#because i flirt with them incessantly.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

🌈🌈🌈By the way, in case this wasn't clear. I'm not straight. I don't just like men. Terfs and homophobes aren't welcome here. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sat politely ankles crossed hands folded please say you have more thoughts about the DC deweys. Lazarus pit cold-eyed stare pristine and bloodthirsty anyway I would love to hear any further thoughts if you have the time + energy + motivation

how i imagine you waiting for me to re-read the resurrection of ra’s al-ghul and hush vol. 1+2:

ALRIGHT. in no particular order, thoughts about the dc deweys

connor fits very well into the mold of a talia al-ghul for me; chip on his shoulder, femme fatale, deadly and precise. he’s not the loudest but he’s got a dry wit that’ll cut you!

“why is connor an al-ghul at all and not batman” well first of all he’s already got the water connection, i’m gonna go dip him into the lake a couple hours north of the pas to make him incredibly long-lived, rejuvenated and beautiful

second of all i want him to be a questionable villain/antihero because he looks evil in those pictures but like beautiful evil. you see him at a multi-million dollar soirée and he’s bored of being there wearing his “heritage” beads and jewels he originally had from a thousand years ago. he and his assassins are only here to murder the head of state who’s planning to lay a pipeline through ancestral grounds

rip brandon duhaime i simply cannot imagine you as any kind of batman. lacks the gravitas, too much of a yapper, loves his wife too much. i curse thee to be green arrow if you’re in this narrative at all

assuming connor stays with toronto, would LOVE to think about toronto as one of the sites of the lazarus pit for many reasons

(a brief aside here to say that for me personally this is interesting if connor goes to winnipeg because i think they suit him better, he’s a manitoba boy, but re: the chip on his shoulder, he’s NOT a manitoba boy. he’s from the pas and very proud of it)

a) the amount of ‘toronto is the center of the universe’ hockey creation myths i can play with & birth/rebirth/reincarnation. if you WANT to feel unhinged trying to blend hockey and comics is an ice rink not just a pool of water?

b) mr. cathal kelly i love your works!!! toronto eats its young!!! thinking about this very literally in the sense of the resurrection arc where players come to toronto and are sacrificed, give up their body, their skill, in service of the demon’s head, and lose themselves.

c) we see echos of the same narratives and styles over and over again—if i can hop over to the flyers for a second, there is of course the curse of the *8s (18 richards, 28 claude, 48 danny b, 68 nolan, 88 lindros) but ALSO the danny brière -> tk -> morgan frost celly chain. every generation a resurrection, emerging clean and new from the pit

can you just briefly hold my hand and imagine wayne gretzky as an evil ra’s al-ghul wanting to possess a new body. gretzky i’m sorry to malign you and i know you never played in toronto but you are the best player in my head to fit the idea, i’m open to other suggestions

coming BACK to green arrow dewey (i did not re-watch arrow or re-read those comics sorry) connor could also be black canary, who takes a brief dip into the lazarus pit (toronto) before getting married to oliver. i do like that narrative but because we were talking about pristine and cold-blooded i figured connor dewar head of the league of assassins was more what you were after

now that i’ve gotten through world building… choose your own adventure narratives?

hockey-ish au: connor chosen as a host for the Next One. i think the lineage of the great one -> next one -> next next one -> next one up of gretzky -> crosby -> mcdavid -> bedard is taken, BUT i can imagine that the league of old boys all have the same intentions. connor gets sent to toronto unknowingly being prepped to get body-snatched by ???? and brandon duhaime of course accidentally stumbles on the plot and they have to fight to stop it

connor assassinating people :) snapshot of the head of the league of assassins delegating which major world events they’re going to change today. would love his shark face from the gifset to have blood spattered across it, ideally.

version 1 as head of the league of assassins: brandon is one of his assassins, big strong bodyguard type. devoted to him, would lay down his life, perfectly designed for connor (lady shiva/cassandra cain-ish). connor orders for something to be done and brandon does it there for him then gently wipes the blood off his face and apologizes for being careless and getting him messy.

version 2 as head of the league of assassins: an actual plot where connor aims to assassinate SOMEONE but brandon gets in the way. they meet at odds as their respective roles (hero, leader of a crime syndicate) but are magnetically drawn together as their alter egos. eventually brandon puts together the pieces of the Big Evil and manages to (legally!-ish as much as vigilante-ism can be legal) take it down and the ending panels show a tentative friendship and recognition of potential shared goals

also, jaromir jágr is immortal. don’t know if this is relevant OR related but he is. personal hot spring lazarus pit?

um. thanks for coming to my 1.5k ted talk (including tags). what a way to moritz seider lore drop that i DID grow up a comic book nerd, lmao. thank you so much for enabling me <3 i'll be here all week thinking about which teams would get what rings in a blackest night au

[dangopango00]

GIVE HIM SOME ATTENTION

What does he do when he wants some attention?

BLLK x S/O!GN Reader

Characters: Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Kunigami (Pre&Post WC), Gagamaru, Rin, Nanase, Sae, Shidou, Barou, Sendou, Nagi, Reo, Oliver, Otoya, Karasu, Yukimiya, Hiori, Kurona, Zantetsu, Raichi, Aryu, Kiyora, Kaiser, Ness (In that order)

CW: Suggestive as hell in Aiku & Otoya’s parts, A little angsty in Shidou, Reo & Ness parts

A/N: Idk all of them toooooo well but they’re all interesting to me so I’d like to try also I excluded some people who are irrelevant in my mindscape (i'm so sorry) (Nagi is honestly lucky to be here with the flopism he has been displaying smh) Gagamaru my goat ntm on him also added Zantetsu in honor of him finally getting his cover art

HCS UTC

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Yoichi Isagi

I think if he’s craving attention he’d probably be a bit hesitant because it's embarrassing for him to ask (since he likes a lot of attention so he’d be asking all day LOL). In order to save himself the embarrassment he’ll usually just hold your hand and give you a serious look– if he can muster that (sometimes if he’s feeling shy he’ll just put his hand on yours while looking away). Well when he does look at you he thinks he’s giving you a serious look but surely all you see is him giving you puppy eyes.

Meguru Bachira

Oh if he’s craving attention YOU WILL KNOW. He’d probably cling to you as if you were a missing part of his body he was trying to reconnect. He’ll hug your arm or pepper you in kisses and he’ll seem way happier than usual because he’s just so glad to be around you. He’s a bit ridonkulous he might even jump on you, making you both collapse to the floor, or if you’re in a place with a hard floor he’ll instead pull you towards him and squeeze you like a giant teddy bear.

Hyoma Chigiri

He’s a bit tricky honestly. He has a good amount of pride so he doesn’t like to seem too clingy but that doesn’t mean he’ll back down if he feels like he’s being neglected. If he wants attention he’ll try to make you the one who’s embarrassed and craving attention by flirting subtly though incessantly. He’ll wrap his arm around you and lightly ghost his thumb over your skin or even ‘innocently’ kiss your jawline and then just as quickly as he started, he’ll stop and go back to whatever he was doing before so you’re the one asking for attention from him now.

Rensuke Kunigami (PRE Wild Card)

Honestly? Upstanding young man ass dude he’ll probably just start giving you attention until you reciprocate. He’s stubborn too so you know he won’t stop until you give in unless you’re seriously not in the mood for whatever reason. He’ll sneak up behind you and hug you and start kissing up your neck; eventually turn your head so he can kiss you on the lips if you’re willing to indulge him. The kind of guy who’d just lay up in your arms and gently lay you down with him after a long day.

Rensuke Kunigami (POST WC)

Ok I know he SEEMS insanely different but tbh I don’t think he’d change all that much. He’s probably a little bit more socially awkward because for a while all he’s done is train with little social interaction. When he wants attention, I think he’d likely use the same tactic but in a different way. He’d probably nip your neck or shoulder (not painfully; he is trying to be playful) and when it gets your attention, he’d start to pepper you in kisses or lay his head down on your shoulder if it's been a long day.

Gin Gagamaru

I don’t have a great grasp on this guy (despite being one of my goats 🥹) but I think he’d probably have like mannerisms for it like pointing at where he wants to be kissed and kisses you back when you oblige him. He also seems like the kind of guy who’d bring you something from his journeys in the wilderness as like a homemade gift and hopes you’ll give him the attention he seeks in return (you can definitely tell because he just stares at you as you open the gift, hoping you like it and then continues to stare expectantly when you do like it)

Rin Itoshi

Imo if Rin decided to get into a relationship with someone he’d dedicate himself to them just as he does soccer because he wouldn’t want them to be hurt the way he was hurt (someone you love acting coldly towards you) but he doesn’t really know how without cringing. SO his way of asking for attention would be somewhat sweet although awkward. I think he would likely try to do some semi romantic gesture like laying his head on your shoulder/in your lap (although he’s pretty tense) or just making general contact like touching knees or brushing fingers together and will absolutely WHIP his head away if you look at him.

Nijiro Nanase

Nanase is just a guy; another upstanding young man. I think he would probably flatter you if he wanted attention. He’ll probably start talking about the things he likes about you and how much he loves you, giving you a kiss on the cheek along with his praise as well. He is very aware of the fact that you think he’s the cutest thing to hit planet Earth and he will use it to his advantage!! Of course, he means what he says but if saying it out loud will get him covered in kisses he’ll say as much as you want because he’s never gonna run out of things to say.

Sae Itoshi

This guy… Is a real piece of work but, like his brother, I think if he’s willing to get into a relationship then that means he's willing to put in the effort but doesn’t know how, although he respects you a ton. If he’s craving attention I don’t think he’ll even realize it; he’ll just get really irritated when you aren’t around and when you are around he’ll stare you down so hard he could burn a hole through you but the fact that he doesn’t even look angry is what tips you off to what he wants. The look in his eyes isn’t insanely soft but it's not a hard stare either, he looks like he's daydreaming or zoning out tbh.

Ryusei Shidou

If Sae is a piece of work this dude is a whole project. It’s easy to say he’s like Bachira, which he is during the day, but I think it’d be more interesting to talk about him during the night. When the day comes to an end he said he “becomes nothing” so I think it would be the number one time where he craves attention and validation that he exists and you’re really there. It’s a somewhat vulnerable time for him but he plays it off like he’s just his usual clingy self and probably places himself in front of you at any opportunity. Looking down? He’ll lay on your lap. Facing forward? Well here he is in front of you. And by the time it’s finally time for bed he's completely wrapped his body around yours.

Shoei Barou

It’s kind of hard to imagine how he’d show affection in a relationship buttt I think similar to Kunigami, I think he would just give you attention until you give in. However, I think Barou is probably a bit more aggressive about it and he’d probably go up to you and kiss you, then pull away just enough to await your next move. If you take too long to decide though he’ll start kissing around your face: on your nose, your forehead, etc. He’s pretty bold but he is a tiny bit embarrassed/hesitant when it comes to feeling ‘soft’ with you so he’ll kiss you to distract himself from it.

Shuto Sendou

This guy is peak loserboy activity whew he is a huge sucker for being spoiled so he wants attention OFTEN. I think he probably just stands really close to you and complains about how his day was soooooo horrible and how he worked so hard but if being standoffish isn’t working he holds onto your waist for dear life or plops himself on your lap and hugs you, waiting for attention when he gets desperate. If he’s super desperate he’ll start kissing around your neck and complain even more. He even starts to say how betrayed he feels at how easily you’re ignoring his woes.

Seishiro Nagi

He’s pretty efficient in the way he shows he wants attention. Since he’s the spoiled type he’ll usually try to get your attention the normal way first: acting cute and laying his head on your shoulder or on your lap while he plays his game (he is expecting you to play with his hair) but if you don’t he’ll honestly be confused at first because he’s usually given whatever he wants. At first he’ll try to put your hand on his head but if you keep taking it away he’ll make you lay down with him and literally try to immobilize you by putting all his weight on your body; will even pretend to be asleep if you protest.

Reo Mikage

He’s a lot bit codependent so if he’s feeling neglected he’ll do everything he can to get your attention. He’ll usually shower you in gifts and/or take you on a romantic date. He’ll plan out a whole ass day of pampering just because he wants some attention. Please remind him he doesn’t need to do. All that. Because he often feels a bit useless if he doesn’t have time to do that. Not only does he feel useless but he’s somehow convinced himself subconsciously that he doesn’t really deserve your attention if he hasn’t done anything for you.

Oliver Aiku

If he wants attention from you, he’ll give you an insane amount of attention. Unlike Kunigami and Barou, he’s very forward and will text you, showering you with sweet words while he’s on his way to yours and when he gets there, he’s practically already all over you. He’s going on about how much he loves you and how he missed you so much all while kissing you wherever he can reach you. Tbh if he's craving attention, he probably just wants to have sex since he’s not a very clingy guy so he's probably already backing you into a wall and trying to undress you.

Eita Otoya

Honestly his appeal to others is usually him being the “cold but caring” type so, like Aiku, he’d probably text you before getting to yours but it’d be even more bare bones like, “i miss you” or “can I see u” even if he DOES genuinely like you he doesn’t really think deeply about his feelings and impulsively texts you when he wants attention. Unlike Aiku, he is a clingy guy and if he’s really desperate for attention he’ll still escalate it to sex if he can; just slower. Probably wants to lay his face in your chest or lap and makeout.

Tabito Karasu

Oh this smartass. He’s probably similar to Hyoma in the fact that he makes sure it's you who wants his attention by pampering you one minute and acting like nothing happened the next. However he does tend to like smart people so if you’re smart enough to see through his hot-and-cold act he’ll eventually hold you and hide his face in your chest, admitting defeat but he’d still be smiling because either way he wins. He’s already got you and he won't let go until you fill the quota of kisses you owe him.

Kenyu Yukimiya

He’s the type to feel a bit embarrassed about wanting attention at first but will be more forward if you don’t pick up on his subtle hints. His hints include sneaking glances at you or holding your hand whenever he gets the opportunity. He’s honestly pretty charismatic so I think that when being more forward he would probably kiss your hand and help you with anything you may need to get done or finish anything he may need to do so that you can completely focus on each other when there’s nothing left.

Yo Hiori

Honestly craving attention is a somewhat rare occurrence for him so it's a bit embarrassing, especially since you two are used to kinda doing your own thing. Probably gives you little ‘hints’ like starting off by asking if you want to play a game with him as an excuse to get you close to him. Another hint would likely be him invading your bubble whether it be by scooting close to you or hooking his leg over yours a bit or whatever it may be. If you still aren’t getting it he probably says something that tips you off while looking directly at you or glancing at you like, “Do you mind me being clingy?” or something along those lines.

