#genuinely i think this is my best piece ever

[dementedkittenribbon]

In love with my best friend

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Rafe finally asks you out.

CW: Panty stealing, oral male recieving, PnV sex!! (Female is just aesthetic purposes!!!!!!)

“Mmm, Rafe. This is delicious. What do I owe the pleasure?” Rafe had to keep himself from drooling as you licked the ice cream cone. Your heels clicked on the sidewalk as he walked you to his car.

Your cropped shirt hugged your waist as you waited for him to open the passenger door. Rafe waited until you were situated inside before shutting the door. He wanted you to be happy today. After getting all that money, you were the first person he thought of. He wanted to spoil you. His best friend since middle school.

As he drove, you had your legs crossed as you hummed happily. Savoring each taste of ice cream as you listened to lil peep. Rafe wanted to ask you now but he kept losing his nerve.

“So, what’s the deal with uh-Caleb or whatever?” He asked instead and you glanced at him. Your lipgloss slightly mused.

“Colin? Oh, it wasn’t meant to be.” You giggled and flicked your hair out of your eyes. Rafe snorted and let his face fall on your chest for a few seconds.

“Think you can fit in a movie with your schedule?” Rafe gave you a playful elbow and you pouted.

“What’s wrong, Rafe? Are you jealous of all the time I’ve been spending with other people? And not you since you’re rich again?”

He flexed his jaw, used to your bratty remarks but that specific time hit a nerve. Yeah, he was jealous. Jealous of anyone who got to have you or be near you.

He was addicted to you. The way you moved, smelled, talked…everything.

Rafe had collection of panties in his room, all yours when he knew you wouldn’t miss them. His cock was familiar with the lace of them.

“Doll, you’re the only one who gets spoiled by me.” He saw your lips curl into a smirk and naturally, he rested a hand on your thigh.

Rafe tested your reaction, leaving his palm on the meat of your leg. But you didn’t pay attention, as if you were used to such physical displays. That made him feel even more jealous. You being so used to intimate touches that you didn’t even spare him a glance?

His grip tightened ever so slightly as he drove home. Rafe didn’t wait for your answer about the movie. He needed to be around you in any capacity. After he parked, Rafe walked out of the car and opened your door. “Cmon,”

He appraised you as you took his hand as support, standing and you batted your eyelashes. Rafe did smile at the sight of your necklace, two ballet slippers. Dancing was something you loved, were damn good at and he did remember how genuinely happy you looked a few years ago. He gifted you that piece of jewelry. You never removed it.

Later, In his loft, he came to the living room where you made yourself comfortable. Curled up like a kitten as you eyed the selection of films. You subconsciously leaned towards him as he sat next to you on the couch. Rafe kept telling himself, now. Ask her now.

“So. What are you doing Friday evening?” His voice was easy going but not casual. You looked over at him with raised eyebrows.

“Why?” Rafe rolled his eyes. Of course, even when he was trying to ask you on a date, you were bratty.

“Well? Do you have plans?”

You shrugged and he decided to take a more direct approach. Maybe his dick gave him courage or it was being fed up with your flippancy.

Rafe took hold of your chin, turning you towards him and you nuzzled into his palm. His breath caught as you gave him a soft expression.

“I want to take you out. Not like this. I want to take you on a date, princess. I’ve wanted to forever but I was too much of a pussy.”

“Yes.”

Rafe blinked at your response but quickly smiled. “Yeah? You’ll go out with me?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You giggled and he cupped your cheeks. He moved in, easing his way towards you, caught your lips in a kiss.

Rafe always wondered what it would be like. Kissing your sweet lips. Feeling your tongue against his as he touched your perfect body. He explored your figure, appreciating your curves as he began shifting. Rafe pulled back, hovering over your breathless mouth.

“Not here. I wanna do this right,” Without another word, he lifted you into his arms and walked to the bedroom.

Rafe set you down gently, still standing as you looked up at him, sitting on the mattress. Your eyes were a little glazed, lashes coated with mascara and you glanced at his pants.

“Oh, you want my dick, princess? Where exactly do you want it?”

Your fingers worked to unzip his pants, pulling down his underwear too. Rafe watched you take in his form.

You took hold of the shaft, spitting on the tip and you ran your tongue along the sides with expertise. He shivered and set a firm hand on your head. You sucked the head, moaning as you did it and fondled his balls. Rafe groaned as you took him as deep as possible, your throat bulging and he took the back of your head, pushing it down until your nose hit his stomach.

“That’s my fuckin girl, taking my cock so well. Goddamn, you know what you’re doing,” Nothing could ever compare to your mouth around him. Especially when you pulled off his dick to suck his balls. Using your tongue at the same time and he was seconds away from busting in your mouth. But he pulled you off, watching the spit fall from your lips.

Rafe crawled on top of you, licking the sweet spot on your neck until he kissed you messily. He sucked your lower lip, palming your tits and his hands clumsily taking off your shorts. Rafe kissed down your chest, hauling your shirt off and he sucked your nipples as he exposed them.

“You’re so fucking pretty, needed to taste every inch of you,” He panted and worked his way down your stomach. Rafe let his hands settle on your hips, his fingertips feeling your panties and he pushed them to the side.

“I need to fuck your pussy, baby. I gotta feel you squeeze my dick and cream on it.” He maneuvered your legs, bending them at the knees and he moved upright.

Rafe grabbed his cock, slapping the head against your clit a few times. Smearing the precum and he savored every second as you moaned when he pressed into you. HE felt your stomach bulge from his dick, he saw stars as he thrusted. Your hands moved, not being able to settle anywhere and Rafe lifted you up. Pressing your chests together, your arms wrapped around his back as he got a better angle.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” You whispered in his ear and he wrapped a hand around your throat.

