#but while you are doing that you can be taking every moment and creating something good from the grace in it!

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter six

Summary: How Steve found out is revealed.

Warnings: A lot of dialog in the first part. One use of Y/N. For the Wanda and Peter fans.

Word Count: 1134

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A/N: This is breaking me. Have another shortish one. Personally, not the proudest of this one. It's more of a filler chapter.

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10

The Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, it cast a glow into your room. Looking around, it felt peaceful, like the scene didn’t match how you felt. Steve’s voice, the harsh words, and then Bucky’s eyes kept replaying in your mind and you tried to focus on your weekend homework.

A soft knock on your door pulled you away from staring toward the window. “Come in,” you mumbled as you used your sleeve to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. Wanda and Peter entered, expressions filled with concern and sorrow. They didn’t say anything as they found positions on top of your bed. Peter took a seat in the bottom corner, Wanda, next to you near the headboard. 

“How are you holding up?” Peter asked softly, you offered a weak smile and a quiet, “I’m fine.”

“Did you talk to Steve afterward?” Wanda questioned, you nodded in response before taking a deep breath and going into detail about what happened.  

“Steve thought it was just rumored to play him up,” you explained with a sigh, recalling the conversation with him on the car ride home last night. “Thor told him that he heard Loki making jokes about me and Bucky, but, Steve didn’t believe it knowing his reputation as the biggest prankster in the school.”

“Then,” you looked over to Wanda, remembering a conversation you had with her while at school. “Sam overheard everything in the library between us,” you continued as Wanda’s expression softened. “He said he didn’t believe that at first either until he saw Bucky at the game.”

Recounting the night's events with Wanda and Peter, you told them everything that Steve had shared about Bucky and his friends. You explained that what Steve had told you created more doubts and questions in your mind. Their expressions shifted from concern to understanding as they listened, offering the occasional nod. Wanda reached out, gently squeezing your hand.

“Do you believe it?” The question hung in the air, it lingered between the three of you. After a moment, you shrugged. You didn’t know what to think anymore. 

“I don’t want to, but,” your tears began again, “All I can do is think about every little detail and try to pick out what could have been a part of the game and what could have been, if anything, real.” Wanda gave you another reassuring, her gaze filled with empathy. 

“Neither of us can know how difficult this is for you, but, you’re not alone, alright?” Using the hand she was already holding, Wanda pulled you into a hug. Letting you let out your tears and soaking her shoulder. “We’ve got you, Y/N,” Peter reassured as he joined the hug.

~

Monday morning arrived, the weekend had been a blur of solitude and doubt. Once Wanda and Peter left Saturday afternoon, you spent the rest of the time locked away from everyone. The thoughts swirling confused and hurt. You barely spoke to your family, withdrawing from them at meal times. They understood, leaving you be for the most part.

As you strolled through the familiar hallways, again, a weight felt like it pressed against your shoulders. You could feel his gaze on you, an invisible force daring you to break. You ignored it. The memory of his eyes flashed before yours, the feeling of remorse and something deeper, you sped your strides up desperate to be in the safety of your homeroom. 

Throughout the morning, you needed help to concentrate. Your mind raced with the thoughts of, do they know? Are they in on it too? Burning yourself into your schoolwork, you tried to block out the distractions. 

By lunchtime, you decided to change your routine. Instead of sitting at your usual table, you sat alone in the corner of the cafeteria. You hadn’t had much of an appetite since the football game, resulting in a sandwich turned into picked-out crumbs. The noise of the busy lunch hour faded into the background as you repeated Steve’s words in your head. 

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the table, you hesitated to look up. After a moment, you saw it was Wanda and Peter beginning to sit opposite you. “Hey,” they said simultaneously. 

You managed to give them a weak smile, you were grateful for their presence. “I thought, if he comes in here today then he might not see me if I’m over here,” you said quickly to explain the switch around.

“If we found you so easily, don’t you think-” Peter was cut off with a shove from Wanda. “Sorry, I’m the one who doesn’t think.” You chuckled at his attempt to make the situation better. He was right though, Bucky was vigilant, he probably knew you were sitting here before you did. 

Thankfully, to your knowledge, he never stepped foot into the cafeteria that day. 

~

As the final bell rang, you rushed to gather your things and meet up with Peter. Steve had a late practice that he needed to attend so you asked Peter if he wanted to take a slow walk instead of waiting. Exiting the school, stepping into the cool breeze, your mind felt calm for the first time that day. 

The walk home felt longer than it was, for most of it, you and Peter talked about the latest English homework and when the best time to arrange with Wanda a study group. It felt nice to think about something other than the weekend. You enjoyed English and reading. Between the three in your little group, English was one of the highest grades for you, naturally meaning that it was your turn to host the study group. 

Waving goodbye to Peter, you pushed the front door open, the weight of the was still quite heavy. As you climbed the stairs to your room, all you wanted to do was fall into your bed. It wasn’t until you closed your bedroom door that you were greeted with a scene that took you by surprise. 

There, sitting on the edge of your bed, with no boots or leather jacket on, they had been placed neatly on the ottoman under your window, and that damn red Henley shirt. Bucky. 

You froze momentarily, shocked at seeing him for the first time since that night. His face was more bruised than you remember it being. You couldn’t help be feel guilty.

“James,” you finally managed to breathe, his name was barely a whisper leaving your lips. He slowly stood up from your bed, you stepped back as he started to move closer to you. “Hey, Sunshine,” he replied, his voice was soft yet filled with uncertainty.

Unable to take your eyes off his, you found yourself with your back flush to the bedroom door, your voice began to tremble, “Don’t call me ‘Sunshine’.”

---

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#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #high school au #i think he knows series #i think he knows #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x sister!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 14

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, angst

Chapter Length: 5.5K

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

Hour Fifty-Eight

The hot water feels good on your skin, and Obi Wan's soft strokes down your arm feel even better. 

Your refresher wasn't built for more than one person at a time, so it's a tight squeeze. You aren't complaining, though, with his arm slung so nicely around your waist. You've finished washing up, having luxuriated in the heat long for far too long, but you don't want to step out. 

His hand grazing your arm feels nice, but it isn't quite comforting. Not with the way his aura is slowly dissipating around you. When you'd stepped in together and turned on the water, he'd felt so serene through the Force. Now, he's pulling back into himself.

You lean a little harder into the hot, unrelenting stream. He kisses your shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of your neck, his skin warm and wet against yours. Then, he starts to drift away. As if his hand is slipping away from yours, his Force signature dims and finally disappears, leaving only emptiness. 

"No," you say, a little too quickly. You turn your head a bit, although you can't properly see him while he's holding you this close. "Not- not yet."

Without a word, he opens the bond you've created and you close your eyes, feeling him again. 

You're ready. You're ready to lose him. But not a moment - not a second earlier than you must. 

--

He'd moved his robe near the door sometime before breakfast. You catch sight of it behind his head when he leans in to kiss you, leaving the refresher. You're half-dressed - clothed from the waist down, and his hands are taking advantage of every glimpse of skin you're still offering him. You step slowly backward, quietly guiding him into your bedroom. 

Now that the heat is restored, your quarters are warm and inviting, and exactly where you'd like to keep him. It's been light outside for a long, long while, and as he lays you down into the blankets, you try to ignore the way the sunlight spreads down the angle of his cheek. The starlight only reaches Ilum every nineteen days. Normally, you try to enjoy every moment out of darkness. But right now, all you want to do is close your eyes and shut it out.

He catches your lips again, and you nearly flinch away at the softness of it. The end of things is soaking through him and pouring into you. You can't pretend anymore. 

"Obi Wan," you whisper against his mouth, pushing your fingers through the thick locks of wet hair at the nape of his neck. 

"Mm," he quietly answers you, letting his lower lip drag against yours.

You can't stand it. The aching - it's already begun, and he's still here. You press your fingertips hard to the back of his head and open your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose as you crush your lips against him. When you pull back, he looks a little dazed, and he searches your eyes. 

"Don't be gentle with me. Please," you say, gazing up at him. "I can't take it."

His eyes soften with understanding. He's leaving, and drawing it out with tenderness is growing crueler with every touch. He kisses you again, passionately this time. When he pulls away, he cups your face, keeping you close as he lies down beside you in the bed. His aura still glows for you, surrounding you with warmth. That much, you know he can't help.

You press your body into him and he raises an arm to put it around you. He hasn't put on a shirt yet. You can smell your soap on his skin. 

"What do you plan to tell the council?"

Your question pierces the silence, frosts over the heat in the air. 

His chest falls a little with an exhale. "I will tell them I'm prepared for my next assignment."

You lift your chin to look at him. "And when they ask where you've been?"

The muscles of his shoulder shift beneath you in a shrug. "It's quite unlikely they'll ask. And I certainly won't volunteer the information." 

You let the silence linger. "But we aren't keeping your visit a secret?"

His voice lowers when he finally answers. "Being a member of the council comes with many difficulties. But, one of the benefits includes very little questioning."

You blink, letting his indirect response sink in as you consider how well it will go over if you avoid being questioned. You're not eager to lie to Master Tiin, but you've spent more than enough time undercover to learn the art of deflection.

There's no reason for any member of the council to suspect anything beyond friendship between a master and his former apprentice. But, now that you've gone several hours without reporting in... it would be easier to claim technical difficulties with your communication than to explain why Obi Wan hadn't left the minute the storm ended. 

"When you get your next assignment..." you trail off, hesitant to broach the subject but forcing yourself to proceed logically. "When we both get our next assignments... What- what I mean is..."

He takes your meaning without your needing to finish the thought. "The position of High General also comes along with a number of advantages." He shifts you in his arms to look down into your eyes. "If your name finds its way onto one of my duty lists, I will find it another one." 

You pull your eyes down from his, feeling relief at the simplicity and a pang of stunned sadness at how easily you can be removed from one another's lives. It's very unlikely you would have had another mission together anytime soon - Oba Diah had been the first time in years, and when the war ends, you'll be able to choose where you go. But hearing it out loud is... new. 

"So, that's it, then," you say after some time, carefully leaving the bitterness out of your tone. "No loose ends."

He presses his lips together, not saying anything. His eyes trail down your face, and then he leans down to kiss you again. 

When his lips drag, inch by soft, wet inch down your neck, you close your eyes, and you try to imagine a lifetime in a handful of minutes. 

Hour Sixty

Even the brightest days on Ilum are nowhere near the brilliance of a morning on Coruscant, and yet, the sunlight feels like it's searing you down to your core. Your doorway illuminates the back of Obi Wan's head in a faint glow as he faces you.