Ranze Kurona

He’s such a sweetie he probably braids your hair if it's long enough (if it’s short he’ll still try a root braid if you want but he’s not very good at it). If not he’ll usually get you both stickers to mess around with, putting some on your face, others on various items and sometimes you put them in random hidden places as a nice surprise when you find them again. Typically this is enough to get the attention he’s looking for, but if you’re teasing him or simply forgot, he’ll lightly nip your shoulder or lightly graze his teeth over your shoulder (Since you two got together you have definitely encouraged him to be comfortable with his teeth around you)

Zantetsu Tsurugi

This guy often tries to be something he’s not so he’d probably try to do a bunch of romantic gestures that aren’t his style. Knowing him he’d probably put together some poems. They aren’t very good but it IS very sweet and he’d keep doing this for a while until the poems start to sound the same and he starts to get frustrated. He’d try learning an instrument, impressing you with his knowledge on a subject you like etc. until eventually he would just force himself to suck it up and ask you for attention outright and just straight up admit how much you mean to him because all these other things are draining and they aren’t him.

Jingo Raichi

He’s another guy who finds it a bit embarrassing to be ‘soft’ so when craving attention he’ll often ‘starve’ himself of it. Usually you’re the one who has to give him attention but if you haven’t for whatever reason then he’ll be angrier than usual that day with his teammates. He’ll probably give up by the time he gets home and just crashes into you grumbling about how his day has been SO unsexy. Probably won’t let you go until he falls asleep tbh and even then he still has a pretty good grip on you.

Jyubei Aryu

When he wants attention Aryu would probably start flaunting his beauty, pushing his hair back, striking poses, modeling clothes for you, whatever stylish thing he can think of– he will do it and then glance over at you to make sure you were paying attention. If that doesn’t work then he’d have you do some stylish things like he might have you try on some clothes he bought you or ask you to style his hair because he is “lacking inspiration” (He actually just knows you like playing with his hair smh)

Jin Kiyora

This dude is a freak, it's a lot bit funny. When he wants attention he probably asks you to watch a movie with him (You’re already suspicious that he didn’t put on Fight Club for the umpteenth time or another action movie). He honestly put it on as background noise and thought it looked boring so he’d probably just tell you to lay down with him and lightly kiss you until you get the picture (Spoil him). Can and WILL turn the movie off and hide the remote if you neglect him smh (He will not enjoy the returned energy next time he wants to watch fight club so for both of your sakes just give him some kisses).

Michael Kaiser

Complicated individual, rightfully so. If he wants attention he’d simply demand it. Bye. He would likely just pull you towards him without any further commentary, he might even look a bit annoyed. If you didn’t know him you’d think he was in a bad mood and upset with you but you know how he gets. However, he’s more clear when it’s been a long day and he’s feeling a bit beat down or unsure of himself. He’d just shove his face into your back or your midsection and let you play with his hair as he conks theee fuck out.

Alexis Ness

Another complicated individual whew. What is up with these codependent purple dudes who found the worst possible person to depend on? Ness has yet to find a relationship where he is properly loved and not essentially abandoned so if he feels like you’re slipping away he’ll panic and do everything in his power to convince you to keep him around. He needs a lot of reassurance tbh and spends a lot of his time in your arms. When he’s craving attention he’ll usually just be sulking around all day like a sad wet cat. Every now and again he turns to look at you wistfully and walks past very slowly like that damn homeless ant. Show him some love he needs it now more than ever ayayayay.

[jesuistrestriste]

Missing the Mike Faist priest kink era 😭 still wait for the«  see you in the next Wednesday service » ahaha I’m wondering if the locals suspects their relation or not( do they see each other outside his service ?)( Is he jealous when he sees other guys flirting with her before his church service starts ? ) 👀

OH MY GOD

an ask about "kneel" ???? im gonna cry

no let's talk about it because i never did a pt. 2 or anything

i think that a majority of the locals don't really suspect that the reader is messing around with the priest (they idolize him + see him as a nonsexual figure), but they do look down on her b/c of her visible promiscuity (i.e. the hickies and etc.)

they might notice her wearing shorter skirts to services, and crossing her legs/squeezing her thighs together incessantly throughout his sermons. someone might even catch a glimpse of soft bruises and red handprints on her ass after she bends over to pick something up in front of them the day after mass. and they're like omg? what is this young lady getting herself into? and who in this town could stand to do such vile, obscene things to her body? (as if it's not their precious priest)

i dont think they see each other outside of services/the church b/c they dont want to risk drawing attention to their "special, secret relationship". but! he does give her his phone number and she calls him sometimes when she thinks too much about him and gets wet :( he has talked the reader through touching herself on multiple occasions. tons of verbally guided masturbation over the phone as she lays on her bed, her hand between her legs, with an opened bible next to her. yeah.

he had gifted her that bible after the second time they had sex. not necessarily to indoctrinate her into the religion, but to give her a representation of something that was important to him. it was his subtle way of trying to connect with her. but it kinda backfired b/c now she gets hot and flushed when she reads the words "God" and "peace" and "faith". he basically pavlov's dog'd her. classically conditioned.

because she lost her virginity to him, she's definitely very attached. she tells him that she isn't, but its a total lie and he knows it too. she gets jealous when women, young or old (doesn't matter), come up to him after services all smiley and ready to talk to him about their problems. reader usually gets red in the face and pouts in the back pew as she watches their interactions closely. she worries a lot that she isn't the only person in the town that the priest is intimate with, but she is. he's fairly attached to her too. and because she's a pretty young woman, divorced dads and older teen boys will often try to flirt with her before the priest's regularly scheduled homily, and he has to gather all the restraint in his body not to insert himself between you and them.

they are very cute + sacrilegious. ugh.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝🐞 — lady l: hi!! I finally wrote this and it's set in an au where they eventually discover each other's identities to make more sense. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, polyamorous and unhealthy relationships.

❝🐞pairing: yandere!adrinette/ladynoir x gender neutral!reader.

Everything was always very complicated between them. Marinette in love with Adrien and Adrien in love with Ladybug, both unaware of each other's identities and feelings.

Marinette always remained hiding her feelings for Adrien, too embarrassed to say anything and Adrien continued to yearn for Ladybug. This continued for a long time, until your arrival in their lives.

You were a new student and felt out of place after leaving your old school and your friends. You hoped to make friends at this new school, but you were afraid you wouldn't be able to do so. But luckily, or unluckily, you met Marinette first and she introduced you to her friends, who immediately liked you.

Marinette liked you, at first sight, you were so kind and sweet. She almost fell right there and it confused her, but she couldn't help but admire you.

Adrien became interested in you after a few conversations, and you caught his interest and attraction. He had something about you that made him attracted, and curious, an unknown feeling that he wanted to feel more of.

It wasn't difficult to notice their interest in you, Marinette constantly stuttering and blushing when you were around and Adrien, although shy, loved flirting with you and seeing you blush.

It wasn't easy to admit their interest in you, Marinette was still in love with Adrien but she really was in love with you, therefore, she didn't know what to do. Adrien was more resolute and acted in the way he knew how wanting to declare himself because he could no longer keep his feelings to himself.

Adrien was the one who first noticed Marinette's interest in you and he was surprised to notice that he didn't have a problem with it. If it were anyone else, he would have, but not with her. Because Marinette had a habit of stalking you incessantly, it didn't take long for her to realize that Adrien liked you. She was curious and excited, not jealous like she thought she would be.

They talked and decided to act quickly, both confessing to you. You were surprised and flattered and accepted, and finally, a romance happening.

Marinette is very jealous and overprotective, always wanting to know where you are and she will be very worried if she doesn't know. She will go so far as to use her Miraculous to look for you, even knowing the consequences.

Adrien is possessive, getting jealous very easily, and doesn't react well to it. He doesn't like it when you're with someone other than him and Marinette and will use intimidation to make someone stay away from you, whether with money or even his Miraculous.

They have always been very protective of you and at any sign of danger you will be quickly hidden and protected. They already talked about giving you a Miraculous, but Adrien considered it too dangerous. There was always a chance you could get hurt and he wasn't going to allow it.

You are spoiled intensely, clothes made by Marinette and bought by Adrien, jewelry, food, expensive and extravagant gifts to the simplest ones, like roses. You will never lack for anything as long as they are by your side.

They want to see you happy more than anything and will do everything to make that happen. They can't even think about the idea of ​​you being akumatized, the idea alone sends them into a frenzy at the thought of it happening to you. No, they have to be sure that this will never happen.

Marinette is very kind and soft, a mask of her true stalker and extremely jealous side. Adrien is kind and calm, always with a smile on his face and ready to make you smile, but he acts very strangely when you don't do what he asks.

They know they shouldn't use Miraculous for selfish reasons but when it comes to you, they won't care. Marinette doesn't care about ruining herself for you and Adrien has been ruined for a long time.

You are theirs and anyone who tries to get in the way will suffer the consequences. After all, you didn't just belong to Marinette and Adrien, but also to Ladybug and Cat Noir.

[pbaz7]

It’ll Always Be Her Chapter 9

AN: This chapter’s a little spicy as the game returns 🫣. I’ve had a few people ask me about one shots so if you have any ideas for those let me know because I’m open to posting some! Like always leave a live reaction or comment if you can

TW: Harsh/Suggestive language, drinking, confrontation

Word Count: 3.4k

Paige had been all over Azzi lately. It didn’t matter where they were—the blonde didn’t seem to care. She was always whispering things in Azzi’s ear, being extremely affectionate, and flirting incessantly. Azzi’s neck was practically screaming for help which she constantly covers with concealer. Tonight would be no different.

The team, gearing up for the more serious part of their season, decided they needed one more night out before locking in. And, as usual, they found themselves at Ted’s. The entire team was drunk, even the freshmen, who were being slyly handed drinks by their older teammates.

Paige was in rare form. She was glued to Azzi’s side, heavily flirting, touching her every chance she got, and leaning in to whisper things that made Azzi’s cheeks flush. The two of them stood at the bar, teasing one another, drinks in hand, caught in their own little world. Paige’s laughter echoed as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear.

“You know,” Paige murmured, her voice low, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more than I do right now.”

Azzi grinned, resting her hand on Paige’s hip. “Careful. If you keep this up, we’re going to have an early night.”

“Promise?” Paige shot back, her eyes dark with playful intent.

Azzi was about to respond when something in the corner of her eye made her freeze. Her grip on Paige’s waist tightened slightly as her jaw clenched. Standing by the entrance was Jess, her sharp gaze cutting through the lively crowd.

“Paige,” Azzi said, her tone more serious now, giving her a small nudge.

Paige pulled back, her brows furrowing. “What is it?”

Azzi subtly motioned toward the door, and Paige followed her line of sight. The moment her eyes landed on Jess, her expression darkened.

Jess, who couldn’t seem to let go of the thought of Paige had an air of smug defiance. She had a mocking smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if to say, Miss me?

Paige’s blood boiled. She could feel Azzi’s protective presence at her side, but her jaw clenched tightly as she took a deep breath.

“That’s bold of her,” Azzi muttered, her voice laced with anger.

“Bold or stupid,” Paige replied, her voice cold. “She really thinks she can just show up here like nothing happened? She needs to know she’s not welcome.”

Azzi smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I’ve got a better idea,” she said, leaning in close.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Azzi placed her hands on Paige’s hips, drawing her in. “Jess always hated how close we were,” she said softly, her voice dripping with suggestion. “Let’s remind her why.”

Paige caught on quickly, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You’re evil,” she whispered, her heart racing with anticipation.

Azzi shrugged, her smirk growing. “She made her bed. I’m just making sure she lies in it.”

Without hesitation, Paige pressed closer, she began whispering in Azzi’s ear, her lips trailing down Azzi’s neck. She kissed the sensitive spot just below her ear, lingering long enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch. Azzi, however, kept her composure the entire time, her hooded eyes locking onto Jess’s with unflinching confidence and a smirk on her face.

Jess’s expression faltered, her smug grin replaced by a subtle eye roll as she lifted her glass in mock indifference. But Azzi could see the tension in her posture, the way her grip on the glass tightened ever so slightly.

“She’s trying not to care,” Azzi whispered, her voice laced with amusement.

Paige smiled against Azzi’s neck, her fingers slipping under the hem of Azzi’s shirt just enough to draw a sharp intake of breath. “Let’s make sure she fails then,” she replied, her tone daring.

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she leaned back just enough to catch Paige’s gaze. “You realize this is only the start, right?”

“Oh, I know,” Paige said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Once we start, there’s no stopping.”

Azzi laughed, a rich, confident sound that carried over the thumping music. “Good,” she said. “I love a challenge.”

From across the room, Jess’s annoyance was palpable, but she remained rooted in place, her eyes flicking between the two of them.

Paige leaned in once more, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “Your turn.”

Azzi’s smirk didn’t falter as she lifted her hand, gently tilting Paige’s chin upward. Her lips barely grazed Paige’s before pulling back, enough to leave the crowd around them buzzing with speculation.

Jess huffed, turning her head sharply, but she still didn’t leave. She was trying to outlast them, refusing to give them the satisfaction.

Azzi chuckled. “She’s stubborn,” she said.

“So are we,” Paige shot back, her smile devious.

And so the game began. Paige and Azzi both loving a good competition.

…

Paige and Azzi were fully engrossed in their game, pushing boundaries in a way that left little to the imagination. The dim lighting of Ted’s cast a glow over them, but they weren’t concerned. None of the students would dare invade their privacy, and the team who would usually tease them for their PDA, seemed content to watch the drama unfold, some of them even making bets on how far it’ll go.

Azzi was draped over Paige’s lap, her lips brushing against her ear, her teeth occasionally grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. Paige’s usual bright blue eyes had darkened, her gaze flicking between her drink, Azzi, and the few teammates still lingering at their table talking to the blonde.

“I can’t believe how bold you’re being tonight,” Azzi whispered, her breath warm against Paige’s skin.

Paige chuckled lowly, her hand resting possessively on Azzi’s thigh. “You started this game,” she replied, her voice husky. “I’m just keeping up.”

The team, usually quick with teasing remarks, had fallen quiet. KK and Ice exchanged knowing looks, their attention drifting toward Jess, who was trying—and failing—to appear unfazed.

Jess sat stiffly in the corner, her drink barely touched. Her eyes darted toward Paige and Azzi every few seconds, and though she tried to mask her irritation, her clenched jaw and tapping foot betrayed her.

“She’s barely holding it together,” KK murmured to Ice, who smirked.