“Is this what you needed? Needed to choke on my dick to quiet that mouth? Next time you wanna be a brat, you’ll just be a little slut for me.” Rafe used his momentum to fuck into you harder, playing with your clit at the same time and you were whimpering. Moaning his name and he wanted to make you cum so badly.

“What do you need, baby?” You shifted your legs higher and Rafe pushed them back. Your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a chorus of pleasured sounds.

“Let go, cum for me, princess. You’re so fucking pretty.” Rafe couldn’t resist meeting your lips as you were pushed over the edge and you gripped his back. Nails digging into his skin and he followed you soon shortly after.

Rafe came deep in you, he watched it from your pussy and he pulled his dick out. Jerked it so more cum decorated your bare skin. You sharply exhaled when he licked it off your lower stomach.

“That was round one, baby girl. Now that I’ve felt that pretty little pussy, I gotta sample it with my mouth too. It’s my job as your best friend.” He gave you an arrogant smirk as you gently smacked his arm.

@hauntedfawnn @eerielamb @songbirdmunson @loserboysandlithium @rafesheaven @marchsfreakshow

[arcanarix]

yandere geto, slice of life, geto is a piece of shit as per usual but simultaneously he's also whipped for u

geto claims he’ll allow the world to burn to a crisp if it meant keeping you in his arms, which isn’t entirely far off from the truth. that’s his goal either way, isn’t it? he wants a world without monkeys, save for you who is his sole exception, and he insists you take care to understand the gravity of such a choice. he wants a world where sorcerers are free to just be.

you do take advantage of his devotion—or is it obsession, a kind of limerence even?—at times.

like in this moment, rejoicing in the stillness as he massages some oil and lotion into your skin as you lay upon these fresh silk sheets. burying your head into your folded arms, breathing through your nose. calming ambient music fills the room from geto’s bose bluetooth speaker on the nightstand. candlesticks are lit in different corners of the room. you feel him lean in, the ends of his mane brushing against your shoulders, kissing into the nape of your neck as he finishes pampering you after a trying day for the both of you.

“are you with me, my love?” he mumbles into your ear.

“mm-mhm,” you hum back, eyes rolling up to peer at him. “is there something you need, suguru?”

“you,” he admits, his finger tracing your cheek. “always you.”

you twist around, laying on your back now as opposed to your stomach. your eyes flutter as you reach out to rest your hands on his chest, tracing the chiseled lines, feeling him relax beneath your touch.

“and if i don’t wish to?” you challenge.

“then it’s okay,” he claims, a little too quickly, a little too certain.

your eyebrows furrow, tone laced in suspicion. “and if… i do wish to?”

“then that’s okay too,” he breathes, his face drawing close to yours. “more than.”

how can you be so sure he’s telling the truth? he claims to respect your boundaries but then he always gets his way. you don’t ever take what he says at face value, and yet…

you study his eyes. those deep pools of amethyst, seeking something. you almost think you find some form of… genuineness.

you still can’t trust him.

the devil is always angelic in appearance, to lull you into a sense of security.

“we will not tonight,” you finalize, testing the waters. as you expect he scowls but relents, pulling away but not without flashing you that look of his, like an indignant, spoiled child. “and i do not love you.”

he winces like your words actually sting.

“you don’t need to,” he snaps, but to your shock, you don’t flinch. “because you can’t leave me. you’ve nowhere to go.”

“yes,” you spit back at him. “you’ve ensured that when you killed everyone i ever loved.”

and made me watch.

“then you understand how serious i am about you,” he continues, and you almost are appalled by the desperation in his tone—like he actually knows what’s best for you. “about us. it’d be in your best interest to get used to it. you’ve already been wise enough not to run away, so you understand, we’re meant to be, and you belong to me. you just haven’t caught up to me yet, but how can i have expected it?”

he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, wipes away a tear that nearly escapes from your eyes as you’re flooded with those memories of a past you can’t return to anymore.

“you simple girl,” he coos, “one day, you’ll see. you’re just lucky i’m willing to wait.”

you grit your teeth.

“i’d sooner allow one of your spirits to eat me alive than love you.”

his scowl returns.

“that’s unfortunate,” he sighs with a shrug. “i guess i’ll just have to have enough love for us both, pet.”

[midnight-bay-if]

(Sorry if I sent this ask twice I wasn’t sure if I sent it in or not and if I did I’m currently gaslighting myself that I didn’t lol)

Anyways!

How would the ROs react (both crushing and dating) to a MC looking bittersweetly at someone else getting flowers. And when they ask what’s wrong, MC says that no one has ever gotten them flowers before.

(It's okay, anon. You did already send it in, but I don't mind :) Also, I know you said both crushing and dating stages, but I chose which stage would be most interesting for each RO. Hope this is okay!)

S (crushing): Their tongue is running away from their head--sometimes, after a chaotic morning of wrangling Taj and Rain, they need to vent, and you have always been a sympathetic ear. "Taj has an unfortunate tendency to pester Rain after being forced out of bed--" They stop, recognising your attention has deviated, no longer nodding along with them. They follow your eyes to a nearby couple exchanging flowers with bright expressions.

"They are pretty," Selby probes gently.

"Nobody has ever bought me flowers before."

Well, that certainly will not do. "Excuse me a moment."

You watch as they turn on their heel and jog toward the flower shop the couple just exited. Your eyes widen when they return with the largest bouquet of deep red roses you have ever seen. "Forgive my tardiness," they say, bending forward in a bow as they hand them to you. "I hope you do not consider this too presumptuous, but you have only expedited my plans, not defined them; I will surprise you with the next."

