#im still holding the series at arms length until i finish it

[ven-of-oath]

I've started watching arcane (propaganda got to me) and it's amazing how all of the female characters are these amazing, interesting, multifaceted people and arguably the main dude POV of the story is boring and fucking sucks

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Crystalline

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna is blissfully unaware of the world around her.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: Pregnancy, uuuhhhhhhhh mostly fluff and angst but not bad angst. kinda break up? pushing an shoving and shit. implied violence.

2.8k words

"Do you always trust your first initial feeling? Special knowledge holds true, bears believing I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove Like the love that had finally, finally found me Then I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you"~Crystalline, Fleetwood Mac

“Ow.”

Frankie whimpers as Will tends to his wounds, shirtless in Will’s med room. William found him in here, trying to disinfect his arm from the bites.

“It’s alright, I’m almost done.” He wrapped Francisco up in gauze, gentle hands on the shaking man. 

“Please don’t tell Ben…”

Will sighs, finishing up his job. “He doesn’t talk to me anyway. But Frank, listen.” He looked at Francisco earnestly. “Santi’s catching on. You’ve gotta be more careful.”

Francisco shook his head. “There’s no being careful. There’s no nothing. I’m not… we’re not…” He sighs. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s gonna get Ben killed.”

Although looking sympathetic, there was a soft smile on Will’s face. “That’s why I’ve always liked you, Frank. Someone’s gotta look out for him.”

“You still do, he just doesn’t know it.”

“C’mere.” Will beckoned, bringing Frankie close with his large hand entangling in his brown locks. Will hugged him, then pulled away just enough for a kiss. “You’re a good man, Francisco.”

He kissed back, but refused to compliment. “No… I’m not, I can’t stand up to Santi, I can’t have Ben the way I want I can’t protect Madonna-”

A deep kiss interrupted Frankie, Will’s broad, firm body pressing him up against the counter. “You’re protecting them both, you’re doing the right thing.” Will cupped Frankies face, towering over him. Francisco couldn’t help falling into him, submitting to his strength, his power, his dominance. Will brought his hand down, cupping Frankie’s length through his sweats and stroking him to full hardness. “You’re taking care of them, and I’m going to take care of you.”

Francisco whimpered, relaxing against the counter as he closed his eyes, sinking into Will’s presence.

“T-Thank you…”

*

“You’re improving a lot.” Santiago compliments you. He sat in his usual spot, watching you paint your latest project. You’d seen it a few nights ago, Francisco in a flower crown, smiling with his eyes closed with Pope behind him, kissing his neck. Pope was very pleased with this most recent project, coming to watch you every day. He must really be proud of you. 

Sipping his wine, he smiled at you from over his glass. This was your special time together, and you always looked forward to it. You were starting to show just a little, and you frequently caught him staring at your stomach.

“Thank you, Pope.” You giggle, adding color to the flowers in Francisco’s hair. Blue, yellow, red, white. 

Pope didn’t touch you sexually, he hadn’t since you learned you were pregnant. There was no need, he said, but he still kissed you, still held you, his hands caressing your stomach. You’d made him proud, and that’s what mattered. That’s all you’d wanted to do since you were a child.

*

“Are you going to talk to me?” Will asked his brother, but Ben didn’t turn around. He was doing target practice with his arrows. There was a limited amount of guns and Ben liked to know he could make long distance shots to protect the house if needed.

“Ben, come on. I thought we moved past this when I saved your fucking life.”

He turned around, lowering his bow. “You were protecting Madonna, not me.”

Will rolled his eyes. “She’s not here, we don’t gotta pretend.”

“I’m not? What are you talking about?”

Benny looked genuinely… confused. “You don’t remember what happened at the announcement?”

Ben scoffed, when back to shooting. “Of course I fucking do. See, this is the problem with you! You always doubt me!”

“Ben, someone tried to shoot you, one of your psycho little girlfriends because you can’t keep it in your pants even thought you’ve got 2 dicks and a pussy you’re fucking married too, but that’s not enough-”

Ben swung around again, this time pointing his arrow at Will. “Don’t fucking act like I’m stupid!”

Did Ben actually not know what happened? The lie was his idea… “Okay… okay I’m sorry.”

“Melody tried to kill Madonna because she was jealous! That’s it! Nothing else happened!”

“I didn’t say anything did…”

In a fit, Ben growled and for a moment Will wondered if he was about to get shot again, but instead Ben broke his bow and arrow over his knee. Screaming, he threw it on the ground and stomped until they were just sticks. Ben stormed off.

*

You lay on top of Francisco in your meadow, kissing on him gently, soft and sweet. His poor lip was healing finallly. Francisco stopped you when you go to unbutton his green shirt. You look down at him curiously. 

“Oh, do you not want me? I guess I’m pregnant already, I can-” You move to get off him, embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t like your body as you gained weight? Maybe he just didn’t see a reason to fuck you. Maybe he didn’t like you again…

“Stay, please.” Francisco kissed you deeply, his cock twitching in his pants. “I just… I want my shirt on, please… ”

“Oh, of course…” You pat his tummy, wondering if maybe he shared some of your insecurities. He was certainly the fluffiest of the four, but you absolutely adored the way he looked, his body was perfect to you. “I think you’re… so, so handsome, you know that, right?” you weren’t good at flirting, even this made your face grow warm, but you wanted him to know how much you loved him. 

Frankie blushes. “Thank you, but I’d rather keep the shirt on… if that’s okay…”

You kiss his sweet, pouty lower lip with a little peck, considerate of his bite. “Anything for you, my perfect husband.”

You made love in the meadow, trees and flowers and birds and bee’s, all of nature surrounding you, all of heaven and earth shining their approval.

*

Ben stumbled into Frankie’s room, loudly, making the older man just in his bed. He was asleep on his stomach, and the noise scared the absolute shit out of him

“Frankie!” He raised his hands, shouting.

“JESUS Benjamin, what the hell!” He gets out of bed, wide awake now. He was wearing a shirt, no buttons. “Are you-” Francisco turned on his light and cupped Ben’s face. “You’re drunk again? What the fuck Benjamin!”

Not in the mood for a lecture, Ben stumbled forward and gripped Francisco’s hair, yanking him forward into a bruising kiss. For a moment, Francisco melted into him. He didn’t care that his lip throbbed, or that his shoulder and arm still hurt to move. He didn’t care about what he was supposed to be doing. He just wanted Ben, his handsome, sweet, fun, goddamnhestall husband, Ben. He kissed him back.

But then he felt his cock, free of any constraint hardening, and he remembered. He’d not supposed to be fucking Ben like this anymore. 

Frankie gently nudged him back, but Ben didn’t stop, moving to kiss his neck, holding him close. 

“Benjamin, we can’t-”

“We can.” Ben sucked a hickey into his skin, spitting into his hand to stroke Francisco. “You and me, Frankie. We belong together.” Although slurring just a bit, Ben’s voice was deep, gravely with need, dark and hungry and oh-so spine tingling.

“But…” frankie protested between kisses, making no real attempted to move away as he licked into Ben’s mouth, tasting the whiskey on his tongue. “Santi… Madonna…”

Ben spat his words. “Fuck ‘em. They don’t matter, only you matte Frankie. Only you.” 

He wanted to believe that, he did… he couldn’t. “Is that why you still fuck both of them?”

“I have to, you know that-” Ben sucked on his tongue, fighting the urge to nibble at his lip, make his own mark.

“Do you ‘have to’ fuck every woman in Delta?”

Ben shoved him so hard he stumbled back, it took a second for him to realize what happened. 

Francisco blinked, then with a puff of his chest he shoved Ben back, making him fall into a side table. When Ben looked up, his blue eyes were large and wet. Frankie wanted to run to him, apologize, help him up… but he needed this to end. Ben wasn’t going to run away with him, and messing around with Benjamin, even if he was the one he wanted, was going to get Ben killed. Francisco couldn’t stand to let that happen.

“This needs to stop, Ben. I’m not doing this anymore.”

From on the floor, the 6’3 strongman man looked small, weak, vulnerable. Francisco’s heart shattered as he screamed. “GET OUT!” He took hold of his shirt in both fists and shoved him the rest of the way out the door.

Frankie locked out the other half of his heart.

*

You sigh constantly, sinking further into the water. Will just got done washing your hair, and now he was giving you a soothing milk bath, even putting flower petals in it. Knelt beside you, he had a super soft washcloth and was simply using it to run warm water over your body. He put lavender in the water, commenting that he thought had more left. Not wanting to lie you tell him the truth, that you and Rey found it you used it on Pope. You apologize for going through his things for spilling it. Will said it was totally okay.

The pregnancy had gone pretty smooth, so far no problems but you were having your usual sleep issues. You and Will developed a routine to help you sleep. Ever since he was shot, you’ve been sleeping in his bed. Now, he liked to give you a lavender bath before bedtime. He’d relax you, sometimes finger fuck you if you needed your mind cleared, then once you began nodding off he drained the water, patted you dry and then carried you to his room in a big towel. There, he dressed you in comfortable pj’s and tucked you in with him. It was nice, you felt safe, and best of all, no incubus.

“Such a pretty woman…” Will mutters, putting down the cloth to massage oils into your skin. It felt nice being pampered. 

You giggle. “Thank you.”

“Everything going good with the others?” Will always checked in on you, which you appreciated. He helped you navigate things in the house and with Pope especially. 

“Going great, thank you. Francisco seemed down there for a little but I think he’s cheered up.”

Will hummed in agreement. “I noticed that too, but you’re right, I think he’s happy now. Frankie had low moods sometimes, but he just needs a little patience and kindness when he does. And you give him that so well, thank you.” He kissed your forehead. “Such a good little wife.”

“And you’re such a good husband.” You tickle his arm, making him smile.

“Anything for my princess.”

*

Pope was gentle today.

Francisco was on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow trying to avoid tempting Pope with his mouth. 

“So fucking pretty…” He slowly thrust inside him, softening cockcovering itself in cum. He looked how Frankie looked with his cum leaking out. “Beautiful…”

Santi laid down beside Francisco, and Frankie was ashamed to say he took comfort in the touch. He wanted to hate Santi, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t hate a man he’d known his whole life, who he’d shared that life with day in, day out. They were never apart.

 “I’m so happy with you, Frank…” He kisses Frankie’s head, and Frankie can’t help but smile. He liked Santi’s kisses when he was being nice.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t a lie.

*

You squeal, dashing around the table to avoid Ben who chased after you with a cup of water in his hand. To be fair, you started the water fight, and now both of you were drenched in water, especially after he took out the kitchen spray in the sink and showered you. Ben laughed, giving chase but he slipped on a puddle, falling on his ass.

“Ben!” You gasp, laughing still as he disappears behind the table, and you run around to check on him. Big mistake.

“BOO!”

“AH!!”

Ben threw his cup of water at you, drenching you all over again. You dump your water on his head and then make a mad dash to get more. You weren’t above getting him while he’s down.

“Oh no you don’t!” Ben scrambles up, scooping you up as you scream and laugh, carrying you to the sink.

“BEEEEN!” You playfully smack at his chest, putting up a pretend fight. “What are you doing!!”

“Winning!” Benny placed you in the empty sink and turning on the faucet over your lap. 

He doesn’t see it coming when you grab the sprayer.

*

Will heard the shouting from Frankie’s room. Jesus, they were not subtle. It wasn’t until he heard the crash he knew they weren’t fucking. Getting up to investigate, he was just in time to see Ben getting his ass thrown out of Frankie’s room. Standing in the hall, he watched Ben, clearly drunk, curl up in a ball on the floor and cry.

Ben didn’t want much to do with Will, not as a brother. Although they worked well together in matters revolving around their family, their community, their woman, Ben didn’t want the closeness and friendship they used to share. Will had hoped after he was shot, Ben would throw his jealousy aside, that he would see that Will loved him and for a moment, he did. When Will was shot, Ben stayed at his side, crying even though the shooter was still at large. He risked his life for him, even with Frankie screaming and pulling at him. Ben helped patch him up, not trusting Iris.

Now Ben was back to Ben, a sad, alcoholic slut.

Will knelt by his sobbing brother’s side, pulling him into his strong arms. Will loved Frankie, but right now Frankie wasn’t his husband. He was the man that broke his baby brother's heart.

“It’s gonna be okay, Benny. It’s gonna be okay.”

*

You sat on the counter, watching with joy as Reyansh poked at Iris, wrapping his arms around her and swaying. He’d been trying to cheer her up after she’d hovered over him and his black eye. Reyansh said it was standard sparring training for the guards and someone got a good shot in, and Jonah confirmed this, but Iris still fussed over him.

“C’mooooon, smile. Baby.”

“No, I’m grumpy.” But a smile was slipping. 

Jonah appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Sing to her, that’s a guarantee.”

“Oooohohoho no you don’t!” Iris poked at his chest. “That’s cheating!” Iris was a sucker for Rey’s singing.

It was too late. “Love’n you, is it the riiiigh thing to dooooo”

“Reeeeeey”

He turned her around to face him, and she was already smiling. “How can I, ever change things that I feeeeeeeel!”

She giggled as Rey spun her around. “You know this is my favorite! It’s not fair.”

“If I could, baby I’d give you my world!”

Jonah approached you. Things had still been awkward, but the way Jonah protected you at the shooting made you know for sure that he still cared about you. He held out a hand.

Rey took Iris’s hands, doing the twist with her. You liked how Iris’s curls moved around. She was always pretty, but god, when she smiled. You saw why Rey loved her.

“HOW CAN I WHEN YOU WON”T TAKE IT FROM MEEEE!”

You take Jonah’s hand and as soon as you hop down, he swings you around, paying attention to making sure you didn’t hit anything.

Jonah and Rey both sing, very loudly. “YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAAAAYYYYYY!”

Iris echo’d them “GO YOUR OWN WAAAAaaaaaayyy”

Jonah picked you up and spun you around, rey twirled Iris. “YOU CAN CALL IT ANOOOOOOTHER LONELY DAAYAYAYAYY”

“ANOTHER LONELY DAYYAYAYAYAY”

Reyansh took your hand, linking your arms and Jonah scooped up Iris and spun her.

“YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAYYYY”

You sang with Iris “GO YOUR OWN WAAYYY”

Rey sang the rest of the song, you all took turns dancing. You didn’t dare try to dance with Iris, but to your surprise, she took you in her arms, pulling you close and dancing with you too. She smelled like wildflowers.

*

Earlier that day…

Rey was whistling down the hall as usual. Today was a good day. It was bright and sunny out, and Iris had a surprisingly low work load. She even agreed to spend the night in his room, which, outside of the potential benefits, meant he got to hold her all night. What more could he ask for in life?

Oh! And he saw Frankie outside gardening, and maybe they shared a blunt. What about it! Yeah, he was in a great mood.

“Saha? A word?” Will’s voice called behind him. Rey rolled his eyes before turning around. Great, this guy. 

Rey out on a fake smile and turned around. “What can I do for you.”

Will was standing with his hands tucked into his pockets, a small smile on his face, but it wasn’t comforting, not like Jonah’s smile.

“Was talking to The Madonna last night, she said you helped her break into my room to get my oils?”

AAHHHHHHHHHH thank you so much for sticking with me!!! I'm so happy to have you!!!!

If you enjoy this, you may enjoy Awakening over at my main @romanarose! I have a commission to do, (IronPope!!) but then im gonna REALLY try and crack down on the last chapter. lots of bisexuality, ironpope,fishben, and the sweetest orgy you've ever read

If you're in the "I wanna fuck Jonah" club, I wrote a commission that is NON CANON with pre ROF Jonah, non-madonna reader and Marcus (david harbour), where you're fucking both of them <3 the actions arent cnon but the insights into the characters are!

Madonna and Iris. Alicia is shipping it! What do you think?

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

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[alexa-fika]

Threats for One (Crocodile x gn!Pigeon!reader)

Pt1, Pt2

Doflamingo Version

A/N Guys I have been COOKING in this series 🫦🫦, I really love this series and writing more for it but I have no idea what I can keep adding, I don’t want it to be repetitive either. Like I said I really love writing this series or this type of content that is darkish? The type that makes your stomach flutter, so if you have any requests or ideas please let me know 👀 🔪

Dividers by @/saradika

Crocodile sat in his office looking through paperwork until the door slammed open and a hand slammed down in said papers

“I finished your delivery, now give me the antidote,” they sneer

Crocodile stares at them as they slam the door. His stoic expression shifts to an expression of amusement as a smirk spreads across his lips. He remains silent for a moment, staring at them before chuckling to himself

“You’re a feisty one, I give you that… But, that is quite all right. I expected a bit of resistance from you; I will be honest; I was prepared for you to be a bit more of a handful.” He says with a mocking grin upon his scarred face

“Sit down.”

“To hell with that; I did your damn delivery, so give me the antidote.”

“I said you would get the antidote if you did the delivery; I never specified that you would get the antidote immediately. Now sit.”

They growl, pulling out a small dagger and swiftly slashing it over the stacks of papers he had been previously working on, effectively cutting the stack in half

“Give me the antidote, Crocodile, im not playing this damn twisted game with you.”

The stacks of paper collapse to the floor, but the smile on Crocodile’s face remains, albeit it has turned into something darker, more twisted. He eyes them, slowly and steadily standing up.

“So you’ve taken to threats to get what you want?” He draws a long puff of smoke from his cigar as he talks

“Hm, a bold and violent pigeon…, a rather unique specimen you are.” Crocodile walks around the desk, keeping a close eye on them.

“You must understand, Reader, you are an asset to me, one I can’t lose, right?

“Quite the way you treat your assets.”

“Do you think I’ve treated you badly so far?” He questions mockingly

“Perhaps, but only because a bit of rough handling was required on your end in order for you to understand your place.” He states, circling around them

“But in my opinion, I’ve been rather fair to you, even giving you a diluted antidote in good faith in order for you to get in line.”

“My place? You still seem to be under the impression that I am a mere employee and can’t seem to grasp the fact that I don’t work for you; I am not one of your underlings.”

“It seems we are at an impasse. I see myself as your employer and the Cross Guild as your job, and you seem to see yourself as a freelance worker,” Crocodile says as he circles around them until they are behind them

“A pigeon whose wings I can hold ransom and use to my advantage. Is that not what you are to me? And is it not fair that I’m asking you to be a simple messenger for me?” He says, letting out another puff of smoke as Reader turns around to face him

“I’d say it is a very fair arrangement, Reader. I just expect you to do what you are told; not that difficult, is it?”

“Just give me my damn antidote; find yourself some idiot willing to fall for that crap.”

“Is that really how you think this works? That I would just hire some random idiot to take over your deliveries?” He said, shaking his head

“You are rather mistaken; you have a good track record, no issues with deliveries, and I rather like the idea of having such messenger being one of a kind. That is why I need you. Start listening and sit down,” he said, holding the vial at arm’s length

“Or should I show you what would happen otherwise?” he said, bellowing a thick cloud of smoke

“Ne, Reader, are you sure you want to risk it, hmmm?”

They stared at the antidote hanging from his hands, a slip away from falling and, with it all chance of returning their wings to normal

Crocodile looks at them, the smirk and teasing glint in his eyes fading; instead, a serious, stern expression appears in its place.

“If you value those wings of yours at all, you’ll sit down and behave.”

There is a heavy, thick tension in the air as he keeps the antidote just out of their grasp.

“Sit. Down”

They glance desperately at the antidote

“I-I’m the only one of my kind. You destroy that, and you destroy your so-called asset; your deliveries would be canceled or delayed if we’re being hopeful,” they nervously try to reason

Crocodile lets out a chuckle as they talk

“I think you underestimate my influence. I do admire your sense of self-preservation… and the way you just attempted to use it as a bargaining chip, but you have to understand, Reader, what makes you think you are so irreplaceable?” he says as he continues to keep the antidote juts out of their grasp, dangling it in his fingers

“Losing you would delay deliveries, and some bounties and payments would be likely lost, but I would be able to find a replacement, less efficient and slower, but a replacement nonetheless,” he grumbles, lifting one finger of the vial

“Sit… down…”

“Okay! Okay!” They said, slumping down in the chair

“Please, just don’t destroy it; I need my wings back.”

“Finally, a bit of reason…” a slight smirk on his face slowly growing as he sees them comply.

“Now relax; a bit of trust and compliance can take us a long way,” he says taking a seat in his chair once again, staring at the fuming pigeon in front of him

“But this time, you are on a short leash. There will be none of that nonsense again; you are to do as you are told, is that clear, Reader?” he said gingerly, placing the vial on the table next to him, enough to be tauntingly close to them but far enough to be out of their reach

They glance at the vial, not taking their eyes off it as they speak

“Short leash?” They scoff

“You have me on a short leash already, you damn asshole; you gave me a diluted antidote and a time limit to come back.”

“There is a reason for that, little pigeon,” he responds to their scoff, a sadistic grin on his face

“It’s to ensure you come back in a manner that doesn’t involve me ripping your wings off and handing them to you; after all, you could decide to run off as soon as you get your antidote.”

“Besides, it’s only a few hours. Surely an experienced messenger such as yourself is capable of delivering such a simple package in that time frame?”

“You know what im also capable of doing?”

Crocodile’s expression remains unchanged as they continue to talk

“Enlighten me pigeon. What else are you capable of? Do you think you’ll be able to threaten me?”

“Im capable of using that timeframe to fly myself to a navy base; better yet, I could make one final stretch to make it to Marineford, maybe call for a buster call, im sure they will agree, seeing as three former warlords reside in it sending bounties for them”

Crocodile’s smile grows, growing dangerous as the second tick by

He leans back in his chair, taking a long drag from his cigar

“Hm, you are truly unpredictable, and that is very concerning. It seems, that you are going to be a lot more annoying than I already anticipated,” he mutters, letting slip a rather annoyed sigh.

“Try me.”

Crocodile stares at them with a smug, almost mocking grin, his cold eyes looking them up and down.

“Go ahead, go on ahead and try pigeon. I dare you to run off.”

A malicious smirk begins to spread across his face at the thought of them trying to run off

“We both know I’ll just catch up to you in a heartbeat and tear your wings off and string them to my belt before the Marines could even finish blinking.

Do you really not trust me not to have a contingency plan for any attempt to run off? Are you so confident in your ability to outrun me that you would wager your very wings?”

“You can’t be over me 24/7, Crocodile; perhaps I'll just take a detour in one of your deliveries to visit the good ol marines,” they taunt

“Hm, you sure have gained a rather large ego from a minimal amount of independence, Reader; such a shame…” he sighs, shaking his head like a disappointed parent

“You can try to make a detour at the marine base; I’d even welcome it; it gives me more of a reason to teach you your place.” Crocodile’s grimace darkens as he continues

In the blink of an eye, Crocodile had removed the hook and revealed the sharp knife that lay underneath, the blunt weapon now resting in Reader’s neck, tilting up the weapon and forcing them to move along with the knife to avoid getting nicked by the blade

“Or perhaps I should show you another lesson to help with your compliance?”

They glanced down at the knife pointed at them, attempting to back away from it, only to be stopped by a pillar of sand behind them, preventing any escape from the current threat

“There appears to be a slight misunderstanding here, little pigeon…

“You seem to believe you have the ability and the choice to escape? No, no, no, I’m in no mood to let that happen right now. he said as he pressed the sharp blade just a bit harder into their throat, causing a small red drop of blood to fall and roll down to the table

“I’ve entertained this game of yours…, but I fear it has gone on long enough little pigeon.”

“Then give me the antidote, and I’ll be off,” they mutter, wincing at the feeling of the dagger piercing their skin

A look of annoyance, mixed with boredom, fills his eyes as he looks over them

“I do Applaud your attempt, but do you really believe I’d make it that easy for you to gain the item you desire and run away in hopes of never having to serve me again?

Unfortunately, that is simply not how it works, little pigeon; you are a prized possession and asset of mine now. I’m afraid we will have to spend time with this arrangement for a while longer,” he said, grinning once again as he continued leaning closer to Reader as they tried to back away from him, stopped by the pillar of sand

“Truth of the matter is, I don’t trust you, little pigeon. And I don’t plan on letting you get too far off into our game.”

They glare at him, quickly running out of ways to defend their case and obtain their antidote, and both of them were highly aware of who had the winning hand

“Not so eager, are we, little pigeon? What happened to that bravery of yours? That defiance of running away to the Marines.” he smirked

“Let me give you a little tip: sometimes compliance just ends up being the simpler solution to a complex problem… and the easier path is almost always the preferable one,” he said, leaning back against his chair once again, putting their hook back over their dagger the sand pillar behind Reader slowly crumbling to the ground, he swiftly threw a vial and a pack of posters in their direction

They grunted as they easily caught the items

“That’s what I like to see, little pigeon, compliance.” Crocodile’s eyes narrowed once again, the smirk on his face growing wide

“That dilution should be enough to lift the poison for a few hours so that you can deliver those new bounties to the civilians in the neighboring islands.”

They grit their teeth, standing and heading for the door, only to be stopped as Crocodile calls for them once again

“What.” They growl

“Next time you try to pull off something like this again, I will be taking that tongue of yours, so be smart and keep it in your mouth rather than spouting nonsense that will only bring you more punishments.”

They tighten their fists but continue walking, only to once again be stopped by a pillar of sand; they glance back at the perpetrator of their blocked exit

“Am I being Clear?”

“Yes,” they hiss

“Now let me do my job.”

“Seems my ears are failing me. Would you repeat that? Am I being clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was thinking of maybe Mihawk appearing on the next part bur idk cause my head is empty so if y’all have any ideas or suggestions on what could happened then maybe I can write another part with mihawk??

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[daydreamindollie]

THE PRINCE WITH THE UGLY HEART ⏤15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN : NEW BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM ; you and taehyung start living in the capital within the palace and start adjusting to palace life with your studies keeping the both of you busy but can your determination to do well be enough or will things prove too hard for you to cope?

G. ; fluff ; very slight angst if you squint ; king!jungkook ; queenintraining!reader ; littlemaster!taehyung ; youngduke!taehyung ; reader is very studious ; taehyung's sacrifice ; reader's guilt ; jungkook being a good king ; jungkook also being a bad king ; ladies in waiting appearance ; hoseok gets promoted to butler ; new future queen in the queens palace ; taehyung isn't a prince ; surprise visits

LENGTH ; 7.7k

A/N ; goodness, it's been such a long time, i'm so sorry my lovely dollies, i never anticipated taking such an extended hiatus on this story - a lot of things happened and it can never be boiled down to one primary reason but what's important is that im back! i intend to finish this series that is and has been such a big reflection on my journey in writing. i hope you darlings, enjoy the read, i'm sorry for the long wait x

PREV.

Entering the royal palace was surreal. There was such a flurry of movement surrounding you, it was hard to process everything all at once. At the very least, Taehyung and Jungkook stayed by your side through it all, they were able to ground you through the hurricane of movement. 

“Call the royal tailor and seamstress to take the measurements of my lady and the little master  so that they can be fitted for new garments as soon as possible,” Jungkook ordered the staff as soon as you were settled into a room that could be considered the size of a small house, “also, prepare 2 baths and leave us be until the tailor and seamstress have arrived,”

“As you wish, your highness,” with that all the staff dispersed to set about their designated tasks. 

Finally, finally, you could breathe and hold your little brother close for comfort and a semblance of normalcy. 

“I hope you aren’t too overwhelmed,”  Jungkook sends you a look of sympathy, “I can understand how different this all must feel so please don’t hesitate to inform me whenever the two of you feel uncomfortable,”

“It’s okay, Hyung,” Taehyung speaks up in your lap, still cuddled up against you, “we’ll try our best, won’t we Noona?” he turns to gaze up at you with a smile that you reciprocate. 

“Of course we will,” you lean down to nuzzle your nose against your little brothers before turning your full attention to Jungkook, “anything to be able to stay by your side, Jungkook,”

The smile that spreads across his lips has your heart stuttering in your chest. You hold such a deep love for him but having his handsome face smile so sweetly at you is dangerous, and so is the knowledge that he helped bring the war to an end and has done so many good things for the people of the kingdom since his reign as King. 

How did you ever get so lucky? 

If only you knew how much deeper in love Jungkook was with you. If he needed to start a war again and become known as a terrible tyrant of a king or need to sacrifice all the luxury and privilege he grew up with, he’d do so in a heartbeat if it meant being your love for forever and always. He was willing to do exactly that if his father hadn’t allowed him that week of freedom and accepted you as his future queen.

“How very lucky I am to have you both in my life,” Jungkook kneels down before you, takes your hand and touches his lips to your knuckles in a soft kiss. 

“We’re lucky to have you too, Hyung!” Taehyung cheers and jumps on him with a shout of happiness. 

“Taehyung!” you gasp as they go tumbling down but refrain from scolding either one when they burst into fits of giggles, instead you sigh and lean back with a content smile. Once they’ve collected themselves, Jungkook stands with Taehyung held up with one arm as he pulls you close with his spare hand.