When Ice and KK stood to grab another drink, Paige’s attention snapped fully to Azzi. Her eyes, now nearly black with intensity, locked onto Azzi’s. Azzi felt a thrill of excitement, recognizing that Paige was on the verge of losing control.

Azzi leaned in closer, her voice a low murmur. “What’s wrong, baby?” she teased, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. “Can’t take it anymore?”

Paige’s grip tightened on Azzi’s thigh, her breathing shallow. “You’re killing me,” she admitted, her voice strained.

Azzi smirked, her confidence unwavering. “Then stop holding back,” she whispered. “Let it out. Show me what you’ve got.”

Paige’s eyes flickered with a dangerous mix of desire and determination. She leaned in, her lips capturing Azzi’s in a heated kiss that left no room for subtlety. The room around them seemed to fade as their game reached a fever pitch.

Paige’s lips lingered against Azzi’s, their kiss deep and intentional, a deliberate display meant for more than just each other. When they finally pulled back, Paige caught a glimpse of Jess storming toward the bathroom, her face flushed with barely contained frustration.

“She’s trying to compose herself,” Azzi said with a smirk, her voice filled with amusement. “Too bad we’re not done.”

Paige chuckled, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s jaw. “Not even close,” she murmured, her tone dripping with confidence.

Azzi shifted slightly, her hand slipping beneath the hem of Paige’s shirt, her touch light but deliberate. Paige’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips grazing Azzi’s ear.

“You really love pushing buttons, don’t you?” Paige whispered.

Azzi’s smirk widened. “Only when it’s this fun,” she replied.

As Jess returned from the bathroom, her carefully crafted neutral expression slipped when her eyes locked with Paige’s. What she saw twisted something deep in her gut. Paige’s usually bright blue eyes were dark, heavy with a desire Jess had never seen before—not with her.

Paige smirked, then slowly dragged her fingers through Azzi’s hair, letting her hand rest at the nape of Azzi’s neck. The motion was intimate, possessive, and deliberate, and Jess felt the sting of it as though it were meant to cut.

Azzi, noticing Paige’s shift, leaned in closer, her lips grazing the sensitive spot just below Paige’s ear. “She’s unraveling,” Azzi murmured, her voice seductive.

Paige didn’t look away from Jess. “Good,” she replied softly, her tone filled with satisfaction.

Jess’s jaw tightened, and though she tried to mask her jealousy, it radiated off her in waves. She had never seen this side of Paige—uninhibited, completely lost in someone else, not caring what anyone else thought. It was a version of her she had desperately wanted but never managed to reach.

Azzi smirked as she caught the flicker of hurt and anger in Jess’s eyes. “Think she’s realizing she lost?” she whispered, her fingers tracing slow circles on Paige’s thigh.

Paige’s lips twitched into a deeper smile. “She should be, but I don’t think so.”

Jess broke eye contact, her hand gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. But even as she looked away, it was clear she couldn’t block out what was happening right in front of her.

Paige tilted her head slightly, exposing more of her neck to Azzi. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet though.”

Azzi grinned wickedly. “Perfect.”

Jess’s composure faltered further as Paige leaned back, letting Azzi take the lead, their closeness undeniable. Paige’s hand stayed on Azzi’s neck, her thumb idly stroking the skin there as her darkened gaze was hidden behind her eyelids once Azzi kissed a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

Jess could feel herself spiraling, her carefully maintained facade cracking under the weight of what she couldn’t have—and what Paige clearly no longer wanted to hide.

…

After a few more drinks, the rest of the bar blurred into insignificance for Paige and Azzi. The game they’d been playing, the teasing glances, and the calculated moves to rile up Jess were forgotten. Now, it was just the two of them, lost in the gravity of each other’s presence. It had gotten so crowded that the bartender dimmed the lights and had music blaring.

The music was loud and heavy, but Paige hardly heard it. Her entire focus was on Azzi—on the way her body moved in perfect sync with hers, how her touch left a trail of heat on her skin. Paige leaned in, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “You make it impossible to think about anything else.”

Azzi chuckled softly, her hands sliding around Paige’s waist, holding her close. “Good,” she replied, her voice low and sultry. “Because all I can think about is you.”

The space between them disappeared as their movements became more intimate, their bodies pressed together as they swayed to the rhythm. Paige’s hands traveled up Azzi’s back, her touch lingering, as if memorizing every inch.

Azzi’s eyes darkened with desire as she traced her fingers along Paige’s arm. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” she murmured, her lips dangerously close to Paige’s.

Without warning, Azzi grabbed Paige’s hand and led her out of the crowded center of the room, weaving through the sea of bodies until they reached a darker, secluded corner near the back of the bar. The dim lighting barely touched them, casting long shadows that only seemed to heighten the tension between them.

Azzi leaned against the wall, pulling Paige flush against her. Paige’s lips ghosted over Azzi’s jawline, teasing, as her hands gripped her hips. “You’re impossible,” she whispered, her voice heavy with need.

Azzi tilted her head back slightly, her breath hitching as Paige’s lips brushed against her neck. “And you love it,” she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t respond with words. Instead, she captured Azzi’s lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was as if the dam of restraint had finally broken, and all the tension that had been building between them spilled out. The kiss deepened quickly, their movements growing more desperate as they clung to each other.

Azzi’s hands slid under Paige’s shirt, her fingers tracing the bare skin of her back, while Paige’s hands roamed freely, one tangling in Azzi’s hair, the other gripping her waist. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t notice Jess standing across the room, her drink clutched tightly in her hand.

Jess’s face was a storm of emotions—jealousy, anger, and frustration swirling together. She slammed her glass down on the table with a sharp clatter, drawing a few startled glances from nearby patrons. Without a second look, she stormed out of Ted’s, the door slamming shut behind her.

But Paige and Azzi were oblivious. Their world had narrowed to just the two of them. Paige’s hands slid up Azzi’s sides, her touch slow and deliberate. When her fingers reached Azzi’s neck, she paused for a moment before wrapping her hand around it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Azzi’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. She knew exactly what it meant when the blonde did that—Paige was losing control. As much as Azzi wanted to give in loving the way Paige’s hand felt around her neck, gentle but firm, she also knew they couldn’t lose themselves completely here.

Forcing herself to break the kiss, Azzi pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Paige’s as they both struggled to catch their breath. Her voice was husky, barely above a whisper. “We need to get you out of here,” she said, her tone tinged with urgency and a hint of amusement.

Paige’s eyes, heavy-lidded and filled with unspoken longing, bore into Azzi’s. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her thumb brushing lightly against Azzi’s neck. “Take me,” she murmured, her voice rough with need.

Azzi’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” she said softly, her voice filled with promise.

Without wasting another second, Azzi took Paige’s hand, lacing their fingers together as she led her toward the exit. Their pace quickened, anticipation crackling between them like a live wire.

The cold night air hit them as Paige and Azzi stumbled out of Ted’s, laughter spilling from their lips as they clung to each other. The warmth of alcohol coursing through their veins made everything feel lighter, their inhibitions long gone. Paige’s hand lingered on Azzi’s waist, her touch firm and possessive as they swayed in rhythm, still caught in the afterglow of their moments inside.

Azzi tilted her head back, letting out a soft giggle. “We’re a mess,” she teased, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at Paige.

“And yet, somehow, we’re still the best-looking pair here,” Paige quipped, her voice low and playful, leaning in to brush her lips against Azzi’s temple.

Their laughter continued until Azzi’s gaze shifted. She stiffened slightly, her arm tightening around Paige’s waist. Paige noticed immediately, her own smile fading.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice soft but concerned.

Azzi’s eyes flicked toward the curb under the glow of a streetlamp. “There,” she muttered, her tone grim.

Paige followed her line of sight, and her heart sank. Sitting slumped on the curb, nursing what looked like her third or fourth drink of the night, was Jess. Her head was bowed, strands of hair falling into her face, but even from this distance, the weight of her presence was unmistakable.

Paige sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “Seriously?” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, giving Paige a questioning look. What now?

Paige hesitated, torn. As much as Jess had complicated her life, it wasn’t in her nature to leave someone in that state.

With a sigh, Azzi gave Paige a gentle nudge forward. “Go,” she said softly, staying close behind.

They approached cautiously, Paige leading while Azzi lingered a few paces back, her watchful eyes never leaving Jess. As they neared, Jess seemed to sense their presence. Her head lifted slowly, her gaze landing on Paige first, then shifting to Azzi.

A bitter scoff escaped Jess’s lips. “Well, well,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If it isn’t the happy couple. Come to gloat?” She raised her glass as if in a mock toast before taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving them.

Paige frowned, her tone measured. “That’s not why we’re here, Jess. I came to—”

Jess’s gaze slid past Paige to Azzi, her lips curling into a nasty smirk

“And you,” she said, her voice laced with venom. “Always lurking in the background, aren’t you? Like a loyal little slut who—”

She didn’t get to finish. Paige’s eyes narrowed sharply, her voice cutting through the tension. “What did you just say?” she asked, her tone low and dangerous. She stepped forward, her jaw tightening. “Say that again.I couldn’t have heard you correctly.”

Jess’s smirk faltered, but she quickly doubled down, leaning back. “You heard me. It’s what she is.”

Paige’s jaw clenched, her fists curling at her sides as her heart pounded. Her voice dropped to a deadly calm. “No, say it again. I want to make sure I heard you right.”

Jess met her gaze, the smugness in her eyes flickering. “I said she’s a slut” emphasizing the last word.

Azzi didn’t flinch, her calm composure a stark contrast to the fire that suddenly ignited in Paige’s eyes.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Paige cut in, her voice sharp and cold. She took a step closer, her towering presence making Jess shrink back slightly. “You don’t get to say her name, much less insult her.”

Jess scoffed, trying to hold her ground. “Oh, please. Like I’m scared of—”

“Shut up,” Paige snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re sitting here, drunk and bitter, trying to drag her down because you can’t stand the fact that I never wanted you.”

Jess froze, her eyes widening as the words hit their mark. “Yeah right, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, trying to sound confident.

“Oh, I think you do,” Paige shot back, her voice growing colder. “You’ve been playing the victim ever since I broke up with you, twisting the story to make yourself look better. But the truth? You were never more than a convenient lie I went along with to avoid embarrassing you after you made that little announcement.”

Jess’s face paled slightly, the weight of Paige’s words hitting her harder than she expected.

“I never felt anything for you,” Paige continued, her eyes locked on Jess. “Not once. And you need to get that through your head.”

The silence between them was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic. Jess opened her mouth to respond, but Paige cut her off with a final warning.

“And one more thing,” Paige said, her voice low and deliberate. “If I ever hear you say Azzi’s name again—especially like that— I promise you’ll regret it.”

Jess’s eyes flicked to Azzi, who stood silently, her expression calm but unyielding. Jess’s confidence wavered, her smirk replaced by a mix of anger and humiliation.

Azzi, who had stayed back until now, finally stepped forward. She placed a gentle hand on Paige’s arm, her touch grounding. “Baby,” she said softly, her voice calm but firm. “It’s fine. Let’s go. She’s not worth it.”

Hearing that single word from Azzi hit Jess harder than any of Paige’s previous words. Her face twisted in a mix of hurt and fury, her composure cracking under the weight of what she had lost—and what she had never truly had.

Paige hesitated, her breathing heavy as she fought to rein in her emotions. Slowly, she nodded, her gaze softening as she looked at Azzi. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice calmer. “You’re right.”

She wrapped an arm around Azzi, pulling her close as they turned to leave, neither of them glancing back. Jess was still sitting there, her face a mixture of anger and shame, the weight of her choices finally catching up to her.

Paige pressed a kiss to Azzi’s temple as they walked down the street, her arm securely around her. The confrontation with Jess was over, and as far as Paige was concerned, it was the last chapter in a story she had no intention of revisiting.

For the first time in a long while, Paige felt free, her focus solely on the woman by her side—the one who had always been there—the woman she unknowingly loved.

[pisshandkerchief]

the thing about the 11th doctor is that moffat's horny ass writing somehow doesn't keep him from being the most asexual character of all time, so he comes across as one of those people who flirts incessantly with everything that moves but gets cold feet and has no idea how to handle it when someone actually shows interest in them in return. which is to say they're very relatable to me personally because I am also often like this

[blacknedsoul-blog]

An incessantly detailed analysis of the (re)encounter between Annabel and "Leo"

So I was writing something related to that scene and I wanted to share a detail that I love. From what we know about Lenore, yes, she knows that Annabel is lying when she says that their whole friendship was a con, but from there to Annabel wanting to be part of this fraud, it's a pretty big stretch.

So in this scene, Lenore makes a bet with her heart on the line (she has nothing more to lose anyway). So she introduces herself to Annabel and gets… this face.

Annabel tries to pull her hand away, obviously in shock, but Lenore won't let her (possibly thinking how suspicious the situation would be) and greets her like a gentleman. This is not a good prognosis for how Annabel feels about this at all.

I like to think that the reason Lenore speaks to him in such a nonchalant manner is because she notices that Annabel is not reacting at all and wants to divert Ira's attention.

So she steers the conversation to the thing that brings her here: she will try to win her hand, and that is what she communicates to her with that sentence. Lenore has laid her cards on the table. This is the moment when Annabel can either accept or reject the absolute madness that Lenore is proposing.

And Annabel's answer is …

I love Lenore's shocked little face at this point, like, girl, I know Annabel has nerves of steel, but you broke her with this.

As she's fanning her on the floor, you can see Lenore's expression start to shift from confusion to panic: maybe she's starting to doubt that this was all a good idea.

Annabel comes to, and to Lenore's surprise (who at this point must be wondering what the hell to do), not only does she start playing along, she smiles at her and even lets herself touch her.

Look at that smile! This woman must be throwing confetti in her head: they haven't said a word to each other, but she can see that Annabel is okay with it, and at this point, at least, that's all she could ask for.

So he allows herself to flirt a little, and Annabel blushes when she does! If Lenore had any doubt that she was being reciprocated, she can now breathe a sigh of relief.

At this point, neither of them knows exactly what the future holds for them, but at least they know they're in it together. The scene ends at the exact moment when, if Annabel was already in love with Lenore, she is now definitely eating out of her hand:

It's just a beautiful scene. You have to enjoy it (especially when the current situation suggests that we won't have one of these for a while).

[pursuitseternal]

“Bites in the Night, Part 2:” another Astarion x Reader Drabble from the road…

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Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.2K of angsty smut

Summary: he drives you mad, your vampire rogue. All that flirting and sexual innuendo and glances and proximity… something has to be done about it. Hopefully not alone.