Rain (crushing): You whispered the confession after a long night of binge-watching old soap operas together on the couch. A man courting his neighbour knocks on her door with flowers bought from the local corner shop. You sigh wistfully, bemoaning the lack of flowers in your own life. Rain's heart thuds and they realise this is something they wish to rectify. But here, it is viewed as a largely romantic gesture... would you even want to receive flowers from them?

The next day, Rain waits for you to return to your apartment with bated breath. After spending the day wandering the town for the most beautiful wildflowers, they came home and began to weave. As you open the door, they hold up a carefully crafted flower crown with flowers of your favourite colours.

"I-I know it's not the same, but... I hope you like it."

Taj (dating): Taj scoffs as you pass the sickly, sweet couple; their nose twinges when the pollen from the flowers they exchange crawls up them, the scent enough to make them cringe. They turn to you, ready with a harsh word to ridicule them, when they catch you glancing forlornly back at them as you pass.

"What's wrong with you?" They ask testily.

"Oh, nothing; nobody has bought me flowers before."

Taj scowls. Their instinct is to ask why you would care; flowers die quickly when cut. Any manipulator could walk into a gas station, pick up a cheap bouquet of flowers, and be in their lover's good books for a week. But, for once, they keep their mouth closed. Even if it's not something they understand, your face tells them it would make you happy.

But rather than waste their money on dying flowers, they think of the next best thing. For two nights straight, they stay up, folding coloured pieces of card, book open in their lap as they create the perfect undying bouquet. They slice their finger more than once, cussing out the air as they perfectly align their origami flowers.

When you come home, they present your paper flowers, cheeks burning, and fingers covered in plasters. "I will never fold another piece of paper again."

N (dating): N used to scoff at the demons that made such obvious romantic overtures with their victims. That's what they were, after all. Victims. There's absolutely no way these demons felt genuine affection for these people. Their grand gestures were simply traps to ensure the continued cooperation of the human. Demons were incapable of love.

Which does nothing to explain their continued loitering in your life. Their reason for finding you ceased to be an issue quite some time ago. Sure, perhaps your mental entanglements have them on a leash somewhat, but they would be lying if they said it is impossible to snap such a tether. They could seek a way if they wished.

When you so longingly stare at a couple exchanging flowers with obvious envy... It doesn't displease them to think you may share such a glance with them.

N thinks on all the grand gestures they have witnessed in their time, and as usual, they do not wish to settle for second best.

You return to your apartment after a few hours away, a strong floral scent hitting you as soon as you open the door. The floor is lit up with a line of candles, deep red petals scattered between them. You follow the trail across your apartment to your bedroom door. You push it ajar, light spilling in, the scent growing stronger. N lounges on your bed, a rose pinched between their forefinger and thumb, large rose bushes of every colour filling the room.

"I hope these are to your liking, my dear."

Umbra (crushing): Umbra prefers walking when the sky is grey. The overcast weather may accentuate their pale skin, but they always feel it suits them more. Nothing could detract from your shine, but their shadows are vast and looming... the larger your light, the greater the shadow they cast. So, they were grateful you suggested window shopping while the weather was dull.

A moment for you and them.

You pass a flower shop, your eyes drawn to its interior as if magnetised. A couple exits as you step up to the glass. A woman stares down happily at the bouquet in her hands, and Umbra thinks their heart might be harder if it were capable. They turn to you, hoping to share in the blissful moment, but your eyes appear sad.

"What's wrong?"

"Nobody has given me flowers before."

Umbra gasps, and their brow furrows. This is not okay. This needs to be fixed.

Without hesitation, Umbra turns on their heel and storms towards the couple, manoeuvres in front of them and snatches the flowers out of the woman's hand. Then, without a word, runs towards you, waving the bouquet in the air with a massive grin.

"MC! I got you flowers!"

(I'm not gonna lie... I cracked myself up with this one.)

[bitchface24-7]

HELLO POOKIE WOOKIE SMOOKIE 💕💕

I love your Viktor x reader fics so much, like genuinely you write him so in character it has me giggling and kicking my feet. This is like a weirdly obscure req but it’s been clawing away at my brain

I saw one fanart of an arcane x starwars AU and I LOST MY FUCKING MIND. Hear me out, evil sith Viktor being manipulated by Silco is a plotline I didn’t know I needed in my life…

I’m so open to hear any of your thoughts or takes on him, just general headcannons or a full fic if you so desire. But I have an idea for Viktor x Jedi! Reader OR assassin! Reader

It could either be that reader is a hired gun for the sith that he specifically employed to be a rat for the rebellion. (What if their double crossing him behind his back and feeding him false information that soils his plans??? Or plotting a mutiny???? AUGH)

Also another idea is friends(lovers?) to enemies to lovers, maybe they knew eachother when they where foundlings and when Viktor went to the dark side they separated, do what you will with that plotline.

Either way I think having a very smart/clever morally grey reader would be such a delicious dynamic.

Sorry I wrote you a whole novel, anyways I love your writing peace out girly 🤞🤞🤞

YOUR FALLEN ANGEL - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: you and Viktor have been as thick as thieves for as long as you can remember, metaphorically and literally. After being saved from the slave trade on Tatooine from two Jedi masters who felt incredible amounts of midichlorians in both of your blood. They train you in the ways of the force. But Viktor has always been passionate, and that became his downfall.

warnings: general descriptions of violence, the darker side of the Jedi’s mentioned, manipulation, desperation, morally grey reader, I'm low-key ripping off episodes I-III in this, Grammarly as my beta ADDITION: tried my best at GN smut, y'all are virgins so… it’s vanilla, oral (m and reader receiving), talks of fantasies, unsafe sex, creampie

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I love Star Wars. I've loved this franchise ever since I was little, the last of the series (EP VII-IX) wasn't the best. They had good ideas but executed them poorly imo. Hopefully y'all like my little twist to it. Essentially I've stolen bits and pieces of Anakin x Padme for this to work.