You hand him something small and wrapped, drawing your eyes down to your hands. "I packed you a few yalo cakes for the road."

You hear the smile in his response. "You spoil me."

Blinking, you force yourself to match his smile and toss a glance at the chrono in your kitchen. 

Six more hours. There were supposed to be six more...

You finally look back at him when he lets out a soft sigh through his nose. "We seem to say goodbye more often than hello."

"It's not an easy thing to do," you respond. 

"Yes, well," he says, stepping closer. "Perhaps we just needed more practice."

It's nonsense, this little back-and-forth. The last few hours have been steeped in these exchanges. Talking just to keep hearing one another. 

You want to kiss him, and instead you just straighten one of the shoulder straps of his bag. "I guess we've pretty much perfected it." 

Heat begins to prick at the back of your throat, so you tighten your manufactured smile, turning away from him to pull on a heavy robe and open the door. "Come on. I'll walk you out."

He says your name quietly, gently placing a hand on your arm to slow your hurried movements. He holds you still in the doorway under his suddenly penetrating gaze. "There are... so many more things I want to say to you."

You don't - can't - say anything in return. He searches your face, then tells you the rest in silence. 

Maybe this would have been easier if you had allowed him to sever your bond earlier. But you don't want this to be easy. You want it to hurt. You want to feel it all, and a small, selfish part of you wants him to feel it, too. Because even after everything, that same small part of you has always believed he could walk away and forget you. 

The larger part of you immediately pushes back with warmth and light, and you take his hand in yours. "You've told me more than... than I'd ever thought possible. You don't need to say another word."

You turn away quickly then, to finish putting on your outer robe and boots, and he follows you out the door to his speeder. He dusts the snow from the seat and straddles it, then starts it without trouble. Your heart sinks a little. Even if it hadn't started, you would still have a speeder to loan him. It wouldn't have bought you much time - just a walk to your supply shed. But it would have been time nonetheless. 

You watch him shift in his seat, getting ready to pull away. You're determined to keep your smile in place, and determined to keep flooding him with nothing but contentment and peace until he's gone.

Suddenly, he leans the speeder to the side and stands up, keeping one hand on the handlebar and using the other to hold your face in his gloved hand. 

"I am not in the habit of asking the Force for favors," he tells you. "But nearly every time I have, it has been for you." He holds you steady in his hand, gazing deeply into your eyes. "To keep you safe. To bring you strength. To bring you peace. To allow me to see you again."

You're speechless at his admission; struck dumb as he lays himself bare.

"May the Force be forever with you."

The words and the sentiment behind them penetrate your mind as he kisses you, tightening his grip on your jaw, sinking his mouth into you like he's taking his last breath before a plunge. Your arm lifts up, your palm snaking around the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him close-

And he breaks away, tearing his mouth from you in the same swift motion he uses to mount the bike again. The cold whisks away the warmth of his touch instantly. The speeder takes off all at once.

Your fingers are still tingling from where you'd curled them through his hair - hair that's whipped back by the wind as he races across the barren ice sheet, disappearing into the distance. 

He doesn't look back, and it's his last kindness to you. Because when he severs your connection through the Force, your face crumbles.

Your eyes blur and his tiny outline on the horizon trickles sideways into an indistinct line. His form meets the planet's just as his signature sinks back into the hum of the rest of the universe. 

You aren't sure how to stay standing. You're not sure you can walk back to your doorway. After some time, you eventually turn around. Squeezing your eyes against the sting of the wind, you begin by putting one foot in front of the other. 

Hour Sixty-Six

You've finally managed to will yourself to begin tidying your living space, unable to concentrate on meditation or any other means of distraction. You've never been so blissfully full and yet so empty and numb. The hollow feeling in your chest is nearly unbearable. You can hardly think of anything else. But you can force yourself to move, even if it's focusing on simple tasks, for now. 

You pick up a blanket, fold it, and rest it on a chair. 

You gather one candle, and then another. You store them back in the cupboard.

You begin to sweep the bits of ash on top of the wood stove with your hand- 

Your knees nearly give out beneath you, and you manage to catch yourself on the edge of the stove. The hollowness in your chest is replaced with a sudden and unyielding pressure. The Force cries out, stabbing you with a single word. You squeeze your eyes shut.

Utapau.

 --

Days begrudgingly morph into weeks, your determination to keep putting one foot in front of the other the only thing keeping you upright for the majority of the time. The first time you leave your home again, a quick trip to the main base for resupply becomes an extended visit. You spend too much time talking to the port authority workers there, dragging out your conversations until hours have passed. You feel strange and embarrassed when you finally leave.

You'd always been good at compartmentalizing. At least when you'd been performing your security duties and maintaining your outpost, you'd been able to turn off the part of your mind that handled emotions. Up until now, you'd thought you'd gotten pretty good at it. 

As you chart a quick path home, you make a mental note that it may finally be time to return to the land of the living. Meditation can only go so far as a coping method, and evidently you're a bit starved for contact with other sentient beings. Perhaps it's time you finally reach out to a friend - if you can really call any of your working contacts friends - and try to regain some semblance of normalcy over dinner. Maybe a drink. Maybe several. 

Later that night, you lie in bed, as you often have been, wide awake. During your daily duties, it isn't impossible to keep your thoughts from straying to Obi Wan. But as you try to find rest and your mental barricades lower, it's inevitable. You can't hold it off forever. 

Utapau echoes constantly within you. 

You turn, lying flat on your back, closing your eyes. You've had plenty of opportunity to reach out to him and share the message the Force is obviously trying to send you.

But what would you say? What would be worth breaking your promise never to contact him? A vague feeling? A single word? 

"Careful of your thoughts, young one."

Your eyes snap open. Your head turns toward the voice in your room. You loose a sudden breath from your chest. 

You want to say his name, but you're afraid the lump in your throat will harden and choke you. Instead, you just stare long enough to gather yourself and speak. "What are..."

"What am I doing here?" Obi Wan smiles. "I could ask you that very question."

You blink. "I... I don't..."

"You called." He says, slowly stepping closer. Then, kneeling, he reaches a hand up to your face. "You called out in the Force. And now I'm here."

Your eyes search his as he brushes his palm gently against your skin. Is this a dream? A delusion? Or could he really be here? 

"I'm... sorry," you finally manage to say, when the gravity of what you've done sinks in. "I didn't mean to reach out. I didn't mean to... to-"

"Don't apologize," he says softly, interrupting your mumbling. "Sometimes the Force works through us in ways none of us can expect. But I am here now." He moves his hand from your cheek and places a kiss where it had been. "I will always come when you call."

Your eyes close of their own accord when his lips brush your face. You can't fathom a reply. This can't be real. 

"Now, I'll ask again: Why am I here?" He looks at you with that dazzling sparkle in his eye, and it makes your stomach flip. "You called out to me for a reason. What is it?"

The single word that's been thrumming in the back of your consciousness for months bubbles to the surface. You take in a shaky breath. 

"Come now, you must tell me," he says, a bit more sternly. 

It catches you off-guard. He's hardly given you a moment to collect yourself. You hesitate. "I... there is... something. I don't know what it is, really, but-"

"Tell me," he insists, locking his eyes with yours. Your face heats with frustration; uncertainty. He's cutting you off before you can even form your words properly. 

You keep your eyes steadily on his, and you nod. "Okay. Yes. I'll tell you. It's... it's just a feeling, and... and a word - a place-"

The holocomm chirps from the other room. 

Your eyes break away from Obi Wan to the blinking light of the incoming call behind him. His gaze follows yours. Neither of you moves for what feels like an eternity. You know you shouldn't ignore it, but Obi Wan is right here, back in your arms, after everything. You can't simply turn away from him for...

... for your duty.

Suddenly it's all clear again. Like waking from a dream. That part of things is over, and you made your choice.

"I should answer."

He backs away, strangely silent, giving you the space to sit up in bed and push your covers off.

The alert begins to repeat itself, and you step onto the floor, turning back toward him. "Will you still be here when I come back?"

He just looks at you, then behind you to the holocomm. "Take the call, darling. It could be important."

The sense in his words urges you on, and you hurry gracelessly out into the kitchen to catch the caller in time.

You had sent a short update about your "communications issues" many weeks ago, and since Obi Wan had returned without further delay, you'd gotten a brief message back about his safe arrival. If the council wanted to give you a new assignment, they would have left it in a message or sent the orders electronically. You can think of no reason for a direct call.

You release your apprehension into the Force and press the button to allow the call through. Mace Windu appears before you. 

"Good evening, Commander. I am sorry to disturb you outside of your working hours." He gives too brief a pause for you to respond before continuing. "The council is requesting that you immediately report to Coruscant, and we needed to be sure of your availability."

You take a moment to let the information sink in before answering. By the slightest raise of his eyebrow, you realize you've gone too long without a response. 

"Yes. Of course, Master. I am at your service."

He nods graciously. "Please depart within the next standard day. We will arrange for you to meet with the council as soon as possible."

"Yes, Master," you answer, without hesitation this time. 

There's a long pause, and you realize he's not going to continue. 

"Might I ask what this is about?"

"I am afraid all details will need to wait until you arrive," he replies.

"I understand."

"See you soon, Commander. And please, plan on an extended stay. "

You incline your head in a slight bow, and the transmission ends. The glow of the hologram fades into blackness where you're left staring, seeking answers where there are none. 

You turn back to the bedroom, and as you'd slightly expected, it's empty. As you walk through the doorway, you whisper into the darkness. 

"Obi Wan?"

Silence. 

You wait. You close your eyes and reach out in the Force, where you sense nothing. Sitting on the bed, you cross your legs and begin to meditate on the image of the man you'd been trying to wipe from every corner of your mind. 

You stretch out your consciousness to its furthest limits, finding nothing and hearing no one. Squeezing your eyes shut, you're determined to continue trying anyway.

Hours later, you've finally given in. Your heart is no longer racing, though your mind will continue to spin with the implications of both Obi Wan's visit and the council's order. You decide it's best for now to try and get some rest. And just as you begin to slip into the fog of sleep, you swear you can feel a familiar presence. 

You hear your name as if called from a great distance; stretched across the stars. Blurring the lines of reality as you drift from the waking world, you hear the voice, closer now. 

"You must tell me. Bring me the message the Force has sent you."

Falling into the warm blackness, you take in the words without responding, half-certain they're a dream.

