner of your mouth, then to your cheek, then to your jaw, smothering your entire face in featherlight kisses.

"Baby, what are you doing?" you asked in a soft, sleepy voice. Minho had been pressing kisses to your collarbones at that point, but upon hearing your voice, he stopped and buried his face in your neck. Embarrassed, he mumbled, "Nothing..."

You giggled as he hid away and you teased him more. "Oh, you're just sooo in love with me aren't you?" Minho groaned. "You just have to kiss me 24/7, huh? You love me so much you can't keep your lips off me."

"Shut up, shut uppp," he whined into your neck, making you laugh even more.

"How about you make me?" You pulled him away from your neck, staring into his eyes as if challenging him to do something. He took you up on that challenge, crashing his lips into yours, shutting you up like you asked.

Ever since then, Minho has woken you up by peppering kisses all over you every morning with no fail. Sometimes, when you call him out on it, he'll just ignore you and continue kissing your body, too busy to do anything else.

It was a gloomy morning. In contrast to the bright, shining light that usually woke Minho up, the light pitter-patter of the raindrops on the window forced him out of his slumber. He opened his eyes to your back facing him. Your oversized shirt, which was originally his, was hanging off your shoulder, presenting him with a new opportunity. He pressed his lips to your bare shoulder, slowly trailing up to the back of your neck.

"Mmm, that tickles, baby," you whispered as he kissed the sensitive spot on your nape, but he wasn't paying attention to you, too preoccupied to process the words coming out of your mouth. Only after he was done pressing kisses to your backside did he greet you a good morning, but could you blame him? He just loves giving you kisses!

Every single day, Minho wakes up before you and peppers your face with several kisses like his life depends on it. At this point, it's become a necessity in your daily routine.

One morning, you miraculously woke up before your boyfriend. His hair was disheveled and his lips were parted ever so slightly. As he lay on his side, facing towards you, you couldn't help but notice his eyes. His long, pretty eyelashes were so perfectly scattered among his closed eyelids. You leaned in, your warm breath gently blowing against his lashes. You softly kissed under his eye, your lips tenderly brushing his face. Slowly, you peppered more kisses around his face, starting around his eyelids, then moving to his nose, then to the corner of his mouth. As you were about to connect your lips with his own, Minho opened his eyes, making contact with yours.

"Honey?" Your mouths were mere centimeters apart. "This is usually my job." You closed the gap and kissed him. Minho sighed sleepily into the kiss and you could feel a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Pulling away, you returned his smile. "I thought I'd mix things up," you kissed him again. "Why, do you not like it?"

Minho laughed a bit as you continued kissing around his face. "No, I don't like it," he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "I love it, and I love you."

This became your little tradition. Every morning, whoever woke up first would pepper kisses all over the other, starting the day with giddy smiles fixed on your faces. Even if you had fought the night before, it was all forgotten the moment you felt Minho's lips on your forehead, or the moment he felt your lips on his cheek.

Today, however, Minho woke up to your side of the bed empty. He furrowed his brows, disappointed at the unusual absence of the featherlight kisses all over his face. He dragged himself out of your shared bedroom, plodded around the apartment to look for you, and let himself fall back on the couch when he couldn't find you.

After about a half-hour, the front door opened and you entered your home, holding grocery bags in both hands. You set them down on the kitchen counter, peeking into the living room to see Minho watching something on the TV.

"Hi baby, did you sleep well?" You shouted from the kitchen, putting away the groceries. No response.

"Babe? Are you okay?" Nothing.

You walked over to where your boyfriend was sitting. His eyes were glued to the TV, not even sparing you a glance.

"Lee Minho," you said in a half-joking, half-serious voice, "did I do something wrong?"

Finally, he looked at you, lips contracting to a pout. He mumbled something so softly, you couldn't understand what he said. You sat next to him, taking one of his hands in your own. "Could you repeat that, baby? I can't hear you."

Pouting even harder, he repeated louder for you. "You didn't do the pepper thing."

You shot him a confused look, making him roll his eyes playfully. "The pepper my face with kisses thing! I woke up and you were gone, and you didn't give me any kisses at all."

You laughed incredulously. "Seriously, that's all you're sulking about?"