Going from slaves to padawans was a massive shift in your life. You never thought you'd end up here, free.

Well, as free as can be as a Jedi in training. You remember reciting the code as a young child,

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

You can understand the code— to a certain extent. Humans are not meant to be emotionless, it's physically impossible. Unlike our droid friends, we are unable to turn off our emotions. They’re with us from the day we’re born, and they’ll be with us till the day we die.

Viktor has always pushed the boundaries. His master, Obi-Wan Kenobi tries his best to negate him; very rarely does he succeed. Your own master, Mace Windu isn’t the biggest fan of your oldest and closest friend. You ignore him. Same with the other members of the Jedi Order.

Too passionate is what everyone says. Every so often Master Yoda will take you off to the side and regale the Sith Code like a mantra in his odd speaking habits. As if he’s trying to convince you— warn you about something that’ll never happen.

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

Both creeds have their upsides and downsides. Their truths and incomprehensible impossibilities. But as the days go on, as you mature from Padawan to full fledge Jedi, you see a shift in Viktor.

It's so small it's barely even noticeable, but you know him better than you know yourself. And he's started changing ever since that slimy councillor has been around him.

Councillor Silco.

You're not a fan of any of the councillors, but Councillor Silco is the worst of the bunch. Full of lies and deceit. You can taste it whenever he gets too close. His predecessor Councillor Palpatine is even more horrendous.

You're not sure as to why Viktor can't.

It isn't until they've sunk their claws fully into Viktor do you see the truth.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're not sure what happened. One second your Master is fighting Councillor Silco, the next Viktor has taken you down, a nasty slash on your waist, your Master is dead, and Viktor is helping the man who killed him.

A crack forms in your heart at the betrayal. You want to scream, cry, and sob inconsolably at the pain you're feeling. But there's not just pain there, there is also anger.

Hatred.

You look up at the duo and grit your teeth, your jaw painfully clenched. That's when Councillor Silco desperately reaches for his neck as he sputters.

He's choking on nothing, and you're the cause of it.

After a moment, he's let go. You feel a bit of horrified justification at your actions. He’s killed your Master, manipulated your friend, and taken what you hold most dear.

You don't feel sorry.

And that’s what scares you.

Viktor looks shocked, his eyes wide as he stares at you. Councillor Silco is trying to catch his breath, but he looks immensely satisfied.

“Looks like there is still hope for you yet.”

And with that, the two men leave; and one of them takes your heart with him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You rush to Obi-Wan and Yoda to tell them what has transpired. The death of Mace, the betrayal and secret mole in Councillor Silco, and the manipulation Viktor has been put under.

The two men look warily at one another at the last point. Your frustration boils over at their secrecy.

“What?!” You question. Your tone is sharp, angry. The two Master’s look to you in shock. You've never raised your voice, not since you became a student here at the temple. Yet here you are, your emotions guiding your actions.

The way of the Sith.

Yoda hums and Obi-Wan placates you, “My dear, you must control yourself. We’ve already lost one bright soul— we’d be crushed to lose another.”

And in that moment it hits you. They’re not going to save Viktor— they’re not even going to try! He’s already deemed a lost cause, a failure to the order. Not to you. Never to you.

You two promised you’d escape Tatooine and live long, happy lives together. You’re already halfway there.

You just need to save Viktor from himself.

And kill the people responsible for corrupting him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, you resign from the Order. They’re shocked, expectedly so. You and Viktor were their strongest Padawan, now their strongest Jedi. They’ve lost one to the dark.

They lost the other to their negligence.

Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the rest of the Jedi Council try their best to dissuade you. None of them succeed.

You know that they will control your actions as long as you are within their walls. So you leave, and you leave behind your green lightsaber.

You feel as if you’ve outgrown this one. Another kyber crystal is calling for you, you can feel it.

With that, you leave the one place you felt like was yours. All in the name of love.

You truly are a horrible Jedi.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It takes weeks of excavation, but you eventually find the crystal that’s been singing your name, calling for you, and begging you for a chance.

It’s beautiful.

Even more beautiful than your previous crystal. You’ve collected all the required components to re-build your saber, now you just need to actually build the damn thing.

You place all the pieces down and mediate. Letting the force run through you like a calm river, you subconsciously feel your saber being made. When you open your eyes, you hold back a soft gasp.

It’s wonderful. A beautiful steel handle with fine markings and it’s perfectly balanced. You ignite the saber and try not to cry. It’s purple.

Just like your Master’s.

With your resolved hardened and new saber in hand, you continue on your self-imposed quest to save Viktor.

And save him you will.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was shockingly easy to find them. After months of tracking, tracing, and pulling every move of stealth you know, you've finally done it.

You asked around, used some mind-tricks on unwilling citizens, and interrogated others in a way that’d make the Jedi ashamed of you.

Good thing you’re no Jedi.

Viktor and Silco are in the councillors building, in Silco’s private room. You casually make your way there, your black cloak billowing ominously.

Before anything else can happen, you slam the door open with the force and ignite your lightsaber.

Someone is going to die today, and it isn’t you.

The two men look shocked at your arrival. Instead of dawning your usual white and beige outfit, a green saber in hand, you wear more dark colours. Black, brown, and hints of beige encapsulate your figure, a purple saber replacing your old one.