"We will speak again soon, my dear."

 --

When your journey to Coruscant finally ends, you exit the landing dock as if it's been an eternity since your last visit. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you, the Jedi temple looming over the rest of the skyline before you. You've had plenty of supply trips here, but this is different. This is coming home. 

You've arrived early. Your meeting with the council isn't set until tomorrow, which will give you some time to check if your old quarters are still available and settle in for the night. 

On your walk down the corridor, you take a moment to greet some old friends and catch up briefly. The tightness in your chest begins to unwind. 

Until you hear the name you'd been hoping to avoid. 

"Have you heard the news of your Master Kenobi and General Skywalker?"

Your master. That, he will forever be. It will be especially hard to ignore here, of all places.

You shake your head, and then you listen to the tale of the two Jedi heroes rescuing the chancellor from the clutches of the Separatists and defeating Count Dooku at last. The story is filled with brilliance and chaos - everything you would expect from the pair in question - and when it comes to an end, you politely thank your friend and smile at the comments saying how proud you must be; how lucky to have been his padawan. It brings a glow to your face, despite your best efforts of tamping down your pride and affection. 

The galaxy's greatest hero. No surprises, there.

The conversation flows on, and when you've caught up on the latest reports of temple life and the war, you take your leave to locate your quarters. It's a bit of a relief when you find them unchanged from your time away. You decide to take your meal for the evening alone, a bit overwhelmed at the idea of dinner in the main hall - every old acquaintance no doubt dying to discuss your master. 

As you fall asleep that night, a heavy weight seems to press down on your chest. You're exhausted from your trip and from the anxiety tugging at your mind about your meeting with the council. You keep your eyes closed, letting yourself drift into the welcoming current of the Force, reminding yourself to let it all go. 

And yet, somehow, the weight worsens. It's like you're pinned to the bed. Your breath becomes tight and restricted. You try to open your eyes but you're sinking ever deeper into a black abyss, unable to awaken. 

"Blast him!"

An eerily familiar voice calls out the command and you see his body plummet from the cliffside, careening through the air...

He's been shot down by a blaster cannon. He's falling, and there's nothing you can do. If only you could reach out. If only you could-

He will die.

Unless...

You gasp awake. The vision is gone. 

You chase after it in your mind, reaching out desperately to the Force for answers. The harder you claw for the images to come back, the more quickly they seem to dissipate, like mist, swirling away from your touch. 

You catch your breath, panting in the darkness.

The room is cold all night. Your sleep is fitful. 

 

--

When the light is just beginning to hint at the horizon, you close the door to your quarters behind you. The gardens are usually quiet during this time of the morning, and though your body is aching from a mostly sleepless night, you think perhaps your mind can find rest in meditation, if the surroundings are a bit more suitable. 

You're wrapped in full robes, walking down a familiar hallway when you catch sight of Master Windu leaving his quarters. 

"Good morning, Master."

He greets you with a soft smile and a slight nod. "It's good to see you, Commander. How was your journey?"

"Long," you admit. "But it's nice to be back."

He turns to match your direction as you continue toward the gardens. "Your absence has been noticed. It's a shame your return was not under better circumstances."

You hesitate, then decide to use the opening. "Might I ask what circumstances have brought me back?"

"Unfortunately I am not at liberty to discuss it." He slows to a stop, facing you with hands folded beneath the long sleeves of his robe. "The good news is that Master Kenobi is expected to return from the senate ceremony early this evening, and then our meeting can commence."

"There's a ceremony today?"

His solemn expression seems to brighten a little. "Not even he can say no when the entire senate insists on a ceremony in his honor."

You quirk an eyebrow. "An afternoon with politicians?"

"Indeed. He didn't seem very enthused when Anakin informed him that they would both need to attend."

"I'm sure he was thrilled," you say, smiling. "And you must be very proud of your former padawan."

He lifts his chin. "Anakin... has become a very impressive Jedi. He has come far, and learned much."

It isn't quite an admission of pride, but then, you weren't expecting one. You nod in agreement. "It seems the senate would agree."

Master Windu doesn't mirror your affectionate smile regarding Anakin. He's never been one to overpraise the young man, but you're surprised when he stays completely silent. If you didn't know better, it would almost seem like a sore subject for the Jedi master. 

His lack of response draws out until you decide to change the subject, turning toward the adjacent hall leading to the garden.

"I thought I would spend the day in meditation. I'll be visiting the gardens on the lower level if I'm needed," you tell him, smiling, while he gives you another unreadable expression in response. "I look forward to our meeting, Master."

"Be well, Commander."

You note that he didn't reciprocate your eagerness for the meeting, either. You decide not to dwell on it, and take your leave. 

Master Windu has a lot on his mind at all times, let alone at this critical point in the war. You all do. 

When you turn the corner, your feet are suddenly held in place. With the sight before you, it's as if gravity has become insurmountable. 

Obi Wan is sweeping down the corridor, looking as if he's stepped directly from the pages of Jedi legends. 

You haven't seen his ceremonial regalia since early in the war, and you'd nearly forgotten how incredible he looks in it. 'Handsome' is a word that falls short in every way, and yet it's the word running rampant through your head, replacing all other thoughts at the moment.

He's wearing full armor, brilliant white in all the places it isn't marred with battle damage. The shining golden pins on his chest plate hold in place a long, flowing cape which is draped behind his broad shoulders. His face is stoic, but his eyes are bright. He walks with the type of swagger that you imagine gives even non-Force users an idea of the latent power he holds. 

You suppress your own signature, stepping into the recessed doorway to a closet where gardening supplies are kept. There's quite some distance between you - there's a good chance you could still make it to the exit where the lower level gardens begin without him seeing you. Blaming your lack of sleep for your questionable judgement, you stay still, watching him for a moment longer. 

A padawan - a human boy - scampers down the hallway toward Obi Wan, skidding to an awkward stop a few feet behind him and forcing himself into long, dutiful strides. He carries a datapad, and when Obi Wan turns around to look at him, he seems to nearly drop it. 

"Good- good morning, Master," the young man stammers, glancing down at the floor as he hurries to catch up. He reaches out, offering up the pad. "I was told to bring you the new seating chart for the ceremony."

Obi Wan slows to a stop, thanking the boy as he takes it. After a quick glance, he makes a 'tsk' sound between his teeth. "Of course, he must he seated next to the Chancellor..." 

He seems to be mumbling to himself, but the young man tenses at his irritation. "Sir?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing." Obi Wan raises a hand to wave off the comment, then finally glances up to see the padawan's face. It's striken with nerves. 

It's not like it had been in the old days of the temple, when masters spent much of their time with the younglings. Nowadays, serving on the front lines means that most Jedi don't encounter the younger generation until they join the battle. Many of them have become more like stories than flesh and blood. This padawan clearly hadn't thought of this as a normal errand. 

At last, Obi Wan seems to notice, looking down at him.

"What's your name, young one?" he asks with a slightly softened voice. 

"Jeerick, sir."

"Thank you for bringing this to me, Jeerick."

The boy smiles, bowing his head slightly. The padwan is probably not yet attuned enough to the Force to feel the way Obi Wan is calming him like a frightened bantha. But you can sense the subtle shift in the air when he extends a bit of comfort.

"Will you and your master be attending the ceremony as well?" he asks, handing back the datapad. 

Shaking his head, Jeerick looks down at his hands. "No, I have an assignment with the younglings today."

"Ah. No doubt a better use of your time than an afternoon of long-winded speeches."

That earns a small smile. Jeerick seems to hesitate - perhaps working up the courage to say something else. When Obi Wan bows politely and turns to go, Jeerick finally blurts, "Master Kenobi, is it, um, true what they say? That you blew up a whole Separatist fleet and saved the Chancellor?"

Obi Wan raises an eyebrow. "Oh, dear. I hope that isn't what they're saying in the training halls. I'm afraid General Skywalker did most of the heavy lifting. I was barely involved."

As deferential and magnanimous as always. Some things will never change. 

"Oh," says the padawan, nodding. "I see."

A whisper of a smile touches Obi Wan's mouth. "But as for the Separatists... it wasn't quite the whole fleet. I had to leave some for the rest of my men."

A grin lights up Jeerick's face again. 

"Run along, now. Mustn't keep the younglings waiting."

"Yes, Master!"

Your smile mirrors Obi Wan's as you watch the padawan hurry on his way. You take the opportunity with Obi Wan's back turned to slip out of the doorway and make it to the exit. Your footfalls are soft and careful, and when you're far enough away, you look over your shoulder one last time. 

He's beautiful, truly. You wish you could tell him just how magnificent he is. 

Instead, you step out into the gardens and put distance between you as quickly as you can. You let out a soft sigh when you finally allow yourself to sit and relax, easing into your meditation, hoping the Force will help you pass the time without feeling every minute of it. Unfortunately, you're already well aware your hope is futile. 

Knowing that you'll be presenting yourself before the council with Obi Wan presiding had been hard enough. Knowing he'll be looking like that while doing it...

You close your eyes, sending a silent prayer to the Force for strength. 

For strength, and for a short meeting.

A/N: For anyone who might be interested, I have a new, short, multi-chapter Obi Wan/Reader fic that will be straight smut with very little plot called Concessions. The first chapter is up here and on AO3.

--

As always, thanks for your support and readership. It is very much appreciated!

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @immajustvibehere @thegreatwicked @marrily @millercontracting

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#obi wan x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #fanfic

[volturiprincess]

Under the Moonlight

Felix Volturi x human mate reader Warnings: SMUT! Minors Skedaddle! A/N: This is my first smut one-shot, of course it had to be Felix like come on I adore this vampire. So enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Felix. That's all that's been on your mind all day. Focusing  on other things seems useless because your mind would wander back to Felix. 3 nights ago you had a dream about you and him in the Volturi's rose garden doing well …..you know what. And since then it has not left your mind, the way the moonlight accentuated every muscle he has everytime he ruthlessly pounded into you was such a sight to remember. The way he had this wild look in his eyes when he gazed down on you sent shivers down your spine , he really is a beast of a man. The luck you carry in having him as a mate, he really is something. You tried to occupy your mind with books, walks or even trying to take naps thinking that maybe that you would have that dream again but nothing could distract your mind from him. What also has not been helping your case is Felix has been busy with either guard duties or training newborns. Even though he can't be physically tired you can tell he is mentally drained, so you decided not to approach him about this yet.