“I deeply apologise for having to delay our wedding, my love,” Jungkook, crestfallen, hums softly as he kisses your temple in apology.

“It’s alright,” you bashfully reassure and move to press a gentle kiss onto his cheek, “I’ve waited 5 years already, I can be patient,”

Jungkook smiles and squeezes both you and Taehyung close, “I couldn’t have said it better myself. All of that time is worth finally having you at arm's reach like this,” he nestles his face into your hair and smiles at your sweet, floral scent, “it won’t be too long now…” 

“I just hope-”

“None of that. I can’t have you doubting yourself when I know for sure that you’ll make an excellent queen, right Tae?” he holds your face as he stares at you lovingly. 

“Yeah! Hyung’s right, Noona!”

“Really?” you timidly ask. 

“Are you doubting the judgement of your King?” he teases as you laugh. 

“And what if I am?~”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully for a moment before a proud grin overtakes his once pensive features, “Only someone worthy of being the future queen would dare challenge their King in this way,” Taehyung laughs at Jungkook’s playful mocking but you could only pout.  

“Stopppp!” you whine but Jungkook laughs and seizes your lips in a loving kiss. 

“Believe in yourself the way you believed in me when I was at my lowest,” you smile as your heart softens from his heartfelt words, “and if you aren’t there yet, I'll support you as best as I can until you reach that point,”

“Thank you, Jungkook,”

Not long after being bathed then measured and fitted for noble attire, you and Taehyung were met with a shocking discovery in the absence of Jungkook and the presence of his newly assigned Butler. 

“This is…where?”

“This is the Queen’s palace, my lady, also known as the Diamond Palace,” the recently assigned butler, Hoseok, informs you. He had been so accommodating with helping to assign you ladies-in-waiting and tutors as well as a nanny, tutors and instructors for Taehyung to see after the week period set aside for you and your little brother to settle into palace life, a week that you were in the middle of currently, “would you like to know more?”

“Yes please, Hoseok,” you nod as Taehyung indulges in the many cakes and cookies laid out on the table before him with the occasional sip of his milk and honey. Nevertheless, he makes it a point to be turned towards the red-headed butler, ears perked and openly listening. Hoseok smiles at this, happy that the little master has such good manners, manners befitting a noble but displaying such better than most do. 

“The Queen’s palace is separate from the main palace where court officials and members of the King’s personal and public council often visit and hold meetings. The main purpose of the Queen’s palace is to train future Queens and therefore holds a mark of every queen that once resided in it. In fact, the previous queen, his highness’ belated mother, designed and helped cultivate the North and south gardens herself,” your mouth drops as the realisation of how importance your current residence dawns on you, “there are two more separate palaces called the Sapphire and Morganite palace also known as the Prince and Princess Palace respectively. They are where the prince and princesses of the kingdom should reside,” at his explanation, you turn to Taehyung, who looks at you with his own questioning gaze. Sensing the query in the air, Hoseok continues, “the Prince and Princess Palace are reserved for yours and his highness’ future children, my lady, as the young master, Taehyung, is politically not a prince but instead a young Duke. This is because he has relations with a member of the royal family through marriage, as soon as you are wed to his majesty, young master Taehyung’s dukedom will be announced soon after. His highness, the King, has been signing the documentations and making the proper preparations for this so please don’t worry, my lady,”

“Oh my…”

“What’s a Duke, Noona?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, you’re still too young Tae,” you assure as you bite your lip and give Hoseok a look that he immediately bows to, expressing his cooperation. Taehyung will not be told the full implications of this until he is much older, you want him to continue living as a child for as long as possible. 

Taehyung loved exploring the palace grounds and, although the palace staff adored him, he’s been keeping them on their toes. You were, at first, worried that a fair majority would antagonise you and your little brother for your humble background, however, they were nothing but friendly and welcoming to you both. Rumours between the palace maids made it clear to you that it’s all because of Jungkook emphasising that you were the reason for his change in demeanour prior to your arrival. 

“I heard that he begged his highness, the previous king, to let him go and do whatever he wanted for a week, and the condition was that he would leave after completing an entire week’s worth of work,” one palace maid gossiped behind a tall, marble pillar. 

“And then?”

“Now, I only heard this from a few people that work closely with the King but apparently, he also created a separate list of important things to do,”

“What else did he need to do? How could he even have the time to do more atop double the amount of work he already had to complete?”

“It was to spread the word that his highness was only able to become who he is today because  of the future queen,”

“The commoner girl he brought back claiming is going to become his queen?”

“Yes yes!”

“Oh my goodness! She must be really special to be able to make him change so much, then!”

“We must treat her well for bettering his highness, I remember when he used to be so irrational and rude, now it’s almost unbelievable that he used to be that way,”

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen any further with your mind racing and unable to process any more of their conversation. Jungkook had assured you that your existence and identity were completely secret and that all of the palace staff were sworn in to secrecy but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t gossip about you within palace walls. At least, you were fairly well accepted by the palace staff. 

“My lady is so beautiful, I just adore dressing her up,” Rosé, one of your four ladies in waiting, sighs dreamily as she tidies up your dress for the day. It would be your first time wearing a hand tailored dress as you had been wearing made-to-wear dresses up until this point. It was a flowy dress made of light material as per your request, and simply designed for your comfort and carefree movement. Elegant and enchanting, it was the perfect first dress. 

“That is a given, she will soon be the queen afterall,” Jisoo turns up her nose at the statement, as if to express how proud she is to be working for the future monarch.

“Which necklace would you like to wear today, my lady?” Lisa asks, as she sets down an assortment of necklaces upon your vanity. 

“Would you like to accompany them with earrings,” Jennie asks, gesturing to the tray of earrings on her cart, “or a bracelet?” she gestures to the lower half of the cart with an array of beautiful bracelets. 

“Maybe you’d like a headpiece?” jisoo comments stepping up beside you after finishing up with your hair. 

You take a moment to ponder, still flustered over being served in such an extravagant way and with incredibly kind and beautiful ladies in waiting, “Umm…I don’t believe I have the appropriate understanding of jewellery accompaniment yet so…is it alright if you make the decisions for me in the meantime?” you timidly look up at your ladies in waiting from your seat at the vanity, shy from their awed and quickly-turned adoring gazes. 

“Of course, my lady!” Lisa cheers. 

“We’d be more than happy to help you but please, once you feel like choosing what to wear, notify us right away,” Jisoo smiles softly. 

“It would mean more to us than anything in the world to properly honour our lady’s wishes,” Rosé pipes up as Jennie fervently nods in agreement beside her. 

“Thank you,” you smile, “you’ve all done a fantastic job,” 

“It’s all because our lady is already so beautiful,” Jennie compliments as they all bow at your gratitude.  

“Noona! Are you finished dressing up? Can I come in?” Taehyung’s excited voice calls through your door. You had heard his loud foot-falls approaching your bedroom and had quickly anticipated his company. 

“Yes, you may come in, Tae,” you call back, beginning to stand from your vanity, fully dressed as Lisa pulls open the door for Taehyung to step in and gasp at your appearance. 

“Wow! Noona! I always thought you were pretty but now you’re even prettier! You’re the prettiest person in the whole world!” he grins, running up to you with his arms wide open to which you bend down and meet him in an embrace. 

“Thank you Tae, you look very handsome in your new attire too, very dashing,” Taehyung was dressed in black fitted trousers and a white button up with embroidered embellishments at the cuffs and collar. Around his neck and fitted through his collar hung a simple gold chain connected to a black cape with the same golden embellishments as seen on his shirt. And, for once, his hair was a neat mess of bouncy curls rather than a messy nest for birds to lay their eggs in.  

“Thank you Noona!” you giggle when he steps back and strikes a manly pose for you, his face proud and happy. Lisa, Rosé, Jennie and JIsoo look on at your interaction with Taehyung, all smiling in content at serving under such a kind-hearted and loving person.  

“We were so right to take on this job,” Lisa whispers to Jisoo, who nods. 

“Forget being a noble lady,” Jisoo states spitefully.

“It’s too boring,” Rosé agrees.

“At least we can dress up and serve someone nice instead of those other noble snobs,” Jennie grins. All four were noble ladies themselves who volunteered to serve as ladies in waiting, others had volunteered for the job too but only they were chosen. 

Typically a Queen has eight ladies in waiting but you had expressed your need for only half if not one to serve under you, which peaked their interest. From the noble ladies they were always surrounded by at sourires, balls and galas, many bragged about taking advantage of the opportunity for power when given the chance to be queen, so confident in their noble blood. 

As soon as the once despised prince turned his image around and became an admirable king, who needed to marry, many noble ladies and their fathers rushed for the chance to curry favour with noble officials and members of the council to be picked as a queen candidate but were all rejected. None were given an explanation but being selected to be ladies in waiting was a new development when the four originally volunteered to become palace maids as was custom for noble ladies and gentlemen who wanted to gain connections for greater power and business or to escape noble obligations as a main perk of becoming palace maids meant arranged marriages becoming null.

You are a breath of fresh air from most noble ladies out there seeking to become queen. The four can’t wait for your debut into noble society as the new queen. They can’t wait to see all other noble ladies’ jaws drop at the sight of you because, not only were you incredibly beautiful but you were such a warm and kind person, of course you’ll only become even more beautiful in others’ eyes from that. For now they will stay patient and support you in every which way they can as your devoted ladies in waiting.    

“Postponing the ceremony?” The retired king exclaimed in bewilderment. It was unheard of. He should be used to his son’s unexpected ways after having tripped up his expectations over and over again but this was too much, “You understand what that entails, don’t you?”

“Father there is no need to fret, despite the war still being fresh, Seoul is at its most peaceful right now, everyone is striving to achieve normalcy once again and our newly established borders are being guarded far more stringently than ever before...” silence. Jungkook knows his father is contemplating his decision, all he needs is one more push, “and besides, didn’t you crown me because you were confident in my capabilities as King?”

It took another momentary beat of silence before Jungkook’s father huffed a chuckle and leaned back in his deep chair. His son was right in all aspects, hence his secondary contemplation on ending the monitoring of his son’s royal duties. Jungkook had proven himself worthy enough in the war, resulting in his crowning - he should finally let his son be to do as he so wishes.

“Very well, I trust you...” the father and son smiled in mutual respect and understanding of each other, “now get out of my chambers, this old man doesn’t want the King visiting him any more from now on, unless it’s to visit as his son,” as a wide grin stretched across Jungkook’s face, his father gave him one more word of advice, “now go and inform your future queen of this new establishment. This very much involves her too so she should be well-informed of this substantial decision,”

“Right away, father,” and with a quick look of acknowledgement, Jungkook left his father’s chambers and sought after you. Referring to the time, he’s pretty sure you’ll be alone in the library practising your reading with Taehyung. 

Just as you had told him that morning, he found you in the Royal Library, books piled up around you as Taehyung’s footsteps echo in the background, climbing ladders and exploring long book-filled corridors, his awes of wonder and interest fostering an amiable environment in the usually stiff and sombre room of knowledge that was Royal Palace Library. 

“Jungkook,” you smile at the sight of the man you love so much, looking up to instantly lock eyes with him as he enters through the large oak doors. He was as handsome as ever despite his more casual attire of dress pants, shoes, a silk sash wrapped tightly around his slim waist and a white shirt, long sleeves rolled up to his forearms and with a v-neck so deep it had to be loosely laced up with a thick thread.

“I see that you are hard at work,” he praises, eliciting a flustered expression. Your tutoring had just begun and you were only just catching your bearings with the boat-load of information being pushed onto you.  

“I-It’s still hard for me to read passages out loud without breaking up here and there; I’m better at reading in my head,”

“That’s alright, I believe in you,” Jungkook had finally reached your side and leaned down to press a kiss on your temple. He then pulls away to lean against your work table with his hands bracing himself against the edge of the table, accentuating his veins and muscles. If his kiss didn’t distract you so much, his toned arms would have. 

“Thank you,” you sigh dreamily at the gentle touch of his lips but quickly shake yourself out of your daze, shouldn’t he have a lot of things to do right now? You wouldn’t want to stall him in his work. 

Seeing the panic in your eyes, Jungkook quickly reassures you, “It’s alright, I’m on a break and I also have something very important to tell you,”

“What is it?” Jungkook waits until you’ve bookmarked your place and set your book aside before taking your hand in his leaning forward ever so slightly in order to do so. He allows himself a moment to admire your beautiful hand, tracing his thumb over your supple skin and without a single thought, he brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss, noting a soft but lingering floral scent - kissing your hand has become such an addictive habit of his, he loves kissing your sweet skin. No matter what, you always smell like the flowers you used to take care of. 

“Were you in the garden earlier?” Despite his soft tone, you avoid his eyes when answering as if being accused of a criminal act. 

“The flowers were just so lovely, I couldn’t help myself,”

Jungkook laughs and kisses you, his hand on your cheek deepening the intimate embrace. He really can’t seem to keep his lips off you whenever you’re together, you’ve found, though you’re not going to complain, “I’m glad you enjoy it there as much as I do,”

“Well...what did you want to tell me?” you ask to distract yourself from getting all the more sheepish.

“It’s about a very important ceremony that I’m choosing to postpone,” this makes you tilt your head in confusion. In your journey to becoming the future queen, you’ve had to read many books on the history and noble culture of the kingdom, which includes the many ceremonies that were held for certain events. You wanted to enquire further but didn’t know if you should or not. Your curious look, however, did all the talking for you, “I’ve decided to postpone the Knight Oath ceremony,”

“Wh-what?” That's definitely a ceremony you’ve read about, especially because it’s one of the most important few.

“You’ve learned about that ceremony already?”

“Yes, o-of course, it’s very important for the safety of the royal family, after all,” you emphasise. 

“You’re so smart,” he praises, ignoring your look of concern. 

“Jungkook, this is serious,”

“I know I know but tell me how much you’ve learned,” he winks at you, leaning back to look down at and crosses his arms as if he were a tutor quizzing you, “let me know how much you’ve learned so far, my beautiful rose~” his sweet voice drawls seductively at the nickname and has your heart racing in seconds. How does he expect you to answer his question when he’s being so flirty?! “Go on...”

First, you clear your throat, look away and take a deep breath…now, you think you can answer him, “To start with, there are two current knight factions even though there used to be more.” For a moment, you glance at Jungkook and gain confidence from his approving nod before continuing more positively, “One serves only the current King and is composed of very specialised knights with a high level of skill. The second faction is greater in number so, although some are very skilled, most are average at best. Their sole purpose is to serve the people of the Kingdom and those higher up, dispatch squadrons for expeditions to the border or to patrol a highly dangerous area. Umm…” you pause for thought, not knowing what to say next. 

“Because their numbers are so large, naturally, there are different rankings, no?” Jungkook continues, making you nod along as you begin to remember what to say next. 

“Yes yes! Umm, there’s Rank C for those that are still learning the ropes and are undergoing training. Rank B is for the knights who have graduated from C and are given more responsibilities as well as trust in caring for the people and maintaining peace throughout the kingdom. Rank A is for the elites, the heads of the squadrons spread out across the kingdom, they manage funds, assignments and reports that need to be looked over by the King on a monthly and yearly basis,”

“And how do knights acquire an A ranking?”

“Don’t they have to go through a test of some sort?” you ponder. 

“Yes, and?”

“After passing the test, they undergo special training that typically lasts half to almost a full year,” you’re back in the flow again and continue without much more prompting, “when they achieve their rank A medal, they gain a lot of authority and respect, this allows them the ability to access certain places within the Palace, such as the inner palace if they so wish. That is, apart from a few restrictive hours, of course. The Kings faction is overlooked by Sir Min Yoongi whereas the Kingdom’s knight faction is managed by Sir Kim Namjoon,”

“That is correct. Both are capable of managing either faction, however, Commander Kim is adamant at serving the people, if not, he would have very easily qualified as the King’s personal aide. Commander Min just took on the faction that was left. He seems to regret it though,” Jungkook chuckles, “he’s always complaining about how the knights aren’t good enough when it’s him that exceeds all qualifications and so do his standards,” you both giggle at the thought, “Doesn’t each faction have a symbol, love?”

“Oh, yes! The King’s faction is symbolised by a Lion whilst the Kingdom’s faction is symbolised by a Wolf.”

“Now...about that ceremony,”

You gain a look of worry, “that’s right, why are you postponing it? And for how long? The ceremony happens when a new King takes the throne and a new faction of specialised Knights are selected by him to swear their oath of loyalty,”

“Very good,”

It was tradition for when a new King takes over the throne, the knights that can qualify as Rank A can choose to partake in another test, where they compete against one another in front of the new King and, from that, the new King chooses his new faction of knights. The faction that has sworn their oath of loyalty to the old King cannot swear a new oath as only one oath can be made in a Knight’s life and that same oath will continue to be served until the end of their days. It may sound miserable but it’s all about a knight’s honour and none are happier than fulfilling their sworn oath. This is why it’s so important that the Knight's Oath ceremony is held or else it leaves the King vulnerable to assassination attempts. That alone, makes your heart stutter to an almost complete stop. 

“Why would you dare put yourself in such danger, Jungkook?” your mind wanders to the recent war and its repercussions on his safety for being the one to win and end it.

“I’ll be fine, it’s you that I’m worried about, my love,” Jungkook lets his worries show through with the furrowing of his brows as he moves to sit beside you once again, “I accept you as my Queen but many nobles who want their daughters to marry me and become royalty will have differing opinions. Instead, I plan on secretly creating a new faction of knights, they are to serve only you,”

You couldn’t believe your ears, “Me?...”

“Yes. The preparations for the ceremony will take some time after I have fully announced my decision so we have some waiting to do. I also play for their symbol be that of an Iris,”

“Why an Iris?”

“It was a flower that my mum associated with my Dad but my father and I both agreed that it always purely encompassed her, the perfect queen. It represents faith, wisdom, hope and valour, just like you. You had faith in me when no one else did, you enriched me with the wisdom and kindness I could never seem to obtain despite my privilege of being born a prince, you gave me hope for a better future and you are far more valourous than I could ever be; taking on this Queen training for when I took you away from where you grew up, I can’t imagine how fearful and anxious you must be but I want to tell you that you are doing amazing, so so amazing, my love,” you don’t know why but you began to tear up. It hadn’t been but a few weeks and, despite all Jungkook’s efforts to make you comfortable, it didn’t take away how hard this all was on you. It was stressful and so overwhelming. At least, you had Jungkook and Taehyung by your side, without them, you would have fallen apart already. 

“Thank you...” you whispered.

Jungkook leans forward enough for your noses to touch and holds your face in both of his hands, it’s so intimate and loving as he whispers only for you to hear, “anything for my Queen...”

And he meant every word. It was all too quick of a transition and demanded too much of a person to speed through queen training without the knowledge of being a noble but Jungkook was at a bind, he may be the King but the uncertainty of his people and worries of his council were a heavy weight he couldn’t ignore nor sweep aside so easily. As a result, there was a lot of pressure on you to do well, quickly and Jungkook always felt guilty for putting you in such a difficult place, however, it made him strive towards doing his job as King better. In a sense you were each others’ motivation to achieve good things, all with the same goal; to be able to stand proudly at each other’s side. 

Jungkook believes only a true and valiant king is worthy of your love. Likewise, you believe that only a grand and illustrious queen is worthy of him.  

Many times, Jungkook reassured you that you could take your time learning all these new things. Being introduced to the world of nobility and being forced to undergo such a strict and rigorous studying regime that noble ladies usually begin at the age of eight, was a heavy burden. You weren’t going to be convinced otherwise, however, Jungkook was an amazing King so you had to become just as amazing in order to competently stand beside him on the throne. It was a big responsibility that you decided to take on and you were going to follow it through to the very end; if your parents had ever taught you anything it was to follow your heart and finish what you started with everything you’ve got so that you don’t live with any regrets moving forward. 

“My lady, it’s best for you to sleep now so that you may be able to rise with the birds tomorrow,” Jennie speaks up with a look of worry etched across her sweet face, she, along with the rest of your ladies in waiting - Lisa, Jisoo and Rosé - were stood a few steps away from your writing desk as you burn candle after candle reading and revising the passages in your assigned books for the week, each of them worried for your wellbeing but all had pride swell deep within their chests at your studious and determined manner. You hadn’t begun official queen training yet as you had to get accustomed to the basics first, however, you were treating your current studies as if they were the real thing and they couldn’t be any more proud or happy for you. 

“Oh…” you look up to gaze at the clock, “I apologise ladies, you may head on to bed now, you must be very tired,” standing up, you stretch your tired arms and turn to face them. You watch as they exchange looks of apprehension and smile warmly at their fretting, “don’t worry, I promise that I will also head off to bed, thank you for your concern,” at your reassurance, they smile and bow simultaneously before setting out to help you prepare for bed. As soon as you were tucked under the covers, you were out like a light and in a deep slumber, leaving the ladies to quietly tiptoe out of your room by themselves. 

Not long after your chamber doors were shut and your ladies in waiting had made it into their own rooms for the night, Jungkook finally made it to your door. He had more to do today than anticipated and had made it over later than usual. It had become a ritual for him to sleep in your room, at your palace for the night even though it was heavily looked down upon by noble society and his council, nevertheless, he didn’t care; he had five long years to make up for, after all. 

“(Y/N), my love are you still awake?” Jungkook gently knocks and waits but receives no response. Nonetheless, he sneaks in anyway and sighs softly at your slumbering figure, he takes a moment to observe your busy desk of books and papers and pens. You’re working so hard, it’s inspiring and very cute but…he steps up to stand beside you and looks down at the restless expression on your face. Despite being asleep, you were still somewhat wakeful. Something needed to be done and…Jungkook just might know what to do. Thankfully, he anticipated the circumstance and started preparing sooner rather than later. 

Approaching your third month of tutelage means gradually advancing into your official Queen studies, you deserve a break after all that rigorous cramming on the basics. Your tutors predicted 6 months of studies to be sufficient for your general knowledge but you were already proving them wrong with your erudite manner and speed through content across various subjects. You prove to be much more promising than anticipated and they were excited to have such an enthusiastic student to nurture with their knowledge. Each tutor was a master of their craft so they all appreciated your enthusiasm to learn. 

Despite this great news, Jungkook worries for your wellbeing. Progressing so swiftly but thoroughly through content mustn’t be good for your mind.

Taking off his shoes and shirt, Jungkook nestles into the sheets beside you and pulls you close. He tucks your nose into his collar and smiles as he feels you cuddle in closer and sigh contentedly from his warmth. So cute…you’re so very cute and he wants to kiss you so badly but you’re tired and need a good amount of rest before your busy day begins again in the morning. Jungkook settles for kissing your forehead with a feather’s touch before slipping into a dreamless sleep himself. 

A tender caress; a familiar scent; a sweet warmth and a weighted comfort. It isn’t the golden embellishments, meticulously polished surfaces or the opulent furnishings that made you feel lavish; all the riches in the world could never measure up to the precious feeling it brought you to wake up in the arms of your love. Despite him sleeping over in your chambers regularly, it never took away that loving feeling you feel every time you wake up to him beside you. 

Bathing peacefully beneath the warm touch of golden sunbeams, the king slumbers on before you. He is reduced to a vulnerable, soft cub, coddled by your embrace and layers of cotton sheets. There isn’t a singular line of burden to trace along his brows nor is there evident anxiety tensing up his muscular, naked shoulders. It’s an image you will treasure for the rest of your years. Rather than the oppressing responsibilities weighing on his back and taxing his health, you wish that he forever slumbers in serenity.

And yet… selfish greed swells up from a bottomless pit of ravenous emotions housed deep in your heart. Unsatisfied and aggravated, clawing out for a modicum relief.

‘Wake up,’ the cavernous depths of your mind beg greedily, ‘look at me,’ you crave being ensnared by his beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that hold the comfort of the world to you, eyes that have the ability to strike a thrilling excitement but also affectionate ease deep in your heart.  You almost claw at his bare and chiselled chest from the crippling desperation of your want- your need to drown in his amorous gaze. Gone was your exhaustion from the previous day as it is swamped by your burning desires. 

As if hearing your silent plea, it isn’t long before you’re greeted by the sweet, chocolate pools you adore so much. The instant they connect with your loving stare and register the velvet threading of your dexterous fingers through his unkempt mop of hair, they scrunch up into an adorable smile.

“Good morning,” you whisper with all the love you could muster and kiss his slightly chapped lips. Still sluggish with sleep, his doe eyes disappear once more with an endearing scrunch before he dives to bury his face into your collarbone, pushing you onto your back and eliciting a giggle from your plush lips.

“Mmmm~” he moans roughly into your exposed skin, laying half of himself on top of you, unable to hold himself up out of pure laziness and his want to always be touching, “I love that sound…” he whispers the sentiment into the delicate space between your collarbones before placing a tender kiss onto your sweet skin as if to seal the loving words into your softness.

“What sound?” Does he mean your voice?

“You’re cute giggles,” the statement makes him giggle with you once more, both of your hearts sprouting wings of flight and making your chest feel weightless, “I love waking up to you,” he whispers, somewhat, belligerent.

“Jungkook…” you warn gently but with a hint of humour; you share the feeling but the rule was to not sleep in the same room until you were finally married, all in a pointless effort to prevent rumours amongst the serving royal staff.

“They can’t keep me away,” he continues to pepper kisses up and down the sensitive column of your neck, sometimes daring to dive lower and lower until his lips brush the forbidden line tracing the plush cushiness of your chest, modestly clothed by the trimmings of your flowy nightgown, ��never…not from you,” staring down at him with your skin ablaze at the erotic snarl in his words, your eyes widen at the heated gaze he’s already trapping you under, his strong hands on your waist pulling you into his figure and locking you there, eating you up mercilessly with his eyes. If it wasn’t with his stare, it would be with his abundance of kisses, like a hard candy melting onto your tongue, Jungkook wants to melt and consume you with his lips, “I Am The King!” his hold on you begins to shake and his strong figure crumbles, “And yet! They demand I stay away when I can finally have you all to myself and away from all those devious lessons and evil paperwork,” he laments and shudders at the mention of the greatest evil keeping you two apart, endless paperwork and your lessons.

“There there~…” you coo softly, assuring him the way you would your little brother, “you know it’s only a precaution,” he grumbles childishly at your statement, burying his face into your neck once more, as if shielding himself from the reality he doesn’t want to face, “and besides…” he looks up and you both grin cheekily, “no one’s said anything about you sneaking into my bed to sleep so far,”       

“The staff already adore you,” Jungkook muses, “I knew you’d make a brilliant queen,”

“I’m not a queen yet,”

“But you will undoubtedly be a phenomenal one, and you'll be all mine,” Jungkook moves up and tucks your face into his firm chest, one arm circling your shoulder to press you close as his other hand gently holds the back of your head, it’s an intimate cradle that has you sighing in content, “not two months into your general studies and you’ve learned all the basics already, that's such fast progress,” your heart sings at the praise and you have to bite your lip to humble your beaming smile. It doesn’t work half as effectively as when you resort to pressing your face into Jungkook’s chest, however, “you’re so smart, you're so amazing...you're so perfect,”

There’s nothing for you to say; you know Jungkook knows how grateful you are for him and words aren’t enough to express it. Instead, you lean down and initiate a kiss, opaque with love and fathomless with gratitude. To think you were so blessed after having experienced paralysing tragedies so early on in your life.

You are grateful to Jungkook for many things but the most you are grateful for is his unconditional love.

Soon enough, Jungkook had to leave for his royal duties that morning and your ladies in waiting pretended not to see anything. Once he was gone, they entered your room and got you dressed for your morning lessons, leading you to now, where you are revising the material outside under the afternoon sun with Taehyung playing around in the garden. Some staff stood by to assist where they were needed and kept a close eye on your little brother, especially if he got close to the pond. 

“Would you like some more tea, my lady?” Jisoo asks upon seeing your empty cup.

“Yes please,” she nods and refills your cup beside, “thank you, Jisoo,” she bows gently and steps back to stand with the others. You sip the tea for a small break and turn to look at Taehyung crouched down beside a bed of flowers as Hoseok stood beside him. Listening closely, you were able to pick up their conversation.

“You seem more lethargic than usual, young master,” Hoseok pipes up, “whatever is the matter?”

“What does leather-gic mean, Hoseok?” 

“Lethargic means tired, young master,” the red head explains, “now, what’s wrong so that we may fix it?”

“Oh…” Taehyung registers the explanation and sighs at being acknowledged as acting differently. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicion or concern over his well being because that would make you worry and you were already really stressed over your studies, he is undergoing his own studies as well but he can tell that his isn’t as intense as yours; you always have books and papers and notes piled up around you, it’s never ending and very unlike how you only used to be surrounded by flowers at the shop. Maybe that’s why you try to study in the garden as much as possible since the scenery and affluent arrangement of flora is somewhat familiar to you, Taehyung feels the same way, “it’s okay Hoseok-hyung, I’m alright,” Taehyung grins in an attempt to reassure the butler but quickly turns back to take a close look at the flowers before him, hoping that the red-head doesn’t see the falter in his smile. 

