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transform4u · 3 months

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Success comes with a Price

Andy’s journey into the digital cosmos began with a fascination for pixels and a love affair with pop divas. His YouTube channel, a kaleidoscope of colorful thumbnails and clickbaity titles, became his virtual playground where creativity knew no bounds. Whether he was unboxing the latest gaming console with theatrical flair or choreographing a new TikTok dance routine that could rival any K-pop star, Andy’s videos were a testament to his infectious energy and unapologetic zest for life.

In his studio – a snug corner of his apartment adorned with LED lights and posters of Lady Gaga's most iconic moments – Andy scripted his online persona. His audience adored his playful banter and irreverent humor, which seamlessly blended with his genuine passion for queer advocacy and social justice.

Behind the scenes, Andy was a meticulous curator of content. His mornings were often spent scouring the web for Gaga news and fashion trends, transforming his findings into engaging narratives that captivated his Little Monsters community. Each video was a carefully crafted homage, where Andy dissected Gaga’s every artistic choice with the precision of a critic and the adoration of a devoted fan.

As the digital sun set on another day in Andy’s universe, he prepared for his next adventure. With a wink and a click of the upload button, he invited the world to join him – not just as viewers, but as co-conspirators in a journey where pixels and pop divas intersected with laughter, love, and the occasional dose of internet-induced chaos.

As Andy scrolled through his inbox, a subject line caught his eye: "Unlock the Ultimate Viral Video Strategy!" Intrigued, he clicked on the email. The message promised insider tips and a surefire method to skyrocket his views to unprecedented heights, but with a cryptic warning: "There will be a price."

Skeptical yet enticed by the possibility of fame and fortune, Andy hesitated. Could this be his big break? He weighed the risks and benefits before shrugging, thinking, "What harm could it do?"

With a decisive click, he followed the link provided. Instantly, his computer screen flickered, and a strange, pulsating virus icon appeared. Lines of code scrolled rapidly, overwhelming the display with neon colors and glitched patterns. Andy's heart raced as he reached for the power button, trying to shut down the system. But it was too late.

The screen went black, and Andy cursed under his breath. Anxiety crept over him as he restarted the computer, hoping against hope that he hadn't just compromised his entire setup.

Minutes later, the familiar desktop greeted him, but something felt off. Before he could fully process the relief, a notification pinged on his phone – a message on Instagram from @ CaliDude34 "That tan is looking great Andy, been spending time in the sun?" it read.

Confusion knitted Andy's brow. He hadn't been outside all day, let alone under the sun. As he puzzled over the message, a peculiar warmth enveloped him. It started as a gentle sensation, but soon intensified, spreading like a slow-burning ember through his limbs. His mind felt foggy, thoughts muddled.

Panic set in as Andy realized something was terribly wrong. He staggered to the bathroom mirror, his reflection revealing a subtle bronzed glow on his usually fair skin. "No... no, this can't be happening," he muttered, touching his cheek in disbelief.

Just then, a wave of lethargy washed over him, dulling his senses and clouding his thoughts. The warmth persisted, almost comforting now, but Andy knew it wasn't natural. His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone again, the screen lighting up with another message, this time from an unfamiliar handle: "You wanted views, Andy. We delivered."

Fear gripped Andy's chest as he realized the price he had unknowingly paid. The virus had infiltrated not just his computer, but seemingly his very body, altering him in ways he couldn't comprehend. His once-sharp mind felt slower, his once-pure skin now tinged with an unnatural hue.

Andy sat at his desk, still reeling from the strange messages and the unsettling transformation that had begun moments ago. As he tried to make sense of it all, a notification popped up on his screen. It was a direct message on Twitter from @Brospeh69.

"Damn, dude. Those gains are looking sick," the message read.

Confusion mixed with disbelief as Andy read the words. He glanced down at himself, half-expecting to see the familiar figure he had always known, but instead, he noticed a subtle tightness in his clothes. It was as if his body was subtly shifting, muscles awakening from a slumber he didn't know they had.

The first sensation was warmth, spreading from his core like a gentle wildfire. It felt comforting at first, a subtle embrace that soon intensified into a pulsating surge of energy. Andy's heart pounded in his chest as he lifted his shirt, revealing a midsection that had transformed before his eyes. What once was a soft, nondescript stomach now boasted defined, chiseled abs, each muscle etched with a clarity that seemed unreal.

His hands trembled as he tentatively touched the firm ridges of muscle, marveling at the solidity beneath his fingertips. The rush of power coursing through him was undeniable, exhilarating yet tinged with a creeping sense of uncertainty.

As he continued to watch, mesmerized, Andy's biceps began to swell, expanding beyond their previous limits. They bulged out, initially the size of baseballs and then growing larger, resembling small softballs. Panic threatened to overtake him as his arms involuntarily flexed, veins pulsing beneath skin that stretched to accommodate the burgeoning muscle mass.

But fear quickly gave way to a surge of confidence. A cocky grin spread across Andy's face as his pecs followed suit, thrusting forward with newfound definition and strength. His shirt strained against the expanding contours of his chest, a testament to the physical transformation unfolding before his eyes. Without thinking, Andy began to flex his pecs, performing a playful dance that showcased his newfound power and control.

Andy felt his quads and calves swell with unprecedented mass, the fabric of his jeans protesting as muscles expanded with every movement. He flexed his legs, reveling in the sensation of strength surging through them, every fiber alive with newfound vitality.

In the reflection of the computer screen, Andy saw a version of himself that seemed larger than life – a figure of raw power and sculpted perfection. Each flex, each movement of his transformed physique, was met with a rush of euphoria that bordered on intoxicating.

Yet, amidst the thrill, a nagging doubt lingered in Andy's mind. What had triggered this astonishing change? The mysterious messages, the inexplicable physical enhancements – they raised more questions than answers. But for now, Andy couldn't resist the allure of his newfound strength. He leaned into the sensation, embracing the rush of becoming something more than he had ever imagined possible, even as uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his exhilaration.

As Andy basked in the surreal glow of his transformed physique, a notification interrupted his reverie. It was another message on Instagram, this time from @HNYGRL6789. He read the words, a furrow forming on his newly defined brow.

"Like, you can totally tell he's a douchebag from that cocky, dumb face and look at what he wears."

Andy's initial reaction was confusion. He furrowed his brow deeper, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in tone. But as he did, a strange sensation gripped his mind – a dense fog that seemed to seep into his thoughts, clouding his once-sharp intellect.

He blinked, feeling disoriented as his college degree, once a source of pride and accomplishment, slipped further from his grasp. Concepts that had been second nature now eluded him, and simple arithmetic felt like a distant memory. Andy struggled to add two and two together, his mental faculties sluggish and unresponsive.

Meanwhile, his reflection in the computer screen began to change. What had been a face characterized by boyish charm and a touch of quirky charisma now morphed before his eyes. His features took on a more rugged, masculine appearance, as if sculpted by some unseen force into the archetype of a fratbro douchebag.

Andy's nose widened, his lips thickened, and his eyebrows grew denser, framing eyes that seemed to glint with a newfound aggression. A beard sprouted across his jawline, thick and unkempt, completing the transformation from clean-cut to ruggedly unkempt.

Even his attire underwent a bizarre metamorphosis. The trendy, fashion-forward clothes he had worn moments ago now shifted into gaudy, garish garments more suited to a frat house party. A loud, oversized T-shirt adorned with neon graphics stretched across his broadened chest, while flashy, designer sneakers adorned his feet. A gaudy gold cross hung prominently around his neck, a stark contrast to the subtle accessories he had once preferred.

Andy's mind reeled as he struggled to reconcile these physical and mental changes. The fog in his brain seemed to deepen, dulling his thoughts and replacing his once-articulate speech with a more brash, simplistic vernacular. His movements became more assertive, his gestures broader and more exaggerated, mirroring the confidence of his newfound persona.

Deep down, a flicker of awareness fought against the fog. Andy sensed that something was terribly wrong, that this transformation was not of his own making. But the allure of this altered state, coupled with the intoxicating rush of power it brought, threatened to override his growing unease.

As he stood there, grappling with the conflicting sensations of euphoria and confusion, Andy wondered how far this bizarre journey would take him. What had begun as a quest for viral fame and physical prowess had spiraled into a surreal odyssey, where every click and message seemed to lead him further down a path he couldn't fully comprehend.

As the gaudy gold cross hung heavily around his neck, Andy watched in a trance-like state as his follower count on Instagram began to climb steadily. Each new notification sent a thrill through his altered mind, a rush of validation that overshadowed the growing ache in his head. The fog thickened, clouding his thoughts further, as if a veil was descending over his memories and beliefs.

Liberal views that had once defined Andy's online presence began to fade like distant echoes. He struggled to recall the passionate discussions on social justice, the advocacy for equality, and the fervent admiration for Lady Gaga. Instead, his mind buzzed with unfamiliar tunes – hip hop beats and twangy country melodies that etched themselves into his consciousness with surprising clarity.

A comment on his latest YouTube video caught his attention, posted by @JesusBroFitness: "Love to get my fitness tips from a God-loving manly man like A." The words hit Andy like a truck, resonating in ways he couldn't fully comprehend. His gaze shifted to his reflection, now bearing the visage of a man transformed not just physically but ideologically.

The memory of Lady Gaga's songs slipped away, replaced by mental images of gym routines and workout regimens. Protein drinks and fitness gear dominated his thoughts, as if they had always been there, waiting to take center stage. Above all else, a newfound devotion to faith crept into his consciousness, shaping his beliefs and actions with a certainty that felt foreign yet oddly comforting.

Andy's mind wandered, memories shifting like sand in an hourglass. He recalled a childhood in a deeply conservative, entitled household where money and privilege oozed from every corner. The echoes of parental expectations and societal norms resonated within him, shaping his worldview into something more traditional, more conforming to expectations that had once seemed distant and irrelevant.

In his altered state, Andy found himself embracing this new identity with a mix of confusion and acceptance. The allure of likes and followers blurred the lines between authenticity and performance, nudging him further down a path that promised validation and recognition. The ache in his head dulled as he leaned into the role, crafting a persona that resonated with his growing audience – a blend of physical prowess, traditional values, and a devout reverence for God.

As he navigated this strange new reality, Andy couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted within him. His liberal past seemed like a distant dream, replaced by a present that glittered with social media success and the intoxicating rush of conformity. Whether it was for the likes or a genuine transformation, Andy couldn't say for certain. But as his follower count soared and his online persona solidified, one thing became clear – he was no longer the person he once knew, and the journey he had embarked upon was far from over.

The Snapchat notification from @StaceyGirl69 popped up, "I can't wait to see you tonight, stud ; I'm going to ride my Italian stallion A---A----Anthony---Tony. Can't wait to see that 10 inch cock of yours tonight" on Tony's phone, and a smirk spread across his newly transformed face. As he read the message, everything clicked into place with startling clarity. Tony – formerly Andy – was no longer the quirky, liberal-minded YouTuber and Gaga fan. He was now a straight-up douchebag, reveling in his newfound identity as a fitness guru and conservative influencer. Stacey was just some bimbo bitch he had been hooking up on the side between Amy, Samantha and Kelsey.

As Tony's thoughts turned to Stacey and Amy, his cock began to stir within his pants. He couldn't help but imagine the two women together, their voluptuous bodies pressed against each other as they eagerly awaited his arrival. The image of Stacey's large breasts and Amy's perfect ass filled his mind, causing a surge of blood to rush towards his groin.

His cock grew thick and hard under the influence of these erotic thoughts. It strained against the fabric of his pants, demanding release as he continued working out at the gym. Tony found himself flexing not just for show but also for pleasure; every time he moved a muscle or clenched a fist, it sent waves of pleasure through him that only served to intensify the growing erection in his pants.