But it has been hard on you to avoid this talk with him, yes you and him are very sexually active (Demetri has unfortunately caught you guys many times) but this was something else. Usually when you have that desire, Felix picks it up right away and he takes care of your desires in a blink of an eye. But you had finally had enough of trying to ignore it, so you decided to take action.

You were in the Volturi's rose garden in your short red silk nightgown with its matching silk robe that reached the ground at night waiting for him. You left him a note on your guy’s bed saying to meet you here as soon as possible. You knew he would get the hint once he saw you in this attire, if he could he would devour you right then and there with that nightgown on, it is his favorite after all. You waited patiently for your hunk of a mate to arrive which didn't take long because he is now standing there with the moonlight hitting him perfectly with his famous shark-like grin you love so much

“Well what a surprise my little rose, what's got into you tonight?”

With doe eyes you approached him and ran a hand down his muscular arm while looking off in the distance to create that aura of mystery and seduction. 

“Oh nothing…you know the usual, just needing some fresh and….. needing you”

“Me?”

You looked up at him still with those doe eyes and the way his usually intense red eyes darken with lust, arised that arousal side of you instantly. Without a second thought you pulled him into a deep kiss that was soon fueled with hunger with his animalistic side coming through and your heavy desire for him. He soon had you on your back on the grass still locked in a heated kiss and was desperately removing his own clothes off while he was pulling your panties down. He pulled away for a minute to look at you with with a look of desire that was easily mirroring your gaze

“I want that pretty little nightgown of yours on while I fuck you, alright?”

You nodded with eagerness for him to continue and he took that at his sign. He positioned himself at your entrance with holding your waist for support and with a swift movement he pushed his throbbing cock into your tight folds without a second thought. The way he stretched you out was such an addicting feeling that has never gotten old for you out of all the times you have had sex. He kept pushing himself until he was bottled into you, he stayed like that for a moment to prepare you for the upcoming movements.

As he begins to move, driving his cock in and out of your sex at a steady pace, he leans forward slightly so that he can look down at your flushed face and watch your reactions closely. He can see the pleasure stretched onto your features, and it only serves to fuel his own lust even more.

“How does it feel having me buried deep inside of you like this?

Barely being able to spit out words you manage to respond with “So…good”

Felix continues to thrust his cock relentlessly into your sex, knowing for a fact that he's in complete control of the situation and determined to give you the most intense orgasm possible. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air as he pounds away at your glistening entrance, working your clit with his thumb causing you to be overcome with ecstasy. 

His voice is rough and demanding as he asks, 

"Does it feel good? Can you even handle my size little rose"

Still not being able to be vocal with him you simply nod mindlessly. He glances down at your flushed face again, noting how wet your lips have become and how your eyes are rolling back in ecstasy with each thrust.

"Tell me when you're ready to come for me, little lamb. I want to hear those words falling from your beautiful mouth."

Words at that moment could not be formed or said for you were in a cloud of pure bliss. The way he was pounding into you left you speechless and a moaning mess which he did not miss. Felix smirks at your moans of pleasure and the way your eyes roll back as he continues to pound into your wet sex, driving home the fact that he's giving you the best fuck of your life. He can tell by the way your body trembles and quivers that you're close to climaxing, and he feels a thrill of satisfaction running through him.

"That's it, darling," he growls, "I know you love my size. Feel how full I am inside of you? How much I'm stretching you out?"

He leans down even further, bringing his face closer to yours so that he can whisper in your ear while maintaining his rhythmical motion. "Whenever you're ready to cum for me, just let me know my good girl”

At the mention of praise from him, you started to form what you thought were words but it came out more like whimpers and unintelligible language. You felt his hand come up and wrapped around your neck and he added a bit of pressure while he continued his ruthless pace

“Words cara” “I-I need to”

He chuckled darkly at my lack of a complete sentence but he was taking note of every shiver and whimper that escapes your lips as he continues to drive his thick cock deep within your quivering sex. When you finally break and release a series of loud moans accompanied by involuntary twitches, he knows without a doubt that you're about to reach your climax.

"There she goes," he murmurs, "Feeling it yet? That's right... Let it consume you completely." He slows down his pace ever so slightly, allowing you to catch your breath before launching into another round of powerful strokes designed to push you over the edge into a state of pure bliss.

"Cum for me, princess. Give me everything you've got."

Just with that you release what was the biggest relief you had in days. Felix watches with delight as you cum all over his large manhood, feeling the warmth of your juices dripping down his length and pooling on the ground below. He can see the pleasure etched onto your face as you experience the most intense orgasm of your life, and he savors every moment of it.

"There you go," he says with a satisfied grunt, "That's it, darling. Let it flow unrestricted. I love watching you cum for me like that." He continues to pound into your slick sex, driving his cock deep inside of you until he reaches his own climax, releasing a torrent of cool semen into your waiting womb.

"Feel how I fill you up with my seed?" He asks

“Fuuuuck…feels amazing fe”

He chuckles at your response while he pulls out of your wet entrance slowly, allowing some of his sticky semen to drip out before withdrawing completely. "Now remember this feeling – knowing that I know how to fuck you good”

You laid there with a dazed look already missing the way he kept you full with his cock alone, I felt his gaze on me but he remained quiet so that the both of you could compose yourself after that intense encounter. Finally being able to escape your daze you look up at him and gave him a lopsided smile that you knew he loves

“Well look at that smile cara, did I leave you full and satisfied”

That lopsided smile turned into a smirk instantly and he caught the hint right away and responded both with his devilish smirk and with a simple response

“Round 2 it is”

A/N: And with that its over, in my masterlist I mentioned when I write smut, those will take a bit longer to write for the reason I dont write them that often. But I will say this smut will come along in the future. The weird coincidence i faced when writing this is all of the right songs were playing as I was writing this and those songs became my inspirations at that moment.

#felix volturi #felix x reader #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi imagines #Felix volturi smut #felix volturi smut #felix volturi x reader smut #volturi x reader

[greentrickster]

Starting a new thread for the Great God Airplane AU (on the usual grounds (ie the original thread was getting Long)), because I've got more to say about it, because I'm me.

Was thinking about how having access to his god!memories would potentially effect Shang Qinghua, and I'm a little surprised to find that I don't think it'd make much difference, at least in this AU. I think the main, most noticeable change would honestly be that he's a lot calmer afterwards. The surprising part is that this isn't because he's not afraid of getting hurt or because he's got OP god powers or anything now, but simply because of how long he's been doing all this.

Like, one of the key features of Airplane's lives seems to be that he's always kinda hanging on by his fingernails when it comes to surviving, keeping up, managing to get by. He's busy busy busy all the time, and as a result of this he's not really aware of how impressive any of the stuff he does really is, because he's never had the time to really sit back and internalize it.

But that's what he finally got when he arrived in this world as a newly divine being with a perfect memory of both everything he'd written and his original outline, and only the instructions 'create it the way you wanted it to be.'

And he did.

He spent years upon decades upon centuries slowly, carefully crafting his world from the ground up, putting as much or as little thought into every single piece as he wanted to, no rush, no deadline, no obligations to anyone or anything but himself. The ability to lose himself in the pleasure of creation, consequence-free, the time to step back and take in everything he's made so far. Anything he needs, anything he wants, he can have, he can make, from snacks to assistants to handle the details he doesn't want to do but which the world needs in order to function, and in order to hold the story he wants it to tell.

And with all that time and experience came the gradual, quiet gaining of confidence. Because he's been doing all this for such a long time that not only the ability but the knowledge of having that ability has sunk deep into his bones. The ability to look at a task and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's capable of doing it and more.

Shang Qinghua still flusters and laughs and complains and grumbles and thirsts (oh how he thirsts), but instead of a basis of fear that he'll be overwhelmed and crushed beneath the demand, it's on a basis of 'if push comes to shove, he's up to the job.'

It takes him a little bit to notice this change in himself and, once he does, I think he goes and cries a little bit. Because his human memories are the predominant ones at the moment, so it's a strange, shocky sort of relief to suddenly realize that "Oh. I really am good enough. I've always been good enough. I don't have to be afraid that I'm not anymore."

In contrast, I think the thing he has the most fun with is that now, if one of his martial siblings is being a pain about budgets or something, he can go, "You know what, maybe I should just go back to Heaven and let you deal with all this! I could be eating celestial melon seeds right now while writing wildly self-indulgent danmei between organizing my files, but instead I'm down here, dealing with the fact that you can't manage a simple monthly budget! Because, you know, one of these things sounds a whole lot more fun than the other-!!!"

And then his martial siblings get to go, "You know what, on second thought I was being unreasonable, maybe I should see if there's something else I could do to fix this problem instead of just trying to make you fix it..."

#svsss #shang qinghua #scum villian self saving system #great god airplane #sad scared hamster man realizes that he has in fact been Kenough all along

[verieriberries]

the girls definitely thought bruce was a villain when they used their x-ray vision the first time they stepped foot in the manor.

batonium had been going at this dating thing for a couple of months now and the girls are still on the fence about bruce. surely if he was another sedusa situation then it wouldn’t take months for his evil plan to unfold, right? they can’t deny that bruce makes the professor happy but the trauma from the sedusa incident was deeper than they realized. as much as they wanted to trust bruce, there was something within them that couldn’t, at the moment.

bruce was briefed by the professor about the unfortunate ‘ex’ cause utonium felt like bruce deserved to know. it’s not that the girls hate him exactly, they’re just super cautious. bruce completely understands and only works harder to earn the girls’ trust. part of his campaign was opening up more of himself to the little family of the man he’d grown to adore. well, as much as he could while still keeping the batman thing a secret and trying to unlearn his emotionally constipated ways. (he goes to therapy because he deserves and needs it)

and so, what better way to open up more about himself than to open up his home to the utonium family? of course, he picked a day where most of the batfam were busy. only dick and alfred were in the house, which is basically the best combination bruce could think of when introducing a prospective partner who has children of their own.

alfred and dick were wonderful to the girls and it was heartwarming to see how content it made utonium feel. bruce felt like he could get away with wrapping his arm around the professor’s waist and it turned out to be true when he only got a glare from buttercup and no demands to unhand her dad.

on the girls’ part, dick and alfred were effective persuasion to start sort of warming up to the idea of boyfriend bruce. granted, it would take some time for them to actually start trusting the man but it was a start.

bruce was giving the utonium family a tour of the wayne manor, dick tagging along with them and supplying an inane story that happened in every space that they walked through. it was great entertainment for the girls and utonium as well. the batfam is nothing but rambunctious to say the least. buttercup was starting to think that damien might be her favorite of the bunch (oh how wrong/right she was).

they eventually reach the study that had the secret entrance to the batcave and blossom just suddenly has this niggling feeling. she’s an intuitive girl and her instincts have never steered her wrong before, no matter how young she was. deciding to trust herself, she uses her handy dandy x-ray vision and could see what she could only assume was an entrance to a secret villain lair. she wasted no time flying to her father’s side and her sisters were close behind despite their confusion.

utonium immediately chastised his daughters while bruce and dick momentarily paused before looking at each other.