There’s an angry look in your eye that the two men only saw once, and it almost caused Silco’s death.

Seems like you’re back to finish the job.

Before you can swing at Silco, Viktor protects him. His yellow saber gone. In place is now a red one.

You want to cry. His old saber matched his eyes perfectly. You always mentioned it every time you two trained together. Now it’s gone. He’s changed just as much as you have.

The fight is intense, brutal in all honesty. The sweet face Viktor used to have is gone. Now it’s even more sharp, and his eyes have an orange— almost red tint to them. The pure gold now gone as well.

The eyes of a Sith.

You slash each other, block, dodge, kick, scream, taunt. A violent dance of passion and contempt, with hints of underlying tension.

Lust.

The Jedi Masters were always worried the two of you would pursue a relationship, even though those temptations were strictly forbidden.

But who doesn't crave forbidden fruit?

Now, you both are free of said rules. It's just you two, in a world unfamiliar to you.

Your lightsabers are clashed together. Purple sparking off of red, as you two sneer at one another.

Viktor's canines are sharp as he scowls at you. It reminds you of a fearsome feline. His eyes are narrowed and he pushes against you relentlessly.

You're no better. You can feel your lips pulled back against your teeth as you snarl deep in your chest. The muscles in your neck pulsing as you fight back against the man you love.

A small twirl disengages your clash and you slam Viktor into the wall with the force, pining him down.

You turn your attention to Silco, who's just been sitting there enjoying the two of you trashing his office. You take your free hand not holding your lightsaber and cup it in the air, imitating a choke hold.

Silco goes flying into the air and stills, choking in place viciously. You can hear Viktor yelling at you but it's muffled. All you see is the man who took your best friend from you, and you're getting your vengeance.

You squeeze harder and Silco slams into your waiting palm, a slightly scared look on his face. You look deep into his eyes and enter his mind without consent.

Flashes of memories assault you. Plans, manipulations, grooming, betrayal. One conversation piques your interest. The grandest plan Councillor Silco and Palpatine have.

They call it Order 66.

You feel like vomiting. You hold in all your disgust and revulsion as you pull away from Silco’s mind— ensuring you have all the information you need to prove both of the councillor's guilt.

A glare is all Silco gets before his neck snaps like a twig in your grasp. Viktor’s shout of shock returns you back to your senses, and you drop Silco's body like a rag doll.

Viktor is still pinned to the wall, but he's no longer fighting it. He sits still, stunned. His mouth is lightly agape as he looks at you, his eyes wide and dark. There's a bulge in his pants.

You quirk an eyebrow and Viktor looks away in shame. But he's still that defiant boy you grew up with, and quickly whips his head back to look at you.

“Why did you kill him?! The Jedi are horrible, I just wanted to protect you— why did you kill him?!” His voice gets louder with each sentence, his accent sharp and his tone desperate.

The force hold on him disappears and Viktor slumps against the wall, defeated. You sit next to him.

“Because he lied and manipulated you. He took you from me. The Jedi weren't going to help you, so I did it myself.”

Viktor looks shocked, the orangey-red tint slowly dissipating in his eyes, their original golden hue shining through, “You— what? You went against the Jedi?”

A scoff escapes you against your will, “I left the Jedi Order.”

“When?!”

“The day you left.”

The silence between you is deafening. Viktor looks shocked, a violent blush is seen across his cheekbones and ears. He swallows deeply before asking, “That... That was months ago! Why?!”

You shrug, “Because you left. The Jedi weren't going to help, and I've always known they weren't the best. Taking children away from their families when they're babies, indoctrinating them into the Order, their silly rules. The Sith aren't any better either.”

Viktor now looks curious, he gazes at you deeply and you feel like coughing. He's always been so… incredibly handsome. Now, with his full focus on you, you can't help but recognize that.

“So I've come up with my own code.”

The man next to you smiles, a chuckle leaving his throat, it’s one of the sexiest things you've ever heard, “Tell me? You always used to complain about the code when we were Padawans. I had to make you stop talking so many times before a Master heard you.”

You sigh contently and rest your head in Viktor’s shoulder, the black leather of his outfit cooling your heated cheek,

“There must be both dark and light. I will do what I must to keep the balance, as the balance is what holds all life. There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish. There is passion, yet peace; serenity, yet emotion; chaos, yet order. I am a wielder of the flame; a champion of balance. I am a guardian of life. I am a Gray Jedi.”

Viktor looks at you and huffs, “A Grey Jedi? Really?”

You snort at his tone and lightly hit his chest, “I came up with the concept like a week ago, leave me alone.” The two of you laugh before a peaceful, comfortable silence envelops you two. You enjoy it immensely before ruining it, “Why did you leave?”

The shoulder you're leaning on stiffens, and for a second you think Viktor isn't going to answer, but he does, “I already told you, I just wanted to protect you. I was getting horrible nightmares— Visions about your death. I couldn't handle it. Silco told me he knew a way to prevent it, and I accepted whole heartedly. Without thinking of the consequences.”

You hum, “It was a trick you know? Silco and Palpatine placed those images in your head using the force. They wanted a strong Sith Lord, powerful in the force, to mock the downfall of the Jedi Order.”

“The downfall—?”

“Palpatine put chips in the clone’s heads, with a special order called “Order 66”, it’s meant to overtake the clone's will and eradicate any Jedi in the clone's path. Doesn't matter if they're a Master, a Padawan, or a Youngling.”

Viktor’s sharp inhale is all you need to know. He didn't know.

“And— and there's proof?”