CW: NSFW, longing and angst, female masturbation, consensual fingering (with cold, undead, beautiful fingers), vampire biting

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The rain patters softly on the canvas of your tent. It should make you relax, after the long day you have had. Your body aches, legs sore from walking and fighting. But no spell will give you healing or relief from this sort of ache.

It is of a different kind. And he is the cause.

Astarion is always the cause of your every bruise and sore muscle, not that he has even taken you. No he hasn’t come asking for that, not yet. Though you know the thoughts have flitted in your own mind, and you suspect from the way his eyes skate over you every day, that he has been thinking the same. But not yet. No, just the way his words tease you incessantly as you journey, the way he tends to shove enemies towards you in battle, his eyes dancing over your every stroke. As if he wants to make it just a bit harder, to keep you fighting so he can watch. He wants to engage with you, if not fuck you yet.

His words all day have set a fire in your belly. No matter the double entendre, the not-so-subtle ways he makes you think constantly of sex.

It’s driven you near madness, so much so, you can’t lay your head down. Alone in your tent, you pace. Your bare feet tread on the carpet you have spread out to cover the dirt. You can almost hear him now: “Careful, wouldn’t want to wear a hole in it just because you wish me to fill your holes, darling…”

How? you grind your teeth. How could he torture you so much, you can even hear his dirty thoughts as if they were in your head?

You doubt it’s a vampiric power. More likely, it’s his own godsforsaken charm that has its fangs in your brain.

Taking a deep breath of air, you let the scent of fresh, wet dirt break your raging thoughts. There is something you could do about it, after all. Quickly, you slide off your breeches, stepping out of the tight suede and savoring the way your mound can finally cool. One foot raising to rest on the edge of a chest, you let yourself be touched, slowly easing your own hands where it hurts. So wet, so slick, you are thankful for the constant noise of the rain outside to cover the wet squelches of your own juices. Closing your eyes, you imagine those pale, dexterous and strong fingers inside your folds instead, imagining it is his cold touch that fingers your clit and gets drenched in your arousal instead of your own.

Nearly there, you sigh, a moan leaving your lips.

A moan muffled suddenly by a hand reaching from behind to cover your mouth completely. And the palm is large and cold.

Undead.

Astarion shushes in your ear, pulling you back against the chilling hardness of his body. Your stomach flutters, even as you can’t see him, except for the arm that wraps around your shoulders and hand that still silences you. “Sweet thing, you have to keep quieter than that if you don’t want anyone else to know what you do in the dark of night alone…” Something brushes over your belly, his other hand tracing his fingers lower and lower until they trace down your arm. “May I?” he breathes one more time as you nod vigorously. “I could smell it, you know, your scent from the next tent over…”

His icy touch travels down your arm, his hand and fingers threading into yours. Your hips buck to meet the added pressure, you can’t control them as they rock into his palm, the cold of his touch making you squirt all the more as he pierces into your swollen and heated folds.

Hand still covering your mouth, you moan into his gentle gag on you, feeling the little reverberations in his chest as he answers with some of his own. His breath tickles your ear, chilling as it courses down your neck, loud and deep and rasping. You feel his nose press against your temple, taking in your scent, your sweat and the perfume of your arousal that coats the air so thick, even you can smell it now.

His fingers play you, making you dance and writhe and grind into his hand. Your knees grow weak, bearing your body down into his touch more and more. With a grunt in your ear, he shifts closer behind you, catching your ass hard against his own body, cradling you on his thigh. You hear his breathing grow ragged, rough, his body more than strong enough to take you this way. As if you weigh nothing at all. And still his fingers stroke you, teasing in and out of your entrance, crooking inside to catch some secret spot even you did not know existed. Something prods against your ass, something full and hard. Cold as the rest of him. His own arousal strains in his ache for you. And he wants you to know it. He gives a little thrust of his body against yours, you aren’t even sure if he knows he does it. Not with the way his hand picks up it’s pace fucking you with his ice-cold fingers, or the way his breath whistles in your ear, rough and rasping in his throat.

The thought of his own arousal alone pushes you right to the edge, the catch of his thumb right over your clit sending you into a crashing wave of bliss. His fingers do now slow, no, they thrust deepest yet into your channel making your ride your climax on them until you are left as nothing more than a mewling limp body, resting against him.

“Good girl,” he purrs, withdrawing both hands to hug you against him still. “Now, if I may be so bold, may I feed? I’m fairly certain I’ve earned it, sweetest darling…”

You manage a nod again, unable to use your voice as the aftershocks of your orgasm still grip you. You barely feel the slice of his fangs into your neck, your tremors of pleasure still too great for any pain to even register.

You’re in some cold ecstacy, finally held and fed on, the ache he’s conjured between your thighs relieved at last by his own masterful attentions. You drift off like that, the soft sucking of his mouth on your neck, the tight, if cold, embrace of his arms around you. Heavenly, you finally find some peace.

The next thing you know, you wake tucked in your bedroll, your thighs covered in dried slick. You will need to bathe, but you don’t care how soon. Let him smell you again today, a nice little thank you for last night.

Slipping on your clothes, you make your way for breakfast, your eyes landing on Astarion as he leaves his own tent. He smiles at you, arrogant and lustful, raising his hand to his face as he licks his fingers.

Your belly floods again with need, and you groan. Just another day of this heated cycle of want.

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My other Astarion x Reader fics:

✨“Bites in the Night:” Part 1 “Go back to sleep, daring…”

🩸“The Rogue You Were: Welcome me… NSFW”

🩸“The Rogue You Were: Cleanse me… NSFW”

🩸“Just a Drop: a Drabble as he turns Tav”

[yourneighborhoodporg]

Hello! Could I request an obi wan x reader x anakin fic where the reader is a force sensitive Jedi? They have to go undercover for a mission and ani and obi are awestruck/distracted by reader in flattering clothes (that aren’t Jedi robes) and it makes them both realize their feelings :) feel free to make it a lemon if you want

Little Red Dress

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Jealousy, Reader in Alluring Clothing, Brothel Setting, Some Life-Threatening Danger, Light Violence, Creepy(ish) Fella, Soft Smut (Minors DNI), all characters are over 18, Anakin Threatening Murder TM (why am I even surprised 😂), light banter, fluff, alcohol is around, boys being worried, HEAVY FLIRTING.

Song Inspo: Red Dress — MAGIC!

A/n: This took me way too long to get to lol 💀 Absolutely love this request idea which made it so fun to write. Wasn’t sure which gender you wanted for the reader so I made them female-identifying. This is my first request and short (lol) fic so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Words: 8.1k

She was built like a dream — Joseph Heller

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were… uncomfortable.

Not because Master Yoda himself had tasked the three of you with this urgent mission to the Outer Rim. Nor was it due to the cloudy, dark, and incessantly rainy atmosphere that was Morlana One’s Leisure Zone— its backstreets dotted by the occasional lifeless streetlight that just barely reflected off the puddles below, paving the two Jedi a glimmering path toward the local brothel.

No. It wasn’t any of that at all.

Instead, they felt a foreign existence within their own bodies, with each nearing step toward the club’s shadowy entrance, on account of the perplexing, and frankly alien, wears that sheened their limbs.

Of course, they never had any styling choice in the matter. Not for an assignment like this, where the elimination of Jedi symbols was expected.

Because this was a mission that required a gentler, more covert hand.

Because this was a mission that had you all undercover.

Nearly 72 hours ago, unknown assailants had broken into one of the Jedi Temple’s artifact rooms. From the emergency cache, they’d stolen seven Kyber crystals, which were always held at the ready in case a Jedi needed a temporary saber after damaging or misplacing their own.

A facility Anakin took advantage of too many times to count.

But, on this occasion, the Order could only count themselves lucky that The Chosen One had again somehow lost his lightsaber during a short mission to the Coruscant Underworld, requiring him to report to that very same artifacts chamber for a replacement before he could continue his search down into the planet’s murky depths. By chance, the chestnut-haired Jedi had arrived just in time to witness that the usually locked, ornate wooden door was notably ajar. And, with further investigation, that the krystals’ storage chest had been ransacked.

With Council Member Master Kenobi assigned to the inquiry, he quickly learned from a few trustworthy sources, including his old friend Dex, that the crystals were flown off-world to be sold at auction. To a seedy establishment in the Morlani System, no less. All with an undetectability and swiftness that duped not only the inter-District and planetary departure security systems, but the Jedi Temple’s once-thought-impregnable apparatus as well.

Evidently, Master Yoda had found that this operation met a sophistication not often seen among the ranks of disparate pirates or common thieves. It was why, after Kenobi came to him with this information, the Grand Master decided that the bearded man and Jedi Knight who discovered the robbery would be assigned to retrieve these precious artifacts. Placing an emphasis on the need to arrive undercover, lest this sordid enterprise catch wind of a group of creeping, saber-wielding Jedi.

They just couldn’t risk it.

Any action like that would certainly force this gang to race underground once again, crystals in tow, before the Jedi had a chance to recover them.

So, the Council supplied Obi-Wan and Anakin with clothes of the region’s elite, aiming to disguise them both as potential buyers.

Kenobi, a black dress uniform with gold, reflective embellishments suffocating his suit jacket while fueling his growing desire to remain hidden within the shadows as it converted his torso into a glinting beacon under the passing lights. And Skywalker, a simpler, but equally sophisticated gray suit atop a pearly white button-down that screamed conformity louder than Anakin could voice his displeasure.

Still, leaving the crystals’ fate up to whether this gang would accept Republic Credits was a game of pure chance. That, and the notion of buying back stolen, sacred property was never the Jedi way.

That’s where you came in.

A Jedi whose Force-sensitivity was so saturated, that you had the ability to viscerally sense Kyber crystals from parsecs away. And a talent that, in Master Yoda’s opinion, made you the perfect addition to the team.

Well, that and the open secret that the three of you had long ago become an unofficial squadron already. Considering the countless missions you’ve traipsed through together for most of your Jedi, and even Padawan, years, it was a wonder that Master Yoda felt the need to specifically mention your name either way. Even on missions in which the rag-tag trio were slingshotted to opposite poles of the galaxy, you’d always found a way back to each other.

That, or the Force itself had a dire motivation to keep those momentary separations brief.

Perhaps that’s why the two men, in addition to their clothing-related distractions, had sparking nerves heightened by another, salient factor.

That you weren’t by their side.

Given your skill set, it was clear from the beginning your cover needed to be quite different from theirs. So, twenty hours before the auction was set to start, while Obi-Wan and Anakin prepared their disguises, you slipped out. Leaving for the brothel on your own since you all agreed that the only way to secure your cover as an establishment employee was by actually applying to become one.

It was the only surefire way to explore the back rooms without tipping the sellers off. The only option the three of you had to find the crystals’ exact location. And to ensure that when chaos did reign, the artifacts wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

Still, neither man particularly enjoyed this arrangement.

“You remembered to bring it, correct?” Obi-Wan voiced, glancing at Anakin’s pensively taught brows beside him as the brothel’s neon purple sign gently flickered into view, encouraging him to once again tug at his neckline’s taught clasp around his throat.

“Of course!” The younger Jedi acknowledged. “I was the one telling her that she should’ve had it in the first place.”

In spite of the underlying weariness still thrumming at his chest, Kenobi couldn’t help but raise an amused brow at his former Padawan.

“You? Lecturing Y/n about leaving her lightsaber behind? I seem to recall that it was your inability to keep track of your own that landed us in this predicament in the first place.”

Anakin scoffed, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I seem to remember Master Nu saying that the raid on the artifacts room wouldn’t have been discovered for weeks if it weren’t for me.”

Still, the chestnut-haired Jedi sighed, yanking down the tails of his gray suit jacket that just barely fit his longer form while he continued.

“Besides, it was no mistake. She didn’t take her lightsaber intentionally.”

Kenobi shook his head knowingly. Partly due to his former Padawan’s somewhat warped perspective of the situation, but mostly because he too was not completely on board with the notion of you being undercover and completely unarmed. Though, no matter how much he desired to do so, Obi-Wan had trouble denying that, like always, your reasoning stood sound.

A reminder that subconsciously made his heart flutter.

“You know, Anakin, that she couldn’t have feasibly hidden it away. It’s safer for her that we hold onto it for now. She will have it when she needs it.”

And that’s why, no matter his outward assurances, Kenobi seemed to have an inability to take his own advice. Perhaps too it was Anakin’s own anxieties that were infecting the Force.

But no leakage from his signature could truly reflect the hate Skywalker felt for this plan. He had shot down its premise the whole journey here, but in the end, it was no use. Anakin understood that once you put your mind to something, especially in the name of protecting the community you held so dear, there was nothing anyone in the Galaxy could do to stand in your way.

And he really did treasure you for that.

“I know,” Skywalker grumbled, pivoting to avoid a stumbling Bith with a curved bottle in hand, brown liquid sloshing out to land just beside his black dress shoe as he walked by. “But I still don’t like it.”

Evidently, no matter their confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, the two men remained deeply troubled by the fact that you were still far enough away as to be immune from their protection.

But that would soon change.

“Alright,” Kenobi slowed just beside the establishment’s greasy, revolving door to address the younger man as they neared their arrival.

“We will need to remain in one place so that Y/n can find us. She needs to know where we are at all times to deliver the signal. The zone’s blueprints suggest that the center bar will have the best vantage point. So that’s where we’ll go. Oh—“

Obi-Wan lifted a warning brow at the younger man.

“And don’t stray.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, lips pursing in an attempt to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t stray, Master.”

—

If you had your portable chronometer on your person, you would’ve checked it by now.

About fifteen minutes, you’d been waiting a handful of meters from the brothel’s storage room, disguised by the far corner tables nestled within the establishment’s shadowy edges. Marking it the perfect locale for distant observers of the night’s entertainment— or idly spying Jedi. Fifteen minutes since Krissa, a now fellow employee, shuffled into that very same room to collect a few crates of Fizzbrew for the opening bar. Nearly twenty hours after you’d secured employment as what the owner lovingly called a “Friendly Dancer.”

Luckily, it was during that same interview that you’d caught the colorful, Force-illuminated trail, leading your attuned senses to this secured back room, like a bloodhound to its prey.

Or a Jedi to her Kyber crystals.

Yet, despite your carefully chosen cover, both assumed identity and dark corner camouflage, you still had a nagging feeling that your specially selected ‘employee uniform’ wasn’t doing you any furtive favors.

Besides the strikingly crimson, skin-gripping short dress that clad your hips, the black, shimmering fishnet stockings and translucent platform heels were sure to draw some unwanted attention during a time in which invisibility was your best friend.

But you had no choice. If you had any hope of maintaining your cover and completing your mission, you had to work with what you were given.

So, for now, one of these rusted-over, ash stools would need to serve their purpose— concealing you from the trickling in throng’s broad perspectives as you kept a peripheral lock on that steel door’s sturdy frame. One by one, hungry bidders with puffy, expensive coats and sparkling wears thickened the atmosphere, all while you hoped Krissa would quicken her exit via the locked door so that you could slip in.

It was moments like these that you’d wished you had your lightsaber. At least then, you could’ve cut through the heavy, metal barrier all on your own.

But, alas, this was a mission of stealth. And you’d be damned to put either Obi-Wan or Anakin in danger because of your impatience.

Causing you to, once more, question their absence.

“Boys, boys. Where are you boys…” you hummed lowly to yourself.

Glancing toward the billowing crowd, you grew remiss at their absence. It was easy to recall how both Jedi were particularly against your decision to immerse yourself into this environment, alone and unarmed. So much so, that you assumed they would’ve arrived by now. An observation that forced you to consider how this mission was sure to sour quick were you required to act without backup.

You shook that thought out of your mind almost as immediately as it arrived.

Obi-Wan and Anakin would always appear when you needed them most.

And you adored them for that.

That, among the litany of elements that drew you into their lives in the first place.

Your first mission together was but a sapling in the times you were to share. Memories, little moments, and fleeting glances recently coalesced into the singular realization that you’d fallen in love with two of the most powerful Jedi the Galaxy has to offer.

But they were just that. Jedi.

And so were you.

So no matter your unquestionable feelings for the men, there was nothing you could do. Putting aside that you doubted any emotional reciprocation, you were sure too that they’d never break the Jedi code for you.

And that left you to again drag yourself back from those innermost thoughts to focus on the situation at hand. Specifically, your conclusion that any dearth left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s wake would mean nothing of consequence if you couldn’t get into that storage room.

Luckily, there was no need to wait much longer.

Krissa shoved open the door, using her back to thrust it the rest of the way with a crate of clinking, dark green bottles swirling in her arms. Fluttering lilac dress flowing by her legs as her eyes landed on your surveilling form.

Kriff.

“Hey!” She scream whispered, brows stitched in reprimand while she leaned toward you. “You’re gonna get fired before you’ve even had a chance to work if you keep hiding from paying customers.”

You smiled sheepishly, playing into her assumption as you ‘stumbled’ to your feet.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, ambling toward the older woman while lifting a hand to ripple through the force floating by her eyes.

You spoke lowly.

“You want me to help you bring out those crates.”

“I want you to help me bring out these crates,” she parroted in a glazed-over daze, arm catching the steel door just before it shut to allow you entry.

You nodded to her thankfully, even though she had no choice in the matter, before pushing your way past the chilly aperture, entering the stuffy storage room while the door slammed shut behind you.

Speedily, you surveyed the cramped compartment, stacked and spread to the ceiling with a strange concoction of alcohol-filled crates, charcoal cargo containers, and draped artifacts that evinced the basement of a museum far more than a brothel’s back room.

But you didn’t really give it a second thought. If you didn’t want to get caught, then there was no time to ponder aesthetics.

Quickly, as your eyes fluttered closed, you allowed the Force to thicken your blood, treating your body and mind like a living, breathing compass in its guide to connect you with your True North—

The seven missing Kyber crystals.

With vision consumed by blackness, you dodged each precariously placed box and every outstretched figurine that threatened to obstruct your path as your senses drew you a detailed map toward the back wall. Almost like a pulsing beacon, you felt the heat of your connection to the sacred artifacts deepen, warming your more-than-usually exposed skin. Intensifying with each, deliberate step. Until it reached a fiery blaze so extravagant that one stride further would’ve certainly lit you alight.

You opened your eyes.

“Hey!” A deep voice called from behind you, triggering your heels to spin around toward the sudden sound, and away from the loosely sealed cargo container whose subtle, yet familiar, blue shine confirmed your senses.

Swiftly, you absorbed the older man’s ruffly peppered beard and chilled brown eyes as his head poked past the slightly ajar steel door, barely masked snarl contorting his lips.

“I don’t pay you to ogle the merchandise! Get out there and mingle,” he continued, jutting a thumb to the club’s main room to his rear.

You leapt to your feet, making a mental note of the crystals’ location while scurrying toward the owner who seemed to have somehow grown at least one more gray hair since your interview with him.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, twisting to get by his form against the door and entering onto the main floor before turning back toward him. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he huffed, swiveling to catch the shutting door with his foot before leaning down to retrieve something from behind it.

Still, his muffled voice echoed beyond the subsequent shuffling.

“You’re assisting tonight, and I want high bids. So get out there and make them like you.”

You nodded complacently, already prepared to whip around and follow his orders until the older gentleman reemerged with another case of green bottles cradled under his arm.

“And here,” he shoved the crate, obliging you to catch it somewhat unexpectedly with opened palms.

“Take this to the bar.”

—

“I don’t like this…” Anakin droned during his casual stroll toward Obi-Wan’s side, a glass of orange fizzy liquid held inconspicuously before his lips.

Kenobi was leaning against the bar, his cup of whatever was on tap cradled between his fingers yet clearly untouched. Instead, the subtly troubled Jedi’s attentive eyes continued their periodic scan of the barely lit brothel. Flitting past the pockets of gold-illuminated tabled alcoves and dark blue paneling, his eyes weaved through the voluminous throng. One that featured intimately quiet mumblings among extravagantly suited clientele and gorgeously draped employees.

It wasn’t hard for him to surmise the highest paying customers from the number of brothel workers who’d hang from their arms, clearly on the job.

Smiling at each of their glances. Laughing at every joke…

Kenobi wasn’t daft.

He clearly understood the expectations a club like this had for its staff. At the least, for those who mingled with the bidders before the show. He’d only hoped that with whatever position you’d acquired for your cover at this establishment, it wasn’t pressing you to do much of the same.

And no matter how illogical it sounded in his mind, he still didn’t want to see that.

Moreover, it seemed to be a thought that equally disturbed Anakin, as his gentle thrums of anxious musing stained the Force, gradually amplifying since both Jedi had yet to locate you.

The younger Jedi had always been protective of you, Obi-Wan excused, unbeknownst that Skywalker was making much of the same defense. Though for the chestnut-haired Jedi, it was more the self-justification that he was a protective person in general. And that this was nothing more than only that.

Just Anakin being Anakin.

“I’m confident she’ll turn up soon, Anakin.”

The younger man expressly sighed, permitting a brief beat to pass as a spring of laughter ricocheted by his ears from a nearby dancer. Waiting for it to die down with bated breath before angling to respond.

“What if she didn’t get the job? She might be trying to find a different way in right now.”

Obi-Wan had no need for reaching out to the Force in order to confidently answer that inquiry.

“She succeeded. Trust me, I’d know otherwise.” He hummed, raising his glass to just barely grace his lips, but never daring to take a sip and weaken his awareness. “However, should they not show soon, I am considering they may have been apprehended.”

Similarly, Anakin vehemently shook his head. He even permitted a wry chuckle to escape past those formerly parched lips before confidently responding to the Jedi Master’s statement.

“No way. If Y/n got caught, she’d send us a signal the second she felt us near.”

Skywalker’s confident air faltered.

“Well,” he shrugged nervously. “Assuming she’s not injured.”

Obi-Wan shot his former Padawan a disapproving glare.

Until his attention was suddenly grasped by a warm, comforting hand sliding across his shoulder.

“Is this what you boys do when I’m not around? Theorize about my potential failings?”

The two men spun toward you, catching the playful smirk consuming your features before their eyes were tugged down like an anchor to trail your stunningly sheathed body, almost as if it was the first time they’d ever laid eyes upon you.

It would be an understatement to state that absorbing this captivating sight had coerced their jaws into forgetting their primary function.

The low-cut style of your short, curving red dress. The fishnet stockings that stretched down your thighs and softly clasped your high-heeled feet. The sparkling, green gemmed earrings that perfectly brought out your plump, red lipstick and long lashes. And, most noticeably, your loose, flowing hair that they’d only ever seen tied back for battle, now resting lushly across your bare shoulders like a still-life statue.

It wasn’t a side of you either men had the pleasure of observing before. And, if given the chance, they’d challenge whichever entity had so long sealed this wonderful sight from their burning eyes to a duel.

One that such an unjust creature was sure to regret.

It was a kind of fairy tale notion that both men pondered instantly once they felt a bubbling heat swarm their countenance when faced by your visual power.

So much so, that Anakin couldn’t help but break the brief lull as his suddenly dried mouth reached down his throat for an audible, and undoubtedly embarrassing, cough as he scratched his nose to try to hide himself.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coping much better. The Master Negotiator had lost all concept of Basic, its vocabulary, grammar, and everything in between as his mind was only filled with your enticing image, your pleasantly exposed skin, and the touch of your fingers to his body.

Until it was too soon gone.

Your hand fell thoughtlessly to your side, head cocking with lifted brows before speaking.

“You can close your mouths. It was just a joke.”

But it was Kenobi who first gathered the confidence to respond.

“Um, you look—“

“Lemme guess. Ravishing? The night’s main treat?” You relayed sarcastically while heaving down a large crate of clinking bottles atop the bar, one that both men only just now noticed before you whipped back toward the still stunned Jedi, drawing their gaze center.

“I’ll have it known that the distance between the storage room and the bar is a mere fifteen-second walk and I’ve already heard it all—“

“…like an angel,” Anakin muttered, not even himself realizing that he’d said that aloud.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt your heart skip a beat, sending an unexpected tingle to the root of your gut before sheepishly smiling at the deepening flush of the chestnut-haired man.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, tensely eyed his former Padawan.

“Okay, that one’s new,” you admitted, gaze trailing away to conceal your unpreparedness for such an unexpectedly sweet comment.

Ironically, it was at that moment that your wandering stare settling beyond Anakin’s shoulder abruptly caught a familiar, peppered beard. Accompanied by terse, beady eyes that scowled at you from a far wall with the intensity of a lodestar.

You had a decision to make.

But, really, was there a choice at all?

Obi-Wan would catch on, you thought.

Though, no matter how well Kenobi did understand the requirements of your cover, he still certainly wasn’t expecting you to, in a millisecond, swiftly stride toward his bewildered form to wrap your warm arms around his neck.

Immediately, despite the quickening of his thrumming heart latching onto his Adam’s apple, Obi-Wan raised his usually firm hands to gently clasp at your forearms, being sure to send you a questioning glance as he smoothly played along.

But under all that, and although he was still unsure why, deep down Kenobi secretly hoped that such a quizzical gesture hadn’t encouraged you to subsequently pull away. For some reason, he despised the thought of influencing you to forgo remaining this close to him.

So close, that he could feel the tickle of your breath across his chin.

Thankfully, though, his innermost prayer seemed to have been answered.

“Sorry,” you whispered, conveying an outwardly flirting expression of perked lips and a tilted head.

There were very few people in the Galaxy capable of reading the subtle apologetic shine of your eyes that deeply stared into his. An invisible utterance that remained firm while you briefly freed one hand to beckon over a confounded, and secretly peeved, Anakin who stood just behind his former Master, before you grasped his loose hand and tugged him forward with a terribly fake laugh.

Soon, you rested the younger Jedi’s arm on your lower back, securing its nervously flaccid form around your waist while Skywalker’s face transformed into a brand new shade of crimson once he discovered the dress’s open back.

A clearly readable reaction that deepened Kenobi’s hesitation with his former Padawan’s proximity to you. And while his mind struggled to connect the dots on why he continued to experience these strange bouts of discomfort, too distracted to truly pin down these sensations, Kenobi still felt fueled by Anakin’s expression to nudge you a little closer into his own chest.

If that was even possible.

Paying no mind to the sudden action, you addressed both men, giving a particular glance to Anakin who seemed to be the most caught off-guard of the two of them.

“The brothel’s owner made it very clear that if I don’t ’mingle’ with the customers, trouble will come my way.”

And that made the former slave’s blood boil.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you punctuated, temporarily removing your other arm from Obi-Wan to privately rest on Anakin’s balmy cheeks, caressing them down to draw his eyes to your level as he too struggled to fight off the festering heart attack that threatened to crack his rib, and deepened the sudden feeling of emptiness in Kenobi’s chest. “Because we have one mission here, and it’s to retrieve those stolen crystals. And I’m not losing my chance to snatch them away due to your needless protectiveness. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Kenobi inquired, taking this opportunity to regain some realm of confidence before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging you toward him with a roughness that would easily read as greedy to anyone who happened to be looking that way.

Still, the unexpected suddenness of his movement set the nerves in your face on fire. No matter, you played into the act, falling into his chest with fingers gripping onto the lapels of his oddly sparkly jacket.

“Um,” you swallowed, regathering your thoughts with a blink. “I’m assisting tonight. Meaning that I’ll be showcasing each item while they’re bid upon.”

You hummed to yourself while considering this new stroke of luck. A sudden vibration against Obi-Wan’s chest that you hadn’t realized sent a fresh, nervous chill down his arms as he held your mystifying figure, encouraging subtly wandering eyes to drink in the sight once more while his unsteady heart began to churn his innermost thoughts.

It was in that same moment that Anakin first caught onto his former Master’s charade, having finally glimpsed an equal measure of voraciousness within his distracted, blue orbs. Something that stoked Anakin’s frustration that began anew with each moment Kenobi drew you closer to himself.

“I say we don’t waste the credits,” you commented, refocusing both Jedi’s attention. “The minute I have the crystals in hand, I’ll send you a signal, and we’ll dash out of here.”

Obi-Wan leaned into you, forehead mere centimeters from yours as a spoke lowly. And for some reason, you thought, with noticeably erratic breath.

“That’s extremely risky.”

“Well, you have my lightsaber. Don’t you?” You challenged with a lift of your lips.

Suddenly, a trail of warm fingers raked up into your hair, sending quite an unexpected chill down your back once they clutched around a bunch and somewhat needily rotated your head toward Anakin’s expectant face. Yanking your body more forcefully before soon feeling his strong arm catch your side.

“I have it,” he spoke lowly.

And in spite of how desperately he tried to keep his eyes connected with yours, he couldn’t help that split second in which they sparsely flitted toward your perfectly tinted lips.

An action you apparently missed for your focus on the mission at hand.

But a gesture that contorted Obi-Wan’s lips into a perpetual frown as his mind caught up with his frothing feelings.

“Good,” you expressed. “Then I’ll have it when it’s needed.”

While your eyes remained focused and thoughtful, half a mind on playing up your cover with the other half on those crystals, Anakin had trouble keeping his eyes from once more wandering downwards.

The feel of your red-draped body against his, the closeness of your bared upper chest and noticeable cleavage, the sparkle of your eyes that comparably made your bright earrings look like clumps of coal.

Though not fully, Anakin was beginning to understand what was going on in his chest to draw his signature into such a volatile temper. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself when one hand released from your soft hair to trail down your exposed back, the other palm brushing upwards from your flank to meet the other side as he briefly traced the outline of your shoulder blades.

All of which sent a lightning bolt of cold heat right up to your head and down toward your sensitively tingling toes before he inched you toward him with the press of his fingertips while he whispered.

“Obi-Wan is right. I don’t think we should take the risk. But just in case you need it…”

Slowly, he retrieved a hand, raking it over your shoulder and feeling every inch of your arm while his mind cleared. The chestnut-haired man’s swelling eyes traced the enticing experience until he reached your hand. And with feigned gravitas clouding his features, he carefully guided your hand beneath his suit jacket, dragging it just along his warm back until you felt a cold metal resting beside his tailbone.

“…you know where it is.”

What was happening?

That was the main question you were asking yourself.

Were both Obi-Wan and Anakin just really amazing actors when the moment required it? You’d certainly never seen such a talent from either of them before. Yet the sudden naturalness, the near familiarity with which each Jedi pulled and held you close? The intimate touches and long glances while this secret meeting proceeded?

You weren’t sure what changed between twenty hours ago and now. Yet, in your core, you knew a part of your brain didn’t want it to stop.

No.

You were a Jedi. You were all Jedi. Committed to a code.

You must’ve been reading this wrong. Feelings that you knew you’d long held for the men had once again clouded your judgment.

Meanwhile, the growing tension between the two Jedi had heightened to a noticeable degree. But with your mind focused seemingly on other matters, it was only just to each other.

“You? Not wanting to be reckless?” You stated, attempting to suffocate your rushing nerves with a confident smirk. “Are you sure I’m speaking with Anakin Skywalker or do we have an imposter in our midsts?” You chuckled. “Oh, and agreeing with Obi-Wan?” You added, raising a brow.

This time, it was Master Kenobi who felt a fire erupt through his veins while his thoughts solidified.

It was you.

You who were making him feel such a way.

Ever and always.

On every mission and in each universal moment, it was you who made the Jedi Master take pause as his heart skipped a beat in your presence.

Master Kenobi was even more firm in this belief: that he was quite finished with watching Anakin cradle you in his arms for any longer. That, and the growing desire fueled by this new angle permitting Obi-Wan to graze over your open back’s supple skin with his eyes, drained him of all his decades-long self-control in an instant.

He needed to do something about that

Reaching a warm hand to the closest corner of your waistline, and with a little nudge from the Force on the other side, Obi-Wan tugged you right into his arms.

You felt the imperceptible, tiny scratches of his sequined suit jacket and the heat barely underneath sprawl across your back while his palms meandered up your sides and down each arm, soon folding them across you as he enveloped you against himself.

This time, you truly couldn’t help the light, crimson blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Especially when Kenobi chose this opportune time to gradually lean into your shoulder, chin dipping so that his lips hung mere centimeters from your attentive ear before whispering a warning with a tone warmer than you were used to hearing from the Master Negotiator.

Especially in the middle of a mission.

“You should listen to him.”

Still, despite feeling the ravenous desire to take a calming breath and smooth your hammering heartbeat, you held firm, responding to his inquiry with an overpowering confidence that usually settled any score when the three of you were having a disagreement.

At the same time, having just noticed the brothel owner’s decision to push off his far wall perch to approach, you decided to also strike a grin, raising a flirtatious brow over your shoulder at Obi-Wan’s unreadably dark eyes while you spoke, maintaining your cover.

“No. The plan stands. Trust me, there’s no need to worry.”

But, unexpectedly for you, witnessing your visually claimed figure in Obi-Wan’s arms barking out orders all while clad in that tiny red dress ignited a fierce burning passion in Anakin to challenge you back as he too decided to make his thoughts known.

Through his words and with his hands.

Taking one powerful stride to stand directly before your toes, the younger man just barely graced your bottom lip to seize your chin, lifting it upwards and twisting you to meet his wanting, blue gaze. Compelling your bright, widening eyes to wonder once more whether the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur.

Your breath hitched.

“Gentlemen!” The owner exclaimed, sliding next to Obi-Wan and Anakin to place a performative pat on both their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying one of our new hires, but I’m afraid that I’ll need to borrow her for the rest of the auction. We are about to begin.”

Wordlessly, both Jedi released their respective grips on you, sharing between themselves an unamused glance above your head while you ambled toward the owner. Never breaking your own, painfully forged smile.

But that seemed to be enough to convince the quite older owner that all was set to begin, as he swiftly turned on his heel toward the brothel’s far podium, motioning for you to follow his trail.

You promptly obliged, yet not before sending one quick, yet quiet, last word with a twist of your head toward the Jedi who begrudgingly stayed behind with crossed arms or a clenched beard.

“Wait for my signal.”

—

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Anakin commented idling by Kenobi’s side.

The two men continued their observations of the auction since it began half an hour ago, their eyes rarely drifting away from the rather cramped, rickety stage while you traveled from side to side, displaying each item with deliciously attractive poise. Presently, you were exhibiting an old, handheld marble statue modeled after a female Twi’lek. And although other patrons regarded the item with interest, the two Jedi meant to be watching your back for any danger had their minds on other matters.

Anakin couldn’t keep his eyes off your sensually pacing legs, while Obi-Wan could barely remain still with your elegant, tightly wrapped hips moving to and fro.

“I hear 2,000 credits! 2,000 credits. Do I hear 2,100?”

Master Kenobi readjusted his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “I know. I don’t believe I’ve said otherwise.”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you want Y/n.”

The bearded Jedi whipped his head from the stage as he addressed the seemingly jealous, younger man. And for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan began to feel those same, envious emotions with equal strength, like he’d caught some psychic disease from the blue-eyed Jedi’s glance alone.

“2,100! Do I hear 2,200? 2,200 folks, for this ancient artifact of an unknown Ryloth civilization!”

“And?” He acknowledged nonchalantly, taking an assertive stance while he found comfort in the memory of you in his arms. “And what if I do?”

Anakin’s lips formed a thin line, the image of your parted, shocked lips when he caught your dressed figure perfuming his thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kenobi stated sarcastically before raising a rather annoyed brow.

“Going once! Going twice!”

“What are you gonna do?” Anakin mumbled.

Skywalker had to ask the question. Even though he’d already confirmed in his mind that no matter what, no matter if Master Kenobi felt the same, that he’d give you the chance of knowing that there was more than one.

Obi-Wan answered simply. “I’m planning on telling her.”

“Sold! To the fellow in the orange top hat on the right!”

Because through the older Jedi’s musings, Kenobi was arriving at a similar conclusion. That if you in any way felt the same, he’d at least give you a choice.

“I assume you’ll be doing the same?” He continued.

“Yes.” Anakin sighed, eyes returning to the stage just as you remerged with an old, raggedy yet sealed box held tightly in your hands. “And what if she can’t decide?”

Obi-Wan followed the young Jedi’s line of sight, subconsciously licking his lips as the fabric of your tight, red dress pulsed his blood and slackened his jaw.

“Then we do what we must…”

The bearded Jedi swallowed.

Hard.

“…we help her.”

A rallying spark flung through the Force, filling both Jedi’s senses as they were wrenched from the momentary, visual distraction that was your ravishingly dressed person.

There was no way to deny it. Your pointed expression? Your readied stance?

The signal had just been fired.

Reaching for their respective lightsabers hung inconspicuously at the belt, both Jedi swiftly whipped their weapons out into the open, igniting a collective blue glow that provided enough of a shockingly, eye-catching distraction for you to leap from the stage, box in hand, without much recourse.

Then came the blasters.

As if emerging like shadows from the establishment’s dark corners, a sporadic group of armed men dressed like well-to-do pirates began their determined assault. Coloring the air with orange beams while the crowd scattered, hurried screams and the groans of abruptly shuffling furniture echoing off the walls.

You bolted for the Jedi, triggering both to somersault toward you while they attempted to block any bolt that you nearly failed to dodge before landing at either flank. Thankfully, that provided the chance to fling a searching arm beneath Anakin’s suit jacket, grasping your saber from its warm habitat before yanking it out into the open to launch its green luminescence.

“Go!” Obi-Wan cried, deflecting another round of bolts from your rear while the two men encircled you like a living, breathing barrier.

“We’ll hold them off!” Anakin agreed, flinging a badly aimed bolt toward a now broken and sparking light fixture above before facing you. “Get back to the ship!”

You glanced at both men, making clear your uncertainty and reluctance through the Force as, even with your aid, the gentle perspires of their efforts became noticeable.

But it was their turn to stay firm.

“Now! We’ll be right behind you!” Obi-Wan strictly assured.

So, with the box of crystals secured tightly beneath one arm and your saber effectively defending against the coming onslaught with the other, you decided to, for once, follow the boys’ instructions as you bolted for the exit, and out the brothel’s door.

And, with their hearts already racing, both Jedi had to do their best not to focus on your distracting wears as they paved a path to race after you.

—

Leaping through the red and white Nu-class shuttle’s rear hatch the instant it opened wide enough to do so was enough to coerce out an instant sigh of relief as your feet landed on the metal floor, drawing you deeper into the bird’s belly. Naturally, after regaining some bearings in the familiarity of the ship, you felt secure enough to set the relatively sturdy box of Kyber crystals atop a nearby ledge before turning to assess the situation behind you.

You already sensed that Anakin and Obi-Wan had stuck close to your heels during the entire escape, sabers twirling with elegant control against any threatening phaser until you strayed far enough beyond the brothel’s preview to lose any potential tails. So you weren’t surprised to find both men maintaining a similarly brisk pace while speeding up the ramp seconds after your arrival. Sabers long ago clipped back at their sides with Obi-Wan leading the way, leaving Skywalker in charge of closing the now slowly rising hatch.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was that the overpowering determination emanating from the bearded Jedi’s face had not in the least bit lessened since he entered the craft. Quickly, yet smoothly, he shed his gaudy suit jacket, tossing it unceremoniously to the side as he subsisted his approach.

In fact, the slight narrowing of those blue eyes, an expression you’d only seen in the occasional sparring session, remained forwardly focused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was charging right for you, an action itself that compelled you to perplexedly speak while his brown boots closed that ever-shrinking distance.

“What are you—“

Warm lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily yet delicately while Obi-Wan’s sturdy arms snaked around your waist to gently tug you into himself.

Your heart nearly stopped, and from the tingling, tiny explosions erupting at each and every nerve ending alone, you felt yourself fall into the momentum, arms raising with the certainty of a choreographed dance to cradle Obi-Wan’s head and run your fingers through his soft, auburn locks.

Whether consciously or not, his grip on you tightened, straining your breath before you had the unavoidable need to be even closer to him. You intensified the kiss, drawing his plump, reddened lips into slow and steady locks, only for them to release with the duration of a clap before you both deeply met each other again with needy swiftness.

It felt like hours, but it had been mere seconds since the instant his body met yours. Still, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. Mostly to catch much-needed breaths from the pure, unadulterated shock of it all.

Master Kenobi held you still as your gaze graced over his flushed features, including that slightly tussled hair and darkened eyes that diverted from their usual bright sparkle. Especially when they flitted from your surprised orbs, to your plump lips, and back again.

But no matter this pleasing diversion, still, out of the corner of your eye, you were forced to notice Anakin— standing in the far corner in quiet observation, and chillingly reminding you of where you were and what important rules both you and his former Master had certainly just broken in his presence.

What made it all worse, though, was that for the life of you, you could not read the younger man’s expression. Apparently, he had just stood there, arms crossed once the shuttle door was secured and simply… watched? Impassively?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then, he pushed off the wall.

Anakin’s arms fell to the side as he gradually approached you both, brows tightening into what looked like a slightly angrier cross that ran your brain into overdrive. You were still having trouble discerning his emotions through the Force, but could only make an educated guess that he was beyond frustrated that the two beings closest to him had just broken the Jedi Code.

And, also because, he didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to what Obi-Wan did, making you sadly doubt that he’d ever feel the same way you’d always felt for the chestnut-haired man and his former Master.

So, no matter how right it felt, how much you wanted it, you knew that it was time for some damage control.

“Obi-Wan…” you took a deep, shaky breath, nerves still firing at every end while your stare stood firmly on Obi-Wan’s wanting expression, Anakin nearing your side.

You loosely exhaled.

“Where did that—“

Hot moisture met your neck, Anakin’s wet lips attacking its side and extracting a startled gasp from your lungs as your eyes fluttered closed. Greedily, he cupped your throat to softy tug you toward him, draining your arms into a state of perpetual pliability from the pleasant heat filling your chest.

They slid, soon falling from Obi-Wan’s body entirely before you angled toward the younger Jedi and shakily twisted them around his shoulders for support. Another weak sigh escaped past your lips once you felt Anakin’s teeth graze across a sensitive spot as the weakening kisses continued, an action which only seemed to encourage the younger Jedi considering he returned to that spot with more fervor, sucking it dry until your jaw slackened.

Still, no matter how dazed your mind had become in this last minute of chaos, you just couldn’t believe this was happening.

It had to be a mistake, right? Was something else wrong?

Something must have happened.

Regathering your senses, you quickly pulled away from Anakin, feeling the resistance of your initial jerk snap Anakin from his equally influenced status as he quickly tried to give you space.

“Are you ok??” He asked rapidly, eyes seeping wide-eyed worry and flickers of guilt while Obi-Wan, who was initially calmly analyzing the show, too shifted to share a similarly concerned expression.

“Yes, of course,” you aired, still slightly out of breath as you stared confoundedly at the two men. “I’m fine Anakin, but what is going on? This is coming out of nowhere.” You shook your head. “Were the two of you drugged or something?”

“In a sense, I suppose we were,” Obi-Wan answered nonchalantly.

You raised a brow.

“Y/n,” Anakin uttered, drawing your eyes toward his. “Obi-Wan and I realized something back there during the mission. Something it looks like we both kinda knew for a while but didn’t really understand until now.”

Master Kenobi’s eyes raked across your figure once more while he spoke. “I saw you there, we saw you, truly, for the first time. And I lost my breath.”

You melted at his words.

“All I saw was pure beauty and you, and I couldn’t tell the difference,” Anakin spoke disjointedly, nearly making you giggle. “And I knew that seeing you like this, in this way, I couldn’t wait any longer. We couldn’t wait. We needed to tell you.”

“Tell me?” You asked breathily, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next.

“That we desire you,” Obi-Wan barely whispered, fluttering your stomach. “That you are more important to us than ancient statutes. And we determined that you must know so that you may decide if you wish it.”

You shuttered, worries of the Code fading into nothingness while the two men before you consumed your senses. “Decide?”

Anakin stared at you, a pleading glint in his eyes as he spoke gently.

“Which one of us you want back.”

Your still heavy breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet air. Characteristic of the thoughts rattling against your buzzed skull before a throaty mutter made its way past your teeth.

“I can’t…”

You watched while their faces deflated at your words.

“We understand, Y/n,” Obi-Wan spoke, a subtle sadness drooping his tone. “It’s quite alright—“

“No,” you corrected quickly. “No, I can’t decide.”

Anakin’s brows quirked at this, head tilting as curiosity subdued his brief listlessness.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sighed heavily, eyes drifting to the floor with an unaccustomed quiver. “I mean, I can’t decide because… because…”

You bit your lip.

“I want you both.”

Raising your head, you carefully observed the two men, bodies as still as statues while their swollen eyes held firmly on your figure. Anakin nurturing a steadily expanding, devious grin while he quietly flexed a fist, and Obi-Wan, faintly flicking his tongue across his top lip in an effort to carefully drink in your figure.

A pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Is that alright?” You whispered.

Anakin chuckled incredulously, cueing Obi-Wan to respond to that inquiry.

“Darling,” he murmured, insatiable eyes sucking you barren as the nickname sent a new round of tingles down your legs. “That stretches far beyond ‘alright.’”

“How do you want us?” Anakin posed, tone nearing a growl.

Unfiltered, you spoke your mind.

“As close as possible.”

And the Jedi obliged.

________________________________________________________________

Should I do a part 2 at some point? Let me know :)

[sixlane]

Newlyweds

Jegulus microfic | 830 words | A little Mr & Mrs Smith au thingy for u | pt. 2, pt. 3

“So… what’s your favorite color?” James asks. They’re meant to be getting to know each other but the agency told them not to reveal any identifying information. This is the best he could come up with.

Regulus raises an eyebrow, unamused. James knew it was a stupid question. He’s about to take it back when Regulus looks down at his plate and says, “green, like a dark green. Almost black.”

James hums, studying the way the man in front of him cuts his food into even pieces. He thinks he could learn a lot more about Regulus by just watching him rather than asking superficial questions. Regulus likes order. Noted.

After a minute of silence, broken only by the scraping of silverware, James speaks again.

“Now it’s your turn to ask a question. See, we’re doing a back and forth thing here. Swapping secrets. If we’re going to be fake married we have to know things about each other.”

Regulus doesn’t miss a beat. “I already know everything I need to know about you, James.” 

James scoffs. This is going to be the longest mission of his life. He’s known Regulus for all of an hour and he’s barely gotten five full sentences out of him.

“Ok, tell me three things you know about me. If you get something wrong, I get to ask you anything I want.”

Regulus sets his knife and fork down neatly next to his plate. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and looks up at James, pinning him with an icy gray stare. For a second, James loses his breath to the chill. Regulus’ eyes slide over him, stopping at his lips for a brief moment, but James catches it all the same.

“You’re an only child, you’re rich already so you’re not in this for the money, and you’ve been married before, maybe recently. I’d probably even say that’s why you’re here.” Regulus takes a sip from his wine glass, not looking away from James as he does it.

“How did you… Did the supervisor tell you about me? Because that’s not fair I didn’t get anything on y—” 

Regulus cuts him off with a hand. “You’ve been talking incessantly since the second I got here. Attention seeking behavior. Only child. That was probably the biggest stretch but I figured I’d give it a shot. You’re wearing an Armani sweater, so that one wasn’t even hard, and you have a tan line around your left ring finger. Is the divorce even finalized yet?”

James just stares, mouth parted in an attempt to form literally any word from the wide array of languages he knows. Nothing comes, though.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a spy, James? This is day one stuff.” Regulus goes back to his meal. A curl of his hair falls briefly in front of his eyes and he brushes it back with elegant fingers. 

James doesn’t think he’s ever been speechless in this life. All he can think to say is, “the divorce is finalized.” 

“Did you love them?”

Well, that was unexpected. He answers anyway. “Yes”

“Do you still love them?”

“No, not anymore,” James mutters, looking down. It’s true but that doesn’t mean it’s not still tender.

“Good.”

James shoots a look at Regulus then, incredulous. “Good?” he asks. “Why is that good?”

“No attachments, James. It’s bad business.” He says it so casually, so plainly, but James can see a twitch between his brows. This hits home for him too.

“You forget, honey, we’re married now. It’s me and you ‘till the end. We’re ‘attached’ for life.” He smirks, wanting to move the conversation away from lost loves. Hoping the humor will smooth the tension in Regulus’ face.

“We’re fake married, James. Partners. That’s it.” He’s looking up at James through jet black lashes and James finds himself thinking about running his fingers lightly across them. Counting every one until he runs out of numbers. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Okay, maybe he’s flirting now. So what? If they’re going to be stuck together he might as well make it interesting.

“Yes it does.” Regulus says, but James doesn’t miss how a slight flush creeps onto his cheeks. “We’re doing this by the book. It’s easier that way, trust me.”

“Oh I'm not worried about me, Regulus. I can keep my hands to myself. Don’t think I haven’t missed the way you’ve been looking at my mouth, though. I can be observant, too.”

Regulus looks away, obviously flustered, and James preens internally for getting a reaction out of him.

“I’m going to bed,” Regulus says, getting up. 

Before he’s out of the room, James responds. “Alright, love. Let me know if you want some company. You know where to find me.”

Regulus stops. It’s too long of a pause, almost like he’s considering the offer, but he doesn’t look back. “Goodnight, James,” he whispers before heading up the stairs, and James swears he hears a smile in it.

[sadist1224]

Everyday life in the Mafia!AU

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4

I just want a little bit of everyday life when I don't have to worry about kidnappings, bandits and showdowns.

When you come to the bar a few hours before your shift, and Mafia!Gaz "accidentally" comes to say hello to you and ask how you are doing.

Mafia!Soap, who drops by your place literally in a few minutes, just to take you to the nearest coffee shop, to drink coffee, because then you will be immersed in work again and you will not be up to them.

Mafia!Soap and Mafia!Gaz who buy you a big latte with salted caramel syrup, insisting that they pay for it.

Mafia!Soap and the Mafia!Gaz who chatter about everything incessantly, joke and have fun, which makes you feel warm and calm. This is exactly what you need before your shift at the bar.

Mafia!Soap who shamelessly flirts with you after every joke, but you still manage to keep a steady expression on your face. You just like the way he doesn't give up trying to win you over. But you also feel that your wall will crack soon.

And you still don't want to get involved in mafia business, but that's how Mafia!Gaz invites you to some kind of party, just so you can unwind and be with them. And those pleading puppy dog eyes Mafia!Soup, who is already figuring out where you could get a dress and how long it would be.

You jokingly say it's more like a date, and you're amused by how cheeks are Mafia!Gaz darkens with embarrassment, and Mafia!Soap the eyes open wide, as if they were caught red-handed.

You promise them you'll think about it, but only after work, because, well, why not, really?

[smiley-babe]

Best Dealer on Campus

warnings: drug use, mutual pining, unprotected sex, slight dubcon (sex while on drugs), aftercare, praise, squirting, overstimulation, fingering, (Megumi has green eyes in this idc, fight me lol).

notes: this has been heavy on my mind and I needed to get this out. 

weed dealer Megumi who is nonchalant as hell, not easily approachable at all but got the best nugs on the university campus. he’s a well known guy, his dad making their last name famous but apparently gives his son nothing. resulting in him making his own monopoly on the school drugs.

weed dealer Megumi charges everyone full price. no matter how much a pretty girl flirts with him or someone offers to do his homework. but you. you always get a discount of some kind.

weed dealer Megumi who offers to smoke with you one day. you had made a joke that he looks stressed out all the time and asked if he partook in his own supply. he didn’t want to look like a complete stick in the mud so he throws it out there. but in truth he’d seen you before. you’re a regular. always joking or teasing him. he can’t even tell if you’re flirting or being goofy but he likes your energy.

weed dealer Megumi who rolls the perfect blunts, packed tight and pretty. you watch his fingers as he does it and your mind wanders. megumi catches you staring at him and smirks a bit. “trying to learn from the master?,” he asks with a raised brow. “master? yeah okay Megumi.” and even after you tease him about the name he still shows you how he gets the perfect wrap.

weed dealer Megumi gets so high with you that his eyes are low, the whites of them reddening slightly. you’re just as bad, giggling at cheesy jokes on some sitcom you put on. he studies you during this time. he feels ashamed to, not wanting to get caught up in his stupid little feelings. but when you meet his low green eyes all of that restraint goes out the window.

weed dealer Megumi who finds himself leaning into you, nose brushing yours as his eyes flit to your lips. your hands thread through his hair as you look back at him. fuck it. the kiss is slow at first, feeling each other out. as soon as you let out a small moan from how his teeth grazed your bottom lip his hands all over you.

weed dealer Megumi who is quick to have you sprawled out and naked on your couch. his long skinny fingers toy with you, flicking over you clit and watching your cute reactions. “please Megumi. just fuck me…” he has to clench his jaw and keep himself composed because of how needy you sound. instead he focuses on pushing two fingers deep into you, reaching spots that made you see stars.

weed dealer Megumi doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers even after you got off twice and you try to squirm away. leaves a light swat on your cunt when you try to move. “megumi i want you. please,” you beg him incessantly. has him ditching his clothes and lining his aching cock at your entrance. “you sure?” you nod and pull him down for a kiss.

weed dealer Megumi who, when he finally pushes into your pretty pussy, swears he could live there. he starts with a slow roll of his hips, reveling in how your walls convulse around him. when you look up at him it makes you squeeze him even tighter. a light blush coating his cheeks and the way he clenches his jaw, small pants escaping his lips already. his silver chain dangles over you as you hold your legs open for him, hands on the backs of your thighs. 

weed dealer Megumi can’t stop kissing you while he fucks you deep. likes feeling you moan and whine into his mouth. when he pulls from your lips, obscene curses fly out of him. every time he sinks deeper he feels his head fill with nothing but you. the soft pants and whiney moans leaving your body. “so pretty,” he whispers. “so. fucking. pretty. just like this.” he punctuates his words with hard thrusts. 

 weed dealer Megumi who praises you when you cum around his cock, a strangled cry leaving your mouth and tears spilling from your eyes. “just let it out baby. there you go,” he coos, slowing his pace and wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb. who makes you cum again. the third time he makes you squirt. by this time you’re pushing him away weakly and crying out.

weed dealer Megumi pulls out when he cums, spilling it all over your tummy and panting hard. leaves kisses on your face as you both calm down. “you good?,” he asks. your reply is a weak yes as you a smooth a hand through his wild hair. 

weed dealer Megumi who doesn’t make that time the last and eventually builds up the courage to ask you on a date. he definitely never makes you pay for a gram ever again. 

[nonnieapple]

Hi hello! Could I request some poly dating headcanons for Bryon and Lorson with a gn reader please?

⛈️⚡️Bryon x g/n!Reader x Lorsan Headcanons⚡️⛈️

• (Bryon x g/n!Reader x Lorsan Headcanons)

• r a t i n g: t e e n & u p • 1 4 2 0 w o r d s

• p o s t e d: 27.10.2024 🌧️ navigation

n o t e: comin' right up! i miss them so... but i heard lorsan will be playable soon.

Bryon & Lorsan 

• I headcanon Bryon as on the aroace spectrum. He doesn't feel romantic or sexual attraction very strongly.

• But he feels platonic love VERY strongly, he would kill for Elona.

• Getting into a relationship with Lorsan is easier (no offense) because he's more naive and eager. It would probably happen during your journey together, and he'd own up to it sooner or later because he can't keep his mouth shut, and his body language is very easy to read. 

• His ears began to droop around you (which meant that he was paying less attention to his surroundings- he was relaxed), and he would constantly fix his hair near you (when he thought you weren't looking. But you totally saw it). 

• He's not very subtle when speaking, either, I mean his flattery was tooth-rootingly sweet. 

• When confronted about it he denied it for a second but immediately switched up and admitted it when you fell silent. 

• He chose to go with you on your travels because he knows you yourself travel like a dandelion seed carried by the wind. 

• Bryon is, in many ways, the opposite of Lorsan. They are both skilled windwhisperers and wilders... and that's where the similarities end. 

• Bryon was cordial with you like he is with most, and you kinda fell for him upon first sight, because LOOK AT THAT MAN???

• You thought you had NO chance.

• It didn't help that, with that mask, he was hard to read. The more time you spent with him the more you could read the inflections of his voice, and that gave you a good indicator of what he felt.

• After he hid behind you when some lady tried flirting with him you realized that he isn't mysterious... he's just genuinely shy and reserved. That softened you to him and you felt less pathetic in his presence. 

• He wouldn't even realize he caught feelings until you're about to leave, and he's screaming on the inside, thinking how much he'll actually miss you now. 

• He's pretty committed to staying in the forest... dragging him out wouldn't be easy. He might visit from time to time and send you messages. Sometimes he sends so many of them you can't keep up. 

• But I don't think he could permanently leave the Dark Forest.

• Coordinating a poly relationship was not easy at first. 

• You had to explain the concept (they were only vaguely familiar with it) and it took a while to do so. 

• (Also, you had to get Elona's blessing first.)

• Lorsan kind of took it at face value and trusted you, while Bryon asked a TON of questions, which you indulged in, of course. The two balance each other well and answer for different needs of yours. Lorsan is more physical, close, and affectionate, while Bryon is wise, gives you space, independent. One comforts you physically and the other emotionally and intellectually. 

• You feel secure with both of them. Both have your back, and you have theirs.

• No one you know minds the arrangement. Lyca and Eironn are surprised you managed to make Bryon show vulnerability for once. 

• Lorsan is not surprised that you fell for Bryon and his mysterious ways. He says it's "typical". Ouch.

• Bryon is surprised that you like Lorsan, he says he's too chaotic compared to you and he has no idea how you manage him. You have no idea either. 

• Valen incessantly teases Lorsan, so when you see Valen Lorsan is ready to book it. 

• Bryon is so pretty... he gets hit on pretty often and always hides behind you like that'll help. Your usual tactic is to say that he's your boyfriend (true) BUT if they hit on Lorsan you have to choose between explaining your relationship or just letting Lorsan bask in attention (he doesn't always like it). 

• You're constantly aware of being noisy around them. You usually go do noisy things in other rooms or outside to not bother them. 

• They'll hear someone whistling in the distance and tell you how annoying it is when you hear quite literally nothing besides a breeze and their voices. Even if your hearing is good, theirs is on another level.

• You get to learn a lot about windwhisperers. You know more than the scholars in all of Esperia.

• Lorsan is more capable than he looks- if you get lost he's the one who leads the way or sets up shelter. At home, he's pretty productive around the house. 

• Bryon can go pretty long being silent. When you're together you can go almost a whole day without speaking... and then you talk for hours at night. 

• Very loyal. The type of person to do anything for you if you so much as bruise your leg- he's weak in that regard. 

• Bryon rarely takes off the mask. When you saw him without it for the first time, you freaked the hell out, because that thing had become a part of his face to you. Man, put your face back on!!!

• He's still gorgeous (obviously). He has cool yellow eyes and they're pretty imposing. You can't get used to him being without a mask. 

• Lorsan hasn't seen him without the mask since he was young. He only did because he walked in on Bryon and you sitting there. To Bryon, it would've been less shameful if he walked in on you bangi-

• Sometimes when Lorsan's happy he jumps up a little. 

• With his ears he's like a cat, one second he wants you to be all over him, and the next he's swatting your hand away. 

• When you're back home after being gone for a while, he'll circle you and chat away, not giving you a second to interrupt, probably bragging about something and telling you what he heard that day. 

• Lorsan will headbutt you for pets or just for a bit of attention. If you're focused on something he'll even nip you, which hurts. 

• He's kind of a brat... 

• HATES it when you poke his peets. Will leave if you try to do that. 

• Bryon barely touches you, and always asks before, except for when you wake up and find yourself pinned under his leg and arm, holding you like you're about to escape. 

• His ears are soft as silk. You try to keep your hands to yourself, but, come on, look at those things.

• Bryon doesn't get jealous much at all, and when he does he manages. Lorsan isn't that collected. 

• Lorsan steals your food. Constantly. 

• On the flip side, you don't see Bryon eat. 

• Communication goes well between you three. Until it doesn't if one of you gets into their own heads. All of you are very skilled and successful, and that can often lead to feelings of inferiority and insecurity. Rarely, but often enough for your friends to know how to respond already. 

• "They're at it again..." Valen will say, ready to talk you out of thinking you're worthless by screaming "YOU ARE *THE* MERLIN!" at you. 

• Works like a charm.

• Lorsan and Bryon get along.... ugh, it's bearable. Bryon is always subtly and not so subtly trolling Lorsan, who isn't as graceful with his words-

• Until he needs to apologize to you or anyone. He puts those hidden poet skills to use. 

        • If he's away, he might choose to send a letter instead. You keep all of them in a dedicated box, and you write down some of Bryon's messages. 

• Lyca is your sister-in-law now!!! Yippie!

• Each time she sees you she asks if Lorsan's been behaving well (NO, HE HAS NOT-)

• Bryon has to wear shoes when in Holistone and such, and he isn't a fan. "It's a dual leather prison," he once said, solemnly. 

• When Elona perches on you it's like being chosen by the gods themselves

• You've been adopted by Grannn Dahnie & Arden. You will get pestered and you better take it well OR ELSE.

• They tell you embarrassing things about your partners, with Lorsan getting flustered while Bryon is silently mortified. He says nothing and you can tell he's dying inside. Rest in peace.

• People in the Dark Forest start seeing you as a local since you visit so often. 

[kanmom51]

Genuine question, what do you think of "my eyes are always on you" to jk from Tae?

Also this clip? https://www.instagram.com/reel/C48mJt1NdYR/?igsh=YjF6czZsdWltN3dp

Why jk is being cheesy here? 😭

Babe, you're not serious, are you?

Right?

Cause if this edited clip from ITS2 is absolutely NOTHING. No translation. Only a caption that has nothing to do with whatever it was that was going on there. Have you watched the episode? The full episode? The full show, as in all episodes and behinds? This is the same show with a whole passive aggressive JK-Tae interaction over Tae basically pulling his hyung card for JK to cook him breakfast. Also, btw, JK being cheesy? Really?

If you want to see true interactions, real interactions, please stay clear of edits. TikTok or YT or X or whatever the source is. First and most important is to watch the ORIGINAL CONTENT!!! After you have done that, seen the actual interactions, their context in which it all happens, then you can enjoy the edits knowing which is real, which is false, in which moments are amplified beyond the actual interaction with a 'good' edit or slow motion or soundtrack.

JK and Tae are bandmates and friends. They like each other and even love each other -

as bandmates, friends

and two young men that kinda grew up together (together with the others). And as two people that are close friends they sometimes fool around (not in a sexual or romantically emotional manner), like friends do. With a banter or tease or having a laugh. Like you would tease a good friend. Like you would laugh around and play around with a good friend. They might say things, and this most of the time comes from Tae saying things, that are flirty (he loooooves to be flirty with every single one of them). I mean, telling JM "I like you most" (ehm... with his bf sitting right there with them, and the others too lol, only to have JM all flustered and looking to JK for a reaction) doesn't make them lovers nor boyfriends nor dating. It makes him a flirt and someone that loves to fluster the others. And you know what? JK's a flirt too. He will flirt incessantly with JM. He flirts with ARMY when he's in a playful mood. Even with other members sometimes.

But here's the thing.

The reason Jikookers SEE Jikook as different is because of a decade of suspicious and special interactions from them. Looks, touches, almost touches, refraining from touches. Things they do to each other. Things they do for each other. Things they say to each other. Things they say about each other. Things they choose to do together that NO OTHER MEMBER did or does, including being the first ever idols to enlist TOGETHER (choosing to be together and spend the entirety of their military service TOGETHER).

You can find a shit ton of them through my masterlist.

Not a one-of interaction or statement or look.

And all of those moments, their nature, their amount, their consistency, the fact that even when not in a frame together they manage to show us how they feel for each other, the other's importance to them.

That's what creates that huge picture. Like pieces in a puzzle, if you want.

And that there, my friend, is but a drop in the ocean...

[vivacissimx]

Theon's choice not to visit Alannys was not a choice

Cannot believe it took this long for me to get around to this meta—also, feel free to read my whole spiel about Theon's father figures in Ned, Balon, and Roose here, because it does inform my view.

OK, Alannys Harlaw hours.

The conception of Theon's motivations in the situation where he does not go to see his mother when he returns to the Islands is a bit harsh on Theon. It ignores that Theon has not been avoiding Alannys all these years: he has been kept from her. Theon's access to her has always been controlled by the NedBalons in his life.

I want to get into the idea that this is not happenstance. That Theon's father figures control his access to his mother, which is not even a novel concept in ASOIAF. Jon Snow, who is Theon's foil, also has access to his mother restricted by—woah! Ned Stark as well!! (And both Jon and Theon are expected to be grateful for this too.)

Theon's homecoming to Pyke does not result in him rushing triumphant as the prodigal son into his loving mother's arms because in fact Alannys is not even on Pyke (though Theon thought she would be). Nope, it's Theon's suspicious, resentful, and yes "homophobic" uncle as well as father who Theon meets. From here it is just assumed that Theon has perfect access to Alannys, and that him not hopskipping over to Harlaw is purely his preference. (Are you catching on to the idea that I disagree with this, yet?)

Getting into Theon as a character & how he acts under suspicious/mistrustful eyes:

As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark's stern face and great dark sword. His wife was, if anything, even more distant and suspicious. [ACOK, Theon I]

-

“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room,” she told them. “I want your oaths on that. If even part of what I suspect is true, Ned and my girls have ridden into deadly danger, and a word in the wrong ears could mean their lives.” “Lord Eddard is a second father to me,” said Theon Greyjoy. “I do so swear.” [AGOT, Catelyn III]

-

Ned turned back to his wife. “Once you are home, send word to Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover under my seal. They are to raise a hundred bowmen each and fortify Moat Cailin. Two hundred determined archers can hold the Neck against an army. Instruct Lord Manderly that he is to strengthen and repair all his defenses at WhiteHarbor, and see that they are well manned. And from this day on, I want a careful watch kept over Theon Greyjoy. If there is war, we shall have sore need of his father’s fleet.” [AGOT, Eddard IV]

Theon knows he is not trusted in Winterfell. Catelyn including Theon in this circle of ooh secrets is mostly due to the fact that Robb physically brought him & also because she knows that Theon does not really even have the ability to betray her on this front. He definitely knows that. Ned does not have a paternal relationship with Theon & does not perceive himself as Theon's father any more than Theon believes he is Ned's son (in the manner that Robb or Bran or even Jon is), so why does Theon lie here?

HE IS OVERPERFORMING HIS COMMITMENT TO THE PATRIARCH FIGURE IN WHOSE HANDS HIS LIFE/FUTURE LIES.

Theon predicates his vow to Catelyn with an affirmation of his willingness to do service to Ned, and in fact that's what his access to her relies on. That's probably why he makes such a production of incessantly flirting with her too; because of how it implies he is in Ned and later Robb's good graces! Of course AGOT Theon is also just a flirt for the purposes of producing his masculinity in general. But does anyone really disagree? Moving on.

The door was grey wood studded with iron, and Theon found it barred from the inside. He hammered on it with a fist, and cursed when a splinter snagged the fabric of his glove. The wood was damp and moldy, the iron studs rusted. After a moment the door was opened from within by a guard in a black iron breastplate and pothelm. "You are the son?" "Out of my way, or you'll learn who I am." [ACOK, Theon I]

(Even the damn door is in on it LOL)

Theon knelt. He had a purpose here, and might need Aeron's help to achieve it. A crown was worth a little mud and horseshit on his breeches, he supposed.

-

He was playing the part of a dutiful young prince for the moment, while he waited for Lord Balon to reveal the fullness of his plans. [ACOK, Theon II]

-

"My father gave me the command here, Uncle." "And sent me to counsel you." And to watch me. Theon dare not push matters too far with his uncle. The command was his, yes, but his men had a faith in the Drowned God that they did not have in him, and they were terrified of Aeron Damphair. [ACOK, Theon III]

THEON IS PERFORMING FOR BALON. His father doesn't approve of him and Theon is playing the part. He is making every overture and concession to obedience, or piety, that is asked of him. Balon, Aeron, Asha, even Victarion make sure he knows when he's failing—whether it's with an express disapproval or just a knowing laugh. Theon notes all of this because due to how he was raised he's extremely perceptive of how those with power over him regard him.

And Balon does not criticize Theon for not visiting Alannys.

"Will I find my sister and my lady mother at Pyke?" "You will not. [ACOK, Theon I]

-

Harlaw is only a day’s sail, and surely Lady Greyjoy yearns for a last sight of her son.” “Would that I could. I am kept too busy here. My father relies on me, now that I am returned. Come peace, perhaps...” [ACOK, Theon II]

Theon visiting his mother is not reliant on his own self-motivation, but on whether or not Balon grants him access to her. This is not to say Balon expressly forbade it or that there would have been any direct consequences if Theon had gone over... but it's about goodwill, not permission! What else changes between Theon asking about Alannys when he returns to Pyke and when he explicitly tells Asha that he can't go see her because Balon, because war? Simple: he needs to prove himself to his father as loyal and strong first. To make it explicit, Ned & Robb allowed Theon access to Catelyn in the same manner that Balon refuses (or, at the least, disapproves of) Theon's access to Alannys. Theon is sensitive to this disapproval and does not push the matter.

The only person who pushes Theon to go to Alannys is Asha. Asha obviously has Balon's trust, though, and it could be said she takes it for granted. Asha's level of understanding of Theon is complex; she recognizes him but she doesn't know him. When she says this:

You are blood of my blood, Theon, whatever else you may be. For the sake of the mother who bore us both, return to Deepwood Motte with me. [ACOK, Theon V]

it's actually wild how much is packed in here. For the sake of the mother who bore us both: Theon doesn't yet have the right to Alannys or even know how she'd receive him, given his other receptions on Pyke. Return to Deepwood Motte: the castle Theon believes he should have been tasked with taking above Asha, a concrete proof of his father's mistrust in him, which amongst other reasons spurs on his taking on Winterfell to begin with.

Personally I think Theon as a symbol of Balon's failed rebellion does make him, in Balon's eyes, also a symbol of his failed marriage. Theon does not confirm Baelon's masculinity as a son should, as Asha does. He is a reminder of the ways in which Balon lacks.

I also believe that Theon ~misses his mother, FWIW. He thinks back to his childhood sleeping in the Sea Tower while on his way to Pyke which is a mommy-coded memory; he expects to sleep in his old chambers again when he returns to Pyke—both that and his expectation of seeing Alannys are swiftly disabused. He will not be slipping into his old roles, Theon learns through the reunion with Balon which is violent in more ways than one. It's interesting because Theon actually expects to have to prove himself to his father (which is why he comes armed with a plan for taking Casterly Rock) but he doesn't expect to be punished for having been held hostage all these years.

If we are indulging in symbolism, though:

Above the Sea Tower snapped his father's banner. The Myraham was too far off for Theon to see more than the cloth itself, but he knew the device it bore: the golden kraken of House Greyjoy, arms writhing and reaching against a black field. The banner streamed from an iron mast, shivering and twisting as the wind gusted, like a bird struggling to take flight. And here at least the direwolf of Stark did not fly above, casting its shadow down upon the Greyjoy kraken. [ACOK, Theon I]

The Sea Tower where Theon's childhood memories & hopes for return to his family lie is dominated by his father's banner. At least it's Balon Greyjoy and not Ned Stark, Theon tells himself. Yet the result is the paralleled, mirrored, as Balon and Ned often are with Theon: under Ned's control Theon can't see Alannys because he is Balon Greyjoy's son, while under Balon's control Theon is discouraged from seeing Alannys because he isn't son enough. Perhaps Theon does prioritize the goodwill of his patriarch because he views it as an essential ingredient to his survival and success... but he's also absolutely aware of the role the wife/mother/lady/queen plays in the whole arena too. As power, as leverage. It's pretty plain when you consider that he tells Barbrey she could claim leadership over the North if she so desired. He took such pleasure in being relatively intimate with Catelyn as well.

So, he knows. Yet they're still all held above his head like a little treat. Delicious.