Unimpressed, Minho pulled his hand away from yours and crossed his arms. "It's a very serious matter, actually. You broke our morning tradition! You betrayed me!"

"I'm sorry for leaving without honoring our tradition," you smiled as he continued to pout at you, "but I went out to buy some ingredients so I could make breakfast for you. And, I even bought more of the new pudding you really like."

Though his eyes lit up at the mention of his favorite snack, a pout was still plastered on his face. "Okay, then. But you still have to make it up to me."

"Yeah? And how do you propose I do that?"

Minho looked you dead in the eye. "Do the pepper thing."

Still giggling, you placed your hands on either side of Minho's face, squeezing his cheeks and forcing his lips from a pout to a pucker. You kissed his forehead, then under each of his eyelids, then on the tip of his nose. "Feel better now?"

Shaking his head, Minho replied, "Not quite yet." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. He pulled you by your waist, bringing you to his lap. You combed your fingers through his hair, tugging it slightly to tilt his head and deepen the kiss. When he pulled away from you, Minho had a lovesick expression written all over his face. "Now I feel better than ever."

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comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

#・₊✧ written in the stars #lee know #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #lee know fluff #skz

[mayullla]

Title: The Wedding is Today

Character(s): Viscount (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: The wedding is today as you look at yourself in front of the mirror, wearing a white gown. Are you scared or are you broken? You weren't sure. Yet your time was limited till you become whole his.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Viscount x Fallen aristocrat!reader, F!reader, general yandere themes, manipulation (both physical and mental), power imbalance, forced marriage, loss of control, womb tattoo that is not sexual, forced servitude, 2k words

This is part two, click here for part one!

Dressed in the most beautiful white wedding dress, decorated with lace and pearls, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You had always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress; after all, it was something that you had always been told you would have. And you had always been fascinated by the idea of wearing a dress that was the image of purity and elegance. In the past, you thought you would have it with your ex-fiancé but instead of him you were to wed another man, someone so infatuated by you.

Even with carefully done hair and makeup, it could not hide your empty eyes.

Was this the result? It had been a long time since you last saw your face in the mirror. In that dark room, forced into the whims of that man, you didn't have much. There was no mirror there, just a bed, table, and desk, with most of your clothes and necessities brought by the silent servants.

Hollow eyes covered by a black cloth.

You felt weak, your body shivering as you pulled your eyes away from the mirror. Tears threatened to fall as you tried to hold them in, worried that you might ruin your makeup and irritate him, who only wanted perfection.

You didn't want this… you didn't want this at all.

You were marrying a monster.

Even if you wanted to escape, there was no way you could. He had made sure to snuff out all your ideas or thoughts of running away. That man had placed his hands all over you just to ensure that you could think of nothing but him, making sure you would never be able to run away even after you were finally let out from your prison. You still felt like a trapped bird.

Invisible chains locked your wrists, legs, neck, and hands, forcing you to dance to his orders. You could not stand up; it was as if something was holding your stomach down, a weight keeping you still on the chair as you waited for the time drawing near, challenging you to even think of trying. A white choker necklace tightened around your neck, making you conscious of every breath. Your back was straightened with a corset designed to keep your posture rigid, preventing you from even bending slightly.

He said that he had to make sure, after all, worried that you might hunch and cry while walking down the aisle, your face would be hidden with the white veil, but he just had to make sure of your shoulders and your back.

“Your tears are pretty. But if you don't give the crowd a happy cry then we shall keep most of that in private. Oh love, you are my precious and it is the same with your tears also. They should only be seen by me.”

Yet nothing could be as shameful as the womb sigil placed on your stomach the glowing ever so bright under the dark room when you were told to go to sleep late at night. A warmth it created that you didn't want. You would have preferred to freeze to death that feel this.

The viscount rambled about how much he adored you, his perfect doll, during the carriage ride, and how much you have improved in the past days that you stayed here. He commented on your suffering and how hard you were working just to please him. You flinched the moment he said that he could not wait to make it official that you were his. “In just a few hours my dear and all the world would know that you are mine forever.”

You didn't want to look at him. You didn't want to look at anyone.