In the beginning, getting to explore the palace, running around freely in such a pretty and expansive garden and getting to eat a lot of yummy foods was a lot of fun but all those things didn’t take away the strange, upsetting feeling festering inside Taehyung of having to get used to a new environment, a new routine and new people surrounding him. Everyone was always nice but that was only because they had to serve him; he doesn’t have a singular true friend. 

“Now we both know that’s not true, young master…” Hoseok points out but is only met with silence. Taehyung refuses to say another word or turn to look up at the butler, he knows he’s being rude but being forced to face what he was desperately trying to suppress made familiar faces flash in his mind and an aching feeling overwhelms his chest. He misses them so much. It’s so lonely without them around, even though he has his noona beside him. As his eyes begin to water, Hoseok surprises him with a seemingly innocuous comment, “though, I’m sure you won’t feel so saddened for long, his highness has prepared something very special for you and his lady,” Taehyung finally looks up at the red-head but upon doing so is tackled to the ground. 

“You’re it, Tae!” as quickly as the voice of his very best friend rings in his ears, Jimin is just as quickly bolting away, leaving Taehyung to lean up on his elbows from his fall, “Are you gonna catch me or not?!” 

“Jimin!” Taehyung laughs with a wide grin, his tears of loneliness instantly being blinked away and replaced by tears of immense joy and relief. His best friend was here! 

“Come on already Tae!” Jimin stops running away to address his friend, hands on his hips with his feet wide apart, “You’re already bad at hide and seek, you can’t be bad at tag too!” 

“Oh yeah?! Watch!” Taehyung leaps onto his feet and twice the amount of laughter fills the air of the lush and sparkling garden. 

Staring in awe at the scene, your heart aches in happiness for your brother. So distracted by your studies and lessons, you must have neglected his own mental wellbeing. He must have been so lonely and sad and scared. What a relief it is to have Jimin visit him so suddenly and with such a bright smile too. You don’t know if you should be happy for your little brother or beg on your knees with apologies spilling from your lips because you were being such a horrible older sister. Swamped with emotions, you didn’t register the steady steps approaching you with the turning of wheels accompanying them. 

“I know what you’re thinking with that watery look in your eyes and I’m here to tell you to stop that right now!��� a familiar, scolding voice speaks up beside you and you turn to see Jin dressed in a chef uniform, “You’re a great older sister to Taehyung and that’s why he didn’t want you to worry about him, now…” he turns to pick up a tray from the push cart beside him and offers it to you as you continue to stare in shock at his figure, “I’ve baked all your favourites so eat up!” he’s grinning from ear to ear at you and your own eyes water even more. Wordlessly, you take one of your favourite desserts from his offered tray and bite into it as your tears finally spill over to trail down your cheeks. 

“They’re as yummy as always,” you muse in between shy hiccups, trying your best to hold back your tears of joy and relief. Smiling warmly at you, Jin leans down and pulls you into a long, tight embrace. You savour his warmth and familiar scent of bread and sweet treats. Not only did you neglect Taehyung’s loneliness but your own too. How could you become a good queen from this, you almost laugh at yourself as you happily give Jin a squeeze of comfort. He’s really here! You’re so grateful but how…

Catching a glimpse over his broad shoulder, your blurred vision picks up Jungkook’s figure beside a garden statue. Blinking, your vision clears up and you watch Jungkook smiling at the scene before him. This must be his doing…

You give Jin another squeeze and mouth the words ‘thank you’ over his shoulder at Jungkook, who simply bows. 

On his lips, he mouths back, ‘Anything for my Queen’.

NEXT.

NAVI. | THE PRINCE WITH THE UGLY HEART MLIST

TAGLIST : @krystle1990 ; @jungkookieyoongs ; @laabellaavitaa21 ; @jeonseagurl ; @minifruity ; @whalerus ; @vanilla-smash ; @kimsdope ; @jungshookmeup ; @satisfied18 ; @justraintan ; @prdshobi ; @janjaiii ; @lovinggalaxies ; @aijoukook ; @blxxmpetals ; @babyrosieareroses ; @outrofenty ; @jjeykayy ; @lovelytaes-blog ; @soleil-lei ; @kookcobain ; @headintheclouddd ; @sugaslittlekookies ; @meiouseiiii ; @reallysparklychaos ; @galaxyflab ; @xmagicxshopx ; @sea-nevermind-enthusiast ; @jeonseagurl ; @minifruity ; @aijoukook ; @jeonstudios ; @purplewinterluv

i'm sorry i didn't include the taglist sooner, dolls! i also apologise for those that i couldn't tag

[obey-only-me]

A Series of Markings - Mammon By: Akuzondelivery

It all started when Mammon saw you talking to a classmate. Said classmate was getting a little too close, a little too…familiar. You had mentioned having Mammon pick you up after your last class in hopes of avoiding this. You were obviously uncomfortable, cornered by this lowly demon. Had you been enjoying his company Mammon would leave with his tail between his legs, but he could tell that you were struggling to get away from this guy. It was when the demon touched a lock of your hair that he snapped. How dare he touch what was his!!

“Oi oi oi! What do you think you’re doing?”

Mammon stomped over with an intense energy that made the demon flinch.

“Just-uh talking about c-class.” The demon managed to stammer out while backing away.

“Class is over. Beat it.” Mammon practically roared.

“I’ll be going now. See you tomorrow MC!” And with that he ran down the hall. You sighed with great relief.

“Hmph! Can’t even stick around, what a coward.”

“Thank you Mammon!” You said smiling with a sigh, but Mammon couldn’t bring himself to return it. An obvious glare still lingered.

“Idiot…” Mammon grabbed your hand and led you to an empty classroom.

He roughly pulled you inside by your wrist. Without explanation he closed and locked the door and pushed you against a desk.

“You’re my human.” He whispered before kissing you roughly. His lips moved and kneaded against yours as his tongue parted your lips. A heat began to build inside you. Mammon insisted on holding the kiss even as you were running out of air.

“M-mammon!” You made out as you gasped for breath.

“I’m not stopping. Not until I’ve marked you and made you mine!” You looked at him with surprise, his eyes were focused on you alone. That intense energy from before never wavered and you were starting to feel it too. It felt…dominating. His eyes held yours as you spoke.

“What?”

“I have to mark you. That way no other demon would dare touch you again…”

You blushed as he said it out loud. How was he going to mark you? Or make you his?

He continued to kiss you as he pushed your uniform jacket off. Your hands rested against his chest as the kiss deepened. His tongue prodded against your lips, looking for an entrance. Accepting him, the kiss became intoxicating; it felt like you were drowning in Mammon. He left you gasping again.

“You’re always in danger when I’m not around. Let me make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” This greedy demon made his way down your neck and to your collarbone. All the while small sighs escaped you. His sharp teeth grazed your skin as he nipped and sucked at your neck. He slipped his own jacket off as he pushed your back down against the desk. Your hands were pinned above your head as he slowly moved his leg in between yours, grinding against your arousal.

“Ah! Mammon, not here…” you begged.

But he ignored you as he continued, one hand releasing your wrist to rub against your sex. You were moaning lowly now, beginning to feel your heat grow throughout your body. That’s when you noticed the trail down your neck. He was leaving sporadic hickies all over you.

“These are for all of these idiots who think they can touch what’s mine.” Mammon’s swift fingers unbuttoned your shirt, continuing to mark you as he trailed down your chest. “And these are for you…so you never forget me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I could never forget you Mammon.” You blurted out. He lifted his face to look at you, his face was as red and flushed as yours. The look of exasperation and desperation on your face made his heart flutter. “You…you’re all I think about.” Your cheeks were a deep crimson at this point. And you were beginning to squirm in anticipation when he didn’t say anything for a moment.

“MC…” Mammon whispered your name as he removed your shirt, only leaving your tie to hang around your neck. You couldn’t fight back moaning anymore as his hands caressed and teased your upper body. As he licked and sucked your stiffened peaks, he began undoing your waistband; slipping his hand beneath you and against your naked arousal.

“Ah! No…Mammon…they’re going to hear me.”

“Everyone’s gone for the day, besides- I want them to hear you. Let them hear you calling my name.”

Mammon’s lips crashed against yours as he slowly slipped a finger inside you. Your whole body was on fire as he work a single finger in and out.

“You’re so tight…” he huffed as his own arousal was starting to pulse with need. Mammon’s hips instinctively began grinding against your leg. He worked a second finger inside you, using a scissor motion to stretch you out, looking for that sweet spot of yours.

“D-dont say that!” You used your freed hands to cover your face. Pushing away the rest of your clothing he started at his own pants. His motions were quick but deliberate. He knew you wanted more just as much as he did. You sat up to watch, but your desire to touch him overwhelmed you. “Let me…”

You shifted to sit on the edge of the desk to unbutton his pants. Mammon watched with lustful eyes. He was shaking, too excited at seeing his own sex standing so erect and the way you were looking at it with such desire. He swallowed hard as your face moved lower toward him.

Gently you kissed and licked the tip, feeling the soft smooth skin against your tongue. He sighed and took a step forward, wanting more of that delicious tongue. But you teased him, only focusing on his sensitive tip and watching a shiver run through him. Your tongue made him melt, that velvety smooth muscle so delicately caressed him. Without taking the full length in your mouth, you slowly pumped him while you sucked gently. But his limit for teasing was running close.

“Fuuu-MC! I can’t take this. I want you now.” He was a bright shade of red as his desperation made him pant. Mammon easily swept you up and bent you over the desk you were using. He ran his hard length against your entrance, prodding you teasingly and using your saliva and slick as a lubricant. “You’re going to take all of me. And when you’re walking around with weak legs, everyone will know it’s because of me.”

“Mm…Mammon.” You looked over your shoulder to watch his face as he entered you inch by inch. Contorting and flexing with pleasure, he sighed heavily after fitting his entire cock deep inside you.

“It’s-its so big Mammon!” You moaned out as your body sucked him in.

“More. Say more things like that.” He encouraged you as he slowly rocked his hips. “Say my name more.”

His thrusts were slow and gentle but echoed throughout your core. Your moans came with every breath you let out, and Mammon grew harder and harder as he listened to you. The lewd sounds coming from your bodies made you more aroused, and you began shifting your hips back against him. His name slipped like a chant from you as he buried himself deeper within you.

“Mammon! Give me more…please.” You begged, much to his satisfaction. He couldn’t verbally respond however as he focused on your request, thrusting into you harder, deeper. Both of you moaned as he started thrusting into your sweet spot. Feeling warm all over and unable to control your moans, you spasmed around him as you came. Small dots clouded your vision a moment as you came down from your short lived bliss. But his hips didn’t stop.

“Fuck.” you cursed under your breath as the heat continued to build again.

“Ha! Can’t get enough of the great Mammon? Let the world know who you belong to now.” Mammon’s hand gently gripped your the tie still around your neck and pulled.

“You, Mammon…Im all yours.” You make out in between gasps. “You feel so…you feel so good! Don’t stop Mammon!” You let such embarrassing exclamations out as you chased another orgasm. His thrusts were getting harder and becoming frantic.

“MC…Im going to mark your insides. I’m claiming you as mine.” He leaned over your back to whisper into your ear. “I’m going to fill you up.”

You shivered as you felt a wave rush over you, taking you over the edge as Mammon groaned into you. His cock pulsed inside you as he emptied himself in your deepest parts.

“Mammon!” You gasped out.

“That’s it, take it all MC.”

Both of you were left breathless as you finished. His thick orgasm leaking from between your legs and on to the floor

 “MC…I love you…I want you-no…I need you to be mine.” His eyes were bright and glossy as he finished dressing you, obviously you were exhausted and he was going to take care of you. You looked into his eyes and kissed him tenderly.

“I’m already yours…”

He crumbled into your arms and nuzzled against your neck to hide his blush. “I was going to tell that demon…that the great Mammon was coming for me. But now-“ You pulled away to reference the deep red and purple hickies down your neck. 3 big ones sat just at your shirt collar, but just shifting your shoulder made them peek out.

“But now everyone will know…” Mammon finished your sentence with a proud smirk.

Cleaning up and kissing each other sweetly Mammon walked you back home the the House of Lamentation. You were heading straight to your room for some overnight cuddles. 💕

[no-droids]

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

Warnings: DUBCON ELEMENTS, SMUUUUUUT, religion kink, virgin kink, authority kink, degradation kink, praise kink, age gap, ohhhhh the list goes on y’all been here long enough

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time im sorry

***

Obi-Wan feels like he’s going to be sick.

Dinner in the grand hall was difficult enough, forking down mouthfuls of expensive food he’s sure was absolutely marvelous, if he could’ve tasted it.  The s’Ziscari clearly splurged on the celebrations—expensive food, expensive decor, expensive everything, down to the silk napkin he studied and fiddled with under the table as he awkwardly waited for you to finish your plate.

He felt uncomfortable, absolutely.  He’s felt uncomfortable ever since he shuffled into this blasted, Maker forsaken robe not long after he left your quarters earlier.

Not black, no.  Not like yours.  Not like what appears to be an overwhelmingly vast majority of the people he’s encountered so far this dreadful evening.

No, his robes are blue.

A strong, eye-catching royal blue, covering his body in waves of fabric—softer than anything he’s ever worn before and leaving him feeling incredibly exposed.  The far more practical robes he traded for these atrocious garments are made of a thick, scratchy wool, a testament to the Jedi’s philosophical rejection of fine or expensive materials.  And, against all logic—to somehow make matters even worse, the sash tying this uncomfortable piece of attire closed has no place to clip his saber, unlike the leather belt he usually wears.  As a consequence, he’s left simply carrying it around by his side.

Granted, for some unknown reason, his robes are still far thicker and longer and more protective than the… stars, the ultra-thin black silk wrapped around your body, but Obi-Wan is so self-conscious about his appearance that he’s not even allowing himself to look at you.  Obviously that doesn’t stop him from refusing to leave your side the entire night, and he finds himself rather grateful that only a very few number of s’Ziscari are fluent in Basic, if only to provide him with a valid excuse to socially detach.

Of the very few people he’s noticed wearing robes resembling his, they’re all far younger than him—much closer to your age than Obi-Wan’s, and stars, everything about this celebration is unbelievably unnerving to him—including, if not most of all, your response to it.  One of the reasons he knows the food was grand, apart from the immaculate plating and lavish dinnerware of course, is because you momentarily excused yourself from the seat next to him to dish yourself out a second helping.

Even now, even in the skybox seats of this distressingly packed arena, Obi-Wan struggles to keep down what little food he could eat while you stand tall next to him and seem completely unbothered by the situation—and by the Maker, it bothers him.  He isn’t used to this.  He’s used to you being the emotionally turbulent one, the one whom he has to pacify, and it twists his stomach with the way the roles have suddenly found themselves reversed.

“I think the blue looks nice, by the way,” you lean sideways to mention casually to him, and he knows.  He knows you’re just jesting, just trying to lighten the mood, but he feels the bile rising up his throat at the fact that you even commented on it aloud.  “Fitting.  Matches your saber.  Your face, though.”  The smallest hint of a smile tugs at your cheeks.  “It’s beginning to match the color of mine.”

“Thank you for that, young one; your sense of humor is positively delightful,” Obi-Wan gripes, clutching the metal hilt tightly in front of him with both hands while he gazes out at the stadium before him, bustling with black hooded figures and a rare flash of blue.  It does not escape his notice that in complete contrast, your arms are loosely meeting behind your back, your saber dangling in one hand while the other lazily holds your wrist.  Your body is… open.  Draped in garments somehow equally as opaque as they are revealing, presented to the wide panoramic view of the audience and stage with no qualms whatsoever.

“Wonder who I got it from,” you ponder with a tilt of your head, and… fair point.  “How long is this thing supposed to last anyways?”

“Stars—‘this thing’ can’t get over with soon enough,” Obi-Wan grumbles, his eyes anxiously flicking down at the empty stage in the center of the audience.  He’s struggling with butterflies and nausea like he himself is meant to have a starring role in this debauchery.  “They’ll have… acts.  Plural.”

“Heavens,” you sigh under your breath, and oh yes.  He agrees.

He’s also painfully aware that he should be using this free time to continue contemplating his decision about… matters concerning later this evening with you, but he’s already feeling massively overwhelmed as it is.  Right now, it’s all he can do to just breathe and attempt to face one trial at a time.

But then, as if the Maker is feeling just particularly malicious this evening, Obi-Wan’s stomach drops when something quiet flashes in the Force and the roar of the enormous crowd instantly falls to dead silence.  The ominous sign rockets through him and while a Jedi should not know fear, this might be the closest he’s ever felt to truly terrified.

“Ooh, dramatic,” you whisper, but regardless of your laissez-faire attitude, his heart is positively pounding as he watches the figures of robed Force sensitives slowly file out onto the stage, and everything inside him lurches at the realization that—

They’re all wearing blue.  Every single one of them is clothed in fabric that matches his current attire, the one that made him feel like a blot on the landscape the entire dinner and subsequent mass pilgrimage to the arena.  A bright splash of color in the midst of an almost inescapably giant ring of black.

You’ve stopped talking.  Truly, he has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing, not right now.  The Force sensitives join hands and create a ring in the center of the stage while every single person in the arena sits in perfect silence, and Obi-Wan feels dizzy.  He’s not getting enough air right now, but he doesn’t even want to breathe too loudly and somehow draw even more attention to himself.

Two of the blue robes break off from their fellow acolytes and meet in the middle of the circle, and to simply avoid having a heart attack, Obi-Wan very purposefully chooses to ignore—like he’s done multiple times this evening—the subtle flicker of curiosity he experiences at the significance of the color blue and what it symbolizes to the s’Ziscari.  He can’t even bear to watch the way the two of them slowly lean in and allow their lips to touch from under their hoods.

Maker, if he turned his saber on and stabbed himself with it, could he convince you it was an accident?  Probably not—no, definitely not, what a stupid thought to have—

“How does she wipe?”  He hears your voice whisper, and Obi-Wan’s facial expression immediately screws up in confusion.

He turns to you, his tone equally hushed but the bewilderment sharpening his consonants.  “How does who what—?”

Only—you’re not even looking at the scene unfolding in front of you.  Your expression is just as confused as his is, but instead of looking down, your chin is lifted and you’re staring directly across the arena at the viewing booth opposite to yours.  He still has no idea what you’re talking about though, not until he follows your line of sight and sees the way s’Zerthia has her jaw propped up in her hands on her throne, looking bored as usual, and how the length of her newly manicured fingernails curves halfway up her scalp from this angle.

“That’s dangerous,” you remark quietly.  “They’re like talons.  Gaudy little weapons she always has attached to her that she decorates, makes them seem less vicious than they actually are.  I see them.  I certainly don’t envy whoever she picks tonight to—”

You cut yourself off with a bit lip smile and turn your face away from him, and Obi-Wan is almost mystified by how casual you’re able to be about this. 

“Whomever she picks to…?”  He trails off with a sigh.  “Do I… Do I want to know?”

“Never mind,” you tell him quickly, lifting your chin once more while still clearly trying not to laugh.  You’re trying not to laugh, while… while that is happening in the center of the audience.  “It was, uh… tasteless.”

He blinks, wondering what that could possibly mean.  Everything about this is tasteless, the entire thing is just an absolute nightmare coming to life.

Though, after a moment of silence, Obi-Wan soon realizes he much prefers it when you fill the void.

“Members of the Royal Court take turns doing it for her,” he eventually replies, decidedly looking anywhere but where the man is slipping the blue robe from the woman’s body.  It takes you a second to register to what exactly he’s referring, but when you finally do, you snort.  It’s too loud.  A few heads closest to your isolated seats turn as Obi-Wan very quickly thrusts his elbow into your ribs.  “Quit being disrespectful,” he hisses under his breath.

“You just—!”  You quickly clamp your mouth shut and face forward again, trying not to smile in an appalled sort of way.  But then—“Oh,” you blurt, not loud enough for anyone else to hear in this open setting but still loud enough for him to glance around and be slightly anxious about it.  “Oh.  Wow.  I wasn’t… expecting…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes automatically flick down to the couple, only just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of stark nudity in the center of the arena before his gaze immediately bounces back up again and focuses on the incredibly interesting steel beam currently propping up the Queen’s viewing box, clearing his throat.  “I… did warn you.”

“Well, yeah, I expected them to…”  Your hushed voice trails off and you stay quiet for too long, too long to imply you’re still formulating an end to your thought.  You’re distracted by something, but then you appear to snap back to your senses and immediately clear your throat.  “I just wasn’t expecting… the, uh.  The… positioning.”

He says nothing in response.  It… it doesn’t give him great comfort, wondering how you could possibly know enough about this type of profanity to have expected a different sort of positioning.  The stark contrast between the color of his ceremonial robes and yours still remains completely unspoken, but it quietly pulls at the back of his mind nonetheless.

“What about it?”  Obi-Wan immediately hears himself prompt and oh, no, this is completely inappropriate.  Not only should he not be encouraging this kind of talk with you, but he also shouldn’t feel so… so negative, not about something so personal to you and something that’s certainly none of his business.  Regardless, he… still has this buried, unexplainable desire to know the truth about it.  Regardless of the indirect way he’s attempting to go about it, he wants to know the truth about whether or not you broke your oath, and while he recognizes it’s completely improper of him, the urge is still strong enough to manifest itself using his vocal cords.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just…  It’s…”  He doesn’t even have a visual reference for what you’re attempting to find the words to describe.  He doesn’t want to.  He just wants to know what you think about it.  “…Bold,” you finally settle on.

Bold.  It’s bold.  Perhaps Obi-Wan wouldn’t be analyzing your verbal responses so closely if he had something more interesting to look at besides the general coliseum-like structure of the large outdoor stadium, but there’s a certain horizon he just won’t let his eyes dip below right now and unfortunately for him, being so high up above the crowd, the upper hemisphere of his visual field remains relatively dull.

“Who would've thought,” he eventually sighs, blinking up at the star-splattered sky now and attempting to see if he can use the Force to break off a piece of a satellite and have it impale him in a tragic accident.  “Considering the s’Ziscari are such a conservative bunch.”

His eyes soon wander back to s’Zerthia, and—Obi-Wan startles to find her staring directly at him with a thin eyebrow dangerously quirked.  She motions two long fingers in a V shape at her eyes and then points down towards the stage, her expression expectant and waiting.

Obi-Wan’s teeth hurt at how hard he clenches them together, his jaw flexing but the thick blanket of his beard doing well to conceal it.  She’s playing with him, he realizes; he can see the hidden smile on her lips all the way from here.

Maker, maybe she’s right.  Maybe he’s—maybe he’s being ridiculous about this.  This is fine.  This is fine.  His stomach feels like it’s all his food might come up at any second, but he’ll do it, he’ll look.  He can at least just look, right?

His gaze slowly begins lowering, trying to take in just a few things at a time so as not to overstimulate himself.  Thousands of s’Ziscari lining the seats of the arena, almost every single one of them dressed in black.  Lower still—the platform leading up to the stage.  A perimeter of blue figures now sitting down in a circle and then, at its center, a… a naked man and woman.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds as he struggles to comprehend the sight, never having laid eyes on a nude woman before.  She’s on her elbows and knees, forehead lowered and resting against the floor, and the man kneels behind her, one hand holding her hips and the other wrapping around his—

Stars, Obi-Wan wants to end it all.  Right here.  His aim will be true.

But then… oh, no, he’s an idiot.  He’s a complete dullard, because he forgot.  Consumed by his own sheer anxiety and unease, Obi-Wan stupidly forgot an extremely crucial detail of the incredibly little he’s been told about the Sh’inzith.

—the projecting.

All at once, he’s nearly knocked over by the strength of the two Force sensitives at the center of the arena as they deliberately cast their minds out across the entire audience, presenting every sensation and fleeting thought they’re experiencing in all its intensity.  Obi-Wan immediately works to reinforce his mental shields as soon as he feels the shockwave about to hit, but there’s thousands of Force sensitives present—all of them congregated into one relatively small area, all of them tuning into the same two signatures and then suddenly… amplifying them back until it’s impossible for him to shut out.

“Oh, uh—” he just manages to hear you mutter through the whirlwind, just the slightest hint of panic in your voice peaking through the symphony of whispered thoughts and pulsing sensations coming from the stage, “—that isn’t good—”

Obi-Wan abruptly stumbles backwards and gasps at the awful, wretched feeling of something brunt pressing up hard against somewhere elusive, somewhere he’s never felt before towards the lower part of his body, and his mind fights viciously against it as he feels you spin around and reach out for his rapidly retreating figure.

“Wait, no—it’s okay, M-Master, it’s okay, it’s—” your voice cuts off and your hands suddenly fist into the robes at his chest, your forehead dropping to his shoulder against the sharp sting just continuing to push and push and push, “—i-it’s okay, it’s oka—”

He trips over his feet in the chaos and falls back on complete instinct and you’re so tightly attached to him that you’re yanked forwards with the momentum, the two of you plunging to the ground in a clumsy heap of grunts and tangled limbs.  Obi-Wan immediately starts crawling backwards across the floor underneath you, still trying to escape the horrible, inescapable sensation digging into a part of his body that doesn’t seem to exist, but it’s like you’re of the same mind—you’re scrambling forwards in the same direction trying to get away from the same thing, frantically attempting to calm him and simultaneously deal with the agony yourself, and then suddenly—

Oh—oh, Maker—

Suddenly something gives and surges in, and then Obi-Wan gasps—his elbows buckling under him and as the both of you drop down onto the floor because stars, it’s nearly blinding with impression.  Not only the aching, hard fullness stretching sharp and deep somewhere in his lower abdomen—but now a new sensation.  A tight, wet silk he feels swallowing him between his legs, concentrated on a part of his body that… does exist, a body part that’s currently pressed up right between your spread thighs.

“Fuck,” you moan hot against his throat, trying to find somewhere to brace yourself next to his shoulders and push yourself up off him, and he tries—Maker, he tries so hard not to, but his hands shoot out to grab your hips before he even knows what he’s doing and then he’s dragging his lower body up into yours on instinct alone, clamping his eyes shut and groaning out a desperate sound he’s never heard himself make before as his head drops against the floor.

It’s staggering.  It hurts.  He can't even hear your muffled noises anymore, not over the roaring encompassing his mind and body.  All he knows is that your hips quickly jerk back and grind down into his in response, sending Obi-Wan reeling while you bury your twisted cry of pleasure and pain into his neck.

The sound of it breaks through everything else.

Obi-Wan’s hands shake violently as they suddenly release you and then frantically shove at your shoulders, trying to push you off without hurting you.  He can’t think, he can’t see, he needs to leave—

“Get away,” he rasps desperately up at the sky, blinking his eyes wide but somehow not seeing anything in front of him but blackness.  “St-stars, get away from me—”

Suddenly you’re flipping off his body and onto your back next to him, too quick for it to be a mechanical movement alone, and he doesn’t even have the space in his mind nor the processing capacity to figure out if he Force pushed you off him or if it was you who did it to yourself.  He just clambers to his feet and stumbles away in a terrified, graceless retreat, bent in half, limping and gasping and fighting for every step he takes.

***

Your Master was right to leave as soon as possible, you think.  You were wrong to linger here for just a second to try and gain your bearings, because the more you work to grasp and attempt to organize them, the more mindless and disorienting they become.

You eventually have to heave over and drag yourself after him.

The further away you get from the arena, the easier it becomes to block the projection, but Maker, it’s exhausting.  You’re resigned to start out with a crawl—one of those Jedi Core crawls you haven’t had to do since the Academy but this one exponentially slower, forehead dropped down and eyes closed, just focusing on alternating shifting your elbows and your knees forwards and dedicating the rest of your mental energy to just isolating your mind from the debilitating assault.

Consulars don’t usually see much of war—you tend to do absolutely everything in your power to avoid it.  It’s the Guardians who experience the horrors of combat most often, who deal with ambushes and onslaughts from enemies of the Republic.  But Maker above, every merciless thrust into that poor little virgin at the center of the arena is like a blaster shooting directly at you, but then couple it with the thousands of reflections and ricochets in robes lining the bleachers?  You’re in the trenches of a deadly battle you had no idea was even about to break out and you have no weapon of defense besides retreat.

When you finally get far enough away to be able to push yourself upright as much as possible and continue staggering back to the palace on two feet, you have no concept for how long it’s been.  You can still feel the projection vibrating and clawing sharply at the edges of your consciousness, but at least the majority of your thoughts are your own now, and it gradually becomes easier and easier to focus and speed up to a clumsy run.

Though, no matter how successful you eventually are at muffling the vibrant sensations and thoughts of the two Force sensitives behind you—when they cum, you stumble down to your knees again and have to bite the back of your fist to keep from screaming.