You nod, slowly getting up and going over to Silco’s desk, inputting the password, and taking all the necessary documents and voice pads.

“We’ll anonymously submit these findings to the Council and the Jedi Order. They can deal with all this shit. They can help the clones. I’m done.”

Viktor slowly gets up as well and walks over to you, “And, what will we be doing?”

You surge forward kissing Viktor passionately. The beautiful man gasps, and you use that to your advantage to add tongue to the kiss.

You may not have much physical experience, but you do have experience in reading dirty novels and touching yourself secretly.

The kiss eventually breaks and Viktor looks shocked and pleased, “We’re going to Naboo, and you're going to fuck me. I've always wanted to go there and I've always wanted you.”

VIktor chokes as you take his hand, step over Silco’s body, and exit the office.

He never expected this. But he’s not complaining.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There's an uproar at the Council and the Jedi Order. Palpatine is charged and executed for crimes against the Council and the Order. The Clones are healed and clear of any signs of the chip's potential betrayal.

The two of you don't know this though. You're too busy at Naboo, finally getting what you've always wanted.

Each other.

Your kisses are sloppy, passionate, and desperate. All of the emotions bottled up from your time at the Jedi Order overflowing and finally seeing the light of day.

Your garbs are removed quickly, the tunics, the pants, the tops, the boots. All that's left are your undergarments. You push Viktor onto the bed, and slowly crawl your way up towards him. His large bulge taunting you.

A small nod is all you get before your fingers hook into Viktor's undergarments and his cock springs free. Hard, leaking, and beautiful. Just like him.

You wrap your hand around the shaft and Viktor hisses in pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you. His face is flushed, his lips are plump and red, and his long hair is a mess. Pieces of brown and blond hair stick to his forehead, and fan across his shoulder wonderfully. God. You could stare at him all day.

"Y'know..." You start slyly, your hand slowly pumping up and down. You remove your hand and lightly spit into it before pumping him again, the slide much smoother this time, "I would fantasize about this."

The groan that escapes Viktor is animalistic. Needy. He bites his lower lip as his lower abdomen clenches in excitement, "Really? Oh do continue."

You hum sarcastically, "Yup. I'd sneak in dirty books from the market and read them late into the night. I'd picture I was the main character and that you were the love interest. I'd touch myself almost every night to the filthy words on the page. Imagining it was you and me."

The tip of Viktor's cock enters your mouth and his back bows at the intense feeling. Your confession, the warmth of your mouth, the glint in your eyes. Viktor isn't sure he can survive this.

His hands fly to grasp your hair desperately as he gasps in pleasure. Moans and whimpers escape him-- alongside chopped up variations of your name.

This goes on for several minutes before the pitch in Viktor's voice heightens, and he's trying to pull your lips off his cock, "I'm going to cum! Wait! Not yet! Not until you--" A low groan escapes him when you shove your head down to the base of his cock, his brown curls tickling your nose. He cums straight down your throat.

He whimpers as you slowly pull off his cock, a self satisfied smirk on your lips. Viktor just lays there, panting.

"You asshole. I wanted to cum with you. Now I can't."

You can't help but giggle at Viktor's petulant tone, you crawl up his body kissing a trail as you go before plopping a sweet kiss on his plump lips, "You still can. Don't tell me you won't get hard again fingering me open to stuff me full of your cock?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your crude language before laughing himself, "Wow. You truly weren't lying about those filthy books." You take your undergarments off and Viktor just looks in awe at you. You're so gorgeous, he's the luckiest man in the galaxy.

He takes his time with you. Sucking hickey's into your neck, abusing your chest, appreciating your abdomen and waist, squeezing your hips and ass. He eventually makes his way to your hole, and he licks it. You buck up in shock and gasp. The feeling electric. He continues to lick, exploring as much as he can. Your moans get breathier and breathier at the assault, until the pulls away.

"Give me the lube on the side table."

You follow his order without question. Viktor pops open the cap and puts some lube on his fingers, before going back to eating you out. He slowly puts a finger inside as he continues to lick at you. This feels amazing, it's better than all your dirty books and fantasies combined.

Eventually three fingers are pumping in and out of you as you whine for something bigger.

And something bigger you get.

He's stretching you, filling you up to the brim. Even with all the preparation, all the lube, it still wasn't enough. Then Viktor pumps his hips, and it's game over.

All you can do is moan as Viktor's massive cock hits all your sensitive spots. The two of you engage in a passionate kiss as you moan into each other's mouths. You rub your sensitive bundle in tune with Viktor's thrusts, and before you know it. You're cumming.

All his foreplay really paid off. All you can see are stars clouding your vision as you enter nirvana. Viktor continues to pump his hips, desperate for his second orgasm. In a few minutes, he get's his release, and cums deep inside you.

He plops down, laying on top of you as he pants in exertion. You run one hand through his long hair as the other trails random shapes on his back. His cock shrinks a bit, maybe an inch or two and it pops out of your hole, his creampie following suit.

The two of you lay in bliss. You never though you'd get here, the Jedi forbidding it and the Sith manipulating your lovers mind.

But you're here now, and that's all that matters. The two of yo share one final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You're in each others arms, stuck together like glue. As it should be.

As it will be until the end of time.

Before the two of you fully fall asleep, you both say the three words you’ve always wanted to hear from one another ever since you were young.

“I love you.”

Y'all I don't know what happened. I saw this request, blacked out, and this is the result. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, no you didn't and blame Grammarly. Idk if this is the vibe you're doing for dear requester bur tbus is what my mind came up with. Xoxo hope ya enjoyed it! ❤️

[ilovekittycats2]

Weightless

Jake Seresin x reader

this is a part 4 of the High Maintenance series

(use of y/n)

In which,

Y/N goes up and never wants to come back down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The offer lingered in your mind long after Jake had walked away.

You told yourself it was ridiculous, that you were perfectly fine keeping your feet on the ground, that flying was his thing, not yours. But the way he had looked at you when he said it—like he was offering you a piece of his world, like he wanted you to see things the way he did—made it hard to ignore.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon the next day, you were pacing the hangar, staring at the jet Jake had been working on earlier. The thought of flying, of trusting him in the cockpit, made your stomach twist in a way that was equal parts excitement and nerves.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,” a familiar voice drawled.

You turned to find Jake leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his lips. He wasn’t in his flight suit—just a worn t-shirt and jeans, looking as effortlessly confident as ever.

“I wasn’t pacing,” you argued, crossing your arms in defiance.

Jake chuckled, pushing off the doorway and strolling toward you. “Right. And I don’t have the best damn landing record in the squadron.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he teased. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the jet. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you exhaled sharply. “I want to go up.”

Jake’s smirk softened into something more genuine, something warmer. “Yeah?”

You nodded, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Yeah.”

His grin widened. “Well, sweetheart, you just made my night.”

Before you could change your mind, he took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before leading you toward the flight gear. “Let’s get you suited up.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself strapped into the backseat of the jet, your heart hammering as Jake ran through the pre-flight checks. The cockpit was smaller than you imagined, suffocating in a way that had nothing to do with the tight harness across your chest.

Jake’s voice crackled through the headset, grounding you. “You nervous?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the straps of your harness. “A little.”

He grinned. “Good. Means you’re paying attention.”

The canopy sealed shut, enclosing you both in a space so small it made you acutely aware of every breath, every shift in Jake’s posture. Then the engines roared to life, the vibrations rattling through your bones as the aircraft surged forward.

The runway blurred beneath you, speed pressing you back into the seat. Your fingers dug into the sides of the cockpit, anticipation knotting tight in your stomach. And then—

You were airborne.

The ground fell away in an instant, leaving only the endless stretch of sky before you. Your stomach lurched, fear twisting through you for a fleeting second—until you looked out at the horizon, where the sun was sinking in molten gold and streaks of violet and crimson.

It was beautiful.

“How you doin’ back there?”

Jake’s voice broke through the static, laced with something that wasn’t quite teasing—more like anticipation, like he wanted to know if you felt it too.

You inhaled deeply, a slow smile forming as you finally let go of the last of your fear. “I think I get it now.”

Jake laughed, full and unrestrained. “Told you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you felt weightless.

Jake guided the jet through gentle maneuvers at first, letting you get a feel for the sensation of being in the air. “Wanna try something fun?” he asked after a moment, mischief lacing his voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Define fun.”

He chuckled. “Trust me.”

Before you could respond, he pulled the jet into a slow, controlled roll. Your breath caught in your throat as the horizon flipped, your stomach lurching with the motion. The ground became the sky, and for a moment, it felt like you were falling—until you realized that Jake had never lost control, not for a second. He handled the aircraft with a precision that made you feel safe, even when the world turned upside down.

“That was—” you started, still gripping the harness, “—actually kind of amazing.”

Jake’s laughter crackled through the headset. “Knew you had it in you.”

He guided the jet through a few more maneuvers, showing you the grace and precision that came with years of experience. And with each passing moment, you felt yourself letting go—of your hesitation, your fear, your doubts. Up here, in the sky, there was no room for uncertainty. There was only the hum of the jet, the steady sound of Jake’s voice, and the boundless horizon ahead.

Eventually, he leveled out, letting you take in the view. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, the clouds glowing with soft light. It was breathtaking.

Jake’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Kinda makes you never wanna come back down, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah. I get it now.”

For a moment, there was silence between you, save for the steady hum of the engines. Then, Jake said, “Maybe next time, I’ll let you take the stick.”

You laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Hangman.”

“Hey, I’ve got faith in you,” he said, and something in his tone made your chest tighten. “I think you’d surprise yourself.”

You exhaled, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was just the beginning.

When you landed and climbed out of the jet, Jake was already waiting for you. His helmet dangled from one hand as he ran the other through his tousled hair, shaking out the tension of the flight. His gaze was locked onto you, unwavering, searching. You could feel the intensity of it even as you pulled off your own helmet, your pulse still pounding from the rush of being up there. He was waiting for something—for you to say something first, to confirm what he already knew.

“So?” His voice was steady, but there was a hint of anticipation beneath it, a thread of something deeper woven into his usual confidence.

You met his eyes, and despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you felt something even stronger settle in your chest. A certainty. A pull. “I think I might be addicted.”

Jake’s smirk came instantly, sharp and knowing, but there was something else there too. A flicker of satisfaction, of relief, of something softer he wasn’t quite ready to put words to. “Told you I’d make you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. It spread, curling at the edges of your ribs, unfurling into something vast and unshakable. And then Jake took a step forward, closing the distance between you just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. His presence was overwhelming in the best possible way, and when his fingers brushed against yours, a shiver ran through you, setting every nerve in your body alight. The brush of his calloused fingertips against your palm was barely more than a whisper, but it sent something unraveling inside you, something you hadn’t been ready to acknowledge until now.

“I wasn’t just talking about flying,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

The air between you shifted, charged with something electric, something unspoken but impossible to ignore. It was in the way his fingers curled around yours, his touch just firm enough to ground you while your heart continued its relentless hammering against your ribs. You felt frozen in place, and yet, at the same time, you felt like you were falling—plummeting into something unknown, something terrifyingly exhilarating.

His gaze flickered to your lips, just for a fraction of a second, before his eyes locked back onto yours. There was no rush, no reckless impulse—just steady, measured patience, as if he was waiting for you to move first, to pull away if that’s what you wanted. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Every ounce of resistance you’d once had, every effort you had made to keep him at arm’s length, to pretend that whatever this was didn’t exist, crumbled beneath the weight of the moment.

And then, before you could overthink it, before the weight of everything could crash down on you, Jake closed the space between you and kissed you.

It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was sure, steady—like the way he flew, like the way he had always been there, lingering just close enough for you to finally see him. His lips were warm, firm, moving against yours with a gentleness that contradicted every cocky smirk, every teasing remark. One of his hands slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek, anchoring you to the moment, to him.

The world around you faded. The sounds of the base, the distant chatter of other pilots, the hum of the engines cooling down—it all disappeared. There was only Jake, only the way he fit against you, the way he kissed you like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was an answer to a question neither of you had dared to ask.

Your hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his flight suit as if holding onto him would keep you from floating away. And maybe it would, because right then, you felt weightless all over again, like the sky had never let you go. Like Jake Seresin had never let you fall.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His eyes searched yours, still holding that quiet intensity, as if he needed to be sure this was real. As if he needed you to tell him this wasn’t just the high of adrenaline, wasn’t just the thrill of the moment.

You exhaled softly, your fingers still fisted in his flight suit. “I think I might be addicted to this too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s smile was slow, lazy, and entirely too smug, but the way his fingers tightened against your waist betrayed the depth beneath his bravado. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not letting you quit.”

And with that, he kissed you again, deeper this time, with the kind of promise that neither of you needed to say out loud. Because you both knew—this was only the beginning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hey guysssssss here is the 4th installement to this series!!!! this one was fun to write... im not sure if i should end this series here or keep going lemme know if you guys have any ideas. love you

[thegh0sting]

Finally posting some art!

This is my first print-sized piece and it took me 2 whole days to finish, the damn thing is so big and I was fighting for my life with several different things (the lighting and background painting) But it's all worth it in the end because I absolutely love it <3

Characters featured from left to right are my oc Amaruq and her horse Tamannuk of the Moon circle, Gunnar and Morrigan from the SSO comics by Elli, and finally Yrsa and her horse Ālka of the Lightning circle (belonging to the lovely @crawlingwithmagg0ts)

Expect to see so much more of all of these characters, because I adore each and every single one of them

[problematic-president]

As much as i am a martin van buren fan who would love to see more depictions of him in media, i genuinely think a biographical adaptation of his life like a musical, movie, series, etc just wouldn't work, mainly because he works so much better as a "side character". I feel the fun part of writing a character like him would be to make the audience wonder whether he can be trusted, and seeing all the sneaky stuff he pulls behind the scenes. Also i just don't think his life story is interesting enough to merit an entire adaptation #SORRY

[shroommush]

Thank you to @blipple-is-confused for creating one of my favourite slimecicle fics ever, and heres to every fic to come after-

Paradoxcicle

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.

[liliaceaae]

I know it isn’t over quite yet, but I’m really proud of how far my art has come this year :)

I’m finally starting to look at my gallery and enjoying what I’ve collected. Never underestimate the power of a hyperfixation lol

[thedreadvampy]

so me and Sam FINALLY watched the last season of Capaldi's Who

and tell me how, after literally over a decade and for perhaps the first time in his fucking career, Steven Moffat wrote a not just tolerable but really actually good two-parter and fully stuck the landing. like the editing and pacing were still a bit off but the storyline was original, fun, interesting and emotionally invested, and most importantly, rather than ending on a damp fart or the most furious autofellatio in history, the final part didn't fumble it and ended in a way that felt emotionally satisfying and like it made sense for the characters. like the last time he successfully wrapped up a multiparter in a way that didn't feel cheap and hollowly disappointing to me was literally The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, and a) that was in 2005 and b) tbh The Doctor Dances is about a tenth as compelling and memorable as The Empty Child.

so after 12 years of either hackery or great ideas that fall apart in the second act, Steven Moffat writes what I would genuinely consider to be a memorable Good Doctor Who serial. it ends with bittersweet pathos, a solid closer for all the main characters, and sends Moffat's showrunning career out on a genuine high despite failing ratings and budget cuts (and the fact Doctor Who hasn't been consistently good since about 2009). good job Steve. with grudging respect I admit you pulled it out of the bag on this one.

wait what's this there's one more episode left? and it stars Mark Gatiss? and you literally spend the whole episode inexplicably just shitting all over the legacy of Doctor Who by inventing a version of the First Doctor that bears literally no resemblance to the character that William Hartnell actually played, just so you can spend the whole episode saying misogynistic things to run yourself off to how much more Totally Feminist your version was than the version you made up in your head of what Doctor Who was like in the 60s? and it added literally nothing to the season except to take all the wind out of the sails of the actually good finale you already wrote?

even when he writes a good episode this fucker still finds ways to disappoint me.

[beebmo]

ok i finished emesis blue. i am emotionally devastated and i will never be the same ever again

[eijminds]

i finished reading jjk yesterday IM SO SAD i feel so fucking empty

[ame-to-ame]

there are things that you don't do for a year or more and pick up just right where you left off and these days i fear loving you might be one of them

[kyouka-supremacy]

I connected the dots

[goldendiie]

it doesn’t matter what i write or what new stories i come up with for sargemore. the third blink will always be my best one. knocked out a home run in the first inning of the game. touchdown motherfucker. it don’t get better than that.