“dad, we told you! he’s a bad guy!” blossom yelled causing her sisters to gasp and glare at bruce. dick couldn’t stop the loud cackle that pushed through his lips even if he tried. bruce looked confused.

“now what makes you say that?” utonium asked as he kneeled down. it had already been a few years since the science accident that created his daughters and while they were steadily growing, they were still quite small compared to his tall stature.

“he has a secret entrance to his villain lair behind the clock! bubbles and buttercup can look for themselves to prove that i’m telling the truth.”

after doing as their sister said, they flanked the professor with their assent that yes there IS a secret entrance to an evil lair there, we wouldn’t lie about it!

utonium knew his daughters had no reason to lie for something quite as serious as this so he could only look towards bruce for answers.

of all the ways that bruce could’ve revealed the batman to the professor, he didn’t expect that it would be like this. he had wanted to wait a bit more, maybe a year, before telling. and even then, he was hesitant about revealing the vigilante thing entirely. he was content to keep it a secret because he didn’t know how he could deal with utonium reacting negatively. it was only with the combined intervention of all his children and alfred that he even began to consider divulging his and his family’s alter egos to the utoniums. bruce couldn’t enter a relationship that he had hopes of lasting if he couldn’t share the single most important thing about him as a person.

he was really hoping that the moment he tells utonium would be under his own terms in which he had control over the situation but the girls just. poof. made all that hope go down the drain. he’d already been told by the professor that the girls were superpowered and that they had a range of abilities but it seems like he’d be putting x-ray vision into the list.

glancing at dick who was barely stifling his gighles, bruce sighed. “i’m not a villain or a bad guy. i’m. . . batman.”

now, utonium has heard of batman. who hasn’t? and ever since living in gotham, he’s been hearing more and more about the guy and he’s made an opinion. batman is good, though his slightly violent methods seem to suggest otherwise. gotham needs someone like the dark knight to keep things in check, and something that a lot of the public didn’t notice is that he was a lot more compassionate than they realized. why else would he send a gaggle of rogues to a psychiatric institution if not to give them the means to heal themselves? (utonium would feel differently about arkham whenever he finds out about the abuse and neglect that was prevalent in the facility.)

so when he heard buttercup say that the batman sounded very much like a villain name, utonium chuckled. and so, everyone’s attention was suddenly on him. his girls looked confused, wondering how he could laugh about this like it’s a light matter and he found himself smiling softly at them, silently wishing they’d stay this innocent for a little while longer.

“girls, remember how i told you about how townsville was before? how bad guys would always do bad things and that the people there would be too afraid to even go out of their homes?”

“yeah!” exclaimed buttercup. “but then you made us and we beat up the bad guys!” she looked very proud of that statement, as did her sisters. when utonium glanced at the waynes still standing in front of them, they both looked confused. utonium sighed.

“yes. you beat up villains so that they’d go to jail and everybody would be safe. it’s the same for batman.”

“oh.” they still looked unconvinced, but the professor always told them the truth. it was only dick’s comment, that batman was friends with superman, that made the girls release the tension that was holding them up. their shoulders relaxed as they regarded bruce with a curious look. bruce nodded at them, confirming everything that’s been said about him.

“so… you won’t hurt us mr. batman?” bubbles hesitantly asked and isn’t that heartbreaking, that the thought of bruce harming them was at the forefront of their minds

bruce kneeled on one knee to be eye level with utonium’s daughter. “i promise you, i would never harm you, your sisters or your father intentionally. if i end up being mean and hurting you guys, you have my explicit permission to beat me up.”

bubbles giggled, the most trusting of the three, and held out her pinky finger. “pinky promise? and you can’t break it ever.”

since they were still at the age where pinky promises were sacred, blossom and buttercup also held out their pinkies with determined looks. bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, bringing up his own pinky to seal the deal with each of them. “i pinky promise.”

dick, when recounting what happened to the rest of the family when they arrived back at the manor and bruce was driving the utoniums back to their apartment, had a lot of to say about how adorable the girls were and how funny it was when they called bruce a bad guy.

jason had to interrupt him. “wait, what do you mean they beat up criminals in their hometown? aren’t they like, 3 years old?”

it was at that point everybody realised something. sure, damian was also young when he started as robin but that was mostly due to the hellish and dangerous training that he was put through under the league at such a young age. was it the same for the girls? what it they were being forced to do it? sure, they had powers but they were still children.

although they expected to feel excitement about meeting the utoniums soon, now they could only feel a small sense of dread.

#i went insane again #this was supposed to be funny crack #i cant stop thinking about this so srsly #batonium #professor bats #this was supposed to be short too #dc #dc universe #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #powerpuff girls #professor utonium #powerpuff buttercup #powerpuff blossom #powerpuff bubbles #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

[anosanankasa]

I translated rukis post while crying and still being absolutely lost in sadness so ignore typos etc

Also still in absolute shock and i cant believe it…nor do i want to believe it.

You will be forever missed…

I love you

At the end he said „I want the GazettE to be forever“

What he meant with „forever“

is probably this incredible view he saw

from the stage in 2023.

I believe he hoped for it to continue forever.

The scenery he saw together with the fans

The joyous faces of his fans

The scenery in which we all could let out our voices together.

This is an irreplaceable treasure

and I believe he wanted this moment to last forever.

I remember how you said that you wanted to do a live soon.

Even now as an adult, he was a kind, passionate man who could speak honestly and say „even if something bad happens, getting together with you and laughing is the most fun“

I loved this/his honesty.

Just like every year, we joked about how we tell each other to take care of our health on our birthdays.

Our band will never be 4 people.

No matter what anyone says.

Because there is no other bassist for us than you.

Because your soul will be always next to me.

Everyone should be able to feel it, even if they don’t see you.

The proof of Reitas life that he built up with the GazettE until now will not disappear, it will continue to live on.

I believe that and I will continue singing by your side

so that your soul can stay by my side.

We wont become a the Gazette that Reita would have disliked/hated.

I don’t want to make you sad.

In this way, I believe that everyone lives within a finite limit but their souls will never disappear.

Reitas soul, the members and mine too.

As well as the fans.

I want to continue giving performances that will make people who have loved me want to come to concerts forever, even if they have become souls.

Therefore, it is through each and every fan that the scenery he wished to remain eternal for can be created.

Thats why we wont change and thats why we

want you to stay at our side and stay there.

He would have preferred us to remember him with a smile saying „he was the best!“

instead of looking at him with a sad face.

More than ever before we are determined

to protect this band.

I will make the „forever“ you hoped for come true.

So don‘t worry and pay us a visit from heaven for every concert.

Your place will always remain here.

We will get very busy from now on.

We will get back when the schedule is decided.

#reita #reita the gazette #gazette #the gazette #uruha #aoi #kai #ruki

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

“itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns  as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt. 

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.” 

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji itadori x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuji itadori x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #yuji itadori x you #itadori imagine #yuuji itadori #jujutus kaisen #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues

[xo-cod]

this wasn't supposed to be a poly thing but here we are lmfaoo, nsfw version <3 rushed/ooc/the usual. i'm not that happy w this, could've more nsfw but 🥴

cw: p in v, cockwarming, eating out, unprotected sex, a bit of everything 😭 18+/mdni!

sfw version

POSSESSIVENESS!!!!

oh my god, they are all so possessive

if you've spent too long with one of them, the other immediately scenting you in their musk

"you smell much better now" he finally grumbles having finished removing the scent from the other man and he can finally take you in his arms

high libidos, i mean they're big burly men 🤭 it's both a blessing and a curse </3

price is a passionate lover. you've got him hooked on your taste and he damn well sure explore every nook and cranny you've to offer. he will learn your body like the back of his hand, knowing what parts usually respond to and what gets you turned on. how to touch you, how to caress you, this is all his forte

ghost is an intense lover, especially when he's been away from you. instantly marking you and devouring you the second he gets his hands on you. really hands on with you, his tactical gloves thrown behind his back and his mask rolled up over his nose before he's kissing you like a starved man

gaz is a doting lover, he's all about the small moments :") kissing you when the head of his cock rubs against your slit, holding your hand when his thrusts get deeper and longer, whispering the most prettiest words when you're whimpering against him :((

soap is a fun lover. sex isn't serious with him unless he's been away and couldn't have you. he likes all the sounds you make and he encourages you to make them, he loves seeing your pretty smile as he makes you feel good. wants to try different positions but heavily enjoys the ones that have you as close to him as possible

price and ghost are definitely the type to make it their personal mission to get you to moan louder when you've spent the night with another man, being forced to hear your pretty whimpers and losing it completely when they hear you cum

won't burst into the room but will bide his time until the night where he'll do everything and anything to get you a moaning mess

"does he fuck you like this? tell me princess, is he better than me?" you'll hear some taunts during the peak of your orgasms and depending on the mood, he might just even withhold your orgasm 😗

soap and ghost really like cockwarming afterwards, purely to feel close with you after a particularly hard day <3

something about feel you so close to his body, your warm cunt gently squeezing around him as he lays on your chest brings him the most joy <3

price and gaz hold you in their huge arms and whisper sweet words as you both nod off to sleep, his touch lingering against your skin as he drifts off

fivesomes when you're bored lmfaoo 😵‍💫🫣😮‍💨

price situates himself in the back, ghost in your cunt, soap in your mouth and gaz in your hand.

your body is sandwiched between the thick warm bodies of price and ghost, both of them kissing and pawing at your skin to feel more

price taking control over your hips, gently rolling against it so not to overwhelm you, "taking us so well pretty, eh?"