Tony's mind, once clouded with confusion and doubt, now brimmed with self-assured confidence. He glanced around his lavish apartment, the walls adorned with gym posters and religious iconography. His social media accounts, from TikTok to Twitter, were a testament to his ego – a million followers hanging on his every word, idolizing him as the epitome of physical perfection and traditional values.

With a cocky swagger, Tony aged back to his prime at 25. His once-boyish charm had given way to a rugged, chiseled appearance that exuded arrogance. His face, now angular and defined, bore the unmistakable stamp of entitlement. His eyes sparkled with a mix of vanity and pride as he flicked on his camera, the screen reflecting his transformed physique.

Tony stood before the camera, shirtless and unapologetically narcissistic. He ran his hands over his sculpted chest, each movement a deliberate display of muscle and power. His biceps bulged as he flexed, veins popping with every movement. A smirk played on his lips as he angled his body to highlight every ridge and contour, reveling in the attention and admiration he knew would flood his social media feeds.

"Hey, fam," Tony's voice oozed with a blend of confidence and arrogance, "Today's workout was killer. Just smashed those gains, you know? Stay tuned for more fitness tips and life advice from your boy, Tony."

He turned to the side, showcasing his profile with a self-satisfied grin. His newly grown beard added to the rugged charm he now embraced fully. The camera captured his transformation from every angle, emphasizing his toned abs and powerful physique.

As Tony continued to flex and pose, a sense of fulfillment washed over him. This was who he was now – a poster boy for fitness, conservative values, and unabashed self-promotion. The likes and comments would pour in, validating his existence and feeding his insatiable ego.

Social media had become Tony's kingdom, where he reigned as a self-made influencer and icon. His Instagram and TikTok accounts boasted millions of followers who hung on his every word and admired his lifestyle. Comments lavished praise on his physique, his style, and his apparent success, feeding his ego and reinforcing his belief in his own superiority.

But beneath the veneer of confidence and bravado, Tony's personality had become shallow and self-centered. He had little patience for dissent or criticism, dismissing opposing viewpoints with a condescending smirk or a dismissive wave of his hand. Empathy and humility had been replaced by a sense of entitlement and a craving for validation, driving him to constantly seek attention and admiration from his online audience.

Tony stood in front of the camera, flexing his muscles and admiring his reflection. His body was a testament to years of hard work at the gym, dedication to a strict diet, and an unwavering belief in himself. As he posed for the camera on his phone, capturing every angle of his massive biceps and chiseled abs, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

"Big Tony," he said aloud with a smirk as he struck another pose, "fucking aces. fucking king of the fucking world." He snapped another photo before checking his social media notifications yet again. There were hundreds more comments praising him for being an inspiration or asking for advice on how they could achieve similar results. It was all too easy to get lost in this world where everyone seemed to be cheering him on and validating everything he did.

"Keep those likes coming," Tony muttered under his breath as he scrolled through endless streams of compliments and admiration from strangers across the globe. He knew deep down that there was more to life than just being famous or having big muscles but sometimes it felt like that was all anyone cared about anymore.

In the background, Tony's room slowly began to show signs of neglect as he became more consumed by his online presence. Beer cans littered the floor around him, their contents long since gone flat or warm depending on how long they had been sitting there. Posters featuring scantily clad women with large breasts hung on every available surface while sports posters adorned others - remnants from a time when Tony actually cared about something other than himself.

The air in the room reeked of musk, sweat, beer and sex; an intoxicating mix that seemed both familiar yet foreign at once. It was as if these smells were emanating directly from within Tony himself – a testament not only to his physical prowess but also hinting at deeper desires left unfulfilled beneath all those layers of bravado and ego.

#gay to straight #male tf #transformation #douchebag tf

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blitzyn · 5 months

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a different method final pt

teacher!zhongli x m!reader

request: drop by to ask will there ever be a chance for part 3 with teacher zhongli? i dont know man. him and reader are so cute together. maybe i am crazy??? wanna see reader actually tries his best and gets his reward-

part one | part two

a/n -> oh my god i need francis mosses and wriothesley to fuck me right this INSTANT

wc -> 4k

cw -> praise, anal fingering, anal sex, mating press, desk sex, semi-public sex, teacher zhongli, student reader, not beta read

You were nervous. Jitters ran along the length of your spine and pooled in your chest, leaving a deep cavity that filled with anxiety. Why were you so anxious in the first place? It’s just a test. You’ve taken plenty of them during the course of your life.

You tried to play it cool, masking your face with a facade of nonchalance, hoping no one could see how clammy your hands were getting or your heartbeat, or the sweat rolling down—oh god was someone looking at you? Could they see through you? What if they could read your mind? Did they know that you were secretly trying to get your teacher to fuck you again?

You forced to stop yourself from physically deflating in relief when they looked away. Seemed like they were just looking around the room in an attempt to search for a hint or an answer to the question they were on. Right. The test. You’d finished it not too long ago, and now you were in the overthinking stage, wondering if you could’ve worded something better or if a different answer was right, but you forced yourself to calm the fuck down. You studied for this (surprisingly) and you were sure that at least half of your answers were correct. Hopefully.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard your teacher speak, notifying the class that there was five minutes left, and you could see a few write faster as they tried to finish on time. Those five minutes felt like an eternity, watching the agonizingly slow ticking of the clock above the door leisurely make its way to four, then three, then two, one… thirty seconds, and…

Finally!

You took your time packing up, watching your classmates rush out of the door, eager to leave the boring room. It wasn’t until the last person made their way out did you walk up to your teacher’s desk, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“May I help you?” He questioned, offering you a brief glance as he reached over to grab the pile of test papers. It was frustrating how he could just ignore your past… ordeals like they were nothing, but you were determined to claim your keep.

“Can you, uh, grade my paper? Now, I mean,” you requested, trying to fight off your growing eagerness, but it seemed that it didn’t matter when he quirked an eyebrow. He gave you an unconvinced look, leaning back on his chair to properly look at you, searching your eyes for something. “Please,” you hastily added, hoping it’d be enough to convince him.

“Why not wait until next week?” He seemed to have found what he was looking for as he relaxed his expression, crossing his arms across his chest. “Is there something urgent?”

“No, it’s just…” you trailed off, pursing your lips. You weren’t sure how to explain without sound too eager, but you were almost ninety percent sure he knew why you wanted him to grade it now. “I wanna see how I did. ‘Cause… I studied this time. So…”

An intrigued glint shone in his golden eyes, and his head bobbed in a slow, understanding nod. He returned to the stack and scanned through the list of names until he found yours, pulling out the answer sheet to look over. It was silent for a while, save for the occasional scratch of his pen and the obnoxious tick-tock of the clock. You crossed your arms across your chest and examined the room absentmindedly, finding it too weird to watch him grade in this silence.

“You’ve done well,” he suddenly spoke, the richness of his voice gently guiding you out of your thoughts. “Congratulations.”

You saw that he rotated the paper to you, letting you look at the numbers that adorned the white page. 47/50, it read, marking this your highest grade yet.

“That’s good,” you hummed, risking a glance up at him, only to find him already watching you expectantly.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” He questioned, and you could’ve sworn that he had the faintest of smirks. It was gone as quick as you saw it, but you were sure it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you. You paused, feeling the uncomfortable weight of embarrassment creeping in your mind, stopping the words on the tip of your tongue. What were you so nervous about? You did good and everyone knew he didn’t go back on his word.

“You said you’d reward me if I did good,” you reminded, leaning forward a touch too eagerly.

“Did I?” He replied, his expression unchanging even when it was clear what you wanted. “The reward was the knowledge and understanding of this unit. Are you not satisfied?”

Fuck.

“Oh. Uh,” you were mortified—how could you not be? Technically, he didn’t specify what the prize would be. You just assumed it’d include him fucking you like the last two times. You stared at him, pursing your lips, not really bothering to hide the obvious displeasure in your face. “If I say no, will I get something else?”

The corners of his lips raised in a smug smile as he intertwined his fingers together, resting them atop the smooth wood of his desk. You noticed the familiar glint of amusement in his eyes and groaned softly. He was just messing with you.

“I suppose so,” he said, beckoning you closer to him with a refined hand. He flattened it along the curve of your hip, gently guiding you to the edge of his desk as he stood up to press himself against you. “You’ve done well today. You must’ve been very determined to get what you wanted, hm?”

You nodded slightly, almost shyly, shuddering at the feeling of his hand sliding down your pelvis to palm at your crotch. He was (not so) surprised to have felt you already hardening under his touch, but he didn’t comment on it, instead giving your cock an experimental squeeze. Your knees nearly buckled, grateful to have the desk supporting your weight as he stroked and explored your body.

“You’re more sensitive than the previous times we’ve done this,” he noted, leaning back to slot his thigh between your own and tilt your bashful head up. His grip was firm, unrelenting, raising goosebumps along your arms at his—frankly strange—strength. You hardly paid it any heed, of course. It just added to his appeal. “Have you been anticipating this moment since then?”

He refused to let you look away, tightening his grip on your chin to make you meet his golden eyes. You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard before steeling your nerves. He said you could have this, so you were going take it.

“Yeah,” you replied, rolling your hips into the palm of his hand needily. You bit your lip at the jolt of electricity that traveled up your spine, sending your senses into overdrive. You could smell his cologne—it was rich and smooth, subtle and fitting for a man like him. He was all you could feel, hear, and see as his hand made its way to the front of your pants, deftly undoing the button to tug them down.

“My, I can’t imagine how pent up you must be to be this aroused already,” he teased, his cheeks raised in a minuscule smirk. He swiftly pulled his gloves off and ran his hands ran over the curve of your thighs this time, sliding along the underside to lift you onto the desk. You tensed when the cold surface met your heated skin, but it was soon forgotten when you watched him slide your boxers off, breath hitching as he wrapped his hand around your cock.

He pressed his thumb onto the sensitive head, giving it a quick rub before lifting it, noticing the thin string of precum connecting his finger to you. He tightened his hold again to start jerking you off, listening intently to the slick noises and your breathy moans. He could feel his own dick beginning to harden, straining against the fabric of his slacks, but he ignored it for the sake of pleasuring you.

His touch was addicting. Hypnotizing. Entrancing. Anything and everything under the sun because you couldn’t get enough of how damn good he was. He knew just how tight to squeeze, the right pace, what made you shudder and squirm. The build-up was slow and delicious, clouding over your mind until your thoughts were hardly coherent enough to speak out.

“Damn—you’re… you’re good,” you shakily panted, eyes darting between his warm, strong hand and his own irises. Your cock throbbed, twitching at the sound of his low, amused chuckle. You clutched at the edge of the desk hard enough to make your hands shake, thighs flexing as you writhed. Though, you were careful enough not to accidentally kick him.

“I’m flattered you think so,” he responded, moving himself so that his hip pressed one of your thighs wider. He felt you hook your leg around his waist and tighten when he moved his hand away to prod his fingertips against your lips, wordlessly demanding entry. Eagerly, you complied, opening your mouth to let him press onto your tongue and gather your saliva.

You hummed at the feeling before closing your lips around them, gently sucking on them as you gauged his reaction. You couldn’t catch his overall expression shifting, but you did see his eyebrow raise the slightest bit and feel his cock throb against your ass. He let out a breath when he felt the suction alongside your tongue swirling around his skin, coating his fingers in your saliva. He pushed them further down, resulting in a soft gag from you. He held them there for a moment longer before pulling away, watching you break the thin trail that connected you to him with a swift swipe of your tongue over your slick lower lip.

Without missing a beat, he reached down, and you were fully expecting to feel him prod at your hole, but his hand targeted the handle of one of his drawers. You huffed impatiently and rolled your eyes when he pulled out a bottle of lube, listening to the sound of the cap being flipped open.

“Was the whole finger thing really necessary?” You grumbled, gasping slightly when he tugged your hips forward just enough so your ass hung off of the edge. You gave him a weak glare when he poured some of it on your asshole directly, tensing and shuddering at the sudden temperature drop.

“No,” he replied smoothly, easing his fingers into you. “But surely you didn’t expect to be the only one enjoying himself?” He questioned rhetorically, pumping them in and out slow enough so that the wet squelching was the only thing you could hear. “I also had no intention of using my saliva this time.”

“Could’ve started by now,” you said under your breath, mildly bitter that he had you gagging on his fingers just ‘cause he felt like it.

“Have patience,” he murmured, jabbing his slender fingers into your prostate in response to your vulgar words. He jerked you off with his free hand, paying close attention to each of your reactions, down to the minuscule twitch. “I know you can do that. If you can pass a simple test, how much more is waiting to you?”

You remained silent, swallowing the impending retort. You huffed through your nose, watching his hands expertly working your body better than you’d ever have. Your hips jerked and your cock pulsed rhythmically whenever he curled his slender fingers into that one spot that had you seeing stars. It was hard to keep quiet, and you were sure he was making this as difficult as he possibly could for you.

The heat in your belly intensified with every second—with every jab to your sensitive prostate and stroke along your painfully hard dick. Your labored breaths came out in quick pants, hitching when he teased the leaking tip. You were fully expecting him to take his time, to feel the gradual buildup, so when he suddenly speeds up, you accidentally let out a loud moan.

He gave you a sharp look, reminding you that you couldn’t afford to be loud despite not letting up. You swiftly clamped a hand over your mouth, weakly glaring at him for the sudden onslaught of stimulation, but you could hardly keep up the attitude for long. You squeezed your eyes shut and squirmed, nostrils flaring at the effort as your hips jerked every so often.

“F–Fuck, sir,” you panted, your eyebrows furrowing when you looked up at him pleadingly. “I’m gonna… m’gonna cum.”

“Go ahead,” Zhongli murmured, watching you intently. And, like his rich, smooth voice was a trigger, you did. You bit down on your lip so hard you nearly punctured it, unable to completely muffle your moans as the sounds slipped past your hand. He didn’t scold you for it, instead deciding to continue to move his hands, milking out as much cum out of your cock as he could before you started to whine at the budding overstimulation.

He let you take a moment to gather yourself, shifting to grab a tissue and wipe his fingers clean. He turned back to look at you when you sighed, leaning back to place most of your weight on your palms.

“Do you need a break?” He questioned, placing his hands back on your bare thighs. He was in no rush despite having his painfully hard dick straining against his pants, and you were internally impressed with his self control.

“No,” you replied without missing a beat, hooking your knee around his waist to tug him closer, but he hardly budged. “Fuck me. Now. I’ll be fine,” you urged. It seemed that demands were your strong suit this time around.

“Learning to have patience will benefit you greatly,” he said, and you watched the way he took a deep breath in a manner you knew meant that he was about to go on a long tangent of life lessons or something along the line. You gave him a pleading look, to which he acknowledged with yet another subtle, smug smirk. Good lord, when he wasn’t in a serious setting or teaching, he could be a pain in the ass. Literally and figuratively.

“Stop doing that,” you huffed, but you could hardly maintain that (already weak) sense of annoyance when he moved to undo his pants, eyes quickly and instinctively making their way towards his cock. You could see the tip of it beading with precum and the way it flushed an angry red.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow what you’re trying to imply,” he responded, all of his amusement fizzling away to make room for the faux ignorance. He reached over to grab the bottle of lube to pour a generous amount onto his palm and rub it along his dick, creating quiet squelching sounds that, now that you thought about it, made you cringe.

“So you just casually have lube laying around?” You questioned, looking back up at him curiously like you weren’t about to have sex. You had a strange relationship, honestly.

“I got it recently. Based on your reaction towards our last session together, it was easy to assume that you’d make a genuine effort,” he said, wiping most of the lube off his hand with a tissue before hefting your thighs up his broad shoulders. “You’re quite predictable.”

You didn’t bother to refute this time, wincing slightly at the tension to your lower back. “Ow—careful,” you hissed, shifting to get comfortable when you paused suddenly, feeling the head of his cock press against your asshole.

“You’ll be fine,” he gently assured, resting his free hand beside your head. “Bear with it.”

He pushed forward—gently this time, unlike the way he so roughly shoved himself inside you like the first time. You tensed regardless, mildly uncomfortable with the burn that came with his entry.

“Relax,” he murmured, rubbing a hand on your thigh in a comforting manner, coaxing your relaxation forth. He sank in slowly, breathing in deeply as he fought the urge to shove himself in one go. It felt better this way, he realized, taking his time instead of rushing it out of the sake of irritation. “You’re doing well. Just breathe.”

You nodded sheepishly, resting your head back against his desk. Your chest fell and rose rhythmically, making yourself relax to make things easier for both you and him. You sank your teeth into your lower lip and grunted when he finally buried himself all the way inside you, listening to him grunt in satisfaction.

“Fuck… is it me, or did you literally get bigger?” Your voice was strained, breathy and shaky. Your legs tightened slightly around his shoulders, staring at him needily.

“No, nothing about me has changed,” he chuckled softly, finding your state humorous. “But you have. You’ve improved your character within this room and proved that you’re more than capable of passing my class. You’ve made me proud, [L.Name].”

“Oh. Haha. Really?” You laughed awkwardly, turning your head to the side bashfully. Butterflies fluttered within your stomach at the praise, feeling a sudden rush of giddiness that you were hardly able to hide. “I guess I am doing better, huh?”

He nodded in response, his golden eyes softening. “I will begin now.”

You gasped, instinctively looking down to watch him pull out a bit and softly push back inside. You shuddered at the drag of his cock against your prostate, biting your lip once again to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your throat.

He moved rhythmically, his gaze locked on your blissful expression. His cock throbbed as he slid in and out, again and again, targeting your prostate with pinpoint precision. “You’re taking me so well,” he muttered, grunting softly, your soft moans mixing in with the wet, gentle slaps that filled the room.

“Shit—don’t say stuff like that,” you stubbornly said, slapping a hand over your mouth when he jabbed his dick up against your prostate with a sharp thrust.

“No? But is it—” He groaned, his eyebrows furrowing when he felt you squeeze tighter around him, letting out a strained, labored breath. He tightened his fingers into fists that had his knuckles turning white, pressing his hips against your ass firmly for a moment before resuming. “But is it not the truth?”

You rolled your eyes, using your lack of momentum to kick his back with the heel of your foot. “You talk too much…”

“Is that so?” He retorted, a faint smirk gracing his features as he bent down lower, brushing his lips against your ear, and ignored the strained grunt you let out at the added tension to your back. “Then what would you like me to do?”

You hesitated, shivering pleasantly as his breath ghosted the shell of your ear. “Harder. Go harder.” The two of you remained silent for a beat, and you quickly realized he was expecting something else. “Please.”

“Good boy. Just because I’m doing this for you doesn’t mean you simply forget your manners,” he scolded lightheartedly.

And, like clockwork, your jaw snapped open to argue, but he wouldn’t allow it this time. He rammed his cock so hard in you stars danced through your vision, your body tensing and clenching down tighter around his cock. His breaths came out shallow and labored, focused on churning your insides to mush while you tried your damn best to keep yourself from getting too loud.

“Fuck—oh my God, sir, please—” you choked out, hands scrambling for purchase. You covered your mouth with one and buried your fingers in his hair with the other, inadvertently tugging on the strands and messing up his ponytail. “Wait…!”

“Is this not what you wanted?” He rhetorically questioned, his voice low, not needing to raise his volume over your surprised and needy moans. “A shame,” he continued, finding no desire to let up any time soon. He panted harshly into your neck, letting his eyes squeeze shut as he savored the feeling of your tight hole fluttering and pulsing around him. This closeness was unwarranted and wrong, he of all people knew that. But as you whimpered and whined into his ear, he also found that he didn’t mind it.

All that could be heard were the resounding slaps and your poorly concealed noises. The desk creaked slightly, straining under your combined weight as he kept you pinned down with his body, ignoring the quiet rustle of paper as a few fluttered off the desk.

“Fuck, m’so close, sir,” came your muffled words, eyes rolling in ecstasy as you dragged your hand down to clutch tightly at his back, fingers desperately curling into his clothes. “G-Gonna cum—don’t stop!”

“Quiet,” he shushed you, giving one of your thighs a brief pinch before he grabbed hold of your weeping cock to stroke it in time with his movements. Slick sounds emanated from you as he jerked you off with dexterity, stoking the raging heat in your belly. “I know you can lower your voice. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

You meekly shook your head, letting go of his back to place both hands over your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling yourself jolt up and down as he rammed himself into your ass rhythmically. Your legs tightened slightly around his neck, searching for something to cling to. You were so close and you knew he was aware of it. He refused to let up, pushing you higher and higher, groaning when you tightened around him reflexively.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your hands hardly able to catch your voice as you came hard, body shuddering and convulsing. He squeezed your dick, slowing down considerably to help you through your orgasm, sweat rolling down his temple at the shared body heat and the effort to please you.

He pulled out with a grunt, letting one of your legs fall off his shoulder as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off, sighing in satisfaction when he finally came. You shivered, resting an arm over your eyes in exhaustion as the two of you basked in the afterglow, chest heaving up and down as you panted hard.

“You’ve done well,” he murmured, cleaning his hands off with a tissue to massage your trembling thighs, giving you a moment to recompose yourself. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks…” you replied, taking your arm off your face to look at him. He was disheveled--the most unkempt you've ever seen him. You sighed gratefully when he moved your remaining leg down to grab another tissue and wipe off his and your cum that landed on your stomach.

"Here, take this." He handed you a bottle of water, fixing himself as soon as you accepted it. "It'll do you well to rehydrate yourself, especially after an intensive session such as this."

You drank a generous amount, wiping your mouth after you put the bottle down to retrieve your pants and underwear when he handed them to you. "Thanks. Again."

"Of course." He nodded, giving you more space to put your clothes back on, watching you with a soft expression. "It's getting late. Would you like me to escort you home?"

"I'm okay. I live, like, what, ten minutes away by foot?" You shook your head, wincing slightly at the ache in your back. You stood up and stretched, yawning, as you made your way away from the desk. You noticed a piece of paper on the floor and bent down to grab it, flipping it over to place atop the surface, realizing that it was your test that fell. Staring at the red numbers for a moment longer, you were overcome with a sense of embarrassment.

Man, the things you'd do for dick.

"Don't expect any leniency from me, [L.Name]," he said, walking over towards the window to open it, letting a fresh breeze carry the smell of sex outside. "My demands still remain."

"I know," you sighed, feigning dejection before you grabbed your stuff, walking towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you then."

670 notes · View notes

balkanradfem · 9 months

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Anti capitalistic methods of self reliance!

Everyday items:

Plastic bags can be replaced by cloth bags you can sew, without any prior knowledge of sewing, from any old shirt you were going to throw away

Toilet paper can partly or completely be replaced by 'Family cloth', which is a series of cloth napkins cut to the size you like, which are then washed after each use! There's no risk of disease if only used for number one, for number two they need to be submerged into peroxide liquid in order to be safely cleaned. Even if you only use them for number one to stay safe, being reusable and costing nothing they will save you a lot in not having to buy toilet paper

Paper towels can be replaced by little cut-out cloths you can easily wash after use, or a simple kitchen and bathroom cloth for cleaning

Paper tissues have originally been handkerchiefs, washable and reusable, zero waste option (and they can be very pretty too!)

Laundry detergent can be replaced by horse chestnuts, or conkers! If cut open and submerged in water, they will produce soapy water, which is equally good at cleaning as your laundry detergent, completely environmentally friendly and free if you foraged the chestnuts. They can be collected and dried to use for the entire year, and you can tie them up in a sock to put in your washing machine.

Cleaning products can be replaced by vinegar, and if you hate the smell you can change it by infusing citrus peels in it! It will smell like oranges and lemons after you leave them in there for a few weeks

Cleaning products can also be self-made, by fermenting food scraps, it's called 'enzyme cleaner' and it can clean most of things in a completely environmentally friendly way!

Shampoo can be self-made, or replaced with options like herbal teas, which will also ensure that your hair no longer gets greasy, as grease is the result of using shampoo

Menstrual pads can be sown from any discarded pieces of cloth, they only need to be submerged in cold water after use in order for blood to wash out. Additionally you can make washable menstrual panties, which make sure your pads don't move in there!

Simple medicine for aches like stomach cramps, headaches, anxiety, sore throat can be found in the basic knowledge of herbalism, and simply making teas from herbs that soothe these issues. They will not be able to cure a heavy disease, but are able to provide momentary relief from annoying aches!

Immunity booster syrup can be made out of elderberries, if you're careful about not getting any seeds or stems in!

if you're growing food, you can grow your own dish sponges, and washing sponges, the plant is called 'Loofah' and you can grow a whole lot in one season then use them for years

Reuse plastic items for as long as you can, to lessen the amount being thrown into landfills, and if you need new items, aim to get a not-plastic one

If you have lots of paper trash or newspapers, you can learn to make baskets from it.

Instead of throwing away food scraps, you can try setting up a simple composting bin and also get some valuable free soil, that is great for growing little plants and herbs in it

If you're composting on a big scale, the heat compost produces can be used to heat a room

getting into hobbies like soap making, pottery, woodcarving, sewing, knitting or weaving can also save you a lot of purchasing because you realize you can simply make that thing yourself, and in better quality than it would be available at the store

Saving water and energy:

Accumulating water in a big pot while you're washing dishes, then using that water to water your houseplants is safe, especially if you're not using a lot of detergent, and it saves a lot of water

To save energy when cooking in a pot in the stove, wait until your pot starts boiling, then take it off the stove, and wrap it in a cloth, then a towel, then a blanket, and leave it wrapped up. The layers of cloth are making it difficult for the heat to escape the pot, ensuring it will keep very high temperature for half an hour, cooking as if it was on the stove. If it needs to cook longer, you can just put in on the stove for a minute to get it back to boil. You can cook pasta, rice, beans, potatoes, soups, stews, risotto, pretty much anything with long cooking time like this.

If your water boiler is big, you don't need to leave it on at all times, I've reduced my electricity bills by a lot by turning it on only when I intend to use the hot water. In the summer, if you have access to a natural body of water, use that for washing!

If you own a property, watch where the water is naturally going and accumulating; you can collec t this water and set up a system to use it for gardening/any outdoor use

if you're building a structure, making sure that the sun hits the windows in the winter, and that the place is protected from the wind by growing trees as a wind shield, will save loads of energy in heating and cooling it, as well as making sure the structure is well insulated

Heat/cool only the parts of the structure/house that you're using, making it both environmentally friendly and ensuring you don't have a too big temperature difference when you go outside, making you healthier

Try an experiment were you go a day without electricity and see what you can use as alternative in this situation; it's okay if you fail, it will provide you with knowledge of how dependant you are on the energy, and the ideas of what you can possibly do when without!

Clothing:

If sewing clothing from scratch is something that appeals to you, that is ideal for self-reliance! It is likely that after just a bit of practice, you'll be able to sew more quality items than are sold, because current fashion items are made to fall apart, and you can make your clothing strong and durable.

Sharing clothing you no longer want to wear, and letting others know they can offer their unwanted pieces to you can provide you not only with practical clothing, but you can use all fabric, buttons, zippers and other materials to sew! You can, again with minimal practice and even by hand-sewing, make your own bags, tablecloths, placemats, pillows, blankets, decorations, hats and scarfs

Visible mending, embroidering, adding details or creating your own little alterations on clothing will not only provide a sense of accomplishment, but enrich your life in the way of skill development and being able to make and mend things with little resources

Learning about history of textiles and what fast fashion is doing to the environment provides appreciation and love for sewing and creating textiles, and could inspire you to try and see how it feels to do!

Any piece of clothing that is no longer fit to be remade into something new, can still be cut into pieces and used for cleaning, as a paper towel replacement, for wiping the floor or wiping your shoes, and if it's soft, for pillow filling!

For extra clothing or furniture, you can join online groups named 'buy nothing' and 'sharing is caring', where people will often gift extra clothes and furniture for free, sometime appliances and electronics too

Food:

If any outside space is available, learning to garden is an excellent investment in food security

Seeds can be harvested from plants you already have, gifted from neighbour or friend gardeners, and some can even be taken out of store-bought produce

Soil can be taken from the forest ground which has composted leaves as topsoil, dig under a tree for best results

If no outside space is availabe, dwarf plants, herbs, and greens can be grown in containers, clean your air while they also provide food

Learning to forage for wild edible plants will provide both entertainment and free food! Any wild plant you find is likely to be more rich in nutrients than a cultivated plant, making your diet well rounded and healthy

Learning to grow trees and care for them will provide free food not only for you, but for generations to come, as well as offset the damage from the climate change. Knowing how trees work and how to prune and nourish them is powerful knowledge.

Preserving food:

Ways of preserving your food long-term are curing (for onions, potatoes, garlic, pumpkins), canning (tomatoes, peppers, fruit), fermenting (cabbage, hot peppers, turnips), dehydrating and sun-drying (tomatoes, fruit, herbs, hot peppers, mushrooms)

Growing and collecting food during warm months and then saving them for winter was done by people for centuries and it provides a safe and reliable access to food all year round

Buying cheap produce when it's in-season and preserving it can save you a lot of money and bring you far in self-reliance

Making your own recipes and then getting to eat them later in the season bring a sense of accomplishment and pride, as well as providing a zero waste food option

Cooking food from scratch is made easier by having some of your food preserved, because a lot of the time you've already prepaired most of your ingredients, and only have to place them in the pot

If you already know to make your own bread, you can also try making your own yeast, by mixing flour and water, and letting it ferment while adding more flour and water every day. It can last forever.

If you're interested in knowing more about gardening, herbalism, tree care, and foraging, check the 'Homesteading Survival Knowledge' masterlist, filled with links on these specific topics!

These are not ideas that anyone should quickly or immediately integrate in their life; instead, trying whatever seems interesting and appealing, slowly learning about it and trying one thing at the time is more encouraging and sustainable! I myself have spent years learning and integrating these, enabling me to feel happy and confident doing any and all of this. If this is overwhelming, pick whatever feels appealing and do only that! Forget the rest until it feels easy and fun thing to try out.

#anti capitalism #homesteading #self reliance #permaculture #alternatives to capitalism #growing food #environment #zero waste

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star-whores-a-new-hoe · 5 months

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The Comfort of Strangers //Padawan! Obi-Wan X Fem! Reader

A/N: Well...Hi! I haven't written in two years! I'll post a little update soon but I was INCREDIBLY horny inspired after seeing the Phantom Menace in theaters! Hope you enjoy this lil smutty Padawn Obi fic!

Summary: You and all of Queen Amidala's handmaidens are stuck on Tatooine waiting for Qui Gon to get the hyperdrive parts you need. With all the stress and anxiety of escaping Naboo, the good-looking Palawan stuck on the ship with you looks like a good distraction.

Warnings VERY IMPORTANT: I know Padme and her handmaidens are pretty young, but for the purposes of this story READER IS OVER 18!!!!! That being said, this fic contains, smut, kinda a hookup, using sex with a stranger as comfort, risk of being caught, P in V action, unprotected sex, pull-out method, handy, some finger-banging action, dirty talk, some implied Qui Gon x Reader x Obi-Wan action for a minute there oop, and probably some spelling and grammar mistakes!

Word Count: 2.8 K

With the whirlwind of events that was the invasion of Naboo, one would think that boredom would bring some welcome relief. They would be sorely mistaken.

The rush of adrenaline that had flooded your veins as you and the other handmaidens frantically dressed sabé, hands, and hearts a flurry, before chasing you up the ramp of the starfighter with gunfire at your back had finally subsided. Now, with the monotonous heat of Tatooine creeping into the ship, there was nothing but dull numbness left.

Padme had left over a day ago to experience this strange outer-rim world you all had landed on. That left the rest of you with nothing to do but worry. Senator Vancil regularly sent updates urging Queen Amidala to contact him. Each of his messages was more dire than the last. News of your people in camps, starving, dying, surrounded by those damned battle droids, those disgusting Numoidions watching gleefully from the high walls of the Theed palace.

You could practically feel all of the handmaidens' hearts sink in tandem with each new update. That young Jedi, Obi-Wan, simply reminded the Queen, (or who he figured to be the queen) to send no reply. Had he no empathy?! Obviously, none of you were dumb enough to risk the safety of your mission, the safety of your people, in transmitting any kind of message but could he not for a moment let down his Jedi knight persona and give you all some grace?

Jedi learner actually, I suppose. You thought to yourself. Curled up in an out-of-the-way nook, the hood of your orange handmaiden dress hung limply down your back. Normally you were grateful for the thick velvet robes in space, but even with the ship's cooling systems still online it seemed that they were no match for Tatooine. The oppressive heat sat thickly in the stale air, leaving everyone on board anxious and irritable.

You couldn't lie to yourself. Between your fear and anxiety, the sight of that young padawan was a welcome distraction. You were positive you weren't the only one who thought so, you had definitely caught your fellow handmaiden's eyes flick over him from under their hoods. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the cocky banter he had shared with his master, even in the flurry of battle, or maybe it was the way the collar of his Jedi robes opened just enough for you to want to see more. Or perhaps it was the way you could imagine tugging on that padawan braid as-

“Oh, apologies, I didn't realize there was anyone back here.”

You start, ripped from your thoughts by the man himself. He stood, palm braced against the doorway to your little hideaway. He’d discarded his Jedi cloak, leaving him the tan robes.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly. “Just…taking a breather.” Truth be told, in a ship this size there wasn't much space for ‘breathers.’ There's a beat of awkward silence before he clears his throat.

“I assumed you would be with your queen and fellow Handmaidens in the royal quarters.” You resist the urge to scoff. Little did he know your queen was off in the deserts of Tatooine.

“I think we’re all just processing that last message from the senator. I just needed a moment to myself I guess.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He turns to walk away and you scramble for anything to keep the conversation going.

“What’s it like being a Jedi?” You cringe at the question. He looks back over his shoulder at you.

“Well, Padawan.” He corrects, sheepishly.

“Right, yes. What’s it like to be a Padawan?” He turned to face you full-on, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway.

“It’s a life of service and peace.” He says simply. “I am devoted to the service of the Republic and the force.” You hum in response.

“What’s it like being a handmaiden?” He asks, a teasing edge in his voice. From this angle, with you still curled up on the floor, he towers over you, looking down at you with a seductive smirk that makes your stomach do cartwheels.

“It’s a life of service and peace.” You repeat. “I am devoted to my queen, my people, and my planet.”

“My, my, sounds like we have quite a few similarities.” You crack a weak smile.

“Why not take a seat?” You offer, motioning towards the cramped bit of floor in front of you. “I highly doubt you have anything better to do.” He raises an eyebrow at you before obliging. “You must live in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, right?” You ask as he squeezes into the cramped space, his knees knocking against yours.

“Indeed, Coruscant has been my home for as long as I can remember.”

“I've always wanted to see Coruscant. My family went when I was very small but I don’t remember it. I always meant to visit. I just never thought it would be under such…dire circumstances.” There's another beat of silence.

“How are you and the others fairing?” You pause, debating your response. None of you had discussed it with each other. Your grief was so profound, deep, and shared in the way only sisters know. There had been no need to speak of it. But perhaps voicing it would help.

“I think this is going to be the hardest part. At least I, we, were all doing something by escaping the planet, almost getting shot down. But this, just waiting… maker it’s eating me alive.” He nodded solemnly.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” It’s not meant to be a cruel question, but definitely a pointed one. “I thought Jedi didn't do emotions?”

“Jedi don’t do attachments. We are encouraged to feel emotions, they bring us closer to the force, closer to all the living things around us.” Maker, you wanted him closer.

A part of you hated yourself for wanting distraction, for seeing the first person in front of you, and wanting to find that special kind of escape and comfort. But a bigger part of you craved the young man in front of you, the release from this monotonous boredom and anxiety.

“And what about…entanglements?” You purposefully tap your knee against his, letting a sultry gaze flood your eyes. He straightened slightly, his quizzical gaze raking you over.

“Is that really what you want?” His question wasn't accusative or disgusted but genuinely curious, soft, and gentle. The seductive fire in your eyes dies down slightly. Your eyes flick down to the floor.

“Is that so bad?” It comes out barely louder than a whisper. A gentle hand lifts your chin till your gaze meets baby blue eyes, nearly the same shade as the lightsaber you watched him wield earlier. Oh how his hands had moved with such skill and grace, you couldn't help but imagine how those calloused, practiced hands would feel running over your body. Obi-wan smiled.

“If that's what you feel, then it’s not bad at all.” Abruptly he pulled back, the sensation of him leaving your bubble had you feeling cold even in the burning ship. “Yes, Jedi are allowed to have entanglements.”

“Oh.” you flash him a sly grin, confidence slowly seeping into you. “Good to know.”

“Indeed.” His eyes bore into yours, the tension between the two of you was electric.

“Well if you ask me,” You say, placing a hand on his knee. “We have quite some time to kill before your Master gets back with the parts we need, don’t you think?” Obi-Wan’s hand came up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I’d be inclined to agree.”

“Why don't we kill some time then? Hmm?” Obi-Wan’s face lights up in a devilish smirk as his hands glide up to your waist.

“Doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.”

You lean forward, a soft smile on your lips that matches his before the young Jedi captures your mouth with his. It’s not the quick frantic touches one would expect of a hidden tryst. It’s soft and comforting like you both know you need the solace of another, the soothing touches of a lover not the hard and fast pace of a quick fuck.

You sigh against him, melting into his touch. Your hands slide over the expanse of his broad chest up to rest on his shoulders. One of Obi-Wan’s hands slides up over your spine, sending shivers through your body before he tenderly cradles your neck. His tongue teases the seal of your lips and you gladly let him in, pulling yourself closer to him as his tongue explores your mouth.

Pulling you fully into his lap, you can feel the bulge in his pants press against you. Simply the thought of it makes you wet. You grind your hips against him testingly and he hums his encouragement. One of Obi-Wan’s hands moves to your knee. Ever so delicately he slides his hand upwards over your thigh, the hem of your dress pulled ever upwards with his movements. His hand resting on the bare skin of your upper thigh, he gently moves you to grind against him again.

As you rut against him, Obi-Wan’s lips leave yours to place open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the expanse of your neck, and over the limited bit of collarbone exposed by your dress. You expose your neck to him with a sigh, letting your head fall back into the reassuring weight of his hand cradling your head.

This was it. What you so desperately needed. The reassuring touches of another that sent electric currents through your body. The safety of being held in someone's arms. Here, in this little nook with Obi-Wan, even if it was for just a moment, was paradise.

Your hands sneak their way between the two of your bodies. Reaching for his hand that gripped the pillowy flesh of your thigh, you guide him to rest it on your breast. Taking the queue, Obi-Wan gives your tit a gentle squeeze, smoothing his thumb in little circles over the fabric right where he knows your nipple is.

You practically whine at the sensation, grinding against him even harder. Your hand comes to rest on his crotch.

“Help me take these off?” Your voice comes out much more sultry than you expected. He flashes you a smile that makes your heartache.

“Why of course.” Together, you work him out of his trousers so that his erection stands tall and proud, a tiny bit of pre cum already beading at his tip. Your mouth waters at the sight. Without another thought, you spit in your hand before reaching down to grasp the base of him. He sighs at the contact and without missing a beat you begin to slowly move your hand over the length of him.

“Is that alright?” You ask, his hands slowly wandering over your thighs, ever closer to where you crave him.

“A-a little harder if you don't mind darling.” A part of you swoons at the pet name, and a bigger part of you smirks at making such a fine, confident man stutter.

You oblige, squeezing a bit tighter as you work his length and Obi-Wan throws his head back in bliss.

“Oh yes, just like that.” Seeing an opportunity in front of you, you lean forward to kiss his exposed neck, his padawan braid tickling your nose. A small blush creeps up his neck and over his cheeks as you continue to pleasure him with your hand.

Obi-Wan’s wandering hands finally reach under the skirts of your dress, his fingers dragging along the center of you, feeling the wetness that undoubtedly stains your undergarments.

“Oh my, all this for me?” He teases.

“Just shut up and touch me please.” You groan. Obi-wan places a sweet peak to your cheek.

“How could I say no to someone as lovely as you?” If you weren't flushed before that comment certainly did it. His hands push aside your drenched undergarment, letting two of his fingers leave teasing touches across you, never once letting them brush your aching clit.

“If I’d known you'd be such a tease I would have approached that master of yours.” You tease. Obi-Wan scoffs.

“I’m not a tease, you’re just impatient.” He replies slightly breathlessly. “Besides,” He adds finally drawing little circles in your clit. He leans in close to whisper in your ear. “You must be very naive to think Qui Gon Jinn wouldn't be a merciless fuck.”

For a brief moment, the thought of both of them pleasuring you enters your mind. The older Jedi taking you from behind while he instructs his learner on how to fuck your throat. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Obi-Wan capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, rougher than the last, full of need and lust.

“Obi-Wan,” You pant breathlessly, pulling away from his kiss. “Fuck me.” He groans, taking his cock in his hand to line it up against your entrance. You shimmy forward, knees on either side of him before sinking down.

You both sigh in unison, inch after glorious inch fills you up, stretching you out perfectly. He’s barely inside of you before you start moving, grasping his shoulder to help lift yourself on and off his cock. He grasps your waist, helping you move as you work yourself open on him.

the two of you build up a steady rhythm, it’s all you can do to bite your lip and keep from your moans of delight escaping the room. Obi-Wan hits a certain spot inside of you that sends a sudden gasp from your lips. His hand quickly reaches up to cover your mouth.

“Careful now, wouldn't want the other handmaidens hearing, would we?” You whine quietly in agreement. He smirks. “Think you can handle yourself without me keeping you quiet?” You nod eagerly. “That's what we like to hear.” He practically coos, his hand leaving your mouth to work at your clit, heightening your pleasure tenfold.

Every stroke of his cock inside of you leaves you a bigger mess than the last. You grind against him desperately, hungry for every touch, every current of pleasure he sends through your body, every sensation that takes you further and further from the predicament you’re currently stuck in. Everything was building up, threatening to spill over at any second.

“M-make, I won't last muc-ch longer.” Obi-Wan sighs. His movements on your clit are frantic, his thrusts sloppy like that of a man on the edge. “Please, need you to cum for me.” He practically begs. He slots his head between your neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Need to feel you come around my cock.”

He hits the perfect spot inside you as he whispers his filthy words in your ear, sending you right over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body, your cunt squeezing him like a vice, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing.

“Oh yes, just like that.” He works you through your orgasm, not even ceasing as you slump against him. It’s only when you push his hand away from your overstimulated pussy that he ceases. Reluctantly, you move yourself off of his cock, taking him in your hand and watching with immense satisfaction as he falls apart, spilling his seed over your thighs.

You both sigh, sweat beading both your brows and the air between you hot and heavy with a mixture of your previous actions and the stale Tatooine air.

Swallowing dryly you break the silence. “Thank you.”

“Sincerely my lady, the pleasure was all mine.” He nods to the evidence of such on your thighs which raises a chuckle from you. You produce a handkerchief from a tucked-away pocket and start cleaning his cum from your thighs.

A content quite settles over the two of you as you tidy up, helping each other straighten your clothing. As you tuck Obi-Wan’s padawan braid behind his ear, the high-pitched beep of a comlink interprets the tender moment.

“Obi-Wan, are you there?” His Master’s voice sounds through the device on Obi-Wan’s belt. He gives your hand a slight squeeze as he picks up the com with the other.

“Yes Master, any luck acquiring the part for the hyperdrive?”

“I'm afraid the situation has grown more...complicated.” Obi-Wan sighs.

“Why do I sense that we’ve picked up yet another pathetic life form?” Obi-Wan casts you an apologetic glance as his master continues. Tucking your hair back into your hood, you give him a small smile and nod for him to go. With a soft smile of his own in return, he turns toward to cockpit, the comlink in his hand updating him on the situation.

With a sigh, you turn and walk back toward the quarters where you know the others will be. The dull ache of the tragic events around you was still present, but somewhat subdued thankfully. Who knew you could find so much comfort in strangers?

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eowynstwin · 2 years

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a break in the narrative

previous - neighbors - next

You add John to your morning routine.

You learn John’s routine, at least as far as it overlaps with yours, fairly quickly.

He showers first thing in the morning, when normally you are still in bed trying to convince yourself out of it. In the limbo of fading sleep, it is a Herculean effort not to imagine it, not to picture steaming hot water flowing across broad shoulders, between and along full, plush pectorals, dripping along chiseled arms and down that narrow waist to…

You shake your head hard, and then wince when the action sends your toothbrush stabbing into the inside of your cheek. You are drowsily and unwillingly awake. The flow of water on the other side of the wall shuts off. You pretend, as you move on through your own routine, that you’re not thinking of long, strong legs, or anything else that lives below his abdomen.

It’s harder to hear the further away you get from your shared wall, but with a little time you’ve learned how to pick out the sounds of him working in his kitchen. There might be the thunk—never a harsh clang—of a pan on his stove, or the soft clicks of his fridge opening and closing. He doesn’t cook for very long, and washes his dishes in the sink rather than the washer.

You find that little detail endearing. From what little you know of him, it just seems appropriate.

There’s usually some quiet after that, and you’re pretty sure it’s because he’s eating. You picture him standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, plate balanced in one big hand. He hasn’t struck you yet as someone who would sit down alone to eat.

And he’s always alone. You have not heard anyone else in his flat. Not once.

You wonder at that as your own breakfast heats up. Does he have friends? Family?

A partner?

Your microwave beeps. You scowl at yourself. That’s none of your business. You don’t even know the man.

After he eats, you usually hear him step outside. You’ve peeked through your window, once, and have found him smoking a cigar, standing casually on his front doorstep. He’d been looking out into the street, his gaze moving evenly and methodically across the surrounding neighborhood, calm and attentive to the morning.

SAS. You’d known immediately what he was doing. An unexpected sense of safety had flooded you immediately, and continues to resonate in the here and now as you hear his door open and close.

Today, though, that safety is threaded with a little anxiety. You have to leave early, and it will be the first time you’ve faced him since that morning you’d spent trying to talk to him while ogling his bare chest.

He hadn’t been shirtless when you’d discovered his smoking habit. He probably is not now, either. You cannot decide if it’s a pity or a relief.

You check your hair a little nervously in the mirror hanging by your front door. Breakfast sits warm in a deep jacket pocket, a couple of English muffins wrapped in their plastic and bundled into a tea towel. Lunch is in your work bag, which sits ready and patiently waiting by your feet.

You’re just delaying. Your hair is fine. You breathe a little shakily, pick up your bag, scold yourself for a simpering idiot, and leave your flat.

“Morning, John,” you say as you step out, smiling, trying your best to sound casual.

His gaze comes to you immediately, and your knees feel very weak when those gorgeous blue eyes warm with a smile.

Goodness. Does he smile at everyone like that?

“Mornin’, love,” he replies, and you resolutely ignore how much love—which half your coworkers call you, too, stupid—makes your heart flutter. “Early start?”

“Yeah,” you say, locking your door, feeling your face already heating with a blush. “And a full day, too.”

He turns his head and exhales a puff of bluish smoke. “Wish I could say the same.”

You wrap both hands around the strap of your bag, lean against your door. You can’t help but surreptitiously look him up and down. House slippers, large. Long legs, hugged by worker’s denim, loose at the ankle and snug at the thigh and hip. A tight gray t-shirt providing an easy reminder of what you’d seen in all its glory only a few days ago. And—

“Mutton chops,” you say.

His brows raise. “Sorry?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “That wasn’t meant to be out loud!”

John gives a laugh that sounds like it isn’t often used. The beard you’d first met him wearing is now trimmed neatly into two even swoops of dark auburn that make his smile look even fuller than before. “I suppose you haven’t seen ‘em, have you?”

You’ve often heard the buzz of his razor going as you’ve dragged yourself out of bed. At that point, of course, his shower is done.

Does he shave shirtless, with a towel around his waist?

You blink hard and shake that traitorous thought out of your head. “Sorry, I—don’t get me wrong, I mean, it suits you!”

The bristles of his mustache sound against the palm of his hand as he rubs his face. “You think so?”

Those gorgeous blue eyes are on you again, soft and appreciative, the same as they had been the morning you’d first met him. It makes your entire body feel a little warmer than it should.

“Anyway,” you say fretfully, scratching at the strap of your work bag, “I wanted to say, I imagine it’s hard to be home sometimes, isn’t it? With nothing to do, I mean.”

He gives a huff, but this time it’s a laugh that’s only trying to be amused. He looks out into the street. “Shouldn’t be, really.”

Most days, you hear him pacing. You think you’re able now to puzzle out his moods according to the tempo he beats against the hardwood floor. Slow, even, steps seem to be days that are better—those are days you don’t have to knock on the wall after he’s turned the TV up. When he blasts some sort of audio, it’s always following a stretch of agitated, arrhythmic circuits that travel the whole length of his flat.

You’ve noticed, though, that when you knock, and after he’s turned it down, the pacing does not resume.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone starts dinging furiously. You huff, dig it out, look at the screen—and roll your eyes.

“And I’ve kept you again, haven’t I?” John says ruefully.

“No!” you exclaim, clearing the notifications and looking up at him. “No, it’s just my coworker losing his bloody mind.” You suck on your cheek. “I should probably get going, though, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking up an ash tray and stubbing out his cigar. The rueful quirk of his brow does not leave his face, and the smile he gives seems perfunctory. “Get there safe, will you?”

“Sure, John,” you reply. You want to say something back, tell him something that will make his day easier, but you don’t know what would help, or even be welcome. So you just say, “Thanks.”

You’ve only walked a little ways away when you look back at him, and see him standing with his hand on his open door, about to go inside.

As if he’s felt you gaze on him, he turns and looks at you. You stop in your tracks.

How are his eyes still so blue even this far away?

You lift one hand up. Wave a little hesitantly.

He waves back, easy and casual as you please.

You duck your head, and hurry away.

Your heart jumps to your throat the next morning as you hear him step outside.

You do not need to leave early today, but you’re at your mirror anyway, tidying up your bed head and frowning at yourself.

This is a terrible idea. You have no business doing what you’re about to do. You’re only opening yourself up to disappointment. He’s no one to you, why are you even thinking of doing this? So what if he’d been fucking disappointed when you’d had to leave? You’re just neighbors. It’s been what, a week since he’d come home? If he’s getting attached, it’s no responsibility of yours to deal with.

And really, had he even been disappointed? It’s not like you know him. Maybe that’s just his face. Maybe it’s just your overactive imagination.

Part of you knows you’re making excuses. You aren’t prone to that kind of stupidity. You’ve heard him pacing. You remember shouldn’t be, really.

You know what it’s like to be lonely.

So you get one big mug of coffee in hand, open your front door, and step outside.

John, as expected, is standing there with a lit cigar between his fingers. “Morning, love,” he says, brows lifted. Of course, he hasn’t expected to see you today.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling.

It’s a little colder today, and he’s in a fleece-lined jacket and dark beanie. This surprises you.

“I didn’t think you could get cold, John,” you say, indicating the gear with your mug. “Unless I really was dreaming the first time we met.”

You want to cringe at yourself immediately. Stupid. You have no intention to flirt. You're just being a good neighbor.

The mutton chops spread in a smile. “Bit different when there’s no heat at your back, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” you reply. You bite the inside of your cheek. You hope you sound casual. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you this morning?”

The expression he gives is one that is going to live with you for a long, long time. He blinks at you, slowly, and fixes you with a gaze that goes from surprised to pleased. As it was before, it’s an expression that tells you that you have done something more meaningful than you can know.

“Be happy to have you,” he says, his tenor low and soft.

So, you leave your doorstep to stand with him at his own. He steps to the side, giving you space, and though there is a polite distance between you, something is humming in the empty air.

He surprises you by offering his cigar. Your brows shoot up, and you look from it up to him.

“Maduro,” he says. “Don’t worry—wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t good.”

“Oh,” you say, “thank you, but I don’t smoke.”

He shrugs and takes a drag. “Just came outside to stand with me, then?”

You sip your coffee. It’s the same question you’ve been agonizing over all morning. “Maybe I’m tired of my own company.”

He huffs at that. “Think I know how that feels.”

Silence falls between you, and it is surprisingly comfortable. You think it’s because the two of you are used to not actually speaking to each other—your days occur in parallel, intersecting only with knuckles on the wall. Conversation has not been necessary to be the kind of neighbors you are.

So why are you doing this? Why are you out here, if you’re not even going to speak to him? You’ve been content with the degrees of separation that have characterized your acquaintance with John Price.

Haven’t you?

You peek at him through your lashes. He is every bit as handsome in profile as he is straight on. The mutton chops make his face look fuller, incongruously younger, despite the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Do you like to read?” you find yourself asking.

He turns back to you, brows raised. Somehow the cool morning has seeped into his eyes, sky blue tinted almost periwinkle, sharp and intense and yet still undeniably warm. “Read?”

You have to avert your gaze. Look at the pavement, a sign on the street. “I have plenty of books I wouldn’t mind loaning, is all. It would be something to do.”

His gaze is still on you. You can feel its weight, like hands on your arms, around your wrists. You bring the rim of your mug to your lips and pretend that nothing inside of you is thrumming with the awareness of it.

“Like what?” he asks.

You sip, insisting to yourself that it’s only the heat of your drink warming your ears. “Different things. A retrospective on the Battle of Actium, a Da Vinci biography, an Iranian professor’s memoirs. Those are nonfiction, but I have plenty of novels, too. Space operas. Westerns.” Romances, too, but you aren’t going to mention those.

“Sounds like you’ve got a big bookshelf,” says John, and you think he’s smiling at you.

“And too many books,” you agree. “Which you’re welcome to, if you like.”

You hear him exhale, see pale smoke bloom in front of you both. The scent is earthy and sweet, and a part of you regrets not taking his earlier offer.

The same part of you wonders if it’s what he tastes like.

You’re saved from having the throttle yourself for the thought when John replies, “Think I’ll read ‘em all.”

You blink, and look at him incredulously. “All of them?”

He grins. “You’ve offered a bored soldier on leave something to do, love. There’s a few men I know who’d propose on the spot for that.”

You go completely blank for a single heartbeat. Your brows are trying to make it into your hair. All of the blood in your body rushes to your face, and finally you sputter in protest, “That’s—I—really, now!”

John only adds fuel to that embarrassed flame when he laughs at your expression. It’s a good laugh, a real one, that comes from deep in his chest.

“That’s ridiculous, John, you’ve having me on!” you grouse, covering your mouth with your mug.

“You don’t know too many military men, then,” he chuckles. “They’d fall all over themselves for a pretty girl like you.”

You think your whole body might be hot enough to start steaming. You look at him petulantly. “It’s not nice to tease.”

He smiles and takes a drag. Paints the air translucent blue with his breath. “Haven’t been.”

It’s too much—you can’t string any sensible thoughts together to bring this conversation back under control. This is not how you’d expected the morning to go, is not what you would ever admit to having hoped for.

“I’ll just get those books, then,” you mutter, trying to ignore the smile he wears as you leave his doorstep.

You have a moment to breathe back inside your flat. You realize, as you search along one shelf, that your heart is pounding in your chest, and the scent of his cigar has trapped itself in your lungs. This not good. You should not be this easy.

John is just a bored soldier on leave. He said it himself. You have no business getting worked up over some flirting that likely, to him, means nothing.

If he was even flirting at all, you remind yourself to consider. He’d certainly been amused at your reaction. You don’t think he’d been making fun, but certainly he could’ve just been pushing your buttons.

Haven’t been rings low and purring in your ears.

You return with the three books you’d mentioned, and John takes them all into the crook of his elbow. The stack is dwarfed in his arm.

“Which one should I start with?” he asks, ashtray and cigar stub balanced in his other hand.

You give a surprised laugh. “Why should I care?”

He tilts his head, pins you with amused eyes. “‘M relyin’ on your expertise, I’m afraid. Been a while since I’ve read anything other than reports. Might not be smart enough for the real deal, anymore.”

SAS. “I doubt that.”

He shrugs, and looks at you expectantly.

“Da Vinci, then?” you suggest.

“He did that painting, didn’t he?” John asks. “Louvre. The woman. Uh…”

“Mona Lisa?” you supply, laughing and scandalized. “You have to be teasing now!”

“Well, maybe I’ll be smart enough to talk to you after I finish the book,” John says, accommodating with self-deprecation. “Da Vinci it is.”

You can’t help yourself. “Should I assign you comprehension questions, too? Name three things you remember and such?”

John smiles. “Be something else to do, anyway.”

Oh, this is dangerous. Every good sense in your head is pounding on the inside of your skull, warning you in one unified voice. Bored soldier, pretty girl, knocking on walls, books lent and borrowed. The story writes itself in your head, saccharine and heady—followed swiftly by ugly, mundane, inevitable denouement.

You are familiar now with the narrative of disappointment. You do not want John to wear its mantle.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you say lightly, taking a swallow of your coffee as casually as you can. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Sure,” says John. He looks at you too fondly to stomach. “Appreciated the company.”

“Anytime,” your dumb, traitorous, too-honest mouth gives away.

The next morning begins as the rest do. John’s shower wakes you up. You resolutely don’t think about hot water and hotter skin as you drag yourself out from beneath the covers.

You brush your teeth. His water shuts off. A pan thunks in his kitchen while your first cup of coffee brews.

Silence. You drink. He eats.

You make your second cup. He steps out for his cigar.

A decision hangs on the knob of your front door.

This routine has been comfortable. Safe in its predictability. Measurable in its contributions to your daily life. The previous morning does not have to be anything other than an interesting deviation, a graze up against something more exciting and infinitely more fraught. You can keep the memory of John’s smile, John’s laughter, John’s kind blue eyes sweet and harmless in its ephemerality.

You can ignore the disappointment that stretches hairline cracks across that facade.

Your mug is warm in your hands as you stand in your living room, still and unmoving. From the quiet, the sound of a book falling over on your shelf, lost now of the support of its fellows, captures your attention.

You realize he is going to have to return your books at some point, and relief suddenly floods you. The decision is already made, isn’t it?

He smiles at you when you step out into the morning chill, bundled like you were the first morning into two coats. “There she is! Was hoping you’d join me again.”

Does it show on your face? The warmth that blooms inside of you at that sentiment so openly expressed?

The corner of his eyes crinkle as you stand there, transfixed and unable to hide your pleasure at his words.

“Morning, John,” you finally say. “Finish Da Vinci yet?”

As before, he steps aside, makes room for you on his doorstep. As before, you take the space next to him.

He takes a drag, eyes still on you and creased with amusement. “Not quite,” he says, exhaling. “Always was a poor student. Might take some time.”

You sip from your mug to hide your smile. “At least it’s something to do.”

The smoke from his cigar lingers in the air, mingling with the steam of your coffee.

Author's Note: the books I referenced here are The War That Made the Roman Empire by Barry Strauss, Leonardo Da Vinci by Walter Isaacson, and Reading Lolita in Tehran and Things I’ve Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi. I wholeheartedly recommend every single one.

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cyber-soul-smartz · 3 months

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Get my latest book "Empowering Journey: A Holistic Guide to Mindfulness, Resilience and Personal Growth". Grab your copy, now available in both eBook and paperback formats at Barnes & Noble.

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justalia · 1 year

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anxiety? read this

the reason why i decided to write this is because i’ve been getting the same question multiple times and i feel like there’s a need to dive deep into this issue.

anxiety in the state of the wish fulfilled

the questions i get are:

“idk why but i’m anxious when i get in the state, is it normal?”

“how do you deal with anxiety while in the state?”

“why am i anxious when i imagine my wish fulfilled?”

lucky for you i’m here to clear these doubts.

short answer:

if you’re anxious when imagining your wish fulfilled then you’re not in the state.

long answer:

now let me preface this by saying that emotions do not manifest but can arise based on which state you are in.

we all say that emotions don’t matter at all because it simply shouldn’t be your focus to feel “positive” emotions all the time, BUT with your state changing you can feel different emotions.

what is a state explained in simple words?

it is a concept of yourself, an experience, a reality you want to experience.

with this knowledge tell me why imagining yourself to be who you really want to be and believing that to be true would arise any anxiety within you.

quickly!

tell me why something you so deeply want being fulfilled, true, realized would arise anxiety within you.

it simply shouldn’t.

when you step into the state and imagine yourself to be who you want to be, believe it to be true and then anxiety starts immediately it means you haven’t actually accepted that concept of yourself to be true.

if you had you would probably feel something similar to relief, satisfaction, bliss accompanied by a confidence in knowing you now are who you want to be and have what you want to have.

anxiety and fear do not belong to the state of the wish fulfilled simply because they belong to the opposite of it: you’re anxious if you don’t know for sure if your desire is yours, you fear if you don’t know for sure your 3D is gonna reflect.

anxiety and fear are born when you don’t internalize the law and doubt it.

anxiety and fear go hand in hand with doubt.

your anxiety stems from the same place that peace comes from, you are the cause of it. you feel anxious because you think something outside is happening, something else outside of you can happen and take your desire away.

how do you deal with this “problem”?

the solution is very simple, almost so simple that your logical mind won’t allow you to accept such a thing.

the only reason why you experience anxiety is because you have not accepted your true identity.

you may think you are believing it is true but you are not accepting it as fact.

you are lying to yourself if you say you accepted it as fact but then you go and look for it, you doubt it, you feel anxious, you worry about what’s gonna happen and how you’re gonna react if the opposite shows up.

only acknowledging the opposite as a possibility is showing you which state you are in.

i feel like most of you focus on states because it looks like a method you can use to manifest but you never actually acknowledge your true identity. you don’t take your time to understand who you truly are and without acknowledging and accepting your true identity you will continue to flip flop between states.

states are not a method, you don’t choose to use states. states are all there is, states of consciousness is what the world is.

different states of consciousness are different experiences you can have within, and as within so without.

states are experiences you are consciously choosing to live in imagination. whether these experiences be good or bad you need to understand that imagination is all there is, you are always living in a world of imagination.

every single experience you have/want is just a state.

without being clear on who you really are you will continue to doubt and reason your way into manifestation and eventually you’ll be finding yourself in what seems to be a never ending cycle of trying and self-sabotaging, filled with doubt, fear, anxiety and worry.

you put your 3D world on such a high pedestal (i’m not blaming you) and you don’t believe to be who you really want to be because you are “only” imagining it.

i say that i don’t blame you because i know this new way of behaving and reacting and thinking is the exact opposite of what we have always been thought:

the physical world is reality, therefore something is real only if you physically see it

we don’t know why and how things happen to us

we need to work hard to achieve what we want

be “realistic” the world of the senses is factual

it seems so unnatural to think that WE are the CAUSE of everything, that things happen TO us and not THROUGH us.

it seems so unnatural to dismiss the physical world as basically fake and not take as fact what other people tell you.

i know it seems unbelievable but it isn’t.

it simply isn’t and you can prove it to yourself by looking back at your life experiences, you can see how everything came from imagination first, you can see how you’re always trusting your opinion over anything. you can see it so clearly and when you see it you will feel extremely dumb for not believing it.

your true identity

i ALWAYS talk about this, every answer i give you when you ask me something includes this basic information but i’m not sure you take it as seriously as i want you to take it.

there’s is no other world outside of imagination and there’s is no other self outside of imagination.

you fear because you think in terms of separation: you think theres some other cause outside of you making things happen and you think that the outer world is separate from imagination, you believe 3D and 4D to be separate.

i want this to be the only time you need something outside of you for validation, i want this to be the last post you read to check if you’re “doing it right”, i want this to be the last realization you need.

there is no inner man AND outer man, there’s only the inner man in imagination living inside of a flesh body.

you are not your flesh body (yes, this is why you can change your appearance), you are not your brain (this is why there’s no such thing as making neural pathways or convincing/reprogramming your subconscious), you are not your mind (this is why thoughts don’t manifest), you are not your state (this is why you can jump in and out of states and why you can’t be stuck in a state), you are not your emotions or feelings (this is why you NEED to let out your emotions and not be mad at yourself for whatever reaction you had).

you are pure consciousness, you are I Am.

you are all imagination and imagination is all there is, the world of the senses has no choice but to mimic imagination, it has to, there is NO OTHER CAUSE.

if you’re the inner man living in imagination always and imagination is the only creator/only reality there’s no way that what you declare to be yours isn’t fact.

whatever happens in imagination is a fact, the problem is that we have been thought to dismiss imagination as fiction and contaminate our states with the world of the senses forgetting that we created the physical experience.

the senses are mimicking imagination and unless you accept imagination as the only creator of physical experience you will not be able to let go of doubts and reasoning. you will continue to worry and wonder “is it enough?” “is it really true?” you won’t take it seriously.

unless you truly understand that you are a figment of god and all you have to do is decide that that’s yours now, that’s who you are now you will continue to go back and forth between the state of having and the state of not having.

imagination is your creator and you just need to truly internalize that you can have what you want because everything in this world is your creation whether you believe it or not.

don’t start to wonder if it’s right to just declare something as yours, if you’re worthy of it, because all that you are experiencing is your creation. everything is created by you.

by actually understanding that everything is your creation you will stop wondering about what you should or shouldn’t do based on other people’s judgment, you stop thinking things “oh maybe it’s not right to manifest my sp, why would i force anything on them? it’s not right.” because you created them not wanting to be with you in the first place.

you are not changing anyone or forcing anything on anybody. everything was created by you and if you don’t like it you have the power and the right to change it because this is your life, this is your reality, why would you choose to experience something you don’t want if you can experience something else?

there’s nobody outside of you and you don’t have to ask permission to have what you want, you give it to yourself.

you are always fulfilling yourself with something, you are always assuming things to be true so instead of perpetually being fulfilled with not having your desire why don’t you just accept it is yours now?

the concept of time doesn’t exist outside of you, future and past only exist in your mind and when you imagine you need to remove the concept of time and only worry about experiencing it now.

when you fear what’s gonna happen tomorrow it’s because you think there’s something outside of you causing things to happen.

see how just knowing your true identity solves all of your problems?

there is NOTHING other than imagination causing stuff to happen, NOTHING!!! get this inside your little head and accept that the 3D is dead and powerless. it can’t do anything to you, it’s not your enemy it’s only adjusting according to you!

you can’t be in the state and expect something opposite to happen, it means you haven’t accepted the new state as fact.

tomorrow is shaped by who you are being now!

so why worry about tomorrow if the cause of tomorrow is who you are now?

why worry about the future if the cause of it is who you are being now?

enjoy being the person who has their desire right now because that’s all you can do. enjoy being it now.

enjoy being financially stable now.

enjoy being in a relationship now.

enjoy being loved now.

enjoy being beautiful now.

enjoy being intelligent now.

because it is true, you really are it, you really have it.

don’t “pretend”, don’t think you have to trick yourself into believing it has expressed physically because that’s not your job, your job is to dismiss the 3D as not real because even your manifestation materialized won’t give you anything you didn’t give to yourself first.

you don’t have to trick yourself into believing it is physically here, you have to understand that invisible reality it’s what’s real and you don’t need to give a meaning to the 3d which is only mimicking imagination.

the 3D is only mimicking the feeling of having you are feeling.

learn to accept a new truth, new ideas of you to be true and don’t fight the old state when it tries to come back, learn to be indifferent by accepting a new truth in its place.

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bxwitched · 1 year

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To Be With You

Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.

Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.

A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.

You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.

That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.

Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.

Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.

"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.

"Ok. What's the damage today?"

It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door and breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.

The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.

"Afternoon, miss."

"Good afternoon-"

"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.

"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.

"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.

"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."

You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.

"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.

"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."

He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.

"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.

"Please, call me Hangman."

"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.

"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.

It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.

You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.

"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.

"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.

"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.

"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.

"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."

His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.

You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.

"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."

Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.

You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.

"Come in."

You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.

It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.

You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.

"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.

"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.

"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.

"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.

"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.

"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.

Can you believe that he's interested in her?

I don't get it either!

Who?

You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.

You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.

Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.

Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.

You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.

At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.

You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.

You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.

Why me?

Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?

That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.

You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.

"No Sir."

"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.

Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.

"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.

"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover

"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."

"A friend?"

He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.

"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.

Are you ok?

"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.

"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.

It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.

You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.

It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.

Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.

You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.

You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.

You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.

You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.

By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.

You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.

As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.

Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.

He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.

You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.

"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.

"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.

"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.

"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.

"You're not serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.

"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."

He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.

"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.

She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.

His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.

"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.

"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.

"Listen, Hangman-"

"Jake." He insists.

"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.

"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.

"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"

His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.

"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.

"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."

You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.

"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."

He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.

"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."

You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.

"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."

"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."

"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."

You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.

"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."

You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.

"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.

"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.

Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.

"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.

"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.

"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"

That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?

You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.

You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.

"Alright. We can start with dinner."

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avrmee · 4 months

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could you write about billie eilish x fem reader.

R has anxiety and ed. Billie helps her. But one day Reader had a bad anxiety attack so billie reassures her.

People can witness it and it out the couple

I'm here - Billie Eilish

Summary: Billie and reader were coming home from eating at a restaurant and paparazzi swarms them and reader gets a panic attack

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety, cussing (let me know if I miss anything)

"I had fun I can't lie" you said as you both started getting your things to go. It was your one year anniversary so you two went out to eat at a fancy restaurant.

"See I told you it wouldn't be that bad" Billie said with a small laugh. She held you hand and guided you to the door after she paid against your will.

You and billie didn't notice the paparazzi until they swarmed you. The flashing of the camera's almost blinding you.

Your chest started tightening and your breathing got heavier. Billie noticed and started walking faster to her car with your hand in hers.

Once billie made to the car, she instantly opened the door and let you In first. She then ran to the other side of the car and got in.

Billie held your hand and made you look at her. "Y/n, look at me" She said and tapped your cheek lightly for you to look at her.

"What are 5 things you can see?" Billie asked since it was a method that always helped you.

You were sobbing and completely disregarded her question.

"Baby, what are 5 things you can see?" Billie asked a little bit louder for you to hear her.

"You...trees...the picnic table...geese...that pond" You said between deep breaths. "Good job now what are 4 things you can touch?" Billie asked and held your head in her hands.

"Your hands.. the seat.. my necklace.. my shoes" You said. Your breathing became a lot more even, but Billie kept going just in case.

"Okay what about 3 things you can hear?" She asked

"Your voice. The birds. The music" You said and looked up at Billie.

"What about 2 things you can smell?" Billie asked you with a soft smile.

"Your perfume and the cookies from the bakery" you said with a small laugh making Billie smile.

"And 1 thing you can taste?" She asked.

"The leftover macaroni and cheese" You said with a smile.

"Good job. You okay?" She asked as she pulled you in and kissed your forehead . You just nodded

Billie instantly let out a breath of relief when she saw that you were okay now.

"Can we get some cookies?" You asked making billie laugh hard.

"Sure but you, Missy, wait here in the car" She said as she got out of the car. She walked to where you were sat and kissed you lips.

HERE YOU GO I HOPE IT'S OKAY AND SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!

Have a nice day🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#fluff #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fluff #wlw

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fluffy-dixon · 6 months

Text

Title: Rose🌹

Summary: Reader Suffers from anxiety and struggles with a bad attack. Daryl comforts them.

Pairings: Daryl x Reader

Era: Prison

Word count: Approx 940 I wrote this on my iPad.

Warnings: extreme anxiety attack? It’s supposed to be fluff but apparently it’s also angst.

This was my first ever one shot which I have re-written – I wrote this for Valentines Day.

You awoke to a crushing weight on your chest, panic surging as you struggled for breath. Another episode was upon you.

The cell’s darkness was absolute, save for a sliver of light that outlined the door’s draped sheet. It was just enough to search for your blankets—the ones Daryl had gathered for you, knowing they eased your distress. Though not essential, he’d always find a way to bring one back, hiding it for you to discover later.

Desperately, you searched the cot’s emptiness for any sign of the comforting fabric.

But there was nothing, and time was slipping away.

Tears streamed down your face, each one scalding like molten rock. Your throat constricted, a vice tightening and choking off your breath. You screamed silently within.

Air. You needed air.

Swinging your legs out, you hauled yourself into a sitting position, hands bracing on your knees. You adopted the tripod stance Daryl had shown you—tripoding. Gasping, you tried to steady your breathing, passing out was not an option.

Inhale through your nose, count to four, exhale. Again, inhale, count to three but relief eluded you; none of the learned techniques were working.

You needed air.

The tingling in your hands spread, a fiery sensation engulfing your arms, neck, and face.

Reaching for the oil lamp you kept for emergencies, you overextended, expelling the last of your breath as the lamp crashed to the floor, shattering.

The noise was sure to draw attention, giving the council yet another reason to cast you out. You were already a burden; this was the last thing you needed.

Defeated, you collapsed back onto the bed, the cell spinning around you. Your body convulsed, each tremor a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

Then, his voice.

“Y/N? Y’kay in there?!”

The Archer. Your archer. Best friend. Soul mate.

Sweat drenched you, blurring your vision, but his silhouette was unmistakable against the door’s curtain.

A groan of panic escaped you, but it was enough. In an instant, Daryl was there, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace.

“C’mere, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly comfort. You clung to the resonance of his words, a cry of relief breaking free as you felt the tension begin to dissipate.

“The blankets n’working?” You shook your head vigorously, pressing it into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his sturdy embrace. The scent of smoke and musk from his skin enveloped you, a comforting aroma you’ve always cherished.

“I can’t—find—” Your words faltered, but he hushed you gently. The dizzying whirl of the room gave way to a soothing rocking motion, cradling you towards calmness.

“Breathe w’me. You can do this, just as I taught ya.”

Inhale through your nose, count to four, then exhale.

A sob escaped your lips, your throat raw and aching with each laboured breath. Daryl’s rough yet tender hands glided over your arms, across your shoulders, and into your damp, dishevelled hair. His touch was a mirror to your disarray. As you looked up, Daryl brushed away the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ears with a gentle precision, his gaze never leaving yours. His deep blue eyes held you captive, mesmerizing you, while the dim light cast shadows that accentuated the contours of his face.

More sobs wracked your body, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stem the flow of tears. The imaginary shackles around your chest seemed to dissolve, allowing you to breathe freely once more. His method was effective.

“You’re doin’it, girl, I’m proud of ya,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clammy forehead, undeterred by the dampness. The kiss lingered, grounding you back to the present. When he pulled away, the absence of his warmth left your skin exposed to the chilly air, sealing the moisture from his lips onto your skin. This was a first—a tender, romantic gesture from him. The blush that crept over his cheeks and ears was mirrored by your own shaky, yet genuine smile. You yearned to voice your gratitude to the archer, but all you could manage was to nestle your head against his chest once more, closing your eyes and syncing your breaths with his. Your hand rested on his side, anchoring you as the room’s spin subsided.

Daryl’s free hand began to trace letters on your back. Instead of pain, the path of his fingertip left a trail of goosebumps, pulling you back to reality.

H-A-P-P-Y V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E-S.

He released one arm from around your waist and reached into his shirt pocket, pausing as he spoke.

“I carved something for you.” Daryl’s words were always sparse but laden with meaning. You were the only one privy to this side of him, a treasure you held dear. Each rare glimpse of his vulnerability was cherished, knowing the bravery it took for him to reveal himself.

Sitting up a bit more, you watched as Daryl retrieved a small object from his pocket, placing it in his palm and shifting it into the light for you to see. A gasp slipped through your lips, and you covered your mouth, a silent tear tracing your cheek at the sight of his gift.

An oak rose head, intricately carved.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said softly.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #norman reedus #twd #daryl x reader #daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x female reader

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islamicrays · 1 month

Text

How to deal with stress, anxiety, anguish and sin, and helping find the secret of success & happiness.

People often forget the importance of the simple yet powerful dua (supplication) – Istighfar i.e., saying “Astaghfirullah” (I seek forgiveness of Allah).

Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) recited this at least 100 times a day.

Let us see the benefits and virtues of reciting this simple beautiful supplication insha Allah.

Istighfar (Astaghfirullah) is the gateway of relief and happiness. Whenever you are in distress start reciting it and Insha Allah it will take you out of your anxiety and will put you in a peaceful situation and will give you happiness.

Istighfar removes anxiety and duas are answered.

Istighfar opens the door of sustenance.

Istighfar opens the door of mercy.

Istighfar opens the door of knowledge.

Istighfar is also gateway of productivity.

Istighfar relieves you.

When you feel that sadness within you, when you are disturbed and frustrated, when anxiety surrounds you, say “Astaghfirullah” “Astaghfirullah”…

Reciting Astaghfiruallah is an effective method of calming our self and wipes away the variety of worldly worries from our mind and body. It may also help us, if we are suffering from depression, it calm us and lessen our depression.

Astaghfirullah also helps us to refrain from all forms of sins. Regularly saying this reminds us that Allah is everywhere and in this way there is very small chances of doing wrongful actions.

Ibn Abbas (May Allah be pleased with them) said: The Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) said,

“If anyone constantly seeks pardon (from Allah), Allah will appoint for him a way out of every distress and a relief from every anxiety, and will provide sustenance for him from where he expects not.” [Abu Dawud].

In another hadith, Abdullah bin Abbas (May Allah be pleased with them) narrates that Rasulullah (Sallallahu Alayhi Wasallam) said:

“The one who (regularly) says Istighfaar, that is, frequently repent to Allah Ta’aala for sins committed, Allah Azza Wa-Jal will open a path from poverty and difficulties.

All sorrow and hardship will be removed, and in its place prosperity and contentment granted. One will receive sustenance from unimagined and unexpected sources.

Do Tasbih of Astaghfaar at least 100 times daily as it is the Sunnah of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

In one minute, you can say “Astaghfiru Allaah” more than 100 times!

The virtue of seeking forgiveness is well-known, it is a reason of obtaining forgiveness, entering Paradise, having good provisions, increasing one’s strength, repelling harm, having affairs facilitated, the descent of rain, and increasing in wealth and children.

The doors of repentance are always open therefore don’t delay your repentance in a hope of tomorrow, as tomorrow is uncertain , Repent now and make it a habit to ask Allah’s forgiveness by reciting “Astaghfirullah”.

Say I believe in Allah’s mercy, I have sinned, I have gone astray, I have been negligent, but still I believe in Allah’s soothing mercy and forgiveness, I’ll not despair!

IMPORTANCE OF ISTIGHFAR FROM THE QURAN:

One of the 99 Names of Allah is Al-Ghaffaar (الْغَفَّارُ) – The Great Forgiver The Forgiver, the One who forgives the sins of His slaves time and time again.

There are numerous verses in the Quran about the importance of asking for forgiveness of Allah SWT. Here are few of them:

And (commanding you): “Seek the forgiveness of your Lord, and turn to Him in repentance, that He may grant you good enjoyment, for a term appointed, and bestow His abounding Grace to every owner of grace (i.e. the one who helps and serves needy and deserving, physically and with his wealth, and even with good words). But if you turn away, then I fear for you the torment of a Great Day (i.e. the Day of Resurrection). [Hud 11:3]

Declare (O Muhammad SAW) unto My slaves, that truly, I am the Oft-Forgiving, the Most-Merciful. [Al-Hijr 15:49]

Then, verily! Your Lord for those who do evil (commit sins and are disobedient to Allâh) in ignorance and afterward repent and do righteous deeds, verily, your Lord thereafter, (to such) is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful. [An-Nahl 16:119]

Your Lord knows best what is in your inner-selves. If you are righteous, then, verily, He is Ever Most Forgiving to those who turn unto Him again and again in obedience, and in repentance. [Al-Isra 17:25]

And verily, I am indeed Forgiving to him who repents, believes (in My Oneness, and associates none in worship with Me) and does righteous good deeds, and then remains constant in doing them, (till his death). [Ta-Ha 20:82]

And say (O Muhammad SAW): “My Lord! Forgive and have mercy, for You are the Best of those who show mercy!” [Al-Mumenoon 23:118]

Need more verses? Read the Quran! There are plenty of verses about the importance of seeking forgiveness.

So did you say “Astagfirullah” (I seek forgiveness of Allah) 100 times today?

#Reflect

-Qasim Rafique

#islam #muslim #quote #allah #astaghfirullah

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