Maker, it takes you a minute to recover.  You don’t even cum, you just feel it—the burst of energy from the Force in every direction, the violent explosion from the stadium that feels like it should fracture the ground beneath you.

You’re able to get up after a moment, if only because they decide to take mercy and finally cut off the projection.  You know that it’s a temporary relief, that they’ll likely be at this all night, but you hope the palace will be far enough away from the arena to block out the sensations completely.  You wonder if Master Kenobi felt that through the Force or whether he was too determined to block it out that he was able to simply ignore the nuclear missile that just detonated less than a few miles away from him.

You force yourself forwards and you want to hurry, you do—but strangely, in your wild state of exhaustion, stark reality is almost as debilitating as swimming through that endless madness was.  It’s quiet around you but the noise of still air pulses deafeningly in your eardrums after breaking free from such a thick mental filter separating you from your surroundings.  You still have your lightsaber clutched in your hand, Maker rejoice, and your thin robes are skewed awkwardly across your body, but you eventually find your way to the doors of the palace.

Though, trying to navigate the empty halls back to your Master’s chambers takes you longer than it should.  His signature is cloaked spectacularly, concealed to a mere speck you wouldn’t even know was there if you weren’t so closely acquainted with it for more than a decade.  You follow the flickering pixel of blue light through the obstacle ridden darkness, adjusting the front of your robes with one trembling hand while you wipe your brow with the other, closing your eyes and doing your best to take deep breaths.  He’ll be spiraling right now.  He’ll need a boulder to cling to in this tsunami, solid ground to stand on while the stars are falling out of the sky.

You… find him in your quarters instead.

The door is open and his handsome profile is to you, the thick fabric stretching over his broad shoulders now an agreeable light cream, familiar and telling of his intentions.  His hands are moving.  Setting something down on your bed—your robes, you soon realize.  He’s laying out your Jedi robes neatly for you across the fur blanketing the large mattress.

Master Kenobi begins speaking as soon as you step foot into the room, the tone of his voice very clearly impatient after having waited for you for so long.

“Change out of those ridiculous garments,” he tells you hastily, neatly laying out your leather belt across your dark tunic without even turning his head to look at you properly.  “We must leave.  Quickly.  Also—tell me you didn’t forget your saber at the arena, because if so, I’m afraid it’s lost to us forever now.  Ilum is only three days from here, perhaps we can stop there on the way back to Coruscant to find you another kyber cryst—”

You drop the hilt of your lightsaber on the floor and step forward, cautiously reaching out for his figure as he continues to ramble.  “Master, I—”

Your hand is thrown to the side with a subtle flick of his wrist and you instantly jerk to an abrupt halt, holding your palms out in front of you and keeping completely still while he spins around, his jaw slack and staring at you wide-eyed.  He takes a few steps away from you in shock.

“I’m sorry—” he immediately gasps, reaching out towards you even though the rest of his body is still desperately evading yours.  “Stars, I’m so sorry—that was just… That was excruciating, young one.  Why would anyone ever willingly—?”

“It—it doesn’t always—” you cut yourself off just in time, clamping your jaw shut before you can finish your sentence.

“We must leave,” he says once more as he turns back to your mattress, not appearing to hear you at all and shaking his head, far too frantic to sound like he’s just reminding you alone.  “We can’t do that.  I can’t do that—”

“It doesn’t always have to be—”  Maker, what is wrong with you?  Your heart kicks up in your chest and somehow stutters to a halt at the same time.  It’s the lingering effects of the assault your mind just experienced coupled with your desperate urge to console him that’s making you so utterly careless, you realize, it’s making your tongue loose.

“Stars, what do you mean?”  Master Kenobi finally snaps, and your blood runs ice cold.  “How do you know that?”

It takes the sum of all your years of training to keep the raging hurricane of emotion from showing in any capacity.  You feel like he’s holding his saber to your neck with how dangerously little you’re even allowing yourself to breathe right now, how utterly and completely still you’re holding yourself in front of him.

Lie, a little voice in your mind supplies quietly, the little voice you keep locked inside an impenetrable box of everything you are but have never been allowed to confront, haven’t been allowed to openly think just in case someone is listening too closely.  Lie.  Lie, right now.  Your silence is giving you away.

Only—you can’t.  You shouldn’t.  It’s not fair to keep this from him, not when you’re asking him to do something so structurally compromising to his belief system.  If… if you tell him the truth, perhaps he won’t judge you too harshly.  Perhaps he’ll feel… reassured, knowing he’s certainly not the first Jedi to break a sacred vow when he felt times were desperate enough.

Besides.  This might be the only secret that could potentially get you kicked out of the Order, but… it still isn’t your worst one.

“Because.”  The word is out of your mouth before you can rethink it, barely above a whisper.  “I… know.”

He doesn’t respond, and no.

No, you were wrong.  You were wrong to tell him the truth, and the look on his face immediately shoots panic through your whole body.

He doesn’t look reassured.

He looks… alienated.

“‘It doesn’t always?’”  Your Master eventually repeats back to you, and fuck—the implication is instantly clear.  The implication is made so clear from the sharpness in his tone, the hard edge to it as he rounds out the vowels in the last word that makes your heart twist and throb in your ribcage.  He might as well have just asked you how many times you must’ve violated your code of honor to know the difference.

“It’s not.”  You clear your throat and flick your gaze up to the ceiling, feeling like he’s using the Force to squeeze your chest in on itself.  “That was the absolute worst possible sensation that can be felt during… It’s—it’s not like that.  It won’t… be like that.  Not.”  Are there tears coming to your eyes?  “Not… with me.”

Utter quiet.  So quiet that if you really concentrate, you can hear the distant sounds of the arena continuing on with the Ritual without you.  You bite hard at your lip and wait for him to say something, anything.  Yell at you, tell you how disgusted he is, banish you from the Order.

Instead, Master Kenobi quite suddenly… deflates.  He sighs—not a heavy, exhausted one, but a soft one.  A quiet, accepting sort of sound.

He slowly lowers himself to the edge of the mattress and closes his eyes, running both hands through his hair, and it’s just enough to give you pause.  You glance over at him, trying not to let tears fall beyond the plateau of your lower lids with the frantic downward movement of your eyes, and you’re only just barely successful at it.

“It’s alright,” he says gently.  “It’s… it’s alright, young one.  I… suppose I am in no place to judge.  Quite… quite literally,” he murmurs, gesturing to the space around him with a lazy wave of his hand.  Maker, his figure is too watery and unfocused to make out his facial expressions, but you don’t want to blink to clear your vision just in case a sudden downpour escapes.  “It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t have asked.  You’re… not my Padawan anymore.  I should have no reason to… even care at all, really.”

There’s something that feels… major in that, something monumental yet incredibly well hidden, but you’re still too full of blind panic to interpret it further.  Your breathing is shaky and you wonder, quite stupidly and not for the first time in your life, if it’s somehow possible to use the Force to evaporate the water in your eyes before it turns into tears.

“I am certain it took place in your younger years, a long time ago,” he continues calmly when you don’t immediately say anything.  “You did always have a… a rather unconventional relationship with the rules.” 

Your only response is a quick jerk of a nod.  Yes.

“Yes,” you immediately agree, hoping your tone sounds convincing enough through the lingering tremors.  “It was… a long time ago.  I’ve changed, since then.  Grown up in many ways.”

It’s his turn to nod, and you manage to calm down just slightly.  You’re still breathing too hard and you’re a bit too braced, too much of a stance to truly feel like relief, but your heart rate is beginning to settle back into a somewhat acceptable rhythm.

Master Kenobi looks over at you, and he says absolutely nothing about the traces of water still glistening along your eyelashes.  He just smiles softly and pats the space next to him.

You cautiously make your way over to him after a moment, feeling more unsure now than you’ve felt this entire mission.  You leave at least a half a foot of space separating the two of you once you carefully sit yourself down on the mattress, and you can’t even look in his general direction.  You just focus on the long, draping sleeves of your black robe as you look down at your hands and wait for him to speak first.

“Sometimes,” he eventually sighs.  “Sometimes I… feel like you’re the person I know best in the entire galaxy, you know.  I’ve… I’ve known you far longer than I ever knew my own Master, young one.  I picked you out of thousands, and I’d do it thousands of times again.  Sometimes—especially since the day of your accolade and subsequent absence, I feel like I can know exactly what you’re thinking, even from across an entire star system.  And yet somehow, you… always surprise me.  Even after all these years, I am just.  Consistently surprised by you.”

You don’t know how to take that.  You just sit there in a guilty silence, still unable to turn your head or offer any sort of response.

“I chose you as a Padawan because you surprised me, you know,” he reminds you quietly.  “I had certain expectations for you, and you did not meet those expectations.  Instead, you presented an alternative I’d never before considered, an alternative that forced me to reevaluate you—and by extension, myself—far beyond what I had previously.  That is not a bad thing.  It has never been a bad thing.  As is made blatantly obvious by the fact that I’m the one currently standing in the way of saving lives, and you’re…not.”

Maker, this is thin ice.  You don’t know what to say that’ll express hesitant agreement with his sentiment without making it sound like you’re not apologetic for breaking your oath.  You’re… well, you’re not, not really.  His response itself is causing you to feel far more turmoil than any legitimate regret for your actions.

“It was—” On instinct, you almost say it was a mistake regardless of the conflicts you’re just so happening to encounter on this mission, but something stops you.  You suddenly remember your place here, your goal.  To save the galaxy from the Separatists’ reign.  And, by extension… sleep with your Master.  You can’t call it a mistake if you’re going to ultimately try to convince him to do the same thing.  So instead, you scramble to finish your sentence with a different thought, knowing his full attention is pinned to you right now.  “…A long time ago,” is all your exhausted mind is able to come up with.

“Yes,” he gives you a small, companionable smile.  “It’s alright.  Your prior lapse—or, well… lapses in judgement… will forever be safe with me.”

And still, you don’t feel relief.  Not when Master Kenobi very quickly appears to look uncertain.

“I… apologize,” he offers after a moment, “if.  If I ever made you feel like… like you could not confide in me about any struggles or… or urges you may have been experienc—”

“Maker,” you suddenly interrupt with a frantic wave of your hands, everything cringing inside you, “Maker, we don’t have to do this.  None of it, it’s okay.  Know what?  Let’s just go home—screw the galaxy, I don’t care, just stop talking.”

He snaps his eyes over to you, a sudden bark of laughter escaping him before the rest of his face even seems to register something was funny.

It evolves.  Eventually he’s covering his face and stifling ridiculous little snorts behind his hands, trying to apologize in between the chuckles but laughing even harder.  It’s almost like… just a form of pure stress relief for him.  So far beyond traumatized that it’s revealing itself in a slightly hysterical way, even if what you said wasn’t hysterical at all.

“Now you have a mere glimpse into what my experience has been like today,” he finally tells you with a sparkling grin once he composes himself, lifting his chin as he looks at you and scratching his beard with a quiet flicking sound.  “Shall I keep going?  If this mission has taught me anything, it’s that no matter what, things can always get worse.”

“They don’t have to.”  You say it without thinking, the gentle reprieve caused by his laughter flowing through you in waves and making you throw caution to the wind.  The four words serve to shut him up quite quickly however, even though it was the opposite of your intent, and your smile drops.  Maker, just freely conversing with him about these things is navigating a minefield for his mental state.

“You… you say that, and yet even—” Master Kenobi eventually responds, cutting himself off with a cough.  “Even the things I’ve heard are meant to feel… pleasant, were just.”  He shakes his head and blinks his crystal blue eyes over at you.  “By all accounts.  Agony.”

“I know,” you nod.  “I know.  Projecting that specific situation was… sadistic of them.  A distortion of the truth.  Probably rooted in deep tradition, but also a great scare tactic if I ever saw one, playing with us by presenting the absolute worst of it before anything else.  It won’t hurt.  At all.  I promise.  In fact—I-I can make it feel—”

Maker, you don’t even finish your sentence, but you must think the general idea loud enough for him to understand.  You don’t actually have a specific word in mind—good, great, amazing, euphoric?—and yet, something quiet settles over you two at the silent implication, the mere whisper of the possibility of you pleasuring him.

And him… allowing it.

“Master, I—”

“Don’t,” he quickly tells you.  “Don’t call—You don’t have to… call me that.  Just for right now, it’s.  I don’t—” he takes a breath that sounds shakier than it looks, and then he paints an easy, fake smile on his face following the exhale.  You recognize that smile anywhere, though.  While you’ve never seen him wear it before, it’s the smile that politicians make when they’re about to present a lesser truth to you, a smile shown to you in negotiations all the time that signifies something… hidden.  He’s hiding something, something important, and you have no idea what it could possibly be.  “I don’t feel like I even deserve to be called that right now, young one.  Perhaps you should be the Master, and I the learner.”

“Ah yes, the circle is now complete,” you can’t help but jest in return, wanting to keep the tone light even though the subject matter is heavy.  “Is now when we trade lightsabers?”

“Indeed,” he smiles, this time more sincere, and… you can’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it appears you’re physically closer to each other now than you were when you first sat down.

“Do they, uh… actually expect us to…”  You clear your throat and wave a hand around, “…Project the entire time like that?”

Master Kenobi quickly shakes his head.  “No.  s’Zer—Queen s’Zerthia informed me that.  Ah.  For us, projection will only be necessary during the… well, she called it the ‘closing ceremonies.’”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you nod.  “I… see.”

It’s like you can physically feel his body start to break out into a cold sweat next to you at the sudden… realness of it all, the realization that it has to be getting late.  Close to midnight, if you’re not already pushing it.  It’s come time to make a final decision, you both know it.  You want to console him, offer him some kind of solace or reprieve, but stars, you just don’t know how, not when you’re this much of a mess about this, too, but for entirely different reasons.  You don’t have a single clue how to make him feel better about any of this.

“I just,” you rush before you lose the nerve, “I want you to know that—e-even if you feel like you’re somehow alone in this, you’re not.  Okay?  I’m… I’m really nervous, too.  I don’t… I don’t actually know what to do at all right now.  I don’t know whether to respect your apprehension or tell you it’s unfounded.  I don’t know if I should remind you what’s at stake here or whether I should avoid mentioning it at all costs.  I have no idea what position I should take, but I’ll—I’ll take whichever one you want me to.”

And it’s odd, because when you first launched into your confession, Master Kenobi gradually began to look more and more relieved, but at a certain point, something just goes horribly wrong.  You don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it seems to rocket through your Master and suddenly his breathing stutters.

For a moment, you think he’s going to reach back, yank your neatly folded Jedi robes up from the mattress and push the dark fabric into your hands.  Tell you he’ll meet you at the docking bay posthaste, tell you not to linger, tell you that the mission was a failure.  But then—

“Before,” he suddenly says, the word almost startling you with how abrupt it comes out sounding.  Almost like he wasn’t quite expecting himself to say it either.  “Earlier today, you asked… you asked if there was anything you could do to… make this easier.”

“Yes,” you prompt immediately.  He won’t look at you, and for some reason your heart begins beating faster and the inside of your thighs are getting warm.

“I… I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through with this,” he admits with a whisper, his voice sounding so quietly reluctant, like he doesn’t want to say the words aloud but is forcing himself to.  “But… the Council put you in charge of negotiations.”

Your eyebrows furrow, trying to understand his implication.  What does that have to do with anything?  Is he saying that you’re supposed to be in charge, and therefore he’s defaulting to you?  “I’m not sure I—”

“The Galactic Republic…”  Master Kenobi enunciates very, very pointedly, still unable to look at you, “…put you in charge of negotiations.”

Specifying—or in this case, generalizing—doesn’t help much.  “I’m still not—”

“Maker, for—for the good of the Republic, young one,” he presses under his breath and finally flicks his gaze up to meet yours, sounding urgent and torn in equal parts.  “Negotiate.”

Stars, negotiate with who?  With—with him?  For the good of the…?  Is he asking you to somehow reason with him beyond what you’ve attempted to do already, or persuade him to do what’s right for—?

Maker—Master Kenobi is asking you to seduce him.

Shock paints your expression blank and his eyes instantly evade yours once more.  You have to sit there for just a second and double-check that you’re not dreaming.  None of this seems real.  All of it seems like an incredibly elaborate illusion of the Force, ever since you first laid eyes on him at the start of this mission.  You know you missed him but stars, did you truly miss him this terribly?  Your longing must rival something fierce to unconsciously conjure this wild of a scenario.  Is he actually here right now?  Have you been speaking to a ghost?  Are you actually here right now?  Are you going to wake up any second and remember he’s thousands of lightyears away and has been for years, risking his life on the front lines of galactic war while you’re left to play politics and negotiate treaties behind the scenes?

These thoughts aren’t safe to have in normal interactions with him, but nothing about this situation is normal, and while you know Master Kenobi has years of experience reading your signature, he most likely won’t be able to gauge the specific details of your thoughts when you can sense how intensely he’s focused on guarding his own chaotic mind from you.

So you let yourself think.  If only for a second, you sit next to him and allow yourself to just… think about him.  About how much you care for him, how desperately you ache for him—you let all these improper longings finally have their moment with you.  You let yourself confront it, crack the lid of the hidden box tucked away behind your consciousness and brave it, because if there was ever a moment to do so, it’s right now.

Your heart starts slamming up against your ribcage and your hands feel like they’re tingling.  He wants you to convince him to have sex with you.  He’s asking you to corrupt him.  He wants you to negotiate the galaxy’s survival with the last man standing in the way of its prosperity—a good man with strong, immovable morals, a man who understands the consequences that follow integrity around and won’t be easy to tempt.

“This was a bad idea,” suddenly comes Master Kenobi’s voice, quickly backpedaling after too long of a silence.  “I shouldn’t have said that.  Forget I said that, we should just g—”

“Would you like to meditate?”  You immediately ask him on a complete whim, shuffling back towards the middle of the mattress for the second time today.  You’re careful to make sure he doesn’t see you carelessly flick your neat robes to the floor with the Force, clearing the top of the large mattress.  “Let’s meditate.”

“Stars,” he breathes, shyly his head turning to follow you, “I’d love nothing more, but there truly just isn’t any time—”

You find it easier than you thought it’d be to pull a playful face at him, crossing your legs and straightening your spine.  “Please, you’re a Guardian.  You blue sabers practically invented battle meditation, did you not?”

He looks skeptical for a moment, as he has a valid right to be.  “Is this a battle?”  He eventually asks over his shoulder.

You say nothing in response to that, instead using the Force with a flex of your finger to tug at the loose cream fabric of his robe at his elbow.  “Come on, it’ll do us good.”

He looks conflicted for a second, but then ultimately decides to humor you.  “Alright,” Master Kenobi finally agrees, turning around and crawling towards you on the mattress, and you’re just quick enough to stamp down a flicker of arousal at the mere sight of it.  “It won’t hurt.”

“Of course it won’t,” you agree with just a bit too much air in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice it.  He just seats himself directly in front of you, facing you, crossing his legs close enough to yours that your knees barely touch, and—

—Maker, he’s lovely.

You purposefully let yourself think it as his eyes slowly fall closed and he takes a deep breath, beginning to tame the wild tempest of his mind.  You let the word flitter around your thoughts without instantly repressing it like you always do, and just the mere act of allowing yourself to acknowledge the truth is freeing.  He’s lovely.  He’s lovely.  You could scream it.

Your eyes trail down the lines of his ever softening, tranquil expression, not even bothering to pretend to meditate for his benefit this time.  Your gaze roams shamelessly across his face, the way his hair is combed back away from it.  The sandy, masculine beard leading down to the thick column of his throat, the broad lines of his shoulders draped in pale fabric, the way his chest slowly moves as he breathes.  Lovely.  Lovely.

And then you go… lower.

His abdomen is stretched long with how upright he’s sitting, his flawless meditation posture.  His thighs are spread wide in this position, pants stretched tight into an elusive drum over his crotch and preventing you from truly seeing anything—but stars is it a thrill even just letting yourself look. 

Especially knowing that the more his mind works to compose itself, the easier it’ll be for him to hear you.

You keep thinking, growing bolder the more you’re left alone with this box wide open.  You think about how lithe and strong his body is, how it would feel under your hands.  You think about all the different things you want to show him, all the… the mind shattering pleasure you can give him if he’ll allow y—

Master Kenobi says your name without opening his eyes.

It doesn’t sound the way you expect, though you don’t really know what you expected it to sound like.  A sharp, frustrated bark?  An exasperated, pleading attempt to get you to stop?

No—none of those.  It’s a quiet, low growl of a sound, and the clear warning in it absolutely burns a hole through you like he picked up his lightsaber and used it instead.

You take practiced breaths, trying to calm yourself down.  Stars, he just said your name, he’s said it so many times before, and yet hearing it in his mouth with that tone in this context feels like he just strapped rockets to your ankles and told you to stay put.  You’re impatient.  You’re turning yourself on, working yourself up, trying to get to where you can actually make a move on him after dedicating so many years to desperately repressing the longing to do so.  Once he told you to negotiate this deal with him, however, it’s as if every ounce of the impeccable self control you’ve practiced so spectacularly throughout most of your life slowly started to unravel.

Reaching out tentatively so as not to startle him, you wrap both of your palms around the bend of his knees and squeeze gently.  Master Kenobi displays no physical signs of—well, anything really, keeping his body completely rigid under your hands with no noticeable alterations in his breathing pattern.  Biting your lip, you begin to slowly rotate your thumbs, making sure to keep your movements slow and perfectly symmetrical.  Complete relaxation is your ultimate goal here—coaxing your Master into a serene state where physical contact is desired, not obligatory.  He's so uncomfortable with the concept of intimacy in and of itself though, from the way his eyebrows start to furrow and his spine begins gradually tilting back and away from you, it's almost as if your ministrations are dampening rather than fueling.

“Relax,” you murmur, and stars, even though you make it sound quiet and gentle, it’s like the melodic lull of your voice appears to startle him more than if you’d just spoken normally.  Maker—it’s counterintuitive; how are you supposed to turn someone on when the mere state of being turned on turns them off?  “Relax with me, it’s okay—”

“But I just can't, young one,” he suddenly implores, his voice pressed up tight in his throat, his cerulean eyes popping open in frustration and something else—an honest, heartfelt emotion that's strikingly less familiar to you, even after years spent by his side: deep, hot, stomach-wrenching guilt.  You watch your Master’s palms run the length of his thighs; back and forth, back and forth—almost like a nervous tick, you think—and it’s oddly endearing, if not increasingly concerning.  “I just can't, this is all so wrong.  Don't you understand?  E-Even if the Council did provide a—well, a rather admittedly ineluctable blessing for this downright ludicrous endeavor, i-it’s… I don't…”  He takes a deep breath, and visually, it looks like he's attempting to collect his thoughts and composure, but you know your Master all too well.  You know what he's really doing, and at this point, it's almost… frustrating.

“What are you so afraid of?”  You clutch his knees and whisper quietly, interrupting him before he can verbalize whatever perfectly logical reason he's trying to formulate as to why you both should leave the planet immediately, what he's going to say to the Council if they ever inquire as to why negotiations ultimately failed.  He jerks his head up sharply to look at you.

“The Jedi fear nothing,” is his automatic response, though his previously intense gaze strays slightly from yours after a second of too much eye contact.  “Fear is the path to the Dark Side, you know this.”

“And yet you are afraid,” you remark calmly, studying the way he’s turned his face away from you completely now, how you can still see his jaw clench under the thick beard with his profile shown to you like this.  “I—I’m trying to understand, Master, but I—I don’t.  Even if this mission were half as important as it is, your loyalty to the Order would follow you right into an early grave.  But this?”  You remove a palm from his knee to gesture between the two of you, the mattress beneath the both of you, “fulfilling this mission and these terms to save the entire galaxy is too ‘downright ludicrous’ for the Great Negotiator?  I don’t believe it.  Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

Only, he’s suddenly moving—away from you.  Turning and planting his palms to fur, beginning to climb to the edge of the bed and sweep his legs around under him, and your voice has an unintentional edge to it when you address his back.

“Do you know how many lives over I owe you?”  You ask, and he jerks to an abrupt halt, feet just shy of stepping on the floor.  “Do you have any idea the stockpile of mortal gratitude you’ve amassed from me?  How many times you’ve risked your death to save me from mine over the years—can you count them?  I have.  I know my debt to you, I know the weight of my life piled on top of itself over and over again.  I remember each and every one of them like they happened yesterday, and not once did you hesitate even slightly, let alone the way you’ve hesitated today.”

”And?”  Master Kenobi quite suddenly snaps over his shoulder as he grips the edge of the mattress, sounding sharp but not necessarily directed towards you.  “What is your point?”

“My point is that if you’d so readily trade your death time and time again to prevent that of even one other person, let alone a difficult Padawan who caused the Order nothing but grief for years, then what is it that makes the deaths of trillions—” you nearly say preferable to bedding me before you realize how incredibly harsh that would sound, but something about the way he seems to tense his shoulders and curl inwards implies he was following the general cadence of your agitated signature more than the specific content of your words.

He says absolutely nothing, but he doesn’t move to drop his feet to the floor, either.  If only you could punch a proverbial hole through his practically indestructible mental barriers, you'd see the real reason he's so flustered, why he's purposely attempting to deceive you.  Unfortunately for you though, they feel like they're made of triple-reinforced beskar, a countermeasure gradually increasing in strength the more you try to probe.

But then—all at once, something clicks.  Something… fundamental.  An understanding. 

Your Master is a gifted negotiator, yes.  But more than that.

He wields a blue saber.  Not a green one.

He’s a Guardian.  A warrior.  He fights.  It’s something that has never truly been part of your nature, no matter how much you struggled with it over the years—but it is a part of his, no matter how exceptionally he’s been able to mask it for even longer.

So, all at once, you stop pushing.  Your signature abruptly pulls away from him, gives him room to breathe and simply hovers within your own personal space, unassuming and careful not to disturb him.  You see your Master lift his chin and straighten his spine slightly, immediately noticing your absence and the constant pressure you’d been applying, and you honestly can’t tell if he relaxes or tenses up even more because of it.

Finally, when you feel like it’s been long enough, you slowly reach out and gently place your hand on his arm.  This time, there’s no underlying motivation attached, no inherent desire for him to fulfill any sort of obligation.  Just a warm, companionable gesture to reinforce the simple knowledge that you’re both in this together, for better or worse.

Please tell me, Obi-Wan, you quietly whisper to him through the Force, allowing your tone and energy to transfer through your open palm and into his troubled spirit as softly and gently as you possibly can—a caress more than anything even close to a sentence or inquiry.  Your usage of his first name is entirely unprecedented however, and your Master sucks in a sharp breath in response.

I don't… But then the subconscious, half-formed thought fades away almost as quickly as it’s offered to you from behind the solid, unyielding fortress of his mind.  “W-what are you doing?”

You bite your lip, wondering how honest you should be with him right now.  Though, you suppose, if you truly want him to confide in you, you should at least meet him halfway.

“You’re the locked door,” you finally settle on.  “This is me knocking.”

Obi-Wan turns around and blinks at you, looking for all the stars in this galaxy like that was quite possibly the last thing he expected you to say.  You can see the frantic thoughts pass through his eyes almost as if the clear blue was completely transparent, likely remembering all the times you’ve leaned on him for guidance, listened intently and learned from his wisdom and experience.  And now you’re a fully grown woman patiently offering him your ear, wondering if you’ve earned enough of his trust for him to do the same.

“I’m afraid I’ll form an attachment to you.”  The words tumble from his mouth even though his body all but whips away from you in the process.  “It’s unreasonable for the Council to expect this from me.  From us.  I’m afraid our relationship will forever be tarnished from this, that neither of us will ever be able to go back to the way things were before.  I’m afraid that regardless of whatever decision I make, I won’t be able to carry the guilt on my conscience and continue to call myself a Jedi and Guardian of the Republic.  But mostly, I just—I-I—”

Your heart is pounding as Obi-Wan buries his face into his hands and his muffled voice groans raggedly, “—I’m afraid I’ll like it.  I’m afraid I’ll want it again, and again.  I’m afraid it’ll follow me back to Coruscant, that I’ll save the galaxy but spend the rest of my days aching for something I’ll never be able to keep, and that’s petrifying.  Desire, passion, selfishness, possession; all of them lead to Darkness, and I can—I can feel it right now.  Your soul is so gentle, so peaceful, and yet you… you inspire such Darkness in me, dove.”

Maker, you’re trying so hard.  So hard to keep your legs from clenching together at the utter desperation in his tone, how his breathing has picked up now that the words have ripped themselves out of his throat, like the whole thing was physical agony even just to say.  You have to take a second.  You’ve been so patient this entire time, but stars—this one makes you need a moment.  You’re so glad his eyes are clamped shut behind his fingers right now because yours lose focus trying to mask the absolutely debilitating wave of arousal that sinks down hot through your stomach.

Even when you regain the ability to speak, the ability to form a safe and proper response to the bombshell he just dropped on you completely evades you.