"look at 'er, such a good love" ghost chuckled softly, pressing down on the bulge he's created in your stomach causing both of you to groan.

soap's cock in your mouth, his hand caressing the bulge he's making in your neck as he eases himself more, "that's it, bonnie. such a good fuckin girl"

gaz cooing at how much of a good girl you are while you stroke him, his lips peppering soft kisses on your neck no doubt leaving behind marks in their wake, "so beautiful like this, sweetheart"

will 100% buy you an anklet with all their initials on it

will go absolutely feral over you when one of them needs you and another wants you

testosterone levels hitting the roof, a fight will break out if they're ansty enough. will not share, he needs you for himself ‼️‼️

they are obsessed with your cunt

there has been times when you've been incredibly overstimulated from pleasure and how much they've latched on to your clit, his face buried as deep as possible while he licks and sucks

soap and ghost could honestly spend hours lapping at your clit, spreading your walls to get in deeper. using their fingers to stimulate the bundle of nerves hidden inside, enjoying how responsive you are

you'll usually have to push their faces away, their eyes blown and their bottom half of their face covered with your slick

gaz loves to suck your nipples, his mouth latched on to your chest while his tongue rolls over the sensitive bud over and over. releasing with a pop and a string of saliva before he gives the same attention to the other, his hands pressing into your back to bring you closer <33

price loves marking you anywhere he can get his lips on. loves sucking your skin and the taste, pressing a tender kiss afterwards.

they love fidgeting with you!! :")

ghost would have you in his lap, his cock buried deep inside your cunt as he goes over his work. his hips occasionally rolling up a little to give you some friction while he works away, his hand snaking down to gently rub circles on your aching clit while he presses sweet kiss to your shoulder blade, soft promises that he'll be done in a half hour or so

price would have you on his lap, one hand in your panties while the other works on his paperwork. his fingers toying and teasing your clit, running down to press his middle finger inside up at the first knuckle before going back up to tap at your clit again. loves making your folds all puffy and sensitive :(

soap having you under his desk all cosied up as you suck him underneath, licking lazy strokes over the head of his cock. lapping up at his precum, gagging softly when you push your head down until your nose touched the soft tuft of hair at the base of his cock. his legs wrapped around your body, holding you steady cooing softly at how good you are <3

gaz touching and caressing your body while he has to finish a task price set up for him. absentmindedly stroking your your thighs and hips until they reach between your legs, his fingers gently stroking against your eager cunt. not enough to actually get you off but enough for the tiniest bit of pressure, lazily separating your walls and fingering you with his middle and ring finger as he works <3

they all 100% have breeding kinks and together?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"wanna put my baby in you, you'd look so fuckin beautiful" ghost panted, watching him cum drip out of your hole fucking it right back in. making sure not a drop is wasted

"one kid might not hurt, what do you say gorgeous, hm?" price's breath was shuttered as he leans on his forearms, his eyes sparkling with desire and passion. the king of breeding, he'll continue to thrust his cum into you until your stomach bulges a little from how stuffed you are

"so so beautiful" gaz hummed, hiking your legs higher on his shoulder while his hand gently pressed down against your stomach, your whimpers music to his ears as his balls tightened. sending him over the edge as he thrusted his cum deep inside your womb

"you'd look so fuckin beautiful pregnant with my kids, wouldn't you bonnie?" his groans are echoing with your moans, with every powerful drive of his hips you can feel your control slip further away. he's so feral, not giving you a chance to even speak before he holds you close and his cock filling you up with his seed. overfilled and you can feel it rush out, dripping down between your bodies

heaven forbid another recruit even hands you a compliment, their ears will have picked it up no matter where they are

and the tension levels in that room will have risen to the skies

silent death stares, stiff postures, the poor recruits looking around wondering why his superiors are suddenly giving him the meanest death glares known to mankind and why ghost looks like the grim reaper

you'll spend the evening with all four of them, not moving a single inch unless you absolutely have to

price and ghost get jealous when you have toys, why would you need them when you can use him??

soap and gaz like the toys to bring you orgasm after orgasm, watching you break apart in his arms from the pure pleasure

threesome with price and ghost is very intense. both men are the top dogs, trying to beat the other and competing with each other. it usually ends with several orgasms from uou before either one of them has cum

gaz and soap are devious, finding different ways to stimulate your body and new ways to pleasure you. gaz kissing you, his tongue working your mouth while soap's mouth has latched on to your wet cunt, nuzzling and lapping while he holds you down with his hands

soft sex!!! all of them crave it :") <33

they're not all rough and tumble all the time

price and gaz love having soft sex in the early morning, not only to get his day started right but the morning is so peaceful with the birds singing and the sun barely peeking over the horizon

soap and ghost are more night time enjoyers, the peace and quiet of the darkness and the silence that comes with it. he just wants to be fully immersed with you, not a single thing on his mind

"how's that feeling, beautiful?" price murmured out, brushing away the strands of your hair as he pushed inside you again. he can feel his shoulders slump against yours tiredly, you always manage to make him feel so safe his guard is almost always down when it comes to you. you look so beautiful underneath him, he can't help but stroke your skin pulling you in closer so that he's snuggling right on you <3

"feel so good around me lovie, so good f'me" ghost whispered in to your ear as he caged you between his huge arms, putting you in a mating press as he angles his cock in deeper to your sopping cunt. drawing soft mewls from your lips which he drinks up eagerly with his own lips. he lives for the soft moments, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist while his lips kiss yours, never wanting to leave the safe haven he's found between your arms <3

"squeezin me so tight, baby" soap's breath was hitched as he gently bottomed out, his lips finding yours as he presses tender kisses. his life can become so hectic and chaotic, he really does cherish every single second he can with you and he loves how close he can be to your body. and for him, it's not even about the sex. he just wants to bury himself as much as he can in you <3

"that's my girl" gaz nuzzled into your neck, his hips rolling lazily against yours while he cradles you close to his chest. a soft groan leaves his lips when he feels the pressure around his cock, his head still hazy from sleep and pleasure. bringing you closer as his face rests in the crook of your neck, just able to be kyle instead of a soldier <3

aftercare is a must for all of them, no matter how intense the sex was.

each of them have their preferred way but they all bundle you up close to them, holding you tightly to their chest as their heartbeat provides a steady rhythm in your ears

gentle tender kisses pressed on your forehead, your back gently stroked as their voices offer you water and a snack

depending on each of them, you'll either find yourself being cleaned very softly with a towel thoroughly before he holds you close as you settle to bed

or you're being carried in his arms for a shower, him mostly taking care of everything for you <33

#call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #john price x reader #john price x reader smut #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader smut #141 x reader #cod 141 #task force 141

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Lawyer Husband x GN Spouse Reader HCs

CW: mafia related stuffs

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Husband is a gentle soul to you, he can't and will never lay a finger with the meaning to hurt you! He just doesn't have the strength to do so, almost as though he was set to be so. It's another whole story when it comes to the others though, can you guess how many times he has pulled the trigger of a gun?

Yan! Husband who spoils you rotten with everything you could ever think of. Luxuries, reputations but never the forbodden knowledge he has tried so hard to keep away from you. No, he won't clip your wings. You are his songbird who gets to only fly inside the gilded cage but never in the outside world. He will create a stage of the outside world for you, but never the real deal.

Yan! Husband who paints a portrait of you whenever he's stressed over the cases he has to handle. To move the brush without any problem as your form starts to appear on the blank canvas, he has no trouble remembering you. Sculpting is no problem for him as well. He has spent all his lives honing his artistic skill just to eternalize you as pieces of art.

Yan! Husband loves you so much that he deems children as a burden and bothersome (adoptive too). He only needs you to build a family, he had no need for children to continue this lineage. His whole life revolves around you. If you pass away, he too, will pass away shortly after. That's how much he loves you to the point that death cannot separate you two.

Yan! Husband who might not look like he's able to do it but he is actually an S-rank gaslighter. He will trick you into believing that what he is suggesting is only to keep you safe! He doesn't really enjoy taking your autonomy directly unless it's needed (of course, in a way where you will not confront him about it).

Yan! Husband who will cover and remove all your bad track records (if you have any). He has the power and connection to erase any kind of dirt that is on you, you are his pristine pure lily-of-the-valley and you should not be defiled with those records. Live without any worry clouded in your mind dear, the laws will never tarnish your reputation when you have this lawyer backing you ^^

Yan! Husband who adores any sort of physical touch when it comes to you, yes, anything. Even if you hit him silly, he'd still love every moment your skin feels his. He loves hugging you the most, his face buried into the crook of your neck while taking a scent of you.

Yan! Husband who enjoys humming lullaby of yours to the point everyone's ears around him is bleeding from the repeating lullaby. Can this guy please hum something else for once?

Yan! Husband who will read for you whenever he has the time to sleep with you. He doesn't know what to say to you as his work is either foreign to your brain or a tad too shady. Childhood memories are not great too as he has long forgotten about everything the moment he pledges eternal vow to love you. He abandoned everything and lives only for you.

Yan! Husband who prioritizes you as his number one, even above his own well-being and career. He can still live even if he falls ill, his career would never fall out of track as he has the mafia under his grasp, but you can slip out of his grasp. And he doesn't want that to happen again.

Yan! Husband is without a doubt an infamous lawyer. Especially with how many times he has let the ringleader of that renowned mafia group slip out from the prosecutor and judge's grip? If you seriously think you'll be pronounced guilty of that murder, you better throw that thought out just like how he throws all the scapegoats and falsified evidence into the court. (Should I write a fic for this?)

Yan! Husband who will always make time for the two of you. While vacations are not as often as he wishes he could have, cuddles and tea parties sound nice enough for him to kill time with you.

Yan! Husband who has this cute journal that's filled with what you have been doing every day instead of his own daily stuff. Oh, your diary is almost his if you know how he reads it daily like a refreshment.

Yan! Husband who as much as he hates having to show you to the people at the official parties and events he has to attend, he just can't shake away the butterflies in his stomach as well! You are not just some trophy spouse, you are his beloved! A hand on your waist and a face that is seen whispering sweet nothings into your ear with a glass in his other hand. Oh, he looks so o-godly-handsome like a man who comes out from a romance novel!

Yan! Husband who is a man of greed, the embodiment of Mammon. Wealth is not something that he has never not possessed. So whatever the fuck you do, gambling or blowing it off somewhere in a dumb investment or stock, he won't make a fuss out of it. Instead, he'll teach you more about money management instead :/

"Do you want to learn how to invest? I know a way or two from my predecessor."