“My lovely bride," his comments made you want to vomit as tears fell down to your skirt in the carriage. His hands touched your cheeks as he gently lifted your face. Your eyes met his, and not even a lick of pity or guilt was in them, nothing but obsession, lust, and thrill. "Aww… Let your tears out now, dear, so that later when they put on your makeup, you won't ruin it," he whispered as he moved his thumb to clean your tears from your cheeks. 

“I am the only one here with you right now. It is okay to cry.”

“My little dear is just so pretty. Sometimes I don't know if I could hold back later when you finally become fully mine." Lowering his head, you flinched again when he placed his chin near your neck, his hands wrapped around your waist. You could feel his cold skin against yours, hot from your emotions.

“I worry that I might just break you one day..."

None of the guests touched you when you arrived at the wedding hall only able to greet you with a bit of a distance; maids that worked under him had made sure of that. Small adjustments in the dress or helping you reach one place or another were all done by them. They worked efficiently, but you knew that their main job was to be watchdogs.

You could never stare into their eyes for too long, though. To someone who knew or who was sharp, it was obvious that the shine of life in them, meant to fool outsiders, still looked somehow fake.

You stared at the floor of the dressing room, zoned out. The music from the orchestra outside was loud yet muffled. You could hear people talking, enough to realize that the Viscount made sure that everybody attended just to see him put a lock on your finger.

In just a few minutes, you will belong to him, and you can do nothing to stop it.

It was difficult to breathe.

You didn't want to move at all when your feet started moving, tried to stop yourself when you felt a certain buzz in your core under your stomach again, warning you not to try anything.

You remember after all that time when you so desperately wanted to run away and were so close to doing so. Back then when the Viscount left the room without locking the door, you thought you could run away at that moment and that this was your chance. Even if your feet hurt from dancing the same steps for hours just moments ago, you forced yourself to move, so desperate to leave.

There was no one in the halls as you ran, careful not to cause any sound that would let servants or him notice your presence. And you were close… very close to the door to the outside.

Only to feel a shock in your core running through your whole body. It was like fire burning your skin inside out, licking your skin, leaving trails of fire that grew hotter and hotter. You fell down in the hallway, unable to move as waves of pain threatened to melt your body. You couldn't scream at all, barely a gasp.

The sigil on your stomach had reacted violently to your escape.

And the pain didn't stop, no matter how many tears fell from your eyes. No matter how much you wanted to escape from the pain, it kept you wide awake. The pain in your stomach was gruesome, while your veins felt like it was lit on fire. At one point, it did dull down, as if someone deemed that your punishment had been properly given… but you could not move, and he made sure of that. You covered your face and sobbed still feeling like every body part was burnt to a crisp.

Later, when the Viscount came back from a meeting and saw you on the floor he tutted at you… no anger in his eyes when he picked you up in a bridal carry. “My dear honey, you shouldn’t have done that. What if you had gotten hurt while running away?” He asked you with a smile, his grip on your leg painfully tight.

You received another punishment from the Viscount himself.

You watched him place a chain on your ankle, securing it to the bed. You flinched at his touch, whining when the cold metal touched your skin.

“I made sure to go lightly on you. But don't think it will be the same next time, dear,” he told you as he carried you to your bed, giving you pecks on your forehead while combing your hair as if to comfort you. “It will be even worse than this..”

Let me remind you that as long as you know that you belong to me, I will spoil you more than kings and emperors could ever do for their queens. But if you could not understand that, then we could only just fix it… and you already know what I mean by saying that.”

“Right, Love?”

“It will be your turn soon. Please get ready,” a servant spoke up. In public, they removed all their masks around their eyes. You had expected their eyes for a moment to be dead just as they were before, yet instead, you saw a liveliness that didn't belong to the person. “Please wait a moment, and we will finish up a few remaining touches,” the servant spoke in a cheerful voice, as other servants walked around with similar smiles.

You disliked how fake it was, but more than anything, you were scared that this would be what you would finally become if you even made the Viscount mad enough, pushing the thought that maybe you already were deep in your mind.

A long veil attached to your hair, the Viscount had a favor towards longer hair and told you to grow it if it was short. The dress was cleaned from any fold marks, wrinkles and small imperfections. 

A white bouquet held by another maid given to you.

Your hands took the white bouquet without listening to your fear and hesitation. Again, you wondered if you were broken, already a marionette that he sometimes called you.

Walking out of the bride's room, you stood in front of huge doors in the long hallway, your own eyes empty of any delight but hidden by the innocent white veil, sheer enough to see your face just a little. Your neck moved by itself when it heard the announcement of the bride, your chin being forced up as the doors opened. You could hear the clapping first, and as you started to walk down the aisle alone, you could see some nobles who once watched you be humiliated by your past fiancé and his girl. 

You didn't care about them anymore.

Your eyes moved to see in front of you, and you saw your parents, both smiling as you walked down the aisle, almost as if proud parents when in reality you knew it was a picture the Viscount wanted of something perfect.

Looking at the man again, watching you walk towards him with a satisfied smile on his lips, you could see the madness and obsession swirling in those eyes, knowing that you have been placed into a corner where all he must do is choke you even more.

Standing in front of him, you looked at him, the same sly smile on his lips as the day you first arrived at his mansion and fell into his trap. The marriage officiant continued to speak, yet most of his words you could barely hear as you were too deep in your thoughts. This moment, these last few seconds would be the last that belonged to you until it becomes official that you would be forever trapped and controlled by the man's obsession and delusions for you.

You heard the Viscount speak for a moment, bringing you out of your thoughts immediately. You had become too sensitive to his voice. You noticed the marriage officiant turn to you after hearing the answer of the Viscount and asking you the question, “Would you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

Looking at the Viscount who stared at you lovingly yet at the same time knowingly, waiting to hear you say the words that will bind you to him forever. This breath would be the last that you breathe for yourself and not for him. He was a serpent, he had already bitten into your skin, letting poison seep into your veins. Any hope now would be too late. 

You closed your eyes, letting tears fall down your face.

“Yes… I do.”

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere scenarios #yandere original character #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere boy #yandere blog #yandere oneshot #yandere concept #yandere oc x you #yandere writing #male yandere #tw yandere #fem reader #obsessive yandere #possesive yandere

[anakin-skywalker-always]

padawan/atoc era anakin x reader, they're in love with each other (both jedi) but obviously can't come forward. Anakin confides in Padmé, reader becomes convinced/jealous that anakin is with padme

(bonus points if you can make it angsty and fluffy)

As Easy As Breathing

Hi nonnie! Thank you so, so, so much for this rec! It’s my first one on this account and it’s really quite the christening. Hope its okay, I’m not the best at angst! 

Pairing: Padawan!Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Reader (Star Wars) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none!! Should be all good, let me know if you caught anything I may have missed. Not beta read! 

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: Anakin is canonically 19 in AOTC, reader is the same, maybe a year younger. Clone Wars have not yet started in this fic, I’m just assuming Padmé and Anakin stayed besties after the whole nonsense in Phantom Menace.

The warm sun filtering through the windows fell upon Anakin’s face, in a soft moment of solitude, the sounds of the Coruscant cityscape provided him with a brief reprieve to Padmé’s chastising. He often thought that his ability to talk to Padmé about anything was his strength, but in this moment he couldn’t help to think of it as a weakness. Anakin cringed as Padmé continued to berate him; On a rare afternoon off the nineteen-year-old padawan found himself lounging on the senator’s couch. 

“Seriously Anakin, you should just-” Padmé stilled, her slender hands finding her hips, huffing, she continued, “Are you even listening to me, Ani?” The forceful tone on his nickname got Anakin’s attention once again. 

“I am!” Anakin raised his eyebrows in addition to his hands, in mock surrender. “I swear Padmé!” 

The senator found it easy to roll her eyes at his antics, like always. But she could see the change in Anakin, could see how his emotions for his fellow padawan learner have caused conflict in him. Her friend wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating. Padmé knew Anakin was an intense person, a strong personality, everyone knew that about him. But this, this was different. He seemed lost, like he was missing something he needed to operate. Padmé found her way to the couch, sitting beside Anakin, grabbing his tanned, calloused hands in her own. 

“Anakin, if you do truely care this strongly for her, you must tell her.” Anakin’s eyes found Padmé’s own. “It would be cruel, to withhold this love.” There was a time in Anakin’s life where this is all he wanted, being with Padmé and he knew his nine-year-old self would be so excited by innocent hand holding. But his nineteen-year-old self was happier to have such a strong, nonjudgemental friend. 

“How did you know that you loved Sabé?” Anakin asked gently, knowing how the senator safeguarded her relationship with her handmaiden fiercely. 

Anakin noted how Padmé seemed to glow at the mention of her lover. A warm smile graced her pink lips, eyes crinkling at the sides, a faraway glaze coated her sparkling eyes. Her signature in the force felt warm, it wrapped around Anakin’s brain, made him feel safe. Padmé’s love for Sabé was so tangible it extended outside herself, adjusting her force signature. 

“I realised I loved Sabé when being around her became a necessity, an honesty, a truth that I did not know I was constantly seeking out.” Padmé gushed, a light trail of pink lit itself over her high cheekbones and freckled nose. “I felt as if Sabé had breathed new life into me everytime I saw her, it was natural, it was right.” 

Anakin was quiet for a moment, Padmé became worried that she had overstepped somehow, projected to far onto Anakin’s feelings. 

“Loving y/n is as natural as breathing.” He replied. 

Anakin rolled over on his hard, standard issue, Jedi temple bed. A sleepless night was not uncommon for him, but this felt inherently different. Padmé’s words from earlier in the day rattled around his brain, demanding to be dealt with. Anakin never saw love as a weakness, never saw attachment as weakness. How could he? Love was the basis of the light, the well of Jedi power that Anakin drew from was a labour of love, was purity, was peace, was built with empathy and centered by knowing himself. His love for you did not make him a bad person. 

But he knew it would make him seem like a bad Jedi. 

Not knowing your stance on him, on the rule of attachment was slowly eating away at Anakin’s peace. 

Groaning aloud, Anakin ran his hands down his face. 

Your head whipped around, anxiously. You knew it was embarrassing that you always looked for him in a crowded room, but you could not help it, you felt as if the force was electric until he calmed it. His signature singlehandedly smothering anything else it came in contact with. Being around Anakin, to you, felt as natural as breathing. 

“Looking for young Skywalker, are you?” Your master, Mace Windu asks, a small smirk whispers across his face, lightly nudging you in the shoulder. The two of you stood in one of the reception rooms of the Republic building. The Senate was hosting a charity gala with the invite extending to the Jedi temple. So, there you stood, in your best robes, breaking your neck to catch a glimpse of The Chosen One. 

“No Master.” You said, quietly. Turning your head away from the powerful Jedi Master to not embarrass yourself further with the luxury of him catching your furious blush. Your master excused himself, laughing, finding Master Plo Kloon. 

So, you stood there, alone, foolishly searching the room for your fellow padawan, the one that consumed your mind and soul. 

It wasn’t completely unlikely, you reasoned with yourself. You and Anakin were friends, were very well matched, sparring partners. But, Anakin was a good Jedi. A strong Jedi. Following orders wasn’t Anakin’s strongest suit, you’d admit. Pondering whether he would disregard the rules of attachment for you, however, was different. 

Nonetheless, like a junkie craving death sticks, you craved Anakin’s presence, his force signature was all you needed to feel right. The anxiety of the gala was too much. Closing your eyes, tightly, you reached out into the force to find him. Anakin’s signature, golden like it always was flocked to your senses, like always. 

Opening your eyes, you began to weave through the bustling crowd as quickly as one could who was masquerading as casual. 

“I’m not going to say anything to her now, Padmé.” Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest, defensively. “Not in front of all these people, you’ve got to be joking.” He scoffed. 

Sabé giggled quietly, the two women joined their arms at the elbow. Padmé just rolled her eyes at Anakin’s supposed insoclence. 

Your frame weaving through the crowd in his direction caught Anakin’s eye. He smiled, quikly raised a hand, and was delighted when your devastating smile echoed back. 

“Anakin.” You greeted him, with a small bow of the head. His name sounded heavenly whenever you deigned to let it fall from your lips. Anakin was convinced he could breathe easier with you around, like he had been purged of something suffocating him. 

“Y/N, this is Sen-” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear the name of your rival come from his beautiful mouth. Your jealousy that you held for Padmé reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help to feel shame burn deep inside the space between ribs. 

“Senator Amidala, a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” You stuck your hand out, awkwardly hoping for a handshake. “Anakin has told me so much.” Cordial. It was a good tactic. You were a good person, a good jedi. You would not succumb to jealousy. Besides, Padmé had other qualities you were far more jealous of than just her nonexistent romantic relationship that you deludedly conjured up in your mind when you tried to sleep at night. 

“All good things I should hope.” She smiled, her soft hand finding your own, a small shake. You could empathise with Anakin for falling in love with someone like her. Someone so intelligent, powerful, beautiful. 

It was not lost on you, the way the senator’s hand quickly found the one of the woman she stood beside. 

“This is Sabé.” Anakin started, introducing Padmé’s guest. “Padmé’s hand-” For the second time tonight, but surely not the last, Anakin was cut off. 

“My partner.” Senitor Amidala said firmly, though her eyes twinkled with pride. Sabé’s own shock manifested itself into a wide smile. The two looked eachother in the eyes and you couldn’t help but feel silly. Of course. Of course. 

For whatever reason, the words you thought you had died swiftly in your mouth,  “Oh.” was all you managed to get out. “A pleasure to meet you too, Sabé.” You tried quickly to save the situation, to save embarrassment. But Padmé’s slight smile, Sabé’s coy smirk. You felt like the two Naboo women knew you, saw you. They somehow, in this embarrassing blunder of a meeting had already clocked that you harboured feelings for Anakin Skywalker. It made you feel foolish, moreso than what you already did. 

“If you’d excuse us, Jedi, we have futher business to attend to.” Sabé quipped strongly, leading her senator lover to the next group of politicians. The art of smalltalk was something else you could add to the list of Padmé’s items you were jealous of. 

Anakin turned to you, chuckling. His standard-issue Jedi robes moving effortlessly with his chest. Running a hand through his cropped hair, you felt his eyes scanning your face. You knew your blood would betray you, like it so often did around your friend, rising to the surface of your cheeks, splattering down your neck and chest. Embarrassment clung to you like a rash. 

“Don’t mind them, they like setting me up.” Anakin scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Setting you up for what?” You asked, eyeing him micheviously. Chatting with Anakin felt natural; He was quick witted and liked challenging you, he was a tease. 

And, more often than not, a flirt. 

This was different though, Anakin had an air of nervousness about him. You noticed as your fellow padawan’s large, veiny hands found the way to the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly. 

“Oh you know…” He trailed off, looking everywhere except for your eyes, his own blue ones scanning the ornate ceiling of the reception room. “Setting us up to be alone together.” He admitted, squinting as if the words bought him some kind of physical pain. 

You quirked a brow, your arms quickly crossing your chest - a defensive stance. “Would that be so bad? Being alone together?” The words meant to be teasing, non-serious. But it was too late, the seed was planted in Anakin’s brain. 

To him, that felt like an admission of sorts, an admission that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Well, if he squinted it seemed like that. 

In a tender moment, something rare for Anakin, he reached out. Tucking stray hairs behind your ear, gently following your padawan braid around the cusp of it. 

“You know, y/n, that I want nothing more,” He smiled. It was pure, and real. You felt the sincerity in the force, the truth within him. Moreso, you felt your ear burn from the brief contact, felt your heart swell in your chest at the mere thought of being alone in close quarters with him. “I want nothing more than to be alone with you.” 

He retracted his hand, but you still felt alight with his closeness. His force signature felt palpable, you were enraptured in his warmth. He was golden. Your golden boy. 

“Why don’t we go get lost then?” You whispered, scared anything too loud would betray your eagerness. Anakin’s smile split across his face, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. Smirking he placed a strategic hand at the low of your back. He was so incredibly tall, bending over you to whisper back, 

“After you, my lady.”

—--

AN: Hehe all done! Left it open for more if you wanted, but teasing enough to be left as it is! Hope it’s alright and I hope you could enjoy at least some of it <3 

P.S This is a side account, my main is @mayhemories, so I will be answering any comments with that account but rest assured it is still me :) <3

Much love, El. 

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