You purposefully don't say that you're already helplessly attached to him, that the colors of the galaxy somehow lost their brilliance the day you graduated to Knight, the day you left his side.  You don't say that you want this so badly you can feel it in your neck, that it would probably break you in half if he said no to this now.  Though it's the honest-to-Maker truth, you know discovering this information will only cause your Master to further distance himself from you, and somehow that thought alone is a million times worse than being denied the opportunity to be this close to him.  Even… even if what you end up sharing is more emotional than physical.

So you take a deep breath to center yourself, and choose your words very carefully.

“A compromise, then.”

Obi-Wan suddenly raises his head, turning around to look at you and blinking twice.  “A what?”

“You told me to negotiate.  What do we do as negotiators, hm?”  You raise an eyebrow, giving him a gentle smile and trying not to curl your fingers into the fur underneath you with how hard it is to conceal your burning arousal.  Do it for him.  Do it for your Master, you’re in l—you… care about him, and you care about the things he cares about, even if doing so feels like it’ll rip you apart.  “We compromise.  Yes?  So, let’s find one.”

He shakes his head.  “I don’t see h—”

“If you were to…”  You cut him off and look down, trying to find the most delicate way to phrase this.  “If you were to… find other means to bring yourself to completion, would you be able to convince anyone listening that I was the one doing it?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even blink this time.  He just stares at you, holding himself like a statue in front of you.  Finally, he seems to find himself.  “I… I don’t—I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re stronger in the Force than anyone on this planet, Master,” you encourage softly, placing a hand back on his arm and squeezing this time.  “I’ve felt it.”

“N-No,” he practically hiccups.  “No, I mean I-I… I don’t know if… if I can.”

Your eyebrows narrow, a mixture of confusion and concern coloring your expression.  “If you can…?”

He looks back at you almost desperately, his eyes practically begging you to figure it out so he doesn’t have to say it.  Finally, Obi-Wan sighs, seeming to collapse in on himself with its intensity.  “I—I’ve never… purposefully reached completion before,” he admits.  “I’m—I’m not sure how to.”

Your eyes widen, wanting to kick yourself for making assumptions.  Of course.  Of course he’d follow his oath to its strictest interpretation, why would you ever think otherwise?  “Oh, y-yes, of course not,” you stutter, sounding incredibly stupid and perfectly mirroring the embarrassed flush also painting your Master’s cheeks, “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s alright,” he holds up a hand.  “We simply… view such things differently.  So long as you do not pass judgment, then neither shall I.”

You nod and look down at your hands, wondering how else you can attempt to tackle this predicament.  “What if I…”  You blink slowly, almost wanting to keep your eyes closed in case he’s offended by the idea but figuring you should have them open to read his responses.  “What if I… don’t touch you?”

Now he just looks confused.  “I’m sorry?”

You blush and clear your throat, obviously phrasing this wrong.  “If you can modify the context of your projection, then I can… get you there.  Without touching you.”

“How could you accomplish such a thing without tou—” Obi-Wan immediately cuts himself off when you lift your hand and close your eyes.

His thigh.  The right one—you focus on it.  There.  Right above the bend of his knee folding over the edge of the mattress, you concentrate all the energy from your fingertips and reach out, connecting the two together.  And then you take a deep breath and begin to draw your attention slowly upwards.

Your Master’s breath catches in his throat as you use the Force to delicately trail further up his leg, not laying a single hand on him as his muscles start to visibly tighten and quiver.

“Young one, I—”  His breathing stutters when you keep your hand raised but let your head tilt and drop down towards your shoulder with your energy, slinking down the inside of his thigh like water and getting dangerously close to his— “Stars, hang on—”

You blink your eyes open at him and continue concentrating right there, letting your focus melt warm and thick along the muscle and squeeze it—

“Maker—”  Obi-Wan gasps and drops his head back, his legs nearly spasming apart.  “Maker, hang on, I…”

“Do you…” You breathe tightly, flicking your eyes down to the way he’s fisting the fur under his hands and subconsciously flexing his hips up just the slightest bit.  Even though the Force, his body feels good.  Strong, sturdy, and braced tight under your attention.  “Do you want me to keep doing this?  I can… go higher.”

“You can…?  The—the Force isn’t—” Obi-Wan groans, his eyes clamping shut, “—isn’t meant to be used in such… in such… If I’m to break my oath, young one, it needn’t be so… so blasphemous—”

Trying to conceal the hot sparks of arousal deep in your stomach, you simply allow your metaphysical hand to continue resting right at the juncture of his hip and thigh, waiting for a real answer.  You bite your lip and wait for him to tell you to either cut it out or to keep going.  He doesn’t even have to say it out loud if he doesn’t want to—he can just slide it under the impassable door still separating him from you, the door you’re eventually going to get him to unlock himself.

His back is to you, so you can only see a bit of his face from this angle, but you can hear him loud and clear when he opens his mouth and whispers to you, barely louder than a breath.  “Go higher.”

Adrenaline rockets through your veins and slowly, your fingers curl in thin air while your gentle energy wraps itself around his cock.

Both of Obi-Wan’s hands instantly fly up to his face and he releases a tight, longing whimper into his palms, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds.  You can sense the ghost of his thickness in your hand, and the way he’s already throbbing for it is like pure spice to you.

You can’t stop your crossed legs from shuffling and rotating your body to face his hunched spine more directly, just taking a second and allowing him to adjust to the sensation of you just holding him between his legs like this.  Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing skin while he hides from you, and if only to get a little bit more of a reaction for your own sake, your thumb just barely angles to delicately brush up under his frenulum.  

Obi-Wan shudders and makes a choking noise behind his palms, and oh good Maker, you really want to see his face.  You know it’ll probably never happen unless you take your own initiative, but you also don’t want to overstep and snap him out of this blissful reverie.  Still, something compels you to be so gentle about it that he hopefully won’t even notice. 

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly, but a tendril of your energy slowly slithers upwards, so quiet and full of caution that it hardly even counts.  Very carefully, you start to flatten the lifeforce from your other palm over his stomach and trail it up, gradually urging him to stretch his slouched figure upright and then eventually start to tip backwards, never once letting your focus on his throbbing erection falter.

Your courageous efforts bestow prosperous rewards.  Obi-Wan’s hands drag down the length of his face and he makes it almost too easy to keep pressing him back—back back back until his muscles give up what little fight they were putting up against it and his shoulders are dropping down to the mattress, his head falling into your lap.

“There we go,” you whisper under your breath, just loud enough to softly encourage him if he’s listening but avoiding a break in his focus if he’s not.  “That’s not so bad.”

“It isn’t,” Obi-Wan gasps up at you, his eyes tightly closed but his jaw slack and his handsome features screwed up in rapture.  “Oh, no, it’s… it’s really… rea—good.”

You bite your lip and your cunt flexes hard between your legs without your permission, feeling so empty.  If you’re being honest, only touching him through the Force causes your hand to become increasingly bold, also feeling too empty.  Obi-Wan’s head rolls to the side and he pants hot air against the thin black fabric covering your thighs as you tighten your hold around him just slightly and start to move up and down his cock in earnest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the dirty word and rasp in his voice contrasting brilliantly with the proper Coruscanti accent and the crisp enunciation behind it.  “Fuck, this feels so good, I—”

His fingers grab at the fur covering the mattress top and pull at it, his adam’s apple bobbing sharp along the arching column of his throat as he groans and twists his head around in your lap.  He confesses it like it’s so wrong, but it can’t be wrong when he fits so perfectly in your hand?  How can this be wrong when it’s the only pleasure you can possibly give him that’s anywhere near close enough to match the way you feel when he’s around?  Even then, it’s but a fraction.

Your gaze flickers briefly from his face to check your progress with his body, and—stars, there’s a startling wet spot staining the front of his pale trousers, his cock tenting up shameless and needy for you to ache and throb just as desperately for in return.  Fuck, he deserves this, he deserves more—

“I can—I can make it better—” you can’t help but gasp, your eyebrows slanting upwards with need.  “Oh fuck, I can make it so much better than this for you, Obi-Wan—”

“You…?”  He blinks his stormy eyes open and sounds like he’s about to explode.  “This can be—” he chokes out, “—better?”

You can’t stop yourself.  Your pussy is clamped up so tight between your legs and Maker, you want to reward him for being so good to you, give him true adoration instead of phantom touches.  You don’t think before you’re moving out from under him and slinking down onto the floor, slipping in between his spread thighs.  You use the Force with a bend of your finger to tug his pants down just enough, just enough to let the swollen tip of his cock peak through the waistband, and then your head is dropping into his lap as you let it slide into your hot mouth.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and snarls at you—and something across the room shatters as you widen your throat for him and slowly sink down his length, curling your finger to stretch his hemline further as you go.  His fingers aren’t gentle when they fist into your hair and neither is the way he immediately twists it sideways, feeling like he’s trying to pull you off and shove you down on him at the same time.

You’re stuck between going as slow as you physically can to drag this out and giving him the best oral you’ve ever given to make him dream about this for the rest of his life.  You want him to want this as badly as you have for so many years.  You want him to fall into this Darkness with you, to crave you and what you can give to him so much that he’ll never want to leave you again.

So you make it wet.  You make it soft and slow and wet, switching between sucking gently at the tip and swirling your tongue around it, and then inching his length down your throat and swallowing around the thick girth of it once you can’t fit anymore in your mouth.  Obi-Wan is just an absolute mess about it—he can’t sit still, he’s tugging uselessly on your hair, whimpering out his bliss into the quiet room while you close your eyes and ignore his squirming, just taking your sweet time enjoying him and the way he feels.

He tastes exquisite.  Maybe it’s just because all your broken, stupid brain can think right now is slightly varying forms of my Master’s cock is in my mouth and it’s fucking leaking while you slowly nurse from it with your tongue, but stars—he tastes exquisite.

He’s swollen.  Throbbing.  Aching for you.  Releasing precum from the tip like his body is producing way too much of it after decades of neglect and just needs to get it all out at once.  Shifting and writhing underneath you but managing to never move his hips or cock a single inch away from the soft attention you’re giving him.  You can feel his smooth skin pulse against your tongue as you continue your lazy pleasuring, finally giving him what you’ve both been denied for so long and steadily swallowing down the spoils of your endeavors.

“—Wait, wait, Maker—stop,” you faintly hear gasped from above you not long after you even begin, and it takes the sum of all your efforts to unlodge his throbbing cock from your throat and pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale automatically, trying not to slur your words as a bit of drool slides down your chin.  “I’m s’sorry, Obi, I should’ve asked before I—”

“Something’s… n-not right,” Obi-Wan interrupts you and lifts himself up to his elbows, his abdominal muscles heaving and a wild, frenzied look in his startlingly bright eyes.  “My stomach was—I-I felt—”

Heat blooms through you along with a realization, and your eyelids begin to droop slightly at just how sexy it is—the fact that this man, this fully grown, red-blooded, warrior of a man is currently teetering on the precipice of his very first ever orgasm, and you’re the only one with the power to give it to him.

You shuffle backwards slightly, grabbing hold of his thighs and squeezing to get his attention.  “Hey.  It’s okay, relax.”

Obi-Wan nods his head vigorously down at you, the exact opposite of relaxed.

“Listen to me,” you urge quietly, trying to ignore the sight of his thick, swollen cock twitching restlessly against his abdomen, precum still steadily dribbling at the tip.  Is your mouth watering?  “This is it.  You’ll need to start projecting when you’re ready.  It’ll be tricky, but not impossible.  You’ll just have to imagine you’re inside me when it happens.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head vigorously from side to side, vehemently opposed.

“No, I don’t—” He croaks, “—I don’t know what it’s like, I won’t be able to—”

“Doesn’t my mouth feel similar at least?”  You ask, looking down at his cock once more.

“I-I—” Obi-Wan sputters, “I don’t know, young one—you tell me!”

Okay, well.  He… makes a valid point.

You settle back on your knees even further, gazing at your Master thoughtfully.  His chest continues to rise and fall with heavy breaths, a thin sheen of sweat coating his temples and a mild flush high in his cheeks, but his eyes have regained a bit of their focus.  “You can just try to imagine the, uh,” you try, your cunt nearly convulsing with burning need at the mere sight of him, “the same positioning and sensation from… earlier?”

“Alright, I can…”  Obi-Wan nods, though his hands are shaking.  “I’ll do the best I…”

You can’t help but lean forward to press a soft, encouraging kiss to his thigh, and he jerks under your touch.  You try it again, receiving the same result, and it makes you pause for just a minute longer.

“I’m nervous,” he blurts unceremoniously after a moment of stillness, as if you hadn’t noticed.  “Oh stars, I’m nervous, I—”

“Obi-Wan,” you let your voice lull, your hands squeezing gently around the bend of his knees once more.  “Calm down.  Clear your mind.”

He hiccups and you wait.  You wait with your mouth a few inches away from his cock, waiting for his breathing to slow and for him to follow your lead.

Can you hear me?  You murmur through the Force, and he quickly whimpers and nods.  Focus your thoughts.

You gently kiss at his tensing thighs once again, and he doesn’t flinch away from you this time.  His breathing slows into a calmer, steadier rhythm, letting you trail your lips gently along the curve of his leg.

Will you let me try something?  You ask after a moment, opening your mouth just the slightest bit to brush your tongue out and taste his skin.

“Y-Yes,” Obi-Wan says quietly, his breath stuttering through the word.

And—perhaps you shouldn’t have, but you give him something; a suggestion, more than anything else.  You give him a… visual.  A reference to guide his mind through the Force.

You, still in your black robe, slowly standing up from between his legs.  Widening your stance to straddle his lap, pull you robes up just enough, and then adjust your hips just slightly over the head of his cock.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at the vision, his eyes clamping tightly shut against it in vain.  He can close his eyes, turn away, hide his face all he wants—he can’t escape the way your body looks as it slowly begins to sink down on his.

At the exact same time, you lower your mouth around his cock once more, and you try to make it as close to the sensation as possible.  You don’t even move your tongue, you simply lift your soft palate and close your lips around his girth, beginning to carefully bob up and down along his length in time to the image you’re conjuring of you riding him.

Only, you already feel his balls tightening up and his body starting to go rigid with tension once again, and you can sense him still wanting to resist his approaching orgasm.  It’s okay, Master, you encourage quietly through the vision, it’s okay, just let it come easy.

“I—I’m not—” he shakes his head back and forth against the bed frantically, his breathing getting shallower and almost immediately picking back up to where it was before you stopped.  “I d-don’t want—”

Stop fighting, you tell him, continuing to mimic the sensation of him thrusting into your aching, neglected cunt with slow and steady movements of your throat.  Don’t run from it, let it take you.

He grits your name tightly in response and subconsciously begins to rock his hips up to match your unhurried pace, his ragged breathing gasping out into the quiet room and gradually increasing in volume and desperation the longer he stubbornly tries to hold out against it.

You know not strong enough to use the Force to coax it out of him.  You can’t alter your technique and break the illusion, either.  So you have to resort to desperate measures.

There’s enough remaining wherewithal to your mind that prevents you from permanently damaging his clothing when you tear his robes open with the Force and allow the metaphysical image of yourself to rip them apart with your hands.  Obi-Wan gasps when both versions of you reach up his bare torso at the same time and dig your nails into his chest.

Master—you demand, taking his cock down your throat as far as you can go and then clawing hard down his stomach—cum.

And thank everything good and right in the universe that he remembers at the very last second to start projecting, because being this close to someone as strong in the Force as Obi-Wan when he finally succumbs to his first taste of the Dark Side is just a fucking atomic missile straight to your nervous system.

It’s all you can do to just remember to keep swallowing.

The projection he casts out through the shockwave is utterly flawless—brilliantly composed, looking and feeling so authentic and overwhelming even from this distance that there should be no issue at all convincing any s’Ziscari in the wide vicinity who are tuning in right now.

Except—then you hear it.  Through the roaring pleasure of his thoughts, a flicker of his subconscious he’s unable to mask through the mind blowing bliss.

Is she…? Maker above, she’s drinking it—

A ragged groan tears through the silence of the room, his cock pulsing spectacularly on your tongue.  He just keeps cumming, and cumming, and so you just have to keep swallowing, and swallowing.  You suppose you should’ve expected this from a fully grown man who lived a life of celibacy, but what would typically be a rather short moment with anyone else subsequently goes on long enough to where Obi-Wan is actually able to lazily raise his head up from the mattress and simply watch you continue to swallow his load, dazed and reverent in his stare, glassy blue eyes trained on the hypnotic movements your jaw and throat make around him.  The remaining traces of whatever visual he attempted to maintain immediately flicker out of existence, replaced instead by the sight of your mouth around his cock, diligently taking down each rope of cum he gives you.

When he finally stops throbbing, you reluctantly let his cock fall from your mouth and slowly stand up as the botched projection fizzles out completely.  His gaze eventually follows the movement like he’s on a five second delay.

“So, uh…”  Your voice is hoarse.  “We… need to have sex.”

“Alright,” he agrees dreamily, his eyes lazily dragging down your body.  “Alright, we can have… I… Wait, what?”

“You, uh.  I know it wasn’t intentional, but you might’ve, uh…”  You  shuffle awkwardly from side to side, wondering why you’ve chosen now of all moments to become shy with him.  You’re literally still savoring the taste of his release in your mouth.  “You might’ve accidentally projected a very specific thought towards the end there and let everyone know that we weren’t actually doing what we’re technically supposed to be doing.”

“What did… what did I think?”  The question would likely be nonsense in literally any other situation, but you understand.  And truthfully, for the life of you, you can’t find it within yourself to feel even a little bit mad about it, not when it means you can continue doing this together.  You can’t even conjure up a single shred of disappointment in his failure, it’d just be a lie.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assure him, your heart continuing to pound.  You know you should make your next move now while he’s still so loopy, the post-orgasm bliss causing his signature to vibrate with pulsing endorphins as he blinks up at you slowly from the bed.  “Though we won’t be able to do it for a little bit, just uh.  Just for general… anatomical reasons.  But that should’ve at least counted for… initiating the Ritual, so I don’t think we have to worry about time anymore.”

Obi-Wan just stares at you, his Force signature feeling more serene and spaced out than you’ve ever sensed before.  Oh Maker, how you wish you felt the same.  You swallow thickly, still tasting his hard orgasm on your tongue, and then try not to clamp your thighs together with how embarrassingly turned on you are.  Anyone with any experience whatsoever would know exactly what you’re going through with just a mere glance—you’re biting your lip with your entire body is subtly crumpled in towards your swollen, neglected pussy—and your Master has been watching you struggle through it this entire time.

“Are you alright?”  He asks dumbly, finally managing to at least push himself upright, still completely unaware or unconcerned at his softening cock on full display for you and your starving libido.  “You’re… shaking.”

“I—won’t die,” is the only serious assurance you can make to both him and yourself right now that’ll ease your suffering the smallest bit.  The last thing you want right now is to come on too strong and snap him back to his senses, bringing everything back to square one.  “Just, uh… r-really worked—worked up.  Trying to just.  C-Cool it?”

Your fingers flex at your sides because no matter what you try, you just can’t stop thinking about his.  They’re right there.  They’re so close, so strong and thick and—

“Aren’t you…”  He trails off, letting his head tilt and then drop to his shoulder with a combination of confusion and exhaustion.  “Aren’t you going to…?”

“To what?”  You prompt shortly, your hands suddenly clenching into fists to deal with another violent wave of arousal at how unbelievably drunk he still looks.  Maker, you did that.  That’s all you.

“s’Zerthia said all—” Obi-Wan murmurs, blinking long lashes lazily up at you, “—all Jedi must… participate.”

Fuck. Just hearing him provide you an excuse to give into the boiling arousal causes you to suddenly break out into a sweat.  You don’t know if he wants you to get yourself off or if he’s indirectly implying he wants to help, but you’re so far beyond desperate that you jump at the chance as soon as he so much as hints at the opportunity.

Very slowly, you move forward and lift one trembling knee to brace next to his thigh on the mattress, and then carefully swing your other leg over his lap, lowering yourself into a straddle in the same exact position he attempted to project earlier.  You’re so unbelievably cautious about his cock, making sure you don’t accidentally touch it and jolt him awake.  Instead of your newfound proximity scaring him away like you feared though, he stays so… docile.  Still so relaxed from his very first orgasm that he even rests his large palms over the thin fabric covering your thighs, letting the loose silk drape and fold over his hands as he drags them up and down.

His eyes follow your trembling fingers as you work at the knot tying the material around your body, your cunt throbbing between your legs at how he’s just… staring.  His eyelids are dipped slightly, breathing so calm and slouched under you, pliant and waiting.

The thin fabric slowly parts only enough to reveal the valley between your bare chest to him, and you watch his eyes fall down the thin strip of skin and catch on the dark line of your panties riding low on your hips.  Maker, you can’t help but remember his terror at even glimpsing the two acolytes taking off their robes earlier—the way his eyes bounced around and how his cheeks lost whatever color they had left to them as soon as he finally made himself look.  Now, though.  Now he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the soft flesh of your tummy, the way your nipples are still covered by the thin fabric of your slightly parted robe but are impossible to miss while your breasts subtly move with your breathing.

You gently call one of his wrists to your hand with the Force and Obi-Wan is either mentally or physically too weak to resist your will.  He allows you to catch his hand and slowly lead it downwards with both of your smaller ones to the part of your body that’s longed for his attention for years, though now it’s absolutely weeping for it.

You don’t want to scare him.  You don’t want to scare him.  Oh Maker, you need him to be brave for you right now, or at least just continue to be stupefied.  You can work with stupefied, but you cannot work with panic, especially when you feel your own wanting to rise up the more you drag this out.

When the tips of his fingers brush against the waistband of your panties, Obi-Wan’s hand pushes under it without your guidance.

You’re throbbing.  It’s been years in the making.  Unable to stop the way your thighs contract and you lift your hips against his palm as it steadily curves down the slope of your soft curls, the sight of the finish line so within reach makes you reckless and too quick.  You can’t help it.  When he gets hesitant and eventually slows down to a halt right above your slit, you don’t even think before you’re suddenly giving his wrist an abrupt shove with the Force, pulling his hand down before he’s ready and forcing his middle finger deep through the soaking cleft of your pussy.

Your shameless moan of his name comes out sounding so grateful—you pour everything you have into it and sag into Obi-Wan’s chest at the feeling, but he startles and all but rips his hand out of your underwear before you can stop him.  He was a hair’s breadth from touching your clit and the denial of it—the sudden turnaround from your goal is just so massively overwhelming that tears suddenly spring to your eyes.

You can just barely make out the sight of him staring down at his trembling hand between the two of you, your slick shining wet and hot along the length of his finger. 

“Stars,” he rasps, blinking his wide, sapphire gaze up to yours—and then he quite suddenly looks alarmed.  “Did I—Did I hurt you?”  Obi-Wan gasps, his energy beginning to outright seize with distress while you blink rapidly and try not to crumble on his lap.

“No—I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m just… oh, fuck, I n-need it,” you stammer.  “Oh fuck, I need it Master, I’m so sorry—I’m trying to be calm but—”

“What is it, little dove?”  He urges, reaching his hand up to your face and flicking his eyes back and forth between yours, sounding almost as panicked as you do from your desperation.  “What do you need?”

“Oh stars, Obi-Wan, I need you to just—” You can’t fit anything into words, a tear finally making its way down your cheek when you clamp your eyes shut in frustration.  You just need him to understand, to give you what you’ve been craving for so long—but when you blink your eyes back open, his troubled expression has suddenly resolved itself.

Your Master’s hands immediately grab tight to your hips and twist you around, easily tossing you back up onto the mattress.  The jostle of bouncing back into the soft fur startles you, but not nearly as much as when he climbs over your body and braces an elbow next to your head, gently placing the tips of his fingers to your temple.

He pushes carefully but firmly against your natural mental barriers, flexing the energy shields inwards gently enough to not hurt you but with enough force to let you know he’s entirely capable of breaking through should you refuse to let him in.

So you do.  You let him in without a single thought, never mind a second one.  Obi-Wan gasps as your shields all but collapse for him that easily, and then he’s finally breaching the surface of your thoughts.

“Oh—Maker above, little one,” he grits almost immediately, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his other hand wrapping tight around your arm as he struggles to acclimate to the blinding distress you’re experiencing.  “Collect—” he groans as your cunt clamps down at the rasp of his broken voice, “—collect yourself.  I can’t—can’t think—”

Oh, no, it’s too much.  It’s way too much, even just having him inside your head without being able to read him in return—it’s too much for you.  You start hyperventilating and instead of wanting him out, you just want to drown out the sensation of everything else.  The endlessly pulsing, aching throb between your legs that you’ve been dealing with for so long, the way you can feel his cock dragging against your tummy from this angle and how much you already want it in your mouth again, the way your nipples are so hard right now that even this soft fabric feels so rough and sharp against—

Your robe suddenly rips itself off your chest, and you whimper up at the ceiling as you dig your fingers into thick fur and writhe under him, almost completely naked and just desperate for him to do something, to at least just use his hands or his mouth to make you feel bet—

Obi-Wan’s head drops and his blazing mouth opens hot around your nipple, his tongue rolling soft and slick up under the hard bud.

You choke out the first part of his name and you barely even have a flicker of a thought—a brief flash of a rabid, baser desire you’re not even able to consciously recognize before you feel his jaw opening and his teeth closing gently around it, biting down just hard enough to make you spasm bright and urgent between your legs.  “Oh, fuck—”

As soon as you feel the pleasure and twisting ache spark deep in your core, Obi-Wan flutters his eyes shut and wedges his hand back into your panties, humming low in his throat when your legs jerk apart for him.

This time, your clit is the very first thing he touches.

He zeroes in on it.  The tip of his finger starts to rub it exactly how you’d do it to yourself, exactly the right angle and speed and pressure that your body suddenly feels massively overheated and dizzy from it.  It blindsides you.  It makes sense he’d be able to do this, after all, but for some reason, the whole thing just absolutely blindsides you.

“Maker,” you whimper at the ceiling, soft and pitched high in your throat, eyes rolling back when Obi-Wan gently bites down on your nipple again and continues to work to relieve you even as every muscle in your body feels like it’s tightening up.

“Stars—” he whispers when he pulls away, “This—this feels incredible, Padawan.”

You moan and roll your hips against his hand, on cloud nine at just how he’s slowly allowing himself to become filthier with you, to lower himself in all his righteous beliefs and descend into delicious sin with you, and—

—wait, did he just…?

Your cunt clamps down hard with realization as he continues massaging your clit better than you’ve ever even done it yourself.  Maker, it shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does, hearing that word in this context.  Padawan.  Padawan, holding her legs open while her Master explores her pussy.  Padawan, moaning desperately as her orgasm buzzes deep down inside with a rising, threatening resonance.  Padawan, Padawan, Padawan—

“Oh, you liked that,” Obi-Wan remarks tightly, taking a second to tug on your clit.  You nearly start to cry again, your insides pulling up and going rigid at the sensation.  “I heard it, little one.  You like it when I call you that?”

“Oh I like it when you do f-fucking anything,” you choke out helplessly, your words starting to slur together.  “Oh fuck, you’re so amazing, you’re so good at everything, you’re the best Jedi in the whole entire galaxy Master, you’re so much better th—”

“My, you’re agreeable like this, aren’t you?”  Obi-Wan grits, his touches growing stronger and quicker and rocketing you straight to the edge of madness.  “Shall I take that to heart, my darling little Padawan?  Or did you say such flattering things to the oth—”

“Wait!”  You suddenly exclaim, desperately trying to push his hands away.  “Oh, nonononono—wait, wait, wait, I—I-I’m about to cum—I need to—”

His hand yanks itself out of your underwear once more and you take giant, gasping breaths and try to compose yourself at least somewhat, but then your Master is quickly scrambling down your body and using the Force to rip your panties down your hips—

“Obi-Wan, wait—” you choke out, “that isn’t—you don’t… h-have to…”

He looks up at you, dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be able to—y-you don’t—”  You have to take a few gasping breaths and remember how to speak Basic.  “I used my mouth on you before because I… I wanted to.  If—If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.  It’s not… oh fucking stars above, it’s not n-necessary.”

“Are you telling me this because you don’t want me to?”  He immediately asks, though you both already clearly know the answer to that considering how exposed your wild thoughts are to him right now.

“Ah, no I, uh… I just.”  You try to clear the thickness from your throat and you feel your body tremble while you focus as much effort as possible into trying to explain.  “I just want to be sure I’m not taking advantage of you, that’s all, I—I want you to know the truth about these things.  It’s not… necessary, b-but.”

“But.”  He repeats the word meaningfully as he glances back down at your weeping cunt, nodding slowly to himself.

And then your Master leans in, flutters his eyes shut, and slides his warm tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever.

“Obi—Wan—!?”  You gasp, somewhere between a squeak and a squeal, your entire upper body launching upwards around his head as your clit is immediately enveloped into a slick, dexterous furnace.

Hold still, you hear his voice warn through the Force, sounding so much closer than you’ve ever heard him before.  Whether that can be attributed to the fact that the command came directly from wherever he is inside your head or whether it’s simply because his tongue is now tracing gentle circles around your clit as you whimper pitifully into the quiet of the dimly lit room, you’re not sure.  All you know is that his mouth feels like velvet between your legs and his beard is scraping across your thighs and your fingers have buried themselves in his hair without your conscious permission.

Hold still, young one, he urges once more, but you just close your eyes and moan shamelessly at it this time, opening your legs wider for him.  His voice, it’s… it’s maddening like this, coming directly from your own thoughts.  Deep, precise, somehow sounding so true, so much clearer and full-bodied without your pesky ears in the way.  Your hips are subconsciously rolling slowly against the lower half of his face when Obi-Wan apparently decides he’s had enough.

An invisible energy wraps around each of your individual limbs and snaps them against the mattress without any warning.  You whimper high in your throat, arms and legs held so firmly against the bed with the Force that your internal struggles aren’t able to be translated outwardly; he doesn’t allow your body a single centimeter to move under him, no matter how hard you fight it.  Which means you have to lay there and just take the way Obi-Wan’s hot mouth continues to lick and kiss at your clit slowly, taking all the time in the universe to properly explore you between the legs he’s forced apart.

“Obi—” you croak breathlessly at the ceiling, feeling a familiar heat start to burn hot and tight through your core, “Obi, I—I have to p-project—before I—ah!—before you—before you ma-make me cu—ugh, f-fuck—I have t-to—”

Then project, he encourages simply, gently fluttering his tongue over your clit.  You gasp and he hums, murmuring through the Force once more to you.  We’re not hiding anymore.  They’ll all know I’m using my mouth on you like this.  It’s alright.  Let them know.

You realize you’re going to cum the second you hear your Master’s voice say the words using my mouth on you like this while he slowly sucks on your clit, and you barely have enough wherewithal to gulp in a giant breath and begin projecting your signature as far across the palace and surrounding city as physically possible before your body shatters hot into searing euphoria under him.

Obi-Wan groans deep in his throat and holds you perfectly still under him as you cum with a ragged, hoarse wail of his name, giant waves of white hot bliss beginning to radiate through the Force from you with spectacular power.  The contractions are so much more pronounced when it’s one of the only sets of muscles in your body he’s granted permission to move.  It’s like everything is concentrated and multiplied there because of it.  You can feel each individual spasm your floor muscles make as they convulse against his tongue, how each blazing shot of ecstasy that shatters through your body wrings more and more wetness from your cunt into your Master’s mouth.

Never.  Ever ever ever.  Has anyone done something so mind blowingly sexy to you.  Nobody.  Ever.  He’s a virgin, you frantically remember as Obi-Wan purrs softly into the folds of your pussy while it cums all over him.

Your thoughts, young one, you can just barely make out his voice remind you gently, just as gently as he sucks on your clit through the aftershocks, somehow sounding even more aroused than he did before.

After allowing your projection to flicker out of existence with a putter, you’re completely dazed.  Incapable of moving regardless of the way he keeps you pinned with the Force long after he pulls away, slowly moves back up your body and waits while you work to regain your bearings.  You don’t even want to open your eyes right now, knowing he’s looking down at your peaceful expression while you work to catch your breath.  You’re too stupid with pleasure you almost don’t even process the soft touch of something against your lips.

You’re lovely.

The thought is so quiet you don’t even recognize it isn’t your own.  Not until he keeps pressing his lips to yours so sweetly, not knowing to do anything else when your mind is too fractured with ecstasy to unconsciously act as his compass like before.  Everything is innocent and gentle and not reminiscent of the fact that the robes you’re both wearing are wide open and your mouths tasted of each other even before he kissed you.

Instead of melting into the soft touches, though, they just start to burn you alive, the thick fog of your orgasm clearing more and more with each gentle press of his lips and your need for him steadily growing.  He’s kissing you.  Master Kenobi is kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds at a time before pulling away, pausing to look at your face each time to make sure your eyes are still closed, before leaning down and carefully pressing his lips to yours again.

The only part you can’t stand is that he won’t even let you move your jaw to kiss him back.

Kiss me, Obi-Wan, you urge desperately through the Force, not wanting to interrupt to speak.

“I am, little one,” he replies between kisses, and the sincerity in his tone tells you he’s not purposefully teasing you.  No, this is him kissing you, genuinely, the only way he knows how to.

Let me— you start to struggle in earnest against his hold on you, —please, let me—

The warm breath from his nose puffs softly against your cheek with a quiet little sound from far back in his throat, and then you suddenly gain the ability to move from the neck up.

You immediately part his lips with yours and Obi-Wan pulls back just the slightest bit in response, but your neck lifts up to compensate as you lick deep into his warm mouth.  He gasps at the foreign sensation and loses his concentration for a split second, enough for you to break free of it completely.  Your hands quickly fly up to cradle his face as soon as they can move and your fingers hook around the thick beard blanketing his sharp jawline, urging him back down into you.

Your legs come up to wrap around his lower back and he sags against your strong will with a needy groan, dropping down closer and obediently keeping his mouth open for you to taste.  As soon as he presses his body into yours, his cock strains and drags against your lower stomach, already throbbing hot and leaking precum along the soft hills of your skin.

Maker, you want it but somehow you… you don’t.  You just want to savor tonight as long as you physically can, keep holding him and kissing him like this for another few hours at least before you try to take his cock, but he’s unintentionally grinding it against you while his tongue shyly dances with yours, needy and already raring to go in his own timid way.

Do you want it, Master?  You finally murmur to him, running your fingers through his hair and gently biting his bottom lip, scooting your hips up to let him rub himself against something better than your tummy.  You feel… ready.

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head.  Your feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, and Obi-Wan finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck.

“Yes, I—” he moans into you skin, “Oh stars, I want it.”

With a gentle wave of your hand, you use the Force to drop his hips down to the proper angle and tilt the head of his cock to line him up perfectly.

And now this is the part you don’t want to rush.  This is when you take Obi-Wan Kenobi’s virginity.  You’ll savor just being able to remember this for the rest of your fucking life.  You’ll see him in Council meetings years from now and be reminded that you’re the only person in the galaxy to know the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room.  You’re the only one who will know that sound, that sound is yours, that sound belongs to—

“Padawan,” he grits, hips stuttering into you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “your thoughts—”

You groan up at the ceiling and your pussy tightens at the reminder that he can still hear you, but your body is just too bold and desperate for it.  Your thoughts begin to flare bright, growing more possessive by the second, and you can’t even wait for him this time.  Every single muscle in Obi-Wan’s body goes rigid when you tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow.

It stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you as Obi-Wan instinctively tries to lift off you and away from it, but you’re clinging too tightly to him.  Your whole body hovers off the mattress to stay with him. 

“You said—” he gasps, “—it wouldn’t h-hurt—oh—”

“It doesn’t,” you groan, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you.  “Oh, Maker, it feels so fucking good, Obi—feel it—”

His elbows shake where they’re locked and braced against the mattress but he drops his head and holds strong like this while you work your muscles to take him as far as you can from this shameful angle.  Your body feels like it’s on fire while you desperately cling to him and the length of your robe brushes against the mattress while you just keep trying to get him deeper inside you—

Suddenly something grabs hard at your hips and tries shoves you downwards and off his cock, but you want it too badly.  You summon the hidden strength of your energy and then channel it into your legs where they’re hooked around the curve of his lower back.

Obi-Wan chokes at the unexpected resistance and his elbows buckle, dropping you both down to his forearms with a jolt, but you’re too busy mentally clashing with each other for it.  The result is… well, it’s maddening.

Every time your pussy is able to swallow him more than halfway, you pull back and let his energy shove you down his length—but then dig back in right before you drop completely and use the Force to bend your legs and fight the uphill battle to his cock once more.  Your Master gasps, beads of sweat gathering at his temples while you fight him with every ragged breath in your body to keep fucking him.

Except—he’s the fighter.  And you should’ve known.

You’re no match for the sudden blast of energy from him, easily hinging your legs apart from around his back and then ripping you down off his cock with a wet sound, bouncing back down into the mattress once more.

In order to stop the desperate tears of defeat from coming to your eyes, you immediately clamp them shut and twist your face away from Obi-Wan’s, but he makes a low growl and uses the same ferocious royal blue energy to keep your knees pinned open and wide against the bed. 

And then drops his hips and rocks back into you, giving you those last few precious inches of his thickness you weren’t able to get at before.  It hits sharp nirvana up inside you with his thighs pressed tight to your hips like this.  His name rips itself from your throat while Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed with the Force while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. 

He’s so gifted, so strong in the Force, he’s able to use your mind as his anchor and give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced.  And in return, you want to do the same to him.  You want to read his thoughts, instantly be able to give him everything he never knew he needed—

“You do,” your Master chokes out, “darling, you already—”

Everything inside you surges up at the admission, aching that much harder to hear him, to hear everything the way he can hear you.  The tips of your fingers find his temple, slick with sweat, and you press just hard enough to tell him your intent.

“Let me in,” you whisper, wicked arousal swirling tight in your lower muscles as they start to bear down on his cock.

“I—I can’t—” Obi-Wan gasps breathlessly, “I can’t—”

“Open—open the door, Master,” you beg, “please, open th—”

“Fuck,” he cuts you off, his voice rising in pitch while his his hips snap just a little harder against yours and his rhythm falters, “—It’s too good, Padaw—I’m going t-to—stars, are you—are you r-ready?”

Some terrifying, swirling darkness manifests itself deep in your thoughts.  It rises up, part of the desperate, hidden subconscious that you’re typically capable of stifling.  No, it says, don’t let this be over.  Not yet.  You don’t want to go to sleep alone, wake up and remember you’ll never have this again.  You need there to be a next time, and a time after it.

You try your hardest to push the longing downwards when you recognize it, but your Master is too quick, too talented to deceive when he’s this close to you.  He easily plucks it from your mind and expands it, enlarges the chaotic string of thoughts until you feel them pulsing at the edges of your consciousness.

And then Obi-Wan sees it all, immediately playing out in your memories as you helplessly watch on.  Every desire you buried for him unearthed, every whimper you stifled with the back of your hand when you touched yourself at night and thought of him amplified.  The years of repression, the blind hope that simply ignoring it would make it go away.  How hard you worked to deaden the burst of affection that radiated through the Force when you finally saw him after two years apart.  The circumstances behind the night you lost your virginity—not a long time ago, as he suggested before, but only just last year.  So desperate in your loneliness and longing for his presence that you began routinely sneaking around and fucking other Knights—Guardians with blue sabers whose souls were just marginally close enough to Obi-Wan’s, and you thought of him the whole time.  Every time.

But, perhaps, worst of all.  The… fantasies.

He sees himself dropping to his knees and congratulating you for passing your trials by burying his tongue inside your warmth and telling you how proud of you he is.  He sees you opening his trousers and slowly licking his cock while he meditates, trying to get him to break his concentration.  He watches the two of you fucking in every conceivable position, how incredibly ready you always are to take him when he needs it.  Most importantly, he recognizes your inherent, blazing desire to drag this out as long as physically possible, to permanently brand every moment in your memory to get you through his impending absence.

And then… then Obi-Wan does something unexpected.  Something incredibly uncharacteristic.

You watch as he morphs the fantasies right before your eyes.  He's still on his knees with his head between your legs, but now he’s telling you how proud he is of you for negotiating the mysterious, confidential deal that ended the Clone Wars.  You’re licking his cock as the ship autopilots itself through the week-long journey back to Coruscant from s’Ziscari, letting him slowly cum in your mouth as he sprawls lazily in the captain’s chair.  He’s taking you against the wall of your quarters after a mindless and dull Council meeting; you’re riding him quietly in his bed after lights-out at the temple; he’s rubbing your clit while he sits behind you and advises you on matters concerning your own Padawan you’ll be choosing sometime soon, two fingers deep and squeezing a bared nipple when he whispers in your ear how much he absolutely adores you.

Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill the empty spaces of your mind, a lovely pale blue tenor to harmonize gorgeously with the soft green alto of your own consciousness.  The resulting color of your combined energies fills your soul with Light, a stunning turquoise of a color you’ve never loved more, one you wish you could live in for the rest of your life.

For every debased thought of yours he sees, he shows you one even more revealing.  The way he used to dream of you at night, especially after a close battle where many Jedi and Clones fell, and then he’d wake up in a cold sweat with an erection pulsing feverish and so terribly shameful between his legs.  How he tried to shove a pillow down there once to somehow relieve himself of the aching hardness, and then had to rip it away and launch it across the room with the Force when he realized he’d been dragging himself against it and thinking of you.

“I’m gonna—cum—” your voice scrapes across your throat, and you can already sense him throwing his beautiful consciousness out like a net.  You match him with what little mental strength you have remaining, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your ankles around his lower back and pulling him down into you.

Obi-Wan’s energy keeps swirling a brilliant aquamarine with yours, presenting his every subconscious thought to you, one right after another, so quick you can barely keep up.  How he’ll always be with you, no matter what.  How the Maker himself won’t be able to drag him away from you now.  How quiet jealousy still tugs at his heart just thinking about the fact that you broke your oath—before you both could do it together.

Everything swells up inside you and you scream when it finally crashes over, your blended signatures sealing themselves together permanently and then detonating in a debilitating shockwave that ripples the air around you.  You’re blinded and deafened by its vivid energy, powerful and dazzling every shade between blue and green and Light and Dark, all balanced perfectly together.

You lay there in the gentle afterglow afterwards and feel your pussy still clamping tight to him, pulsing in random intervals while Obi-Wan slouches into you and every muscle in his body trembles with the comedown.  Everything is right.  Everything in you sparkles.

“Stars, Obi,” you start chuckling up at the ceiling, the sheer joy overwhelming you and bringing tears to your eyes.  “Stars, did we just—”

“We just won the Clone Wars, my dear,” he slurs into the crook of your neck while his cock still throbs inside you, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping up his spine, every single thought in his mind completely dead at the moment.

“How long do you… do you think it’ll take before it’s over?”  You ask quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair.  Obi-Wan groans and buries his face deeper into your neck.

“Few months, maybe.  Time for s’Ziscari…”

He stays like that for just a second, and you press your nose to him and breathe him in, marveling at how utterly gorgeous his signature is right now.  Clear blue with the lightest touch of teal, rippling like quiet water in a crystal calm riverbed.

Lovely.

You keep softly playing with the hair at his nape, and then quickly wrap your arms around him when he goes to try to brace his forearms next to your shoulders and lift up just the slightest bit.

“Wait, don’t—it’s—”  You bite your lip and feel him sink back down into your body without another word, clearly having only attempted it for appearances.  “This is good, let’s just… stay for a second.” 

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move, and—a few months, you think.  A few months of his absence, of wondering where he is but never being able to ask.  It burdens your heart, but you understand it’s necessary.

The Council may… grant me a position with a more permanent location after this mission, he responds quietly to your dip in the Force after a moment, too tired to even talk anymore and exhaustion weaving his every thought.  On Coruscant.

Your heart pangs with sudden hope, and you know he can feel it.  “They would do that?”

I could ask to oversee the s’Ziscari’s assimilation into our ranks, he offers alongside a stifled yawn into your collarbone.

He’d… request that?  To be closer to you?  But why?

He doesn’t hesitate before offering the words to you simply, not even considering them before they’re the only thought in his mind.  Because I care for you more than there are stars in the sky.  I always have.

Lovely.

No, no, not even, that’s just.  Love.  By itself.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly into your neck, and your soul feels like it grows wings.

You both lay there in silence for a long time after that, and it takes you even longer to realize he hasn’t succumbed to sleep yet, even as the aching fatigue weighs heavy on his back.  He’s resisting it, keeping his eyes purposefully open against your neck while yours are blissfully shut.

“Master,” you eventually whisper up at the ceiling, and his cock twitches inside you.  Oh stars, you’ll have to remember that.  “Go to sleep.”

I have one more confession.  The thoughts are slurred and distorted, barely conscious as he desperately tries to outlast the sleep trying to pull him under.  I didn’t even want to mention it before because I didn’t know how this was all going to go, but…  He blinks slowly against your neck even as his eyes droop, only just a few seconds from passing out with exertion.  The Sh’inzith lasts six days, dove.

Your eyes pop open in shock just as his finally fall shut, and Obi-Wan stops fighting.

[rinstars]

the call

pairing: suna x reader

genre: a little smut, angst, cheating, unrequited love

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: nsfw, weed/blunt, unhealthy relationships, no proofreading whatsoever im so tired lol sorry

note: i literally just reached 100 followers yesterday but thank u sooo much for another hundred! u guys have no idea how happy it makes me. here's a little gift in return :D in my head he's 99% this type of guy and i wanted to know how far i can take my imaginations with the image i have of him and this is where it took me heh.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure to wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand take the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his jet black hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes while proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitates to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

His childhood bestfriend, Astumu whispered as if he heard you ask the identity of the mysterious caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling. " He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twins, more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my darling.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him cause if you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leaves on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell on the middle of his face, you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something. You thought to yourself.

Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago before your first night together. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment. You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon.

note: a little smut + angst for everyone. whether or not this will be turned into a mini series completely depends on the feedback! let me know what u guys think <3

ghoultobio / risaki © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

death march matt Murdock x reader

+++++++++

this one has been in the drafts for a bit and i finally finished it so i hope you guys enjoy. writing has been slow recently as i havent had much free time and am still trying to rewatch all the netflix marvel series. but i am still working on requests and stories that ive had started for about a month so hopefully the rest will be out soon, along with some frank castle stories now that ive reached the first season of the punisher

prompts: "You need sleep." "I get sleep" "getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep"

song: saints of the blood by black veil brides

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg

+++++++++

i sat back on my knees and groaned. matt and i were both covered in blood and he was still writhing around on the ground. but the men around us that were out made me a little proud of all that we'd done. it had been weeks of tracking them down, taking out one ninja at a time until we found were they were all hiding.

"i need a vacation."

he noted as he got to his knees and i laughed.

"you and me both D."

he laughed back as he stood, almost doubling over as he clutched his side. i was quick to stand then, helping him, steadying him.

"whoa, hold up there daredevil, i saw that last punch. broken ribs isn't gonna get you anywhere."

he inhaled sharply.

"and what do you suggest i do?"

i snorted.

"you know the answer to that already."

he shook his head as we limped towards the door together.

"yeah, i shouldn't have asked."

°°°°°°°°°

when we got back to the apartment i was quick to get him to the couch. every move earned a hiss from deep in his chest as i tried to get his jacket off. i figured his ribs were broke but i was more worried about the cuts and stab wounds.

"alright human x-ray, what's the damage?"

he sat quietly for a moment and listened. then he closed his eyes and sighed.

"what do you think?"

i touched his side lightly.

"oh yeah, they're definitely broken. but there's something else. what is it?"

he blinked slowly before wincing as he tried to resituate himself on the couch.

"the cut below my rib is almost deep enough for it to come out."

i made a gross face.

"so maybe this time we really should get you to a hospital."

"no."

he said quickly and i sent him a look.

"matt, if i don't there's a good chance you'll die."

"no hospital."

i bit my tongue as he laid back.

"fine, ill do the best i can but if you if you start fading on me im doing it. this job is bigger than me, and Claire for that matter."

his jaw tightened.

"what would we even tell them? you're not in any better shape."

his breathing was shaky and staggered. i looked to my knuckles on my right hand as i held the cloth to his open wound. at this point i couldn't tell what was my blood, what was his blood, or what was the blood from the men we'd fought in the back of that abandoned warehouse. and then i looked to my left hand, god it was so much worse. my first two fingers were for sure broken, my wrist not in any better shape, and i had a gash almost the length of the back my arm.

"ill think of something, but right now we need to focus on getting you out of this outfit and keeping you from bleeding out. i don't need the paramedics figuring out what we both do in our free time."

°°°°°°°°°

as i sat in the chair beside matt i tried my hardest not to fall asleep. the beep of his heart monitor was very lulling and the morphine  they had given me didn't help. it was a little amusing though to look at the two of us; we practically looked like mummies with how wrapped we were. my left hand was broken in eight places, my wrist in two. the cut on my arm was deep enough to need stitches near my elbow but nowhere else, thank god.

"y/n."

i heard him say quietly and i sat up abruptly, no longer tired.

"im here matt, its okay."

i said softly, taking his hand in mine.

"where are we?"

he asked and i let out a laugh.

"metro general."

he deadpanned.

"i thought i told you-"

"i know i know, but i was losing you. i kept checking your heartbeat but you were losing too much blood. and i couldn't live with myself if id let you die. not after all that hard work."

i said the last bit with a hint of amusement and luckily he smiled back.

"what did you tell them?"

i let out a nervous laugh.

"i told them we were walking home through a bad part of town and got jumped, pushed into a back alley by a couple guys, large and in masks. i told them that they all looked the same, same height, same clothes, and only one of them spoke; that he demanded we give him all that we had on us. i told them that you tried to be brave and push me out of the way and that they didn't like that; that they beat you up, attacked you, then attacked me and once they got me on the ground stomped on my hand and ran."

he nodded solemnly; rubbing his thumb over the back of my right hand. the bruises were prominent still, cuts deep to the bone that i hadn't let anyone see since we'd been here the last ten hours.

"that's one hell of a story."

"as far as they know it was one hell of a fight. but you're still my hero; stupid and stubborn, but still a hero."

he smiled, almost laughing but groaning in pain and rolling his head back against the pillows.

"hey, take it easy, you need to heal, You need sleep."

"I get sleep."

he said matter-of-factly and i sent him a look.

"matt, getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep."

he looked to the ceiling and swallowed hard.

"look, ill call foggy and Karen and tell them you were awake and they can visit later but for now you need all the rest you can get. you lost a lot of blood, and i know you, you'll want to get back out there as soon as possible. but for right now i think its okay to let the others handle the city for a bit. ill talk to Trish, see what she can do with Jessica's help. you know Danny would be willing to do something."

he shook his head.

"no, don't, its fine, I'm fine."

"Matthew, you have three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and you almost got sliced all the way through. I'm calling at least one of your super friends to take the mantle for a couple weeks. hells kitchen survived over a year without the mask, I'm sure it can survive a little longer. just until you're healed."

he sighed, closing his eyes again.

"i hate when you're right."

i smiled, squeezing his hand lightly.

"if that were true, you wouldn't have married me."

i stood up and kissed his forehead.

"Mrs. Murdock, the voice of reason."

he said softly and i leaned down and kissed him properly.

"keeping the love of my life alive one day at a time."

"thank you."

i studied him for a moment as i stood back up.

"get some sleep, ill be right here when you wake up."

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 3)

platonic! yosano akiko x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff but trigger warning!! there may be a sensitive topic for others

*getting grabbed and pulled to an alleyway! alcohol mentioned!*

please remember that yokohama isn’t the friendliest place, especially at night.

previous: part 2 : their beloved president

author’s note: same ages as last time!! (so that means everyone is one year younger than canon; that makes yosano 24)

this one is actually pretty long :0

i got info abt her likes on her wiki page (careful! there’s spoilers!)

and yosano is a queen and no one can tell me otherwise

the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

going grocery shopping was an okay chore in your opinion

it honestly depended on your mood or whatever kind of shit happens when you go shopping

cause like something always, always happens whenever you go do groceries

sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and sometimes it’s just plain weird

one time some weirdo proposed to you in the middle of the store asking for a double suicide

he was good looking you’d admit but it’s not like you’d ever see him again

or so you thought

a n y w a y s

every so often, you’d run out of real person food in your apartment

you mostly survive off all of the leftover bakery treats and ingredients—which works out pretty well actually—but bakery supplies unfortunately also run out quite often

and also unfortunately, one time when both fukuzawa & ranpo took a visit to Sakura’s, fukuzawa argued that “no you can’t live off sweets for the rest of your life”

ranpo was scandalized and scrambled to cover your ears

you guys were at it for a while

in the end you sided with fukuzawa causing ranpo to go off about “betrayal from the people he cared most abt” or smth like that

you guys were okay again after bribing him with sweets :)

for bakery supplies you usually have them delivered bc you order them in large quantities bc ahaha no way were you gonna carry like 15-20 50 pound bags of flour no way

when days like those happen, you close up the bakery early so you aren’t walking home when it’s too dark

you scheduled it to happen every first saturday of the month

on those saturdays, you close at 5 instead of at 8

currently, you were at the grocery store looking for basic cooking ingredients such as proteins, vegetables, fruits, and most importantly, snacks

ranpo’s been rubbing off on you

the sun was starting to set and you were walking home with your two bags of groceries when shit went down

tbh you were kinda expecting it cause your grocery run was peaceful for once

but what you weren’t expecting was a wack-a-do to appear out of goddamn nowhere right when you were opening the side door to get to the staircase up to your apartment

like honestly

let a woman do her own thing

the man who grabbed you tried to covered your mouth so you couldn’t scream but you didn’t exactly make it easy for him

you kicked and thrashed around even using the grocery bags—that were somehow still in your hand—as a weapon and the man struggled but he was still bigger than you and was able to bring you to a nearby alley

he reeked of alcohol and you spotted a wedding band on his left hand

not that you cared about the detail in the moment

you kicked him in the groin and in response he let you go only to fall on broken glass that was in the alley way

using the wall to help yourself up, you grabbed a nearby wooden stick and struck him right on his back

your attacker fell and you immediately turned on your heels to escape only to fall back down on the hard cold ground once again

you lift your face up and look back to see the man holding onto your ankle

grabbing a shard of glass—cutting yourself in the process— you begin to swing it at him only for him to easily grip your wrist and stop you

you get ready try and kick him in the groin again but you’re interrupted as your attacker gets sucker punched and flies to wall

you look up to see your savior and you’re blessed to see a beautiful woman, probably not that much older than you are—she’s probably around ranpo’s age— donning a white long sleeve button up, a matching black necktie, knee length skirt, and gloves, along with tights, red heels, and a pretty butterfly clip in her short black hair

but what you really notice is her eyes

ranpo’s eyes were pretty but you like hers just a bit more

you’ve always liked the color magenta

the pretty lady holds out her hand and you take it graciously and thank her as she helps you up

as that’s happening, your attacker gets himself onto his feet and his groan catches both of your attention

he struggles to stand and the pretty lady simples saunters over to him and delivers an uppercut knocking him out cold

you’re stunned and you breathe out a “thank you” making her turn towards you

she notices the condition you’re in

bleeding scrapes on your hands, arms and legs, small rips in your clothes like your tights, blouse, and skirt, and the ruffled state of your hair and clothing

she asks if you live nearby and you tell her that you own the bakery that’s one or two buildings away

when you tell her that, it clicks in her mind that you must be the bakery girl ranpo’s been talking about and the friend fukuzawa was cat sitting for

it’s been abt two weeks since ranpo and fukuzawa first met you and since then, they’ve seen lucky in the office plenty and the boxes of your signature sweets even more

if those two trust you, she has no reason not to

she smiles at you, holds out her hand for you to shake, and introduces herself as the doctor of the armed detective agency

your eyes widen and you smile back at her shaking her hand

“ah! you must be yosano-sensei then! ranpo-san and fukuzawa-san have talked about you! it’s so nice to meet you! im (l/n) (y/n)!”

“they’ve talked about you too, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you (y/n)”

after that exchange she insisted on bringing you home to treat you wounds which you told her it wasn’t necessary

she gave you a pointed look and that was when you realized what state you were in

you sighed and weakly gave in to which she only grinned at

before leaving the alley she walks over to the unconscious man and pulls out his wallet for some sort of identification and home address as you try to see if there’s any groceries still salvageable

after texting the details to kunikida, yosano turns to you poking around the now ruined grocery bags

she simply rubs your back and tells you that the both of you could go buy more groceries together as she was meaning to get some anyways; she even said she’ll pay for you

you refused obviously but she, unknowingly, used the same tactic fukuzawa used with you

“so you’re saying you don’t need groceries?”

“...”

*cue an eyebrow raise from our resident queen*

“...you agency members don’t like making things easy for me huh.”

you gave in reluctantly and at this point you don’t even know why you try negotiating with them

and that’s only three of them

apparently, she was on the other side of the street on the way to buy groceries for the agency when she noticed different produce items on the other sidewalk leading to the alley and she went to check out what happened

ironically, the way to the grocery store from the agency makes you go past Sakura’s but she didn’t realize it until after the two of you had met

before you know it, the two of you are in your apartment kitchen as she cleans and patches up all of your wounds

as she does so the two of you have a little girl talk

you find it quite comforting bc since you opened up Sakura’s you haven’t really had the chance to connect to many people much less other women

you definitely see yosano as your cool, loving, badass older sister

she thinks you’re adorable and agrees with ranpo’s opinion

yup 

that’s right

the opinion that you’re like a little kid </3

you called it a betrayal and all she did was laugh at you <//3

“awhh that’s really cool yosano-sensei!—MFPH?!?”

*squishing your cheeks the same way ranpo did* “ranpo-san was right (n/n)-chan, your cheeks are squishy!”

“?!”

after that small fiasco, the two of you talked some more and bonded over your love for flowers, japanese sweets, and much more!!

you even made a date to have a girls day to go shopping and eat out!

you’re internally squealing a bit bc it’s been a while since you’ve gone shopping

yosano notices and she giggles behind her hand not saying anything bc she knows you’ll only throw a fit

the two of you came around the topic of ranpo when lucky passed by

lucky quickly warmed up to the doctor and cozied up in her lap

“i wish ranpo-san was able to meet lucky when he came by the first time, but then again, he’d probably throw a tantrum if i don’t pay attention to him for 5 seconds”

she snorted at that and like fukuzawa, she shared stories abt the slightly older male

“ranpo-san doesn’t know how to ride a train?”

“unbelievable right?”

“for someone so intelligent i expected more from him”

“i’ll be telling that to ranpo-san, (n/n)-chan”

“wha—?! yosano-sensei please don’t!”

like ranpo, she’s also a tease </3

but you love her anyway <3

eventually, she finished patching you up and promised to treat you to a new set of clothes when the two of you go out

“you don’t need to lose a good set of clothes just because of a sleazy man (n/n)-chan! you deserve better!”

you were going to argue that the rips in your clothes were fairly small and could easily be fixed—except the tights—but you stopped in your tracks when you remembered that it was practically useless to argue against an ada member

the two of you walked to the grocery store and bought both of your needed supplies—along with some extra goodies—and then she walked you back to your place bc it was already a bit dark out

but even if it wasn’t, she would walk you anyways

besides, if anything happened to you, she’s 1000% positive that ranpo and fukuzawa are gonna flip the fuck out not that she wont cause she most definitely will

speaking of which

you were drinking a bottle of water as the two of made your way back to Sakura’s when all of a sudden

“(y/n) you do realize that i have to tell shachou and ranpo-san about what happened today right?”

you choked on your water

“yosano-sensei you can’t! if you do they’ll freak! they won’t leave me alone for at least two weeks! one if im lucky!”

“exactly the point”

you just accepted your defeat already knowing that you’d lose

but maybe you can simmer down their anger towards the bastard with sweets and lucky

you arrived at Sakura’s shortly after and after bringing groceries in, you packaged a bunch of pastries leftover from today—bc you closed early—and bc you’re well aware that ranpo doesn’t share any of the sweets you send him with

you even gave yosano her own special box filled with goodies she loves, and a thermos of fukuzawa’s favorite, your special hot honey lemon tea

other than the sweets, you prepared lucky to spend the night at fukuzawa’s

you really really hoped that doing these things would make them calm down

you shivered at the thought of what their responses would be

you felt really bad for giving yosano all these things to carry and that you were keeping her very late

she assured you that she was fine and that if someone tried to mess with her she’d kick their ass

and after exchanging numbers, the magenta eyed queen bid you a good night and walked back to the agency with lucky walking by her heels

arriving back at the agency, yosano was greeted with some concerns asking if she was alright bc she came back from her grocery run pretty late

(she usually goes in the mornings but today was pretty busy so she left in the late afternoon but now it was already dark)

she waved off the concerns and plopped a couple boxes of your signature bakery boxes at ranpo’s desk, the one for her at her own, the last few boxes in the kitchen for any other agent or clerk to grab, placed the thermos on the desk fukuzawa was by, and picked up lucky and handed him to the president

the two males were pleased with what yosano had brought them, and pleased that another agency member had the chance to meet you

fukuzawa was rubbing lucky and ranpo already snacking on treats as yosano expected

but here comes the hard part

or maybe it’s gonna amusing who knows

“i met (y/n) today.”

“we could tell.”

in goes another treat in the green eyed man’s mouth

“would you like to know how?”

“you bumped into each other, had girl talk, made plans to go out, went grocery shopping, and you brought me and shachou presents.”

“great job ranpo-san, you’re almost completely correct.”

this caught the attention of basically everyone bc they knew ranpo was never “almost completely correct”

“we ended up meeting bc she got attacked on her way home from grocery shopping, i treated her wounds, then we had girl talk and did all the other stuff”

ranpo and fukuzawa froze right in their tracks

“i sent all the info of the bastard to kunikida”

“kunikida.”

“yes shachou”

“find out everything about that man and bring it to me and ranpo”

“...yes shachou”

“and yosano”

“yes?”

“text (y/n) and tell her that her cat, tea, and pastries aren’t going to work as a bribe”

just as you finished taking a shower you sneezed

<<previous // next >>

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[mistymark]

MISTAKES WERE MADE - 0.5

a compilation of all Jaemin’s cameo’s in fem!youtuber!y/n’s old videos // script style // series masterlist // no warnings // 1.3k words

note: the times given in the title of each video are the lengths of the entire video, not the timestamp for the scene <3

[VIDEO: Q&A #3! (this is the best smoothie ive ever had in my life) - 14:32]

[Y/n is standing at her kitchen bench surrounded by half-cut fruit and dirty cooking utensils. A blender sits nearby with a dark green liquid in it. The glass beside her is half full. She’s reading something on her phone.]

Y/n, reading from her phone: if you could learn any instrument, what would it be?

[As she is reading, her roommate walks past in the background. He stops when he's almost out of frame and turns to the camera, with a wide smile on his face. He’s carrying a stuffed banana that’s half his height. Y/n does not see.]

Y/n, looking up from her phone: Hmm...

[Jaemin ducks out of sight, a wide smile on his face. She didn’t notice.]

Y/n, to the camera: Saxophone? Yeah, saxophone.

[VIDEO: painting a picture for my parents’ anniversary gift because I am broke - 21:19]

[Y/n is sitting on the floor in what we assume to be her living room, a makeshift easel is to her left with a half-complete painting of the sky sitting on it. She’s looking at a reference photo on her phone.]

Y/n, zooming in on the photo: this part... it’s purple, I think? does that look purple?

[She holds her phone up to show the camera, but her eyes immediately move to the side where Jaemin has just walked in shot. He’s carrying a Labrador puppy.]

Y/n, squinting at the camera: are you... are you holding a dog?

[She turns around to see Jaemin standing with the puppy in his arms like he’s cradling a baby.]

Jaemin, grinning: maybe

Y/n: Jaemin! Whose dog is that?!

Jaemin, running off-screen, yelling: MINE!

[VIDEO: i have a dog now - 08:11]

[Y/n is sitting at a desk, and a Labrador puppy sits in her lap, panting.]

Y/n: so jaemin “found” this dog and brought him home... we’re not going to keep him, I don’t think. I assume he’s lost but he doesn’t seem to be microchi-

[The door behind her opens and Jaemin stands in the doorway. He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and looks like he’s just washed his hair.]

[Y/n turns to look at him. The puppy immediately begins to squirm in her lap and she sets it on the floor so the puppy can run to Jaemin. It jumps at his feet, its tail wagging.]

Y/n: what’s up?

Jaemin: I’m going to the st- oh, are you filming?

Y/n, gesturing to the camera: im introducing them to the dog!

Jaemin, grinning, looking down at the dog, in a baby voice: ooh! you’re going to be famous!

[He suddenly looks up at Y/n.]

Jaemin: I’m gonna get some food, do you want anything from the store?

Y/n, thinking: um... oh! get some dog food, please!

Jaemin, smiling: I thought you said we couldn’t keep him.

Y/n, rolling her eyes, turning to the camera: I think we’re going to keep him.

[Jaemin grins in the doorway, before pulling the door closed to leave.]

[VIDEO: getting ready for the first social gathering ive been to in weeks - 15:34]

[Y/n is sitting at her kitchen bench with makeup scattered around her. She’s only finished setting her face with powder. While she is looking around for a specific brush she cannot find, Jaemin walks into the shot in the background. This time, he is carrying an unplugged microwave under his left arm and sipping orange juice from a milkshake glass with a swirly straw using the other. The cord of the microwave dangles by his feet, but he doesn’t take any notice. Just as Y/n is about to look up again, he steps out of sight.]

[VIDEO: showing you things I bought off amazon with my rent money - 16:28]

[Y/n is sitting on the floor in her kitchen. At the start of the video she explained it was because it had the best lighting in her apartment. The hardwood floor is littered with items. She sits with her back to a row of cupboards. A tall, cheap fridge is visible to her left.]

Y/n, to the camera: The next item I have is this contraption here.

[She reaches for an obscure item and holds it out to the camera. It’s a cupholder.]

Y/n: it’s just a regular cupholder for your car, right? WRONG! Look.

[She turns it so the item is fully visible, revealing a second cupholder attached to the first. She laughs.]

Y/n: so when you're in your car, you can turn one cupholder into two!

Y/n, emphasising each word: so you can hold. more. cups.

[She pauses.]

Y/n, explaining to the camera, frowning: I don’t actually know why I bought this... I don’t have a car.

Y/n, shrugging as she puts it down on the floor again: it was eight dollars, though, so I had to get it.

[She suddenly looks up to her right.]

Jaemin, laughing: are you regretting buying the cupholder now?

Y/n, correcting him: cupholders. plural.

[It’s not visible but it’s obvious by his voice that Jaemin is smiling.]

Jaemin: sorry. regretting buying the cupholders now?

Y/n, pouting: no.

[He laughs.]

[VIDEO: deer makeup tutorial! and happy halloween! - 15:25]

[Y/n is sitting at the kitchen bench in her apartment, makeup products scattered around her. She has almost finished her makeup tutorial, and has successfully turned herself into a deer.]

Y/n: To set, I’m just going to use this spray from Ur-

[She cuts herself off when her eyes catch something off to the side.]

Y/n, smiling shyly: hi

Jaemin, off-camera, disbelief in his voice: what are you doing?

Y/n: halloween makeup tutorial...

Jaemin, laughing: halloween’s, like, two weeks away

Y/n, smiling: I know, but I’m filming early.

Jaemin: oh... you look cute, though.

[Y/n beams at him.]

Jaemin: good job.

[Y/n’s smile widens. The sound of the fridge door closing can be heard in the silence, and Y/n’s eyes follow him until he leaves the room.]

[VIDEO: watching valentines day by myself because im single and lonely (a movie review) - 32:46]

[Y/n is sitting at her desk in her room, wearing bulky headphones that she said she stole from Jaemin’s room. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn sits beside her as she watches the movie.]

[Her phone lights up and she reaches forward to pause the movie playing on the screen. She looks at the notification and laughs.]

Y/n, holding her phone up to the camera: jaemin just texted me to ask if i know where his headphones are

[She unlocks her phone and begins typing.]

Y/n, reading out her text: ‘you said I could borrow them for my video’... and then I added heart emojis because that is, in fact, a lie

[She grins at the camera and then looks back down at her phone. Jaemin has sent another text.]

Y/n: he said, ‘oh. right. can I watch too?’

[She laughs.]

Y/n, grinning mischievously as she types and sends another text: ‘no’

[VIDEO: vlog: a day in my life - 13:51]

[Y/n is standing in a puffy jacket in front of a tree at her local park. She’s holding the lead attached to her dog’s walking harness. Jaemin is filming.]

Y/n, shouting: I think you’re too far away!

Jaemin, shouting back from behind the camera: NO! THIS IS GREAT!

[Y/n laughs at how loud he is. Text appears across the middle of the screen: ‘if you’re wearing headphones... sorry’]

Y/n, shouting again: are you sure?

Jaemin, even louder this time: YES!!!! IM SURE!!!!! IT LOOKS GOOD!!!!!!!!!

[The scene cuts to Jaemin and Y/n walking around the park. Y/n is now filming in selfie mode, and Jaemin is walking the dog.]

Y/n, to the camera: you know, we still haven’t named him.

Jaemin, faking offense: my name is Jaemin, y/n

[He pouts, speeding up his walking pace as he sulks. Y/n laughs and quickens her pace to catch up.]

Y/n: the dog, Jaemin. I meant the dog.

Jaemin, smiling: I know.

Jaemin, turning to Y/n: I have a name for him.

Y/n, sighing, turning back to the camera: Jaemin wants to name our dog ‘Puddle’.

Jaemin, making a face: it’s better than ‘Buckley’!

Y/n, scoffing: no way!

Y/n, to the camera: guys! please help us choose a name! spam it in the comments or tweet me, I don’t know.

[She pulls the camera down to her chin so only her face is visible.]

Y/n, in a hushed whisper: choose Buckley~

[Jaemin laughs and then starts to jog away with the dog.]

Y/n, starting to jog to catch up: hey!

[prettyboongi]

Our Very First Night Together

Reader x Jeon Jungkook

1.9k words

A lots of fluff with a hint of smut

[Note: A requested story. I really liked this since it reminded me of the first time I spent the night with my boyfriend. The hardest part when writing this was coming up with realistic dialogue, which is something I really struggle with. I’m really trying to improve so please have mercy on me. Deuces!]

Jungkook was in the middle of playing a game on his computer when he had gotten your text. Your text read:

“Im outside your door. plz open :p” 

Excited, he quickly logged off his game, took off his headset and hurried himself to the door. 

Tonight was a big night for you two: it would be the very time you spending the night. Although you two have been dating for almost a year, things have always been too busy to do normal couple things, like, in this case, spending the night at each other’s places. And with that, you and Jungkook have been taking your relationship extremely slow. Besides some intimate cuddling and brief makeout sessions, you two haven’t gone further than that. And since spending the night could mean taking that particular huge step in your relationship, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. He cleaned his entire apartment; he vacuumed and dusted the living room, cleaned the bathroom, and straightened up his kitchen. Once he was finished with that, he went grocery shopping to pick up your favorite snacks like the caring boyfriend he was (he also picked up a box of condoms, you know just in case). Jungkook just wanted to make sure that you felt right at home at his place, maybe even come to think of it as a second home. 

Jungkook opens the door to find a smiling you, carrying a large floral print traveling bag in one hand and a filled green grocery tote in the other. 

“Hey!”, you exclaim as Jungkook gestures for you to come inside. “Thanks again for letting me spend the night.” After placing your belongings on the floor, you wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck as you two lean in for a sweet kiss. 

“Of course, babe”, he says while still holding on to you. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time.” He looks to your side, “What’s in that green bag.” 

You released yourself from Jungkook’s embrace to grab your tote. “I got us snacks!”, you said enthusiastically, holding the bag towards him. 

He chuckles at your keen attitude. “Y/N, I told you I would cover the snacks,” he says taking the tote from you. 

You shrugged and smiled, “Well now we have more snacks.” 

I mean she wasn’t wrong but Jungkook still shook his head. “What am I gonna do with you?” He hears you giggle as he places the bag on the kitchen counter. 

“So,” you began, “What are the plans for the night?” 

“Anything you wanna do, to be honest,” he answers. 

You couldn’t help but smile, he’s always treating you like a queen and, Jungkook’s eyes, you were a queen. His queen. “Let’s just stay then. We could order a pizza, watch some Netflix, gorge on a bunch of these snacks and pass out from food comas.” 

“Sounds great to me.” 

<a little bit later in the evening>

“So I just placed the order for the pizza,” Jungkook says to you, “It should be here in about 40 minutes.” 

“You made sure to get my fave?,” you asked him coyly. 

He leaned over to where you were sitting on the couch, inches away from your face, “Of course, Y/N. A large pepperoni, extra pepperoni and extra cheese.” 

“With a side of breadsticks and dipping sauces?” 

“Yes, Y/N, anything for the spoiled princess”, he sighs exaggeratingly, clearly messing around. You playfully hit his shoulder as he lets out a breathy laugh. 

You start to get up from the couch and grab your traveling bag. “You mind if I go take shower real quick?” 

“Of course not,” he says, “You remember where the bathroom is at?” 

“Yes, Jungkook,” you mockingly say, getting back at him for teasing you. You run out of the living as he light-heartedly chases you. 

40 minutes passed and the pizza arrived. Jungkook places the pizza down on the coffee table, accompanied by paper plates, bottles of soda and some of the snacks you both bought. Once he turned on the Netflix app on his TV, everything was set. Now the only thing he had to wait for was you. 

“Hmm? I wonder when she’s gonna be done,” he thought to himself. He picked up his phones and checked his messages to preoccupy himself as he waited. Soon enough, he hears your footsteps approaching. “About time, Y/N”, he says, still looking at his phone. 

“Oh, be quiet,” you rebutted, “Is the pizza here?” 

“Yeah, you're lucky you came just in time, I would've been more happy to eat all by myself.” Once Jungkook notices you in his peripheral vision, he looks up and stares at you for a moment. You’ve changed into an interesting piece of nightwear: a light pink, knee-length nightgown with short sleeves, lined with pink lace at the bottom hem. The nightgown wasn’t too baggy, fitting you like a casual everyday dress. The satin material made it seem like you were glowing under the living room lights. For some reason, Jungkook expected your pajamas would be a t-shirt and sweats, so seeing you in your cute nightgown surprised him. 

You noticed him staring at you. “What?,” you asked. 

"Nothing", he says. Jungkook quickly looks away from you, hiding his faint blush. You were confused by his sudden bashfulness but decided to shrug it off. 

You spent the next few hours watching two anime films; the first one being a film adaptation of a classic anime series and the other currently on was a romantic drama that brought Jungkook close to tears (even though he would deny it.) Frankly, you thought the movie was a bit boring but the movie was halfway over anyway. You both were sitting on opposite sides of the couch; Jungkook was sitting up, totally invested in the movie while your entire body was propped up on the couch, leaning you rest on the armrest. You tried your best not to doze off but ended up passing off before the movie’s ending. 

As the movie credits rolled, Jungkook discreetly wiped his tears, hoping you wouldn’t catch him. “That was a pretty good movie. What do you think?’ He looks over to your side of the couch and finds you in a deep slumber. “Hmm, maybe I made the apartment a little too comfortable,” he thinks to himself. Looking at you peacefully sleeping made him terribly happy. To him, you looked so adorable, as if he wanted to protect you from anything that troubled you, like a good boyfriend would. 

With you fast asleep, he thought it would be a great time to take a quick shower himself. After he leaves you asleep on the couch, he heads to the bathroom to wash up and then change into a baggy hoodie and sweatpants. As he was drying his hair with a towel, he headed back to the living room where he had left you. Seeing that the Netflix menu was still on display, he assumed you were still asleep. Once he got close to the couch, he abruptly stopped in his tracks. Looking down at you, he sees you curled in a fetal position with your original knee length nightgown riden up to your hip area. Jungkook stood there, frozen and blushing furiously. He knew he shouldn't be looking at you that way, but he really couldn’t help but gaze at you; the exposure of your shapely thighs and the soft curve of your hip were both hard to look away from. To make matters harder for him, he also had a glimpse of your black, lacy bikini briefs. Eventually, Jungkook got himself to snap out of it and go find a blanket to hide your exposed boy. After retrieving a blanket in the linen closet, he carefully places the blanket on you without waking you up. Sure, you stirred a bit but quickly went back to sleep. 

Jungkook sat back down to the opposite side of the couch and turned on a random documentary to take his mind off what he’d seen. However, it proved to be difficult as seeing you in that kind of way really worked him up inside. It wasn’t until then he realized the pent up emotions he held for so long. More than ever, he wanted you. He felt that he was more than ready to have sex tonight but he was worried if you weren’t. And the last thing he wanted to happen was to pressure into doing something you weren’t ready for. "But she had to be ready right?", he thought. I mean, why would he wear a paper thin nightgown and sexy panties if you weren’t. Jungkook pondered these thoughts, trying to figure out what was best to do. His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of you sitting up from the couch. He looks at you stretching your arms and yawning loudly. 

With sleepy eyes, you look at him, “Sorry for passing out. That movie was pretty boring. But I bet you loved it a lot.” When you met Jungkook's eyes, he quickly looked away. “Hey what’s wrong?”

Avoiding eye contact, Jungkook simply responds, “It's nothing.” 

A bit annoyed, you took the TV remote and turned it off. Surprised, Jungkook looked at you, “I was watch-”

“Jungkook,” you said in a rather stern tone, “What’s been going on with you? You’ve been acting strange right before we started the movie. Please, tell me what’s on your mind.” 

The expression on your face was with genuine concern and, with that, he felt like he owed you a proper explanation. Jungkook took a moment to find the right words to use but ultimately decided to be as honest as he could be. 

“Y/N, do you ever think about, you know, having sex?” 

Your eyes widened at the bluntness of his question. “W-what in the world brought this up,” you stummered. You felt flushed, your face was getting warmer by the second. 

“Well, we’ve been together for a long time. Like I understand I’ve been busy with the group and you have your own obligations to handle, so I get there never has been much time to be intimate. But now that you're here with me, maybe it’s time to take the next step. What do you think?” 

While you were pretty much at loss of words, you did understand where Jungkook was coming from. The seriousness of this conversation made you nervously fidget your fingers. “I do think about it, Jungkook. And I do want to sleep with you, it’s just that I still have my fears,” you confessed to him. 

Jungkook moves closer to you on the couch and gently takes your hand. “Yeah I do too,” he says, “Being busy is one thing but we really should’ve been honest about this a long time ago.” 

You shook your head. Feeling Jungkook caress the back of your hand melts away any nervousness you felt before. He was right about being more honest with each other. You trusted him after all, and you loved him with all of your heart. 

After gazing at each other’s eyes for a moment, Jungkook leans towards you, placing a soft and lingering kiss on your lips. In response, your hands cupped his face causing you to deepen the kiss. Similar to how Jungkook felt when he saw your exposed thighs, the sincerity of your conversation as well as the passionate kissing between you two was waking something within you: pent up emotions that you’ve constantly buried down for the longest time. 

After a minute or so, the two of you broke away from your kiss and gazed at each other lovingly. 

“I love you so much, Kookie.” 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You wrapped your arms around his and sensuously whispered into his, “I want you so bad.” 

Jungkook took that as an obvious sign that you were 100% ready and, for that night, he gladly obliges.  

[bubmyg]

can you do a super soft hobi blurb of him being an strict intimidating dance instructor but with you he's super gentle like 🥺 oh no bubs you need to do this blah blah sorry i hope this made sense 😂

genre/warnings: college!au, f2l if you squint, more like friends with some unresolved “tension”, dancer!hoseok, ft whiny dancer!jimin, i probably subconsciously used some dance terms im sorry fajklds

word count: 1,046

summary: hoseok finally convinces you to take one of his classes despite what you’ve heard of the change in your best friend’s demeanor when he steps through the studio door or hoseok tells jimin he’ll stop picking on him when he learns to turn out through his hips.

Your prolonged eye contact wasn’t laced with the acute confidence of the others surrounding you, their execution of the combination upon practiced muscles while yours came from the lack thereof (and a practice session or twelve in your shower). It was a strange trance of comfort you couldn’t tear yourself away from, Hoseok an arms length in front of you, observing you, arms crossed, dark eyes less than amused as he peered at you from underneath sweat stained ends of dyed red hair. 

The music continued well after you finished, dropping out two eight counts early partially because of memory, mostly because you couldn’t stare at him any longer. You dropped away from the safety net lingering within the darkness of his irises, chin unhinging and you laughed to try to amend the strange stirring in the pit of your stomach. One of your laces, loose on your tennis shoe now, clacked against the studio floor when you scuffed your foot, shoulders slumped as you sighed, “I can’t.”

Hoseok clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, shaking his head as he moved closer, eliciting you to peer up at him through your eyelashes. “Again,” He ordered to the class around you, the music on an endless loop over the speakers, but to you, he tutted lowly, “We don’t like that word around here.”

You shivered when he touched your hip to move beside you, grip tightening when you involuntarily began to jump into the combination with the rest of the class. His taut palm traced upward to the small of your back, up on your spine until it rested underneath your shoulder blades. 

“Relax here,” He murmured and when you complied, he reached front to tap the spot underneath your ribs, “—and here.”

“Now...” He widened his stance next to you, holding his palm out flat, “Arch into my hand. Make your shoulder touch it.”

More compliance, awkward but earning a light twitch to the corner of Hoseok’s petaled mouth, “Good. Now sit.”

“What?”

“Act like you’re going to sit down in a chair.”

Your hip cracked when you sat into it, popping one knee out in the process, and you turned widened eyes for Hoseok’s approval. The look of fond amusement was still plastered on the wrinkle of his eyebrows as he nodded, giving the back of your neck an affectionate squeeze before he slipped away. 

“See me after class,” He told you, an octave higher, and a few of the other students glanced your way when he winked, shooting you a thumbs up, but he was quick to draw their attention back to the front when he clapped his hands, “Once more, full out. Jimin, is that what you consider full out?”

You were gathering your things next to aforementioned Park Jimin, the blonde bubbly in jabbing his elbow into your torso when he straightened with his backpack over his shoulders. 

“Why do you only pick on me, huh?” He jammed an accusing finger toward Hoseok before trailing it to you, nearly prodding it through the center of your nose, “But this one gets special treatment?”

Hoseok barely glanced up from where he was surfing for something on his laptop, the device still connected to the sound system in the studio, “You’re a contemporary student, correct?”

When Jimin spluttered, Hoseok glanced over with one cocked eyebrow, “So by now you should understand the basics of turnout, yeah?”

“This is a hip hop class!” 

 “And you need to turn out from your hips—” His smile grew wider when his friend and roommate went to bat at his head in his departure, “—see you at home?”

A scoff, a creaky hinge on the old studio door located somewhere in the depths of the theater building, and you were left alone with the occasional sounds of Hoseok’s email notifications floating through the room. You shifted, bag half zipped, one shoe off, sweat starting to dry cold on the surface of your forearms, and you tried to make out some sort of picture in the wood floors below your feet when your impulse spoke out loud for you. 

“I was going to take the bus and get food if you want to come with. I wasn’t sure if you drove or not—”

“Oh, we’re not leaving yet.”

It came out smooth in your conscious but it squeaked in delivery, “We aren’t?”

Hoseok’s fingers pried away from his keyboard with a series of audible clicks, bouncing over to you with a loose sway of his shoulders and arms that paired with the bright grin on his features to try and ease the apprehension curled into your body language and tone. Palms up, he offered you his hands, waiting until you took them to drag you in wide looping circles to the center of the room. 

“You finally show up to one of my classes and you think I’m going to let you leave after only doing the combination three times successfully,” He beamed, dropping your hands to point toward the mirror, “Private lesson, right now.”

In theory, it should have been far less intimidating having Hoseok to yourself, one set of eyes who’d seen you in various and far more ridiculous predicaments as opposed to thirty some virtual strangers (with the exception of Jimin who absolutely was laughing in your general direction the entire time). But it was alone in his domain, the dance studio walls, with the remnants of the firm, commanding instructor still lingering in his persona, made your limbs shake to the protruding edges of keratin on your fingertips. 

“Jimin’s right,” You told him, frozen in place while his fingers worked at correcting the position of your arms, “You’re giving me special treatment.”

Hoseok hummed, a vibration that curled into the bumps that raced up and down the surface of your skin, bumps that split on either side of your spine when his hands settled on your hips, gaze burning into yours in the reflection of the mirror as his voice curled directly into your ear. 

“It’s because I like you,” He grinned into the crook of your neck when your heart rate increased under his palms, laugh brushing against your chin as he gripped you harder at the hips.

“Ready to go again?”

[bouncyirwin]

HI im sorry for messaging you so close to the deadline for #surpriseme! it was a struggle to decide on one thing. shisaku, M, "all that blood really brings out your eyes" as the prompt/sentence starter if you'd like, but i really don't mind if you switch up the rating and/or the prompt. thank you very much for doing this!

I know that the initial plan was to write those prompts for 2018 but uh, 2018 had other plans for me. Hopefully 2019 will be the year I finish them. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy this and that came as a pleasant surprise @yakourinka​ ♡

This piece can be found on ff.net as well. 

Stolen Moments | ShiSaku | M | 1,830 words

She follows him through the darkness, silent steps that skip through leaves and branches and fall steadily in the spaces his occupied, a guide through the night where his eyes are better suited to protect them than her healer hands could.

He and she— they’re a varying contrast of collected cool and raging passion, shadows in the light and embers in the darkness. Yet they are the exact match of lethality and grace, of safety and danger in equal measures. 

He is sunny smiles and blood drenched hands, a man twisted into something hard, yet soft and warm at the core, something to sink into, something to wrap yourself in. She is spring hair and laughter that bubbles forth from between cotton candy lips—she is a woman who clawed her way through mud and blood with vicious anger and hurt locked behind her teeth, something that tore you apart, something terrifying—something that healed your shattered pieces when she could break them. Something beautiful. 

Shisui ducks; he is fast, like a whip of lightning, and she has to strain to keep up with him. He’s always just in sight, just out of reach. Sometimes it feels like she’ll run the earth twice over trying to catch up to him, to keep him locked away between her arms, safe from the world and all the monsters that wished to exploit him. 

He manoeuvres through a series of traps, feet light and quick like a wicked dance he choreographed—her soles align with his footprints, every step perfectly measured to match his.

In one fluid motion he’s whipped his sword out, and then he’s driving through something invisible and blood goes spraying in the air, thick and dark, a sick twirling dance of death. Sakura follows through—it’s a familiar waltz after all—and knocks the enemy’s head off with one decisive punch.

She’d long learned to stop flinching at the arterial spray—there’s so much of it that it soaks the ground and drenches her vest and smears on her neck. Shisui and Sakura share a look, a silent conversation all by itself as they spring away in opposing directions, leaving behind a corpse.

They sense the crackle of chakra in the air as their enemies converge—it was never meant to be an easy mission; it never was, and those were never theirs to take. He’s Shisui of the Body Flicker, and she’s the woman with the strength of a hundred; together they make a force that crumples mountains and raises the sea and levels cities. 

The string of endless missions were starting to blur into one … they’d part and join again and again over a bloody field, and they’d exchange a fleeting hello  and a meaningful goodbye until they met again. 

Sakura pulls her fist, charged with so much chakra her bones thrum with it. When she strikes, the vibrations quake the earth like a shift in the tectonic plates, and the rocks shatter beneath her will. There are screams—there are always screams, blood curdling, seeping beneath her skin to haunt her nightmares, but Sakura’s fists have a mind of their own. They push and break and kill, and they never falter. 

She feels Shisui like the aura of a ghost behind her, present in every swish of the wind but just out of sight. He’s always first to take out his enemies, she a very close second. 

He flashes in front of her, manifesting into something distinguishable from the blur of the nightly forest just as his blade sweeps down like the damning call of the reaper and severs clean through the enemy’s neck. This time the blood splatters her face and cascades down her cheek to drip down her vest. 

Shisui sheaths his sword and turns to face her. The shadows conceal his features, but his eyes stand out a crimson red through the darkness. He steps forward, and suddenly the moonlight bathes him in an ethereal glow and his eyes darken to a liquid charcoal. He smiles—something dangerous and sharp as his fingers glide over her bloody cheek, “All that blood really brings out your eyes …” 

His fingers swipe through her hair, and they curl around the nape of her neck. They’re possessive, imploring—he towers over her as he draws her closer—she hasn’t seen him in days, weeks, she has counted them even, and they mark too long since she’s felt his touch, and when he presses their mouths together, there’s a momentary lapse in time where she teeters on the verge of breaking. 

His mouth covers hers fully, something scorching and familiar—home—and her heartbeat roars in her ears. Sakura takes the violence and passion of his kiss like parched land welcomes the rain and moulds herself against him, pushes into him until they’re wrapped in the shadows of the forest where they are the most dangerous creatures. He leans her against a tree and presses into her.

It’s ludicrous, that after all the fights are fought and all the blows are dealt, when her hands ache and his drip with blood, that it’s now, in this moment in time, in the prison of his arm, in the frigid fall air, that she finally feels fragile. It’s easy to surrender to him, to the muscular arms that snake around her waist and the calloused palms that map a trail up her spine. 

His touch leaves tingles in its wake as it covers scars, sweat, and grime and drags across her skin, and she wants—she wants—to make a sound … something that bubbles in her throat and propels her to shove her hand down his pants and stroke him to the stumbling cadence of her heart. 

Teeth sink into her lip, a hitching breath fans her skin, and he bucks into her hold, once, twice, gasps, something raw and heady, and it sinks in her stomach like lava. His fingers frame her jaw, they squeeze her neck, something restless and itching as they fall away to rip open her vest and trace the expanse of her torso and chest. They squeeze greedily and wander under her shirt. Expert fingers latch onto a distended rosy nipple, and he tugs and tweaks and pinches, and that sound locked away behind her teeth threatens to burst through. 

Sakura squeezes his cock tighter. He’s so hot in her hand, rough and pulsating for the wet heat between her legs, and she wishes they were anywhere else—anywhere at all as his fingers reach below her skirt and trace a hot line across wet folds. He presses insistently into the seam, the rough pad of his finger gliding over her clit and circling. 

She kisses him then so that he swallows her needy moan as she grinds against him, and she nips and licks and sucks on his mouth until it’s bruised rosy. 

“Please,” she says incoherently through a ragged breath, and his fingers slip seamlessly into her, his palm covering her sex and squeezing. She gasps and rocks eagerly against him, her free hand clutching desperately on his bicep, on his neck, in his hair. His fingers press a spot inside her that makes her walls clamp down tightly around him, and he grunts quietly into the electric air between them. 

A sound like a sob escapes her, her hand stilling on his cock as she begins to fall apart. Shisui’s forehead presses against her own, damp and feverish, and his nose brushes against her own as he whispers heatedly, “Come on—that’s it, give it to me … give it to me, Sakura, come.”

She quickly buries her face in the juncture of his neck and keens as she comes, hot spurts of liquid drenching his hand.

 “Fuck … Just like that … shhh.” His face nuzzles her hair like he wishes to sink into her—he’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re so beautiful, I’ve missed you so much …”

He waits until she’s calmed down a little, just relishing in her proximity before slipping his fingers free of her heat and tucking the ends of her skirt into the waistband. He pulls her shorts down just below her ass, his hands running over the supple flesh, riveted. 

“Turn around,” he commands hoarsely in her ear, tone rough and strained.

She complies with blood rushing hard through her veins, her fingers finding purchase in the bark for an anchor.

The night is so quiet, the silence is so loud it’s deafening, and she can hear every thud of her heartbeat loud and clear. She listens with baited breath to the rustle of his clothes as he undoes his pants, feels his hands ghosting over her rear and then the head of his cock sliding between her folds, coating himself with her come. 

Sakura whimpers when he presses into her and slides all the way through. He’s so hard and thick, but she’s so wet that she sucks him in easily, her pussy clamping down greedily around him.

He hisses, and his fingers tighten their hold on her hips as he slowly eases back and thrusts into her again. 

“Uhn,” she moans sweetly when their hips meet with a resounding smack and she weeps around his cock inside her. 

Driven by the helpless little noise and the way her body contracts around him, Shisui grips her harder as he angles his hips and slams into her. She chokes on a moan, pressing a palm to her mouth, but her hips move back to meet his halfway. 

He makes a sound at the back of his throat, like a growl, and his fingers dig into the creamy flesh of her ass as he rams her back against his length. 

Sakura’s walls begin to pulse wildly around him again, and he reaches to pull her upright against him, moulding their bodies together and biting on her shoulder as the first spasm of his orgasm hits him. He shudders inside her as his seed coats her walls, and she cries out into the palm that suddenly covers her mouth as he comes long and hard, jerking his hips erratically against her own. 

A small eternity seems to stretch between the moment they come down from their highs and the moment they separate, his cock slipping out of her with a wet sound followed by a sticky trail of his come mapping a path down her inner thigh. 

She breathes deeply, trying to regain her bearings, and waits another moment before pulling her shorts up and fixing her skirt. 

“I’ll see you.” Shisui draws her in for one last kiss, something soft and secret and so filled with longing, it makes her heart ache before he flickers away to continue his follow-up mission and she does the same.

All she has are these stolen moments, the quick fumbles in the dark and the memory of him on her skin.

He’s always there, just out of reach. And when she has him, she has to let him go again. 

[taurus-annie-main]

Watching Me Watch You [m]

Smut + Blindfolded Sehun + Submissive Sehun // Look it's not every day you get to blindfold your boyfriend, so why not make the best out of it?

“So here are the rules of our little game. First of all, the blindfold stays for long as need be, secondly, you don’t get to touch me-”

At the graze of your hand against his arm, he jumps ever so slightly. This is beautiful, and God he’s so beautiful. Just watching him sitting there withering, with a piece of cloth over his eyes. He’s never suspecting of what may happen, he doesn’t know when or where the next touch will be. And that's the best thing about this whole situation.

Grinning wide, you drag your finger across his face and trace his striking cheekbones.

“Huh, I really can’t touch you?”

You quickly place a finger to his lips, you weren’t even finished with your rules. “Last but not least, no cumming I say so.”  

As you drone on about potential punishments, you caress your finger across his lips.You savour in their soft pillow like softness a while (You were alway jealous of how shapely and soft they were) before slipping your finger through them. His mouth is a warm wet cavern, and you find your heart beating faster as his tongue swirls around your digit. Although the act of placing a finger in one's mouth is a meagre one, it’s deliciously explicit. And now he’s sucking your finger and you’re just staring at those luscious lips.

Finally, you pull your finger out and along with it comes a soft pop. “You know what, I don’t know why I find that so sexy...what is it about putting my finger in your mouth?” You question as you stare at your glistening finger.

Sehun’s opens his mouth, but he quickly shuts it the moment he remembers your ‘rules’. You obviously notice this simple act and your face lights up with joy. Who knew he could be submissive?

You rustle his hair and then crane your head down to his ears, you make sure to let your lips graze the skin of his ear . “Good boy,” in an instant the hairs on his body stand to attention.

You place a delicate trail of kisses around the length of neck, each one eliciting a small but sharp intake of air from him. “Hmm, so what do ya think I should next?” You run a finger down his chest, “Where do you think I should explore next?”

“Uh maybe-”

Sighing, you slap your hand over his mouth, “Honey...I don’t think you understand what we’re doing. You don't get a say in this, okay.” you seal your words with a pat on his cheek and a smile.

He hums in agreement and so you peel your fingers away. “Hmm there's my good boy!” You pat his cheek.  “So back to my monologue- where should I go next…?”

In the midst of circling around the chair and dragging a hand through his hair, you remember something. Well not really remember, it was apart of plan all along. “You know what, I think I know what should happened next. Im sure you remember that little gift, the one that goes buzz a whole lot?”  

He shakes his head, “N-no i won’t be able to keep my hands off, that’s torture.”

To say you haven’t been dreaming and daydreaming about doing this is an extreme understatement. Sometimes you’ll find yourself staring hazily into nowhere and playing little scenes of a submissive Sehun writhing and moaning under the agony of a vibrator and edging. Most people get turned on by their partner being dominant but not you. The reversal powerplay to you is like an expensive chardonnay to a rich wine mum.

Ignoring the faint pleas from Sehun, you move to your desk. Under the pile of lacy and not so lacy underwear lies a black box containing the main event of the night. Grinning like a cheshire cat, you unravel the magic wand from its velvet covering. “Honey, you’re gonna love this - I wish I could’ve used it first, but this is so much better.”

You hum a chirpy small tune as you tug his boxers off, “Look that, your cock’s standing to attention. Ok so before the main event, let’s get him a little slick and happy.” You wet the palm of your hand with a droplet of lube and place a tight grip at the base of cock. Wasting no time, you run your hand up down and over the flustered head, the almost negligible movement causes him to bite back a gasp. Your mouth opens to sneak in a sly comment, but you shut your mouth and chose to savour in the trembles and flushing of his skin with each movement.  

Although you’re hopelessly fixated on the way his mouth opens and closes, you can’t help but notice the red splotches forming on his thighs from his own grip on them. “B-babe I can’t…” He grunts.

Being the bitch you are, you just have to tighten your grip, “Can’t what honey hmm...go on, be good boy and tell me.” What’s more ludicrous is the sweet tone of your voice as you do such unspeakable things to him.

You watch in delight as the muscles on his neck strain, “I want to touch you, please p-please just let me,” His begging fires something dark in you and you can’t help but giggle, knowing the hilarious extent of your boyfriend’s stubbornness you’d expected him to beg later on. But then again, the situation was exceedingly peculiar to the other ones. Usually one is able to see incoming touches and be prepared but with Sehun, every touch is a surprise and that’s just intoxicating.

“As much that would be nice, you know for the both of us i’m gonna have to say no,” Satisfied with his weathered state, you release his cock, which in turn causes him to groan. You aren’t planning on letting him cum anytime soon, and god knows how long you‘re gonna drag this out.

With the magic wand locked between your hand, you couldn’t be any happier. “You wanna know something Hun? Well, I’m holding this magic wand,the latest model from their x5 series and it’s silent machine with a strong vibration. And guess what? The vibration strength can waver at the press of a button. Now imagine that.”

With one click, a soft buzz fills the room. And in tandem with that sound, Sehun gulps.

“Here we go,” In order to up the ante, you place the head of the wand on his thigh. You trace the smooth lines of muscles before drawing near and nearer to the desired spot. His heart races whenever he suspects the wand will to his aching cock but then it doesn’t and he can’t help but grit his teeth.

“Honey please,” Sehun murmurs so quiet that you almost didn’t catch it.

Savouring in the wave of pleasure that runs straight to your core, you move the wand closer “When you beg like that it really turns me on, be a good boy and do it again.,”

“Ah...P-please, please just-” You’re certain he’s about to draw blood from the strength of his hands digging into his flesh.

You’re tempted to slide to your hand down into your underwear and just roll  your clit between your two fingers, like you do on the nights Sehun wasn't home. But you’d rather let your pleasure build up until his face is buried within thighs.

The first time you ran the vibrator over the skin of cock he yelps. You make sure to gather the pearly drop of pre-cum and languidly slather it the pink head. The lazy motions were driving to a place he’d never been before. He was seeing colored spots in his vision and he just couldn’t stop whimpering. “Ahh...f-fuck, it feels so,” he pants and you can  definitely tell he was getting close.

Never forgetting the edging aspect of your plan, you pull the vibrator away from cock. “No no, please...I.”

You let him whine and groan for a few seconds before bring the vibrator back to his cock. The moment the vibrator makes contact all he can see is stars. He’s biting back a moan as droplets of sweat slide down his chest. And once again, he gets close.

And surely, you pull the wand back. It’s as if he runs towards a cliff edge and prepares his body to jump, but then a tight rope just reels him back in the moment his leg lifts off. And it’s driving him crazy. But he can’t deny the way the waves of pleasure strengthen each time you pull away then come back.

“Oh god,please let me cum,” He repeats in quick successions all the while being ghastly out of breath.

You’re enjoy this too much to let him cum now, you want - no need to see how far he can go. There’s been time where you’ve edged for over ten minutes and with every minute the pleasure became unbearable and wild.

This time you put the wavering vibration mode on, and concentrate the tremors all round his head. The poor thing was becoming an almost alarming shade of red, “You’re doing so well baby,” You purr, “But I’m still not gonna let you cum.”

“No babe, please. I can’t  hold it,” He chokes out in between soft gulps of air.  

Here’s the gag, you’re not going to let Sehun cum, no matter how much he begs and keens - well, not until he’s actually inside you. You want him at the perfect amount of dejection and frustration, so much that when he does get you in hands he’ll be unrelenting.

Much to Sehun’s dismay but your pleasure, you switch the vibrator off. “W-why did- what are you doing?” In the midst of his anguish, his arms begin reaching towards you just trying to grasp at whatever he can. Smiling like a true villain, you dodge each of his attempts, “Please babe, I was so close.”

“Oh I know you were close honey,” You say climbing on top of his lap, you place your thighs at either side of his, “But I just couldn’t let you cum,” You reach for his hands and guide them along the plush skin of your thighs.

“Wait you’re letting me touch, I thought-”

“Yes you thought, but since you must know, I made the rules and I can break the rules at my will,” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, whatever cologne he’s wearing is heavenly. “So please touch me, pretty please,” the words are sealed with a few pecks that soon find themselves on his lips.

As your mouth open and your tongues entangle with each other, his hands knead the soft skin of your buttocks. “Fuck, you feel so good,” He says, pulling away.

A/n

The local Tumblr pervert returns with a submissive scenario, shock horror! This is yet another rewrite of a jongdae fic I'd written.

Just wondering, does anyone reading this share a love of Avatar: The Last-you- know-what? If so, I would just like to say, that Zuko will be played by Sehun and that's final. Fight me at 8pm, outside SM offices if you don't agree

Tell me what you think!!!!! Was it hot?? was it ugh?

[jestbee]

June 24: Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Four)

Title: Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Four) Tags: Alternate Timeline, AU, Slow burn, stranger to friends, friends to lovers Words: 2750 Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.

Prompt: this was written on the same day as yesterday’s chapter. I’m in love with this fic and it seems you guys are too… thank you so much for all your kind comments, I really really really love reading them all. My friend is here this weekend so I’ll try and get tomorrow’s up but it might not be possible. I’ll tery for you guys though! FEDIJ Day: June 24 Previous Day | Masterlist of fics so far

[fairyshuuu]

Until it stops Chapter 1

Genre: Fantasy, King!Jinyoung, King!Jackson, Princess!AU Length: 2,215 *A/N  I really enjoyed making this series, and Ooh it’s going to get juicy, just you wait. No, but I really hope you enjoy.

Teaser | 

You sigh as you slip your legs in the piece of black fabric. A maid gently pulled it up your body, being careful not to disturb you. You look down at her. She was biting down her lip, focusing on pulling the thin fabric over your smooth skin. Sadly, this was another one of the things that came with being a princess. You had to do as you were told and put up a brave and respectful front, even if you felt horrible. And right now was one of those moments. You didn’t want to go out right now, but you had an important party to attend to. In your thought, you hadn’t realized that you had been staring at the maid all this time. 

“My lady… Am I bothering you?” He voice was soft and shaky, almost pleading.

“No. Please continue.” You give her a small smile, to which she quickly continued dressing you. The dress your husband had chosen for you today was a long tight gown, smooth as silk. The fabric wrapped around your skin tightly, showing of your slim body just right, as well as making your breathing just a little bit harder. 

The dress covered your entire front, up to your neck, but the back was very open. From your neck all the way down to the bottom of your back was open, only covered by a beautiful pattern of woven diamond strings, laid out to fall over your bare skin like a waterfall. In the middle of each of the strings was one ruby woven in, creating a red line down your back. The front was also adorned with diamonds, fading out down your neck. 

You had to admit that the dress was more then gorgeous, and a lovely gift by your husband, but you couldn’t be happy nevertheless. The dress was more then progressive, even leaning to futuristic, just the way your husband liked you. He always wanted you to look more stunning then all other queens combined. And as you remember the events of the morning, you were just reminded of your place in this castle once again. You wished with all your being that you could just spill your entire life out on someone, anyone, who would listen to you. 

But you knew that was impossible. Your husband, King Jinyoung, would never allow you to have anyone to confine in. He was very possessive about you, just not for the right reasons. You had immediately noticed the first time you had met him. He was an ambitious man, not interested in love at all. You were engaged after he payed your King and father enough, and you were brought to his castle only two days after you had met. You had begged your mother to let you stay, but alas, you were a princess and your fate would always be decided for you. 

As the maid finished of your outfit with two breathtaking diamond earrings, you can’t help but let out a sigh as you look in the mirror. You looked amazing, breathtaking even, exactly the reason King Jinyoung was so set on marrying you. He was an ambitious man, and you were the prize-cow, that he loved to show of to all other company he had over now and then. But, you were no more then that. And you were very aware. In the two years you had been his wife, he had never kissed you more then a polite peck, he had never brushed his fingers over your skin, he had never looked into your eyes more then necessary. He had plenty of other girls to do that with. 

Yet, he would never let you belong to another. That was just who he was. As you let the sad reality sink in once more, the maid bows her head to you and the walks out of the room. Not two minutes pass or you hear a knock at the door. “Come in.” 

A young man with a disgustingly smug grin plastered on his face entered the room. If you hated Jinyoung, you despised the very person in front of you. Your husband’s right hand, Im Jaebum, was an equally ambitious and handsome individual. He was tall, with broad shoulders and an attractive face. The only problem was that he was like Jinyoung’s dumb guard dog, often put in place to follow you about and check your every move. And the things Jinyoung wouldn’t do with you, were often done by Jaebum. Until this day you could still not understand why he would let him so near to you, and even gave him the permission to ‘relieve’ himself with you, but it still was the case. “My Lady, you look so breathtaking.” He slimes out, the grin never leaving his face. 

“Well, would you just shut up if you are so out of breath.” You retort back, making him let out a chuckle. Im Jaebum would be the only person you would dare to talk back to. No matter how charming he could be, you hated him with every fiber in your body.

--

“My lady, My Lord has sent me to hand you your dress for the day.” With a small smirk he enters your room, pushing the beautiful black silk dress into the hands of the maid on service. “Take that to her closet room and get out.” He snorts to the older woman, who immediately complies and rushes out of the room. 

“I’m not dressed yet, Jaebum. Stay out of my room.” You say with a calm voice, praying that he would just behave like a proper man and listen to your request. But of course, he pushes open the door to your bedroom, where you are just standing with your back to him. You were brushing your hair that your maid had just towel dried after bathing, a lovely satin dress robe tied around your otherwise naked body. 

As he slowly walks toward you, you sigh deeply. “I wish you could just leave me alone.” You murmur, but you already know that he would never. 

“Do you want me to tell Our Lord that you are disobeying him?” He presses his hot body against you, grabbing your two wrists. You drop the hairbrush as you feel his hot breath in your neck. “Well? Do you?” He turns you around and unties the robe before pushing you on your beautiful grand bed, making you shiver under his eyes. 

“No.” You whisper in defeat, as he quickly removes his own clothes and walks over to you.

--

“The king is waiting for you, My lady. I assume you are ready.” Jaebum puts out his hand to you, and with a lot of distaste, you take it. As you hold his arm, strolling through the hall on your way to your King, you can’t help but feel some kind of nerves. Even though he was your husband, he would never really take the time to talk to you, or spend time with you. Jinyoung was know for being a cold and ruthless king, but that was still a harsh enough description to you. 

Whenever he talked to you, it was as if his face was made of stone, never granting you any kind of emotional response at all. As you reach the door, Jaebum clears his throat. “My Lord, your Lady is here to accompany you.” The grand doors to his suite open, and you see him standing in a gorgeous red suit, his expression cold as ever.

“My Lord.” You bow at him and take a step to the side, to make place for him. With two steps he is by your side, reaching out his arm to hook into. 

“You look exquisite. Smile.” He orders, not even granting you a look as he speaks to you. 

You nod, smile and start walking down the hall next to your husband, followed closely by Jaebum. “My Lord, I have yet to be informed what kind of company you have invited.” You pause a bit, thinking of how to form your words to make them as polite as possible. “What is the expected behavior today?”

He stops dead in his tracks, most likely surprised that you were so bold to ask him a question at all. As he turns to you, you can’t help but feel scared at his reaction. Had you just been too forward? 

He takes your chin between his two fingers and looks at you for a second, before turning back to the front. “You are not expected to talk to the guests. You are just supposed to look pretty and be a proper host.” He speaks out, as much emotion to read in his voice as in his face. You nod and grab his arm again, praying that the ballroom would be closer, to not have to hold his arm any longer.

As you arrive to the ballroom, you can hear a ton of voices of both men and women, who are waiting for the hosts to make their entrance into the ballroom. The ballroom used today was your favorite out of the whole castle. It was very big, with high ceiling and gorgeous dark oak wood as the floor tiling, smoothed down so much that you could slide across. The entire room was white, with petite golden details, making the room give out a feeling of extreme class. As much as you didn’t like the man standing next to you, you had to admit his sense in anything of style, in clothes, food and buildings.

From the other side of the door, you can hear one of the headmasters urge everyone to be silent, as he introduces King Jinyoung and His wife. The bellboys open the huge doors for you, giving you a view of the room. Every soul, man or woman, had their heads turned to the entrance in complete silence. They all looked at you as if you were the most important people in the world, which was most likely true in their case. Not only was King Jinyoung known for his cold presence, but he was also a dangerous enemy.

After standing what felt like an eternity, Jinyoung finally nods his head, signaling you to descend the beautiful marble stairs with him, and signaling the private small orchestra to start playing. While you descended, everyone’s eyes stay on you and Jinyoung, scared to look away too soon, or to disrespect Jinyoung. When you finally get to the bottom, he speaks up. “Please, enjoy your stay at my humble castle for this afternoon.” With a nod, he lets go of your arm and gives Jaebum a look, before going over to socialize with other important people in the room, leaving you behind. Slowly, people start talking again, even if more quiet then before.

As you wade through the people slowly, you can hear some mumble about you. Both men and women were aware of who you were, and your reputation. Outside the castle, you were called a human goddess, much to Jinyoung’s happiness. Many came to see your beauty in person, only if just for a moment. You had, obviously, heard the smalltalk before, but you didn’t care for such compliments. You knew that if not for your beauty, no one would care about you the slightest bit.

As you get to the more empty part of the room, the dance floor, you turn around to face Jaebum. “Do you want to dance, My Lady?” It irked you how polite he would be in public, but you nodded at him nevertheless. At your request, he immediately clears his throat. “Your Queen would like to invite everyone to the dance floor for a dance. With all due respect, do join her.” He spoke loud and clear, making everyone except the people talking to the King turn around. After his announcement, all women quickly went around to find a dance partner and stroll over to the dance floor. The musicians too, started playing a bit louder, to accommodate you.

As most people were now dancing with their partners, you look around uncomfortably. Your husband was still turned with his back to you, making it clear that he wasn’t going to join you. Jaebum saw your slight hesitation, as no one dared ask you for a dance, so he was about to offer his hand, when a young man made his way over to you. 

He was very handsome, black hair falling over his face, as he made a deep bow before you. With a wide smile, he now looks up at you, yet to say something. “My Lady.” His voice was deep and somewhat raspy. You give him a curtesy and extend your hand to him. “My name is King Jackson. I hope you don’t mind me being so forward, but would you like to join me for a dance.” He smiles wide and presses a kiss on your hand. 

“Not at all. Please.” You point in the direction of the dance floor as he follows you. With one swift move he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you a bit closer. It was a normal dancing distance, but the direct contact made you pull away. 

“Not so shy, My Lady. I wouldn’t dare touch the King’s woman in any other way.” 

You smile at his comment as you lay your hand in his neck. He lays his hands back like before, pulling you in even closer then before with a big smile. You had to admit, he was pretty charming. As you both start dancing to the music, you almost laugh aloud at his dorky comments like ‘Please don’t stand on my toes’ or ‘Shouldn’t a Queen know how to dance?’. With other people it would annoy you, but you somehow felt alright in his company. One of his comments actually made you giggle aloud, to which you quickly held it in and looked down on the floor.

“Why are you so afeared to show your contempt, My Lady?” He asks you, making your gaze shoot back up at him. His big brown eyes were piercing into yours, making you forget all your words. As he sees your expression, he lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry, My Lady. I shouldn’t assume. But you-“ He stops in the middle of his sentence to look up at you as you are solidly gripping his arm. 

You were not even dancing anymore now, you were just looking at him with the biggest eyes. “What did you just say?” You murmur out. You were not mad or insulted, just very confused. No one had ever taken the time to notice anything about you, let alone say something about it. Then again, all they cared about was your beauty and rank. 

With a bit of stuttering, Jackson repeats his words, now feeling very scared that he might have offended you in any way. “I- I just wondered why a Lady like yourself would hide her smile like you did.” By now, some people around you stopped dancing, curious to what was going on. With their burning gazes on you, you let go of King Jackson’s arm and take a step back. “I would never mean to offend you, My Lady.” He whispers out. He really hadn’t done anything wrong, but you didn’t know how to react further. 

You just kept staring into his big brown orbs, wishing that he would dare to ask you again. If only he was so bold. But as more and more people start to turn to face you, you feel your face flush a light pink. With one swift move, you turn on your heel and walk off of the dance floor. As some women gasp at your action, all faces turn to King Jackson. He had somehow managed to offend the Queen off the house. And everyone was preparing for the show that was about to unfold.

As you take a glass of champagne from one of the many waiters, you down it in one breath. With striding steps, Jaebum came over to you. “Are you alright, My Lady? Did something happen?” 

You look back over at the crowd that was surrounding the poor guy now. You keep looking, to meet his gaze with yours. His eyes looked full of worry as he bowed his head at you again, apologizing from a distance. “I- No, Jaebum. I’m fine. It was just getting too crowded.” Jaebum turns around to look at the crowd on the dance floor, and then nods. “Oh Jaebum, could you… get the man who I danced with earlier to the lounge?” 

He opens his mouth as to say something, but then closes it again, and nods with a smile when King Jinyoung looks in your direction. He walks over to the crowd and whispers something into Jackson’s ear, before walking behind him with a hand on his back to guide him out of the room. 

With some noise coming from the crowd now, you walk over there. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused, please, enjoy your stay. If you’ll excuse me.” You curtesy and go to follow Jaebum to the lounge, to be blocked by a young man’s face that you don’t recognize. 

“Oh… My Lady… Uh- I- Excuse me, do you know, by any chance, why my Lord is being excused from the party?” 

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I do. If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?” 

His eyes went wide at your question. You didn’t mean for it to come out so rude as it did. Quickly diverting his eyes from yours, he bowed and placed a kiss on your hand. “My name is Mark, Your Highness. I’m the right hand of Lord Jackson. Please forgive my ignorance.”

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