He will let you play all the money game you want and gives you the illusion of success despite all the trials and errors you made (he's the one who clean up all the mess lol)

I know that this is AFAB! oriented BUT Yan! Husband never wishes to impregnate you even once. No, he doesn't like the idea of you being in pain over a damn baby(ies) that could just take your life as well. He does enjoy fucking you without any protection on but that is after he tracks your safe day (man is literally fighting the fate of having you pregnant). He prefers you to not consume any birth control for just in case it causes harm rather than good to you. (Shots are a pass if you are scared of syringes)

He is A-OK with adopting if you are persistent enough about this matter and is B-OK if you want to get pregnant (AFAB). He just can't refuse and upset you...

So please don't imagine what would happen if darling dies during delivery :)

Yan! Husband who will always open his pocketwatch and kiss the picture of you in his pocket watch. How many times and lives had passed just for him to enjoy the solace of being your husband?

𝐀 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Yulian de Alpheus is a man of ambition. While he does share the same look as his 'father', the ambition he has is the complete opposite of Castiel. Castiel created him to seek the truth of life, Adam existed to be the Genesis of Life, Alan existed to be someone he didn't recognize and Yulian existed to live beneath the shadow of his spouse.

𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Taglist: @vinivave @destructa1 @szde8-blog @luminous011 @ush0 @annbourbon @randomnl @cassanderasblog @maam-appreciator @lem-hhn @fanatic-fan @flesh-eating-ladybug

(send ask/message to be removed from taglist)

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader #LIfE Project #yandere husband #Yulian the Corruption

[marvelouslizzie]

Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan… 

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.” 

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom. 

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come? 

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago. 

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy… 

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement. 

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself. 

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping. 

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” 

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment. 

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers smut #roommate!bucky barnes #my stories

[kairologia]

How to start your day according to your rising sign.

Your ascendant/first house represents the sign that was rising above the eastern horizon on the moment of your birth. However, within a broader cosmological framework, where houses each represent a different time of the day according to where the sun is, the First House represents the time of the day where the sun had just risen above the horizon. After a bit of experimenting, I have come to the conclusion that the best way to start your day is to align your early morning activities with those associated with your rising sign’s ruling planet. Here I explain how.

· Aries rising: start your day with a stimulating activity, something that gets you fired up and ready to engage with the day ahead. A workout session, a morning run, some stretching, or something as simple as a walk under the sun. Either way, you’d better get moving as soon as you get out of bed. Avoid getting your most challenging tasks of the day done as early as you wake up — rather, start with the simplest tasks and work your way up as a form of motivation.

· Taurus rising: take as much time as you need to get up. You have your entire day ahead of you, so make sure your morning remains a leisurely time — though I advise you to write a list of tasks down to make sure you have a roadmap of your day planned ahead. No matter how busy things get, make sure you at least start your day with a generous breakfast while enjoying your surroundings by eating in a balcony or somewhere you feel cozied up and relaxed. Investing in a morning skin care routine that works for you can only prove to be beneficial.

· Gemini rising: immediately engage in some mental stimulation. read a few chapters of a book, listen to a podcast, read some news, watch a video. Hell, even scrolling through social media wouldn’t hurt. Give your brain some much needed dopamine shots to get it going. If you’re learning a new language, try to memorize a couple words every morning. If you’re a student, try to study a bit right after waking up. If you have some manual tasks planned, get them done first thing in the morning.

· Cancer rising: schedule your morning routine around moon phases & transits. There are certain lunar transits (cardinal signs) or phases (new moon) where I would recommend starting your day with a workout and energy demanding activities, whereas on other transits (fixed signs) or phases (full moon), I would recommend taking things one step at a time, waking up gently, having a warm cup of your favourite drink, taking a bath, cooking, doing some gardening, and enjoying a relaxing morning before starting your day.

· Leo rising: Make sure that each morning is «you» time and let nothing get in the way of that. Soak up some sun light, start your day with positive affirmations, do 10 minutes of dancing, listen to music, meditate, draw a bit. Get yourself in the mood where you feel most confident and yourself, as there’s one watching you — you’re performing for no one but yourself. Self-care can mean many things and you need to find the form that works best for you. If you enjoy doing make up, do a creative look. If you like reading, read. You can even adapt your morning routine according to the sun’s transits.

· Virgo rising: it goes without saying that starting off your day with some journaling, list making, intention setting, tidying your place up and task planning can prove to be globally beneficial for everyone, but even more so for Virgo risings. You need as much mental stimulation as Gemini risings, if only with some added structure to it. Put yourself in the right mood where you can be productive instantly, get your tasks done starting with the most difficult ones so you'll have the rest of entire day for yourself, and remember to take breaks. It’s still early in the morning, after all!

· Libra rising: your mornings set the tone for the rest of your day — so make sure your day starts off on a harmonious note. Create a classical music playlist & play it every morning, have a nice breakfast – a nice drink and your favourite treat, do some pilates, read a couple page of a book you love, set your intentions for the day, do some bird watching, take a walk in a nearby green space or riverside and enjoy the aesthetics of nature & the scenery, choose an elegant outfit and pair it up with some jewelry & a nice perfume. Harmony is a balanced act that can easily be disturbed so make sure you keep your mornings free of external disturbances.

· Scorpio rising: you will benefit from starting your day gradually, & at a very measured pace. Try to weed out the eventuality that unexpected disruptions may arise (as that might disturb your inner balance & emotional state) by establishing firm boundaries and prioritizing activities that bring you joy & contentment. Any activities that promote focus, introspection, and empowerment would be great — namely journaling, meditation, deep breathing exercises to center yourself, or a 30 minutes workout session. If you enjoy writing, write down your feelings in the form of prose or poetry. Lists will also help you stay structured throughout the day & ensure you won’t spend it entirely inside your head.

· Sagittarius rising: start your day by doing some manifestation. Pick a method you prefer, and make sure you spend at least 5 minutes manifesting and setting intentions for the day ahead, as well as some long-term goal you’re working on. If you’re into philosophy, read a few pages of a philosophical book of your choice first thing in the morning. If you enjoy language learning, spend ~30 minutes learning new notions teaching yourself a full lesson. Drawing or making a moodboard can also help you manifest for the day. A morning walk where you take in your surroundings will also help you get into the right mood.

· Capricorn rising: buy a planner, and start your mornings by writing down your to-do list. Make sure you also have a couple pages dedicated to short term projects, and long term projects — try and check out a case from either every so often, every morning. Doing so will fill your mornings with intention as you will feel like you did something great for yourself (and you did indeed). And as is the case with every other cardinal signs — include a physical activity into your mornings. A 15 minutes run, a 30 minutes walk — whatever you deem best.

· Aquarius rising: write down your dreams & ideas fresh out of bed. Your mind comes up with the best scenarios & concepts early in the morning, so write them down — you never know, maybe one day you’ll find the resources, energy or will to expand on one of them. I have noticed that Aquarius risings come in two fixed archetypes, the type that enjoys socializing fresh out of bed and the type that needs 3 business hours before being able to utter a single word to others – so my advice is simple: if you’re the former: start your day with some socialization, text your friends, post on social media, and if you’re the latter: put your headphones on, read something (anything) and block out any and all external noise.

· Pisces rising: the transition from the realm of dreams to the waking world is a tougher challenge to you than most, so try to start your day slowly and gently. No abrupt and aggressive tasks, no strong drinks, no heavy food. Pressure is of 0 benefit to you so do not put yourself in your “awake” mode until you’re about to go outside. If you’re working on an art piece, draw some of it right now. If you’re writing a book, write down a couple lines as soon as you leave bed as your dreams might provide some extra insights & creativity you wouldn't be able to conjure up while awake. If you have plants, water them. If you have a balcony or garden, spend some time there just sitting & doing absolutely nothing.

If you’d like a reading, more details can be found here!

Have a nice day!

#astrology #astro notes #astrological observations #hellenistic astrology #astro observations #astrology signs #astrology readings #zodiac #astrologia #astro community #rising signs

[lynnielovestlou]

abby x anxious! virgin! reader

synopsis: abby teaches her an anxiety-ridden virgin girlfriend how to have sex.

cw: NSFW , abby x reader , smut , abby talks you through it , thigh riding , sub! reader , soft dom! abby , afab! reader , dry humping , use of pet names

masterlist

abby's been your girlfriend for a few months now, but you've been putting off having sex with her. solely because of your stupid nerves.

the thought of being naked in front of someone, then hearing your noises and seeing your face and touching your most intimate spots that nobody has reached before. it made you panic just thinking about it.

but abby knew of your fears. she was patient, and she cared about you more than anything on god's green earth.

so when your twice-weekly date came around on a friday night, something felt off. you'd been horny before, and usually you knew how to take care of it, but not quite like this. your legs were tingling and there was an ache where aches shouldn't be.

of course abby, being the observant girlfriend she is, noticed your squirming halfway through the movie the two of you were watching.

"what's wrong, baby?" she asks, looking down at you with a furrowed brow.

"huh? nothing." you respond quickly, crossing your legs and leaning against her shoulder.

abby knew better than to believe you, "you okay? you seem squirmy."

"i'm okay." you respond, a little too quickly. her suspicions only rose because of your soft and nervous tone, "just feel a little weird."

"weird how? you got a stomach ache?"

"no."

"then what–" she stops what she's saying, a shit-eating grin growing on her face, "oh."

you don't respond, biting your bottom lip and unsure what to do. you could sneak away to the bathroom to try to get off on your own. but you know abby has been waiting so patiently for this moment.

"youre horny, yeah?"

your heart sinks in your chest. it took you a moment to realize how she figured it out so quickly. she saw your squirms and the way your thighs flexed every once in a while, trying to create some friction for yourself.

she spreads her thighs apart a bit, creating a perfect manspread. she taps her lap, "come sit. let me take care of it for you."

"abby, i dunno.."

"baby." she says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "i promise i can make you feel so much better than your pillow can. c'mon, sweet pea."

you hesitate, nibbling on your bottom lip. your heart was in your throat, and you were fidgeting with your earlobe. one of your anxious habits.

she tugs your hand away from your ear, kissing your knuckles. she gently tugs you forward into her, "i won't hurt you, sweet girl. c'mon, honey." she guides you by the hips to straddle her lap. she rubs her thumbs up and down the soft plush of your thighs, "let me show you, okay?"

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. she takes her shirt off first so that you don't feel embarrassed to do the same. once she's down to her black sports bra she slowly takes yours off too, giving you time to stop her if you wanted.

but you don't, so she keeps going.

once the two of you are both in your underwear, her warm and bulky hands settle on your hips, "you okay?"

you nod, unsure where to put your hands. she notices this and laughs softly, "i'll walk you through it, okay?"

"okay..."

"tell me what you do to your little pillow when you feel like this, baby."

"i.. um.." you struggle to get the words out, your cheeks red from embarrassment, "i put it between my legs."

"hmm.." she hums, "then what?"

"i like.. clamp it there."

she plays with your hair, her entire hand embracing the side of your head, "and it makes you feel good? riding your little pillow?" you nod sheepishly, resting your head on her shoulder, "show me."

"what?"

"i want you to make yourself feel good. i know you wanna." she says, kissing your hairline.

"abby, i dont know how–"

she gives your hips a little squeeze, starting to guide you to grind on her lap. the cloth of her boxers rubs against the sheer fabric of your lacy panties, the feeling alone making you gush. you whimper as you feel yourself getting wetter. you're tempted to get off her lap so she doesn't feel the dampness coming from your cunt. she notices you starting to hover, so she pulls you back down. "don't be embarrassed. i want to see you feel good." she guides your hips to move a bit faster, and you moan in response, "can i touch you?"

you look at her, confused because she's already touching you.

she glances down at your crotch rubbing against her lap, then she looks back up at you, "down there, sweet girl. please, honey. wanna feel how wet you are."

you nod, your nerves starting to dissipate.

she snakes a hand down your stomach, her fingertips sliding into your panties. when the pads of her fingers meet your folds she groans, "oh, baby... you ever been this wet before?"

you shake your head, rubbing yourself against her digits.

"there you go, grind down just like that, mhm."

her words of encouragement make you speed up a little bit. she beams at you, so proud that her girl is finally comfortable enough to let her feel you in such an intimate place.

"gonna go inside, okay?" she says before slipping two of her fingers inside your sopping cunt. you moan at the intrusion, your movements switching from back and forth to up and down.

abby chuckles, kissing your cheek. she's so happy that she can finally see her baby in this light. on her lap, a moaning mess, "you're so pretty, mama."

you smile and open your eyes to look at abby. she pecks your forehead, rubbing tight circles around your swollen bud. you clean around her and she pulls you closer so your chest is flush against hers. she knew you were close before you did, guiding your hips to bounce on her fingers faster.

when you finally come undone you mutter tens of 'thank you's' into her ear. you'd made yourself feel good many times, but you'd never felt quite like this.

"thank you, abby." you whisper to her.

she nods in response, "no need to thank me. next time you feel like that, you come to me, m'kay?"

you hum in agreement, closing your eyes and starting to drift to sleep.

#lynnielovestlou #lesbian #the last of us #queer #fanfiction #fanfic #abby anderson #lesbian smut #abby anderson smut #the last of us x you #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #tlou x reader #abby tlou #smut fanfiction #abby anderson x fem reader

[neckromantics]

I don't think enough of you are seeing the potential in letting Astarion drink from your wrist??

(Brief warning: this got a little more sensual than I'd intended? I think I am possessed.)

The way you could still sit as close as you want, plastered to his side even– one leg thrown over his lap while the other is outstretched behind him. It would take a little bit of maneuvering to get the angle just right, but once you do it, it quickly becomes one of your favorite ways to feed him.

You'd have a better view from this angle as well. Would be able to see the glint of bared fangs just before they sink deep into the tender skin of your wrist with a soft pop. To watch the shiver that rolls through him as the taste of you finally meets his prodding tongue– his throat working as he takes that first, careful swallow.

You trace up the curve of his spine as base instinct takes over. His body forms a shield as he hunches, pale digits digging into your outstretched arm as if you'd ever have the heart to take his meal away from him before he's anything less than sated. Happy.

Your fingers comb through the sweet little, silver curls at the nape of his neck, nails scrubbing at his scalp as a form of encouragement so gentle he practically purrs.

Gods, the noises he makes when he's enjoying himself. You can't help but squirm in anticipation when his breathing begins to pick up. Each quick inhale becomes choked off with a little moan of satisfaction– or a whine so high and strained, as if he's hurting in the best possible way. It's as if you taste so good that he doesn't know what to do with himself. His legs kick up a bit. The heels of his boots drag the ground before he settles back down. He jerks away and then towards you once more. Practically writhes in ecstasy. You have to turn your head away just to stare at something far off in the distance. A pathetic attempt to focus on anything else before you lose your mind.

Eventually, you feel your offered arm begin to grow colder. A slight tingle at the tips of your fingers slowly creeps its way up and prompts you to wiggle in an effort to lessen any discomfort. The movement pulls him out of his trance just a bit, and you can feel it.

The length of pause between each swallow starts to become longer. Every pull of your blood becomes a little more shallow, a little less desperate as he braces himself for the moment you say you've had enough.

Admittedly, you always wait a bit too long than is comfortable. It's really hard to ask him to stop when you can physically feel the satisfaction radiating off of him in waves, but you know you have to say something the second you feel that all too familiar floaty sensation begin to sneak up on you.

The moment your temple hits his shoulder, he's pulling away with a sharp gasp of unneeded air, a sad, little whimper escaping his open mouth before he has the chance to muffle it. It's only now that his eyes flutter open. A more vibrant crimson now that he's properly fed, all hazy and soft with a wonder that you'll never grow tired of seeing. He turns to meet your half-lidded gaze from where you're slouched against him.

It'd be so easy for him to slip, to give into the urge to clamp down and drink and consume until you've got nothing left to offer. Especially when you're hanging off of him this way, eyes filled with warm adoration and body so willing to let him take and take and take.

Oh, how he must be careful, now.

The vampire's eyes get a certain headiness that you know all too well, locked onto your own as he allows himself one last taste. You can only watch as he chases a rivulet of blood all the way down the length of your forearm, petal soft lips creating artful smears of crimson with each sloppy press, only to be cleaned away a moment later by the gentle swipe of his tongue.

Your thighs clench automatically around his waist in response, and if he notices, he thankfully doesn't tease you for it. Yet.

After so many feedings, he's really got the hang of biting you in a way that doesn't do any lasting damage. So, it isn't very long before the marks his teeth have left behind no longer weep openly. The familiar, dull throbbing that resonates from the twin punctures is soothed by the soft press of his mouth. Then, the cheeky bastard makes it worse by giving a harsh, cheek-hollowing suck.

It's your turn to whimper.

He pulls away with such a smug smirk. It'd have your eyes rolling if you had any sort of brain function left.

His fingers are now warm as they knead against the numb skin of your drained arm, wiggling it about for you, and bending it the elbow a few times in an effort to get the blood flowing. It's a small act of kindness that you find ever so endearing, and you thank him with a tiny smooch to the very corner of his jaw.

He thanks you right back for the nice meal, with a loving stroke of his knuckles against the side of your face. Gives you a kiss so eager that you're left in shock.

You can taste the copper you've left on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and can't stop yourself from deepening the kiss a moment later. You swallow down his responding groan like he swallowed down all those mouthfuls of your blood. Eager. Just a little desperate. Happy.

Anyway, what was the point of this post again?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #astarion headcanons #astarion drabble #astarion fic

[samodivaa]

Bucky with an oral fixation due to his anxiety so you let him suck your big tits (smut)

Bucky’s heart may fail him in so many horrors—both in waking, from his nerves, and in sleep, from his nightmares, because the punishment of his disordered mind is its own disorder. A disorder nobody else has. There is no cure, but he is trying to master it, he is learning to live with it—just as he has learned to live with other storms of his mind. The impossibility of love? He has you now. The past can't be annihilated, it is a part of him. Regret, denial, sadness—it leads to anxiety and his habit of always chewing on something—gum, sweets. He holds his breath, a desperate attempt to slow down his heartbeat, a desperate attempt to get away. One second. Two seconds. The moment he chews on the pencil you gifted him for that purpose, he is feeling better. No amount of him trying to explain himself is doing any good, he doesn’t even know what is going on inside of him—but your observation is the first step of the inner unfolding, of finding a solution to every problem he has. You create so much love, compassion, equanimity and joy in his mind that he doesn’t feel ashamed or judged. But seeing him biting down on that pencil—once you've seen how broken he is, it's like seeing him naked. How can you help now? “Bucky, why don't you suck on my tits instead?”

His gaze, though almost improper, is the most sensual thing he could have done at the moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm, leaving you unable to speak. There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things—you surge forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing your lips to his. It is desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against yours sends a bolt of electricity straight down your spine. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed. He gets on top and the gentle, erotic pressure of his mouth on yours, the compelling pleasure of his kiss—the world stops and all the silence, but for your hearts, trying to synchronize your crashing. It is all the thrill of these kisses, of your new naughty suggestion. It is the impatience of the way he tears your shirt from your body, that really turns you on—lust getting the better of him, Bucky is a gentle lover, but not today which makes a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation pierce you. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out: “I already love that idea, baby”

You let out an involuntary airy moan as he grabs them in his palms, his huge hands palming your tits, kneading gently at first before he rubs his palms in circles. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, humming in satisfaction as it hardens under his touch before he begins to suck on it while massaging your other tit. He's drooling, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently the nipple and he is thankful that your head is thrown back so you don't look how desperate he is. How fucked up he is. He fully embraces the deliciousness of this sin, the calmness that it brings to his mind and all you want to drown his worries. You want him to do something totally unlike himself and it is working—but this lust is something close to anguish, because he needs to stop eventually and he doesn't want to. He leans back a bit, searching for your eyes as he struggles to breathe, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen—the vast ocean of blue that is his eyes, remarkably focused and soft at the same time. “I love it, I love how big they are” he says thickly and completely without shame. He bites down on the curve of your breast, breathing softly on top of the skin “Can’t stop,” he says, the words coming out like a caress. He says it again, over and over. A litany. As your clothed cunt contracts at the friction against his pelvis, his words, you can feel him, hips bucking slowly up into you. He latches his mouth directly on your other nipple, making you cry out as he envelops a part of your breast into his mouth, a hand coming up to play with the other one. “Bucky—enough”  Your hands go to his hair as he sucks sharply on the breast, but you can’t pull him away. You can’t help the whimpers that escape you, the long drawn out sobs that punch out of your throat whenever he bites a little harder, giving your other nipple a harsher tug as a punishment every time you try to push him back. Sucking removes any daily existence from his mind, any anxiety, grounding Bucky firmly in the moment and dragging your body with it. Until he had enough. What a beautiful madness, he never felt so relaxed.

#lord have mercy #drabble #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x reader

[supercutszns]

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

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#perrie’s fics #rotten to the touch #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo x reader #luke castellan fic

[retroellie]

Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom. 

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler