#this is just how the public system works unfortunately
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Also in horrifying news I might be getting my 6th psychiatrist of the year đŹđŹ
#this is just how the public system works unfortunately#you get assigned a psychiatrist. they leave. rinse & repeat#my therapist wants me to see a private psych for the stability. but that's SUPER expensive. so my rotating cast of doctors it is!#about me
0 notes
Text
can russia and north korea just nuke us already this is hopeless
#sorry to be so fatalistic on main i just have zero faith in the american public atp#i just rly wanted to believe that more americans couldve used this opportunity to prove to the rest of the world that we arent all a bunch#of sensationalist/conspiracy-driven/aggressively braindead/violent/bigoted alt-right lunatics#& i never had much faith in kamala & walz to begin with obviously im incredibly cynical towards these status quo gatekeepers and the#downright impotence of the neoliberal democratic party#but this wouldve been an easy swerve away from dozens MORE of horrible awful inhumane policies that will ultimately vanquish#the quality of life for the entire american working class like myself and our already pisspoor education system and our lousy#climate change policies and impossible living standards#but no unfortunately there is no way in hell for americans to prove even a modicum of intelligence or worth we're all basically suicidal#and despite my own immense yank bashing tendencies and complete disdain for our government i really wanted this country & my ppl to defy#our own reputation of being so fucking stupid and backwards i really did. in the tiniest little place of my heart was legitimate hope#& a tiny bit of patriotism thats now been squashed completely & this was just another large-scale international humiliation that we legit#voted that guy BACK IN after everything that has happened the last four even eight years. its unbelievable.#again obviously i dont like kamala but it still wouldve been a grand opportunity to stall against what the gop is already destroying#and with push and shove we could have made slight progress forward as a country and try to protect our social programs#be it as flawed as they are and with enough support we could have strengthened them a little. make drugs less expensive. continue forward#with clean energy decreasing our use of fossil fuels even more.#protect our education system so the up and coming generations could receive higher standards of learning than what the rest of us had#NO ABSOLUTELY NOT. im too poor to continue living here and im too poor to fucking leave !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#SORRY THIS WAS EXTREMELY EXTREMELY EXTREMELY LONG THANK U FOR READING IF U DID MY BRAIN FEELS LIKE MUSH RIGHT NOW SO I DONT KNOW HOW#INTELLIGIBLE THIS MAY OR MAY NOT BE#and if this makes anyone mad @ all then ill just delete it cuz by god i dont need more grief and self hatred !#txt
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The trial of Socrates took place over a nine-to-ten hour period in the People's Court, located in the agora, the civic center of Athens. The jury consisted of 500 male citizens over the age of thirty, chosen by lot from among volunteers. Athens used very large numbers of jurors, from 500 to as many as 1501, in part as a protection against bribes: who could afford to bribe 500 people? All jurors were required to swear by the gods of Zeus, Apollo, and Demeter the Heliastic Oath:
"I will cast my vote in consonance with the laws and decrees passed by the Assembly and by the Council, but, if there is no law, in consonance with my sense of what is most just, without favor or enmity. I will vote only on the matters raised in the charge, and I will listen impartially to the accusers and defenders alike."
Most of the jurors were probably farmers, as that was the principal occupation of the day. For their jury service they received payment of three obols. The jurors sat on wooden benches separated from spectators by some sort of barrier or railing. Given Socrates's fame and the notoriousness of the charge against him, the crowd of spectators was most likely large--including, of course, the most famous pupil of Socrates, Plato.
The trial began in the morning with the reading of the formal charges against Socrates by a herald. Few, if any, formal rules of evidence existed. The prosecution presented its case first. Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon had three hours, measured by a waterclock, to make their argument for a finding of guilt. Each accuser spoke from an elevated stage. No record of the prosecution's argument against Socrates survives.
Following the prosecution's case, Socrates had three hours to answer the charges. Although many written versions of the defense--or apology--of Socrates at one time circulated, only two have survived: one by Plato and another by Xenophon.
Following the arguments, the herald of the court called on the jurors to consider their decision. In Athens, jurors did not retire to a juryroom to deliberate--they made their decisions without discussion among themselves, based in large part on their own interpretations of the law. The 500 jurors voted on his guilt or innocence by dropping bronze ballot disks of the sort pictured above into marked urns. Only a majority vote was necessary for conviction. Four jurors were assigned the task of counting votes. In the case of Socrates, the jury found Socrates guilty on a relatively close vote of 280 to 220. (Interestingly, if less than 100 jurors voted for guilt, the accusers had to pay a fine to cover trial costs.)
If a defendant is convicted, the trial enters a second phase to set punishment. The prosecution and the defendant each propose a punishment and the jury chooses between the two punishment options presented to it. The range of possible punishments included death, imprisonment, loss of civil rights (i.e., the right to vote, the right to serve as a juror, the right to speak in the Assembly), exile, and fines. In the trial of Socrates, the principal accusers proposed the punishment of death. Socrates, if Plato's account is to be believed, proposed first the punishment--or, rather, the non-punishment--of free meals in the center of the city, then later the extremely modest fine of one mina of silver. Apparently finding Socrates' proposed punishment insultingly light, the jury voted for the prosecution's proposal of death by a larger margin than for conviction, 360 to 140.
The execution of Socrates was accomplished through the drinking of a cup of poison hemlock.
http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/socrates/greekcrimpro.html#:~:text=Only%20a%20majority%20vote%20was,fine%20to%20cover%20trial%20costs.)
â
Checking later: âby what i think is just if no law existsâ imply prosecution introduces the law, then the charge, then the facts, then the argument.
This implies defense only has ONE opportunity to rebut all of that. Iâm guessing theres court procedure to settle question of law before trial, no discovery process, no witnesses, evidence like a circus sideshow and entertainment if opinions are published in town square.
The first vote is to decide the question of law, which I suppose is very vague if juries dont come back with their own chaotic decision. (a two option vote?? criminal trial emphasis even though it is called civil law? am i getting these mixed up or did athens?)
The second vote is punishment.
so: the first vote is actually âdo you think this guy should get punished.â
and the system was so prone over the top comical brutality (just by how it looks set up) it was common for people to go âope the 500 man jury went sideways lets rescue this little fella,â (i think) but socrates stubbornly took his death sentence despite everything.
also how come performance isnt an option for punishment. that doesnât seem plausible.
#so chaotic#lighthearted treatment of trials because if true public opinion deems the punishment wrong you can wiggle out bc#the system was just that insufficient#vagueness works in tandem with this#what would lead to no performance as reparation?#logically- it has to be strictly assigning the function of court as punitive#justice is punishment#but setting up a whole system like that leads to disproportionate punishment#in reality no person can fully respect#which guarantees extrajudicial gangs as a part of legitimate dealing#so wait the whole system was set up using these vague arguments and people interpreting the spirit of it?#which logically means#policed by byplays in the capital probably. what the fuuck#thats so unstable.#might be wrong though id need to check#they liked philosophy yeah? surely someone noticed#otherwise there has to be a crippling bribery blackmarket system here#just no way around the sheer necessity of bribery if this is true#this is like unfortunately by definition the most -you have to know a guy- ass setup in front of me#must have been scammer central?? hope not. maybe im missing something#i wonder how common assasination and crime was#VERY bet.#how else do you get bribe money#and gang racketeering money#and there were two maybe three disenfranchised classes here as well that couldnât formally participate in lawmaking#yeah okay gang problem id bet money#its the only way people could participate
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Guard Dogs
pairings: Deadpool x reader x Wolverine
warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, creepy guy in a bar, crude humor
summary: you never have to worry when you go out, your guard dogs are always there to protect you
a/n: can be perceived as romantic or platonic, itâs not specified! Also I want to thank everyone whoâs been supporting my stories and all the kind words Iâve received!
Going out alone wasnât something you liked to do, but unfortunately there were a lot of instances in which you had to. The world itself wasnât a safe place, both Wade and Logan knew that, in fact it was one of the few things they could always agree on.
Today was no different, do your usual chores, relax, eat, work, but there was something else you wanted to do, a little treat for all your hard work, âLetâs go drinking tonight!â
Wade and Logan looked up from whatever they were doing. You had bursted into their apartment without a notice.
It was normal for all three of you to hang out, but it was unusual for you guys to all go to a bar together. Logan was the heaviest drinker of the group, he knew where to go, Wade would go with his friends mostly, and you didnât treat yourself to this as much.
âAlright,â Logan mumbled, his eyes on whatever stories the local news channel had on, controller in one hand his head in the other.
âWoah the big bad wolf wants to be seen out with us?!â Wade exclaimed, referring to Logan, âSign me up!â Logan rolled his eyes at the comment his âfriendâ made, not in the mood to argue with him.
âOkay Iâll be back at 7,â You told the men, closing the door heading back to your own apartment.
âI need to go put on my good toupee!â Wade claps his hands together, heading towards his bathroom, grabbing the staplers on his way.
Loganâs eyes still glued to the television yells over to him, âTheyâre all ugly donât worry.â Wade flips him off, closing the door.
Getting ready was something that made time fly by, because before anyone knew it 7 was already here. The three musketeers were ready for their adventure.
Logan led the way, knowing the best places in the city despite being here for the shortest amount of time. Wade was on your right fixing his âhair systemâ as he made some snarky remarks at Logan.
You walked close to Wade unaware of what was going on.
The bar was nice, it had some stools, a few benches and normal tables for bigger groups. Logan sat himself on the stools by the bartender knowing heâd get liquor much faster this way. Wade sat a seat away from Logan leaving you space in the middle of the two, which you didnât mind at all.
âGive me another drink,â Logan called to the bar keep.
âThere you go just fucking up that liver again,â Wade smirked at him, just trying to get under his skin.
âShut the fuck up before I rip off that toupee and shove it right up your-â
Before Logan could finish Wade quickly put his finger up to his mouth, âWoah there peanut, I donât do pegging on the first date,â
âIf this wasnât a public bar Iâd cut that oversized head of yours off,â
You laughed as Logan and Wades bickering continued. Suddenly you noticed as the music seemed to turn off, normally you wouldnât mind but tonight a nice song wouldâve been good so you quietly excuse yourself from the situation.
You found yourself walking over to the jukebox; your eyes examining the song selections before picking âMillion Dollar Manâ by Lana Del Rey (Ldr mentioned).
Having put on your song you found yourself walking back to the stool seat before a man walked in front of you.
âWhatâs a pretty lady like you doing by herself?â His tone was slurred, obviously from drinking too much. He wasnât tall and he looked like heâd just woken up.
You gave a quiet sigh, âOh Iâm not alone,â You gave him a slight smile hoping heâd get the memo.
The man looked around and smiled creepily at you, âI donât see anyoneâ He slowly took some more steps closer to you.
âHow âbout now Bub,â Loganâs voice boomed from behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder.
The creep gave an annoyed eye roll. Logan was taller than the man by a lot, and was definitely more intimidating.
âWe were just talking, why donât you leave us alone?â He began to mock Logan, this only riled him up some more.
âIâll give you three seconds to walk away before I get serious,â Loganâs eyes were trained on the man, his arms were now crossed over his chest, visibly annoyed.
The man let out a dry chuckle, âYeah okay what are you gonna do buddy?â
âWeâre gonna fuck you in the ass,â Wade said as he showed up behind the man and grabbed his head, smashing it into the bar. Logan then brought the man back up just to knee him in the stomach before throwing him on the ground.
Everyone else started to get up after seeing the commotion, obviously itching for a fight, but you didnât waste anytime for that grabbing both men and running out of the bar.
âJesus Wade did you have to say that?â You asked him, wondering why he thought ass play was a threat.
âDo not use my name in vein,â he responded, clearly unbothered by his remark.ďżź
Logan gruffed at the evening you guys had, visibly tired from all that went on.
âWe need to stop going out together,â you said looking at the street light.
âLetâs watch a movie at my place next time!â Wade offered, a cheery expression on his face.
âYea whatever but you better not pick a fucking porno again,â Logan glared at him remembering the last time Wade picked a movie for the three of you to watch.
âI think it makes for good team bonding!â
#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wolverine#deadpool#marvel#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#x men#x reader#deadpool x reader#wade wilson#wade wilson x reader#xreader
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Googleâs new phones canât stop phoning home
On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.
One of the most brazen lies of Big Tech is that people like commercial surveillance, a fact you can verify for yourself by simply observing how many people end up using products that spy on them. If they didn't like spying, they wouldn't opt into being spied on.
This lie has spread to the law enforcement and national security agencies, who treasure Big Tech's surveillance as an off-the-books trove of warrantless data that no court would ever permit them to gather on their own. Back in 2017, I found myself at SXSW, debating an FBI agent who was defending the Bureau's gigantic facial recognition database, which, he claimed, contained the faces of virtually every American:
https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/mar/11/sxsw-facial-recognition-biometrics-surveillance-panel
The agent insisted that the FBI had acquired all those faces through legitimate means, by accessing public sources of people's faces. In other words, we'd all opted in to FBI facial recognition surveillance. "Sure," I said, "to opt out, just don't have a face."
This pathology is endemic to neoliberal thinking, which insists that all our political matters can be reduced to economic ones, specifically, the kind of economic questions that can be mathematically modeled and empirically tested. It would be great if all our thorniest problems could be solved like mathematical equations.
Unfortunately, there are key elements of these systems that can't be reliably quantified and turned into mathematical operators, especially power. The fact that someone did something tells you nothing about whether they chose to do so â to understand whether someone was coerced or made a free choice, you have to consider the power relationships involved.
Conservatives hate this idea. They want to live in a neat world of "revealed preferences," where the fact that you're working in a job where you're regularly exposed to carcinogens, or that you've stayed with a spouse who beats the shit out of you, or that you're homeless, or that you're addicted to Oxy, is a matter of choice. Monopolies exist because we all love the monopolist's product best, not because they've got monopoly power. Jobs that pay starvation wages exist because people want to work full time for so little money that they need food-stamps just to survive. Intervening in any of these situations is "woke paternalism," where the government thinks it knows better than you and intervenes to take away your right to consume unsafe products, get maimed at work, or have your jaw broken by your husband.
Which is why neoliberals insist that politics should be reduced to economics, and that economics should be carried out as if power didn't exist:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/05/farrago/#jeffty-is-five
Nowhere is this stupid trick more visible than in the surveillance fight. For example, Google claims that it tracks your location because you asked it to, by using Google products that make use of your location without clicking an opt out button.
In reality, Google has the power to simply ignore your preferences about location tracking. In 2021, the Arizona Attorney General's privacy case against Google yielded a bunch of internal memos, including memos from Google's senior product manager for location services Jen Chai complaining that she had turned off location tracking in three places and was still being tracked:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/01/you-are-here/#goog
Multiple googlers complained about this: they'd gone through dozens of preference screens, hunting for "don't track my location" checkboxes, and still they found that they were being tracked. These were people who worked under Chai on the location services team. If the head of that team, and her subordinates, couldn't figure out how to opt out of location tracking, what chance did you have?
Despite all this, I've found myself continuing to use stock Google Pixel phones running stock Google Android. There were three reasons for this:
First and most importantly: security. While I worry about Google tracking me, I am as worried (or more) about foreign governments, random hackers, and dedicated attackers gaining access to my phone. Google's appetite for my personal data knows no bounds, but at least the company is serious about patching defects in the Pixel line.
Second: coercion. There are a lot of apps that I need to run â to pay for parking, say, or to access my credit union or control my rooftop solar â that either won't run on jailbroken Android phones or require constant tweaking to keep running.
Finally: time. I already have the equivalent of three full time jobs and struggle every day to complete my essential tasks, including managing complex health issues and being there for my family. The time I take out of my schedule to actively manage a de-Googled Android would come at the expense of either my professional or personal life.
And despite Google's enshittificatory impulses, the Pixels are reliably high-quality, robust phones that get the hell out of the way and let me do my job. The Pixels are Google's flagship electronic products, and the company acts like it.
Until now.
A new report from Cybernews reveals just how much data the next generation Pixel 9 phones collect and transmit to Google, without any user intervention, and in defiance of the owner's express preferences to the contrary:
https://cybernews.com/security/google-pixel-9-phone-beams-data-and-awaits-commands/
The Pixel 9 phones home every 15 minutes, even when it's not in use, sharing "location, email address, phone number, network status, and other telemetry." Additionally, every 40 minutes, the new Pixels transmit "firmware version, whether connected to WiFi or using mobile data, the SIM card Carrier, and the userâs email address." Even further, even if you've never opened Google Photos, the phone contacts Google Photosâ Face Grouping API at regular intervals. Another process periodically contacts Google's Voice Search servers, even if you never use Voice Search, transmitting "the number of times the device was restarted, the time elapsed since powering on, and a list of apps installed on the device, including the sideloaded ones."
All of this is without any consent. Or rather, without any consent beyond the "revealed preference" of just buying a phone from Google ("to opt out, don't have a face").
What's more, the Cybernews report probably undercounts the amount of passive surveillance the Pixel 9 undertakes. To monitor their testbench phone, Cybernews had to root it and install Magisk, a monitoring tool. In order to do that, they had to disable the AI features that Google touts as the centerpiece of Pixel 9. AI is, of course, notoriously data-hungry and privacy invasive, and all the above represents the data collection the Pixel 9 undertakes without any of its AI nonsense.
It just gets worse. The Pixel 9 also routinely connects to a "CloudDPC" server run by Google. Normally, this is a server that an enterprise customer would connect its employees' devices to, allowing the company to push updates to employees' phones without any action on their part. But Google has designed the Pixel 9 so that privately owned phones do the same thing with Google, allowing for zero-click, no-notification software changes on devices that you own.
This is the kind of measure that works well, but fails badly. It assumes that the risk of Pixel owners failing to download a patch outweighs the risk of a Google insider pushing out a malicious update. Why would Google do that? Well, perhaps a rogue employee wants to spy on his ex-girlfriend:
https://www.wired.com/2010/09/google-spy/
Or maybe a Google executive wins an internal power struggle and decrees that Google's products should be made shittier so you need to take more steps to solve your problems, which generates more chances to serve ads:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan
Or maybe Google capitulates to an authoritarian government who orders them to install a malicious update to facilitate a campaign of oppressive spying and control:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)
Indeed, merely by installing a feature that can be abused this way, Google encourages bad actors to abuse it. It's a lot harder for a government or an asshole executive to demand a malicious downgrade of a Google product if users have to accept that downgrade before it takes effect. By removing that choice, Google has greased the skids for malicious downgrades, from both internal and external sources.
Google will insist that these anti-features â both the spying and the permissionless updating â are essential, that it's literally impossible to imagine building a phone that doesn't do these things. This is one of Big Tech's stupidest gambits. It's the same ruse that Zuck deploys when he says that it's impossible to chat with a friend or plan a potluck dinner without letting Facebook spy on you. It's Tim Cook's insistence that there's no way to have a safe, easy to use, secure computing environment without giving Apple a veto over what software you can run and who can fix your device â and that this veto must come with a 30% rake from every dollar you spend on your phone.
The thing is, we know it's possible to separate these things, because they used to be separate. Facebook used to sell itself as the privacy-forward alternative to Myspace, where they would never spy on you (not coincidentally, this is also the best period in Facebook's history, from a user perspective):
https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362
And we know it's possible to make a Pixel that doesn't do all this nonsense because Google makes other Pixel phones that don't do all this nonsense, like the Pixel 8 that's in my pocket as I type these words.
This doesn't stop Big Tech from gaslighting* us and insisting that demanding a Pixel that doesn't phone home four times an hour is like demanding water that isn't wet.
*pronounced "jass-lighting"
Even before I read this report, I was thinking about what I would do when I broke my current phone (I'm a klutz and I travel a lot, so my gadgets break pretty frequently). Google's latest OS updates have already crammed a bunch of AI bullshit into my Pixel 8 (and Google puts the "invoke AI bullshit" button in the spot where the "do something useful" button used to be, meaning I accidentally pull up the AI bullshit screen several times/day).
Assuming no catastrophic phone disasters, I've got a little while before my next phone, but I reckon when it's time to upgrade, I'll be switching to a phone from the @[email protected]. Calyx is an incredible, privacy-focused nonprofit whose founder, Nicholas Merrill, was the first person to successfully resist one of the Patriot Act's "sneek-and-peek" warrants, spending 11 years defending his users' privacy from secret â and, ultimately, unconstitutional â surveillance:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/03/depth-judge-illstons-remarkable-order-striking-down-nsl-statute
Merrill and Calyx have tapped into various obscure corners of US wireless spectrum licenses that require major carriers to give ultra-cheap access to nonprofits, allowing them to offer unlimited, surveillance-free, Net Neutrality respecting wireless data packages:
https://memex.craphound.com/2016/09/22/i-have-found-a-secret-tunnel-that-runs-underneath-the-phone-companies-and-emerges-in-paradise/
I've been a very happy Calyx user in years gone by, but ultimately, I slipped into the default of using stock Pixel handsets with Google's Fi service.
But even as I've grown increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of Google's Android and Pixel programs, I've grown increasingly impressed with Calyx's offerings. The company has graduated from selling mobile hotspots with unlimited data SIMs to selling jailbroken, de-Googled Pixel phones that have all the hardware reliability of a Pixel, coupled with an alternative app suite and your choice of a Calyx SIM and/or a Calyx hotspot:
https://calyxinstitute.org/
Every time I see what Calyx is up to, I think, dammit, it's really time to de-Google my phone. With the Pixel 9 descending to new depths of enshittification, that decision just got a lot easier. When my current phone croaks, I'll be talking to Calyx.
Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/08/water-thats-not-wet/#pixelated
Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
#pluralistic#google#android#pixel#privacy#pixel 9#locational privacy#back doors#checkhov's gun#cybernews#gaslighting
533 notes
¡
View notes
Note
A fun question your opinion: In each arc, what do you think is the theme of each arc? ( It can be a motif, messages, subject)
These are a mix of jokes and serious thoughts ^^ just to avoid the post from being too heavy overall!
The Rose-Red Tyrant:
Breaking free from perpetuating a cycle of abuse
You are your own person, not a puppet controlled by your parent/guardian
At the same time, you have to take accountability for your own actions (your background can explain your poor behavior toward others but it does not excuse that behavior)
Control that is too constrictive will only push away potential connections and experiences, keeping you isolated and complacent
Anger management classes are good for you, guys
The Usurper from the Wilds:
Letâs play fairly and be good sports!
Judging people for their merits rather than by titles or birth
What makes someone worthy to lead is noble behavior and attiude
Standing up for whatâs morally right, even if everyone else seems to be against you
You have value, worth, and hope in spite of what others may tell you and put you down for
Itâs totally okay to get revenge on the asshole that tripped you that one time/j
Itâs technically not a crime if you donât get caught (except Leona did, in fact, get caught)
The Merchant from the Depths:
Donât be ashamed of your past selfâembrace it, accept it, and use it as a point of reference for self growth
Be the bigger person rather than becoming a bully yourself
Let your accomplishments speak for themselves
There is no âeasy way outâ or shortcut; be prepared to face the consequences of your actions
Not everything is as it may seem (think about the âtrickâ with Azulâs contracts)
⌠Read the terms and conditions very carefully and think things over before you sign a contract đ
Schemer of the Scalding Sands:
Wow, this baby can fit so much generational trauma!!
Sometimes you just miss each otherâs messages or greatly misinterpret the otherâs intentions (Kalim giving Jamil the benefit of the doubt, Jamil obviously being the Bad Guy and everyone else has to point that out to Kalim)
Thereâs a very complicated relationship between those in power and those without power; this can breed hatred for those at the top
Talent and skill left unacknowledged can fester into resentment
Institutions of higher education can and will accept monetary bribes, what are you gonna do about it?
Not everyone wants to reconcile and make friends; this is okay and should be more normalized
A Beautiful Tyrant:
You can try your best and work hard, but life doesnât owe you anything (depressing thought, but unfortunately true)
Beauty is not limited to just oneâs looks; beauty can also extend to oneâs character and actions
Your worth shouldnât come from external forces; if you are satisfied with yourself, you will always be âbeautifulâ no matter how you look or what losses you may experience
Public opinion and the entertainment industry are brutal af
Screw gender norms đ¤
The Watchman of the Underworld:
The grieving process in general
Moving on from the past instead of fixating on it and letting the past consume your present and hold you back from a future
Learning to forgive yourself
Reaching out and making new support systems/opening up to others to help you cope
Bearing the sins of your ancestors (Shroud family curse)
The Lord of Malevolence:
Change is inevitable, all good things must come to an end; we must learn to accept them and bravely move toward the future
Love endures, transcending race (Sebek), blood (Silver), and time (Lilia)
Self-sacrificial love (Maleanor for Malleus, Lilia for the other Diasomnia boys, Dawn Knight for his own family, etc.)
Is it âtrueâ happiness if it is a fake reality, a convenient dream?
We hate and fear what we do not understand, even though we have the capacity to
You cannot live forever in a happy fantasy world where none of your loved ones/favorite characters leave you, your trauma doesnât exist, and everything conveniently pans out how you want it to; sooner or later, you must âwake upâ and face reality (this point is particularly meta; it applies both in-game and in the real world, speaking to us players and our relationship with the escapist fictional content we consume)
Prologue: Welcome to the Villainsâ World and Overall Main Story:
The power of friendship :))
Revisionist history (cuz⌠yâknow⌠Great Seven and all)
Weâre stronger together than alone
Itâs okay to rely on others
We may be very different people from very different backgrounds, but it is still possible for us to understand one another
#twisted wonderland#twst#Riddle Rosehearts#Leona Kingscholar#Jamil Viper#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#notes from the writing raven#question#Azul Ashengrotto#Idia Shroud#Vil Schoenheit#Malleus Draconia#prologue spoilers#book 1 spoilers#book 2 spoilers#book 3 spoilers#book 4 spoilers#book 5 spoilers#book 6 spoilers#book 7 spoilers#Kalim Al-Asim#Scarabia#Sebek Zigvolt#Silver#Diasomnia#Lilia Vanrouge#Maleanor Draconia#Meleanor Draconia#Dawn Knight
968 notes
¡
View notes
Text
"Artists have finally had enough with Metaâs predatory AI policies, but Metaâs loss is Caraâs gain. An artist-run, anti-AI social platform, Cara has grown from 40,000 to 650,000 users within the last week, catapulting it to the top of the App Store charts.
Instagram is a necessity for many artists, who use the platform to promote their work and solicit paying clients. But Meta is using public posts to train its generative AI systems, and only European users can opt out, since theyâre protected by GDPR laws. Generative AI has become so front-and-center on Metaâs apps that artists reached their breaking point.
âWhen you put [AI] so much in their face, and then give them the option to opt out, but then increase the friction to opt out⌠I think that increases their anger level â like, okay now Iâve really had enough,â Jingna Zhang, a renowned photographer and founder of Cara, told TechCrunch.
Cara, which has both a web and mobile app, is like a combination of Instagram and X, but built specifically for artists. On your profile, you can host a portfolio of work, but you can also post updates to your feed like any other microblogging site.
Zhang is perfectly positioned to helm an artist-centric social network, where they can post without the risk of becoming part of a training dataset for AI. Zhang has fought on behalf of artists, recently winning an appeal in a Luxembourg court over a painter who copied one of her photographs, which she shot for Harperâs Bazaar Vietnam.
âUsing a different medium was irrelevant. My work being âavailable onlineâ was irrelevant. Consent was necessary,â Zhang wrote on X.
Zhang and three other artists are also suing Google for allegedly using their copyrighted work to train Imagen, an AI image generator. Sheâs also a plaintiff in a similar lawsuit against Stability AI, Midjourney, DeviantArt and Runway AI.
âWords canât describe how dehumanizing it is to see my name used 20,000+ times in MidJourney,â she wrote in an Instagram post. âMy lifeâs work and who I amâreduced to meaningless fodder for a commercial image slot machine.â
Artists are so resistant to AI because the training data behind many of these image generators includes their work without their consent. These models amass such a large swath of artwork by scraping the internet for images, without regard for whether or not those images are copyrighted. Itâs a slap in the face for artists â not only are their jobs endangered by AI, but that same AI is often powered by their work.
âWhen it comes to art, unfortunately, we just come from a fundamentally different perspective and point of view, because on the tech side, you have this strong history of open source, and people are just thinking like, well, you put it out there, so itâs for people to use,â Zhang said. âFor artists, itâs a part of our selves and our identity. I would not want my best friend to make a manipulation of my work without asking me. Thereâs a nuance to how we see things, but I donât think people understand that the art we do is not a product.â
This commitment to protecting artists from copyright infringement extends to Cara, which partners with the University of Chicagoâs Glaze project. By using Glaze, artists who manually apply Glaze to their work on Cara have an added layer of protection against being scraped for AI.
Other projects have also stepped up to defend artists. Spawning AI, an artist-led company, has created an API that allows artists to remove their work from popular datasets. But that opt-out only works if the companies that use those datasets honor artistsâ requests. So far, HuggingFace and Stability have agreed to respect Spawningâs Do Not Train registry, but artistsâ work cannot be retroactively removed from models that have already been trained.
âI think there is this clash between backgrounds and expectations on what we put on the internet,â Zhang said. âFor artists, we want to share our work with the world. We put it online, and we donât charge people to view this piece of work, but it doesnât mean that we give up our copyright, or any ownership of our work.â"
Read the rest of the article here:
https://techcrunch.com/2024/06/06/a-social-app-for-creatives-cara-grew-from-40k-to-650k-users-in-a-week-because-artists-are-fed-up-with-metas-ai-policies/
605 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hello!!
I wanted to ask if you would be willing to share how you go about finding the references for the injuries you depict in your work? Your pieces where the CoD boys are sporting injuries, fresh and old, are always so lifelike and to my untrained eye seem entirely medically correct.
I have been trying my hand at drawing the boys retired and resting as well, but Iâm finding it difficult to decide what work injuries to add and how to find the respective references.
How do you decide what injuries to portray? And how do you go about finding the reference material?
Your huge fan, amustikas
Oooh ok ok! I'm gonna post my answer publically because I think others would find this interesting too!
To preface, I am definitely NOT a medical professional, and as such, a lot of the stuff I choose to depict in my art is not so much..ah, medically accurate as it is....aesthetically pleasing đ¤
I'll start with scars, as a lot of us enjoy slashing up Simon's face with them, lol. Generally, I'll do a cursory google image search for the type of scar I'm looking for (be warned, these can be graphic) with searches like 'burn scar' 'surgery scar' etc. But I find that for things like cuts and lacerations, real-life scars are a bit innocuous and lame đ¤ˇââď¸ Unfortunately not everyone's skin wants to retain that perfect slash lookâ˘ď¸đ
So what I usually end up referencing are costume prosthetic scars â¨
As you can see, they're pretty gnarly:
And you definitely don't have to go this intense, but I find that the dramatic, carved-like appearance of these translate better to art than a realistically healed wound đ¤
The other thing to consider is the prevalence of injuries in the military. From what I've gathered, the most common will be back/shoulder/limb injuries, just a general fucking up of the whole musculoskeletal system in general due to constant overuse đ¤ Hearing loss, shrapnel/blast/burn injuries are also common, as well as all the negative psychological effects :') goooood times (not)
I think it's neat to look up real-life examples of these things, but it can get a bit intense if you're squeamish...
SafeSearch is OFF, the horrors are REal đł
So yeah...I tend to tone things down, all things considered...đ
For this particular piece:
I researched broken humerus injuries and treatment đ Poor boy đĽş(Yes, I am aware that I consumed entire articles and did a shit ton of research about this just to go ahead and put a female's x-ray in this fucking picture sdfghjkl ripđđ)
But here you can see the actual process for applying the brace for this particular injury:
Neat, eh?
When I draw Johnny with a knee brace, it's usually a real authentic one you can buy on amazon:
Product placement blast!!!đĽâ¨ Bezos, where is my cut?? đŤ°
As for ones like this:
I tend to just...scatter some wounds around and patch them up accordingly, lol. Bruising around the eyes is common with any head injury, and surgical stitching will offer a nice puckered skin effect mmm đ (I swear I'm normal abt this)
I'm sure the medical malpractice lawsuits are stacking up for me now, but again--it's usually more about the â¨visualsâ¨
My parting advice would be--go nuts! Feel free to maim and mutilate and mangle to your heart's content đĽ°
Thank you for the question, Amustikas! I love your art as well đđŤś
#asks#there's something...pleasing...about drawing wounds....#no I will not be reflecting on this đ¤#tw injuries
345 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Also preserved on our archive
An astonishingly simple and comprehensive guide to avoiding airborne illness while traveling. Many of these tips work for trips to the pharmacy or grocery store too. Stay safe out there!
By Korin Miller
Whether youâre traveling domestically or heading abroad, feeling your best at your destination means youâll get the most out of your trip. Unfortunately, COVID-19 is still out there, and cases are expected to climb again as we head into the winter months. By now youâre likely aware of basic COVID prevention strategies, but air travel presents unique challenges that can be tricky to navigate.
Luckily, you can take steps to lower the odds of picking up the illness on your next flight. To help you do just that, we asked doctors and health policy researchers how they lower their COVID risk while flying. Hereâs what they recommend.
Wear a maskâbefore youâre even on the plane Many of us know this already, but itâs worth recalling: Research has found that wearing a well-fitting, high-quality mask like an N95 or KN95 lowers your chances of picking up COVID-19 by 83%, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. But when you wear a mask during your travels matters, says William Schaffner, MD, an infectious disease specialist and professor at the Vanderbilt University School of Medicine.
âYou really want to use your mask consistently around others, whether youâre in the airport or on that plane,â he says. Thomas A. Russo, MD, professor and chief of the Division of Infectious Diseases at the University at Buffaloâs medical school, agrees. âThink about the whole process when you flyâgoing through the airport, checking in, boarding the plane, and being on the planeâyouâre going to interact with people from all parts of the world⌠Thereâs a risk you might get COVID,â he says.
You can help protect yourself by always keeping your mask onâand wearing a relatively new one. Compared to a mask thatâs gotten a lot of use, a fresh one will fit more snugly around the nose, cheeks, and chin and, in turn, catch particles more effectively.
Put the air vent to good use If you prefer not to wear a mask, you should take steps to protect yourself in other ways. For example, after you get to your seat, adjust the vent so the air blows over your face, suggests Sheldon H. Jacobson, PhD, a University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign professor and researcher whose work includes using data-driven risk assessments to inform public health policy.
Dr. Jacobson says most airplanes use high-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filters that catch microbes. Plus, cabin air is refreshed every few minutes, and a good portion comes from outside the aircraft. As a result, what blows out of the vents is pretty fresh. This strategy also keeps the air around you moving faster, meaning thereâs less time for you to inhale any possible germs in the cabin, according to Dr. Jacobson. Still, if the person sitting next to you is coughing and sneezing, itâs best to wear a mask if you have one, he says. The filtration system can only do so much in that instanceâand itâs not always on before takeoff and after landing.
Be mindful about how you eat and drink If you can, Dr. Russo suggests eating before you get to the airport to lessen the number of times youâll need to remove your mask when youâre around other people. If you need to dine at the airport, Dr. Schaffner recommends looking for seating away from crowded areas.
When masks were still required for air travel, the suggested strategy for eating and drinking on board was to wait until your fellow fliers finished their snacks and refreshments. But now, Dr. Russo points out, the people around you may not mask up at all. Instead, he suggests dropping your mask, taking a sip or bite, and immediately pulling it back up. This lowers the odds youâll breathe in viral particles that may be floating around, he explains.
Plan your vaccine around your trip Dr. Schaffner and Dr. Russo recommend getting the updated COVID-19 vaccine about two weeks before your trip. âItâs a good strategy,â Dr. Russo says. It usually takes 14 days or so for your body to build up immunity to COVID after getting vaccinated, according to the World Health Organization. This means your body should be ready to fight the virus by the time you fly, Dr. Russo says. Immunity also fades over time, making the timing of your shot important, he says.
Wash your handsâŚa lot Experts say youâre more likely to get COVID-19 from breathing in infectious droplets and particles than from touching things. But thereâs still a chance you could get sick if you happen to touch a contaminated surface and then your eyes, nose, or mouth.
âWhat weâve learned is that transmission from this virus from inanimate objects is very low, but itâs not zero,â Dr. Russo says. Thatâs why he recommends good hand hygiene while flying. You should wash your hands with soap and water, making sure to scrub for at least 20 seconds, and do so often: before and after security, whenever you use the bathroom, and before eating or touching your face. Hand sanitizer is also a good option in a pinch, Dr. Russo says. But he stresses that keeping your hands clean shouldnât replace masking up. âItâs much, much less helpful than wearing a mask,â he says.
#mask up#covid#pandemic#public health#wear a mask#covid 19#wear a respirator#still coviding#coronavirus#sars cov 2
223 notes
¡
View notes
Text
almost something
genre: angst, fluff ending
featuring: mat barzal x female reader
request: yes
note: longer fic adapted from this blurb
Pacing the floor, you couldnât but wonder how much longer heâd leave you waiting. While you were used to waiting for most of the crowd to clear, that being part of the deal that you werenât to show any PDA, this was getting excessive.
You and Mat werenât dating, but you also werenât just friends. It was fucking complicated and you hated it, to be blunt.
Watching all the girlfriends and wives adorned in their significant otherâs jersey numbers, getting to kiss them after games no matter who was around, it hurt. That was all you ever wanted with Mat, but he unfortunately had his boundaries. Though you couldnât be that mad because you did agree to them after all.
After 8 months you surely wouldâve expected those boundaries to go away, yet here you were. Hiding in the corner, despite a handful of the guys knowing you and Mat were secretly a thing. And surely the WAGS would catch on to constantly seeing you around after games.
âMat, wait!â
As soon as Mat appeared he was being called to the side by Bo Horvatâs wife. Rolling your eyes you resumed your spot against the wall and continued to wait.
âI wanted to introduce you to my friend Taylor.â
Mat smiled and said hello, the two chatting briefly before Mat excused himself, trying to not be rude but also not seem too interested.
As the crowd in the family area began to dissipate, Mat finally gave you the time of day.
âHey you, ready to go?â
âIs it safe to talk to you? You sure no one is around?â Peeking left to right you joked, Mat not amused as he rolled his eyes.
âOh hush. Donât be so dramatic. You know I donât want all the attention.â
Mat always had a different excuse. Sometimes it was wanting to be private with his relationships, others it was that he wasnât ready to commit. Youâd lost track of how many reasons heâd given for not being able to call you his girlfriend.
The things youâd wanted to experience with him all seeming like theyâd never be yours to have. Wearing his jersey number proudly to games, flaunting your love for him on your social media, even just holding his hand as you left the arena. The littlest things seeming taboo to even bring up to him, knowing heâd tell you that weâve had this conversation before.
But after this long, you had hoped that conversation would be different.
As you sat in the passenger seat of Matâs car and headed home, you questioned how youâd ended up here. How did the first night you met, a chance encounter that almost seemed like fate, lead you to eight months of being an almost something secret to him?
As you swayed to the music, your third vodka soda giving you the liquid courage to let loose on your first night out in lord knows how long, you felt a hand lightly grab a hold of your waist.
Normally, youâd push away any creep that approached and tried to put a hand on you. But out of the corner of your eye you saw him, and you couldnât help but blush.
âI was wondering if you were going to finally work up the courage to come over and say something.â
Sensing you were okay with his hand on your waist Mat moved in closer. The smell of his cologne flooding your system as you could feel the smirk on his lips as his face brushed against yours.
âOh trust me, I wasnât letting you get away without saying something. I told my friends that I had to make you mine.â
âDonât say that if you donât plan on backing it up.â
Though youâd met on a night out, Mat was serious about you, to a point. Not ghosting you the next day or letting you be a quick fling. And behind closed doors, he told you all the things you wanted to hear, did the things youâd expect of a boyfriend. But once in public, it was like none of that ever existed to him.
The entire car ride was silent, and he knew you were upset. It wasnât the first time, and it wouldnât be the last.
As he parked the car you two headed inside, you not bothering to let him open your door for you. Just wanting to get inside and go to sleep, try and avoid another argument over the same old story.
âCan you just talk to me? Say something?â
Mat pleaded as he followed you up the stairs to his bedroom, where you had already starting getting changed for bed.
âWhat do you want me to say? Because itâs nothing you havenât heard one hundred times already.â
He sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching as you moved to the bathroom to take off your makeup. Knowing there wasnât much he could say to try and make the situation better, because truly he didnât have a good response.
âWhat do you want from me? I, I just donât think itâs the right time to take things to the next level, with us.â
âAre you sure itâs just the timing thatâs wrong Mat?â
He looked at you a bit taken aback as youâd raised your voice, not something typical of you. This wasnât something you enjoyed discussing because it never got resolved, and with how long youâve been going through this with Mat, the light at the end of the tunnel didnât seem much closer. And you were growing tired.
âDo you remember what you told me the first night we met? That you told your friends Iâm gonna make that girl mine. And itâs been eight months but youâre too fucking scared to commit and actually call me yours. You say itâs the timing thatâs wrong, and this is best right now. Maybe itâs best for you, but it sure as hell hurts me.â
Mat watched as you tried to keep yourself calm, despite the tears that were welling up in your eyes.
âSeeing the wives and girlfriends get to wear jerseys, hug and kiss their significant others after games. Seeing them post their significant others on their social media. So many things Iâd love to be able to do with you and I canât, because Iâm a big secret to you. So sure, you can say itâs the timing. But something tells me itâs way fucking more than that. And if thatâs the case, that Iâm not good enough to be more than just an almost something, then why the fuck am I here?â
Leaning against the bathroom counter you stared him down, waiting for him to say something, anything. His gaze fixated on the floor as sighed.
âWhat do you want me to say?â
âThe truth! Stop toying with my emotions and leading me on. Iâve been so fucking good to you for almost a year now, but Iâm not good enough to be your girlfriend? Are you just taking advantage of having me around? I want to get to have you, every piece of you. After games, at team events, in fucking public. I donât want to only get to have you in private.â
Your voice trailing off as you were exhausted of having this argument with Mat. Stopping yourself from getting worked up because what was the point? Youâd have this fight, heâd do his best to convince you to stick around in the hopes of things getting better, but they would never change.
âMaybe Iâm scared, okay?â
His voice barely above a whisper as he was unsure about his words. Though you were all ears, finally seeming like you would get some type of answer.
âMaybe Iâm scared because I want those things, believe me I do. But Iâm scared because I know what you deserve, and what if I canât be that for you. This, no commitment, itâs easy for me. Because Iâm not worrying about you constantly. Iâm not wondering if Iâm doing my job as a boyfriend. If Iâm meeting your expectations. But if we take that next step, things are gonna change. And, I just, I donât know if Iâm ready for that. I like how things are, and I feel thatâs how they should stay.â
Nodding your head as you took a deep breath, you werenât even upset anymore. Just numb to the feeling of constantly not being good enough for Mat to fight for. Left feeling like thereâs something wrong with you thatâs making him scared to take the next step.
âYou do realize, nothing would fucking change right? Just because I get to call you my boyfriend, that doesnât come with a new list of rules or expectations.â
He sat in silence as you threw your clothes from earlier back on, not bothering to spend the night if he had made up his mind this wasnât going anywhere. Needing to take some time and truly figure things out for yourself.
âIâm not interested in setting a standard, or forcing you to be any type of way, I just want to be able to look at you and know that youâre mine. To know that you tell people Iâm your girl. Iâm just sick and tired of being kept in the dark. So when you figure out whether or not youâre willing to lose me, over being too scared to take that next step, let me know.â
-
It had been a little over a week since youâd left Matâs house following the argument. Heâd reached out, but you werenât quick to respond. Trying to give yourself time to decide if you were fine being strung along with no real possibility of commitment in sight. You wanted to move on, block his number and be done with him. But your heart couldnât let you do that easily. The what ifs constantly in the back of your mind.
What if he finally gave you what you wanted? What if he finally did what he said he was going to do all those months ago? What if he stopped being so scared of shit that hasnât happened yet?
Tonight the Islanders were back on home ice after a quick 2 game road trip, Mat sending you a ticket the morning of, per usual. And despite your anger over the situation between the two of you, you still decided to go, per usual.
Heâd asked you to please come and see him after the game, regardless if deep down you were still mad and wanting to punch him in the face.
So there you were, claiming your familiar spot on the wall to watch all the wives and girlfriends greeting their significant others after the game. Soon enough Mat emerged from the locker room, Bo Horvatâs wife trying to connect him and her friend once again. This time Mat barely flashing a smile as he hurried over to you.
âYou do realize thereâs still tons of people down here right? They are obviously going to-â
Before you could finish Mat pressed his lips to yours, catching you off guard as your hands moved to cup his cheeks as you deepened the kiss. Heart racing as you were shocked by his actions, but not wanting it to stop. This being something youâd hoped for but never imagined happening.
As you pulled away, you noticed the looks on the faces of the wives and girlfriends. Slightly chuckling to yourself as you felt a blush coming over you.
âIâm not willing to lose you because Iâm too scared to admit that I want this. I want you, and every piece of you. All the time, not just in private. And I want you to have every piece of me, regardless of who is watching.â
Brushing your thumb over his cheek you felt your heart ache at his words, completely unprepared to hear them despite wanting them for so long.
âI, I, I donât even know what to say right now. Iâm just, shocked!â
Mat laughed as he took your hand in his, leading you past the crowd and to his car.
âWell, for starters, you could say yes to being my girlfriend?â
#mat barzal blurb#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal fluff#mat barzal angst#mat barzal fic#mat barzal imagine#nhl fics#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey imagine#nhl blurb
396 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader
Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.
Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)
WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox
A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. Youâd wanted more freedom in your duties, didnât want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but youâve never claimed to be Council-worthy.
Now your butt is sticking to the chair youâre planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. Itâs so hot that you think youâve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.
âGeneral,â One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, âNothing on my scanners.â
âNor on mine,â You drawl lazily, âWeâre scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?â
âNone.â He laments, âI just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.â
The base youâre stationed to isnât always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones donât know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and youâd probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.
âAlert me when they land,â You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, âI want to have time to change into an outfit I havenât soaked through with sweat.â
The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man youâd trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.
You havenât seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakinâs blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wanâs eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. Youâre not sure you are now, either.
Even though you know youâre better suited on your own, you wonder if youâd have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.
Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. Itâs, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. Itâs cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that itâs not, youâre irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience youâd had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.
You think itâs rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that youâre anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. Theyâll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.
The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. âGeneral,â Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, âWeâve got visitors. Inspection teamâs here. Initiating landing procedure.â
âCopy that,â You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, âThank you.â
Finally.
Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else youâve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. Youâre friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you donât normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.
However, when you reach the landing bay, and the shipâs hydraulics hiss, clone troopers arenât the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man youâd just thought about, as well as the child by his side.Â
Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that heâs slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than youâd kept track of, but he canât be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.
Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans youâd always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But heâs an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so youâve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.
âGeneral Y/L/N,â He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.
âMaster Kenobi,â You greet, but you know heâll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, âI wasnât aware youâd be on the inspection team.â
âWeâre not. Technically.â Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakinâs back and nudge him forwards, âWe got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought weâd come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.â
Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention thatâs fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, âMaker, thank you. Weâre melting out here.â
âI can imagine,â Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin whoâs anxiously awaiting your orders.
âAnakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, Iâm not even sure I want the droid fixed, itâs what got us into this mess in the first place. But theyâre both over there,â You point to the shorted out panels, âAnd my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.â
âThank you.â Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, âIâll have things up and running as soon as possible.â
âIâm leaving you here,â Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, âI donât often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons weâre both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?â
âI promise,â Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.
âI mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?â
âMaster,â Anakin pleads, âI understand.â
âVery well. Get to your duties,â Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.
âHe shouldnât take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.â Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, âHeâs not one to leave a droid unusable.â
âI remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,â You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, âIf I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an âunavailableâ signal if he didnât like what you were asking him to do.â
Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, âYes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. Iâm sure you donât mind not having one of your own.â
âThatâs one of the reasons I justify my choice,â You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but itâs unbearably hot and youâre tired of being cooped up inside of it.
âThis isnât bad for a base,â Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, âBut I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.â
âTry being stationed here permanently,â You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, âI have long since abandoned my robes.â
âDo you have somewhere I could set this?â Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.
âYou can leave it in my quarters,â You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, âTheyâre just down this hallway.â
Thereâs unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and youâre still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads âGeneralâs Quarters,â and youâre not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.
âJust set it on the bed,â You gesture towards your mattress, âIf we have some time, I thought,â You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, âWe could spar.â
Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, âYouâre lacking a bit of excitement here, arenât you, Y/N? Thereâs no way youâd duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.â
Youâd sparred together since youâd been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before youâd finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder youâve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.
âYou did not take me down,â You gawp, âI mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasnât done! You didnât win!â
âMm, yes. I didnât win because no one did.â Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, âAnakin interrupted us, donât you remember? We never got to finish.â
âThen a rematch,â You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, âOnce and for all weâll prove who the better duelist is.â
âOh, Iâm sure youâll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,â Obi-Wanâs hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. Youâre losing.
âIâve only been using that as of late,â You snap, defensive, âItâs insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when Iâm not on duty. I donât spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.â
âLosing at chess.â Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, âCome, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.â
The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wanâs nose and rustles his mustache.
 âGod, I hope your Padawan knows what heâs doing,â You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You havenât felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. Itâs significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldnât be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.
âIâll go easy on you.â He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, âReady?â
âReady.â You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.
âNice start,â Obi-Wan admits, âBut you canât rely on misdirection for your entire fight. Youâll have to overpower me.â
âI could easily overpower you,â You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.
âOkay,â He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, âI wonât go easy on you.â
âNever underestimate your opponent,â You tease proudly, saber still ignited, âThatâs one for me, Obi-Wan.â
âThat doesnât count,â He scoffs, standing at the ready, âI told you Iâd go easy on you. Now Iâm serious.â
âAll Iâm hearing is excuses,â You gloat, feet light as you step around him, âYou lead this time, Kenobi.â
He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.
You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what heâs going to do when he squares his shoulders, but youâre almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.
âYouâre rusty,â He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and itâs effort you canât expend elsewhere. It means that you canât foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.
You freeze; youâre caught.
Weâre even,â You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, âBut weâre not finished.â
âHang on,â He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, âIâm going to shed a few things.â
âStripping will not help your cause.â You tease, âIâm not distracted by sex appeal.â
Clearly, he isnât expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.
âY/N. Youâve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasnât in the temple.â
âItâs the clones,â You groan, âTry being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. Theyâve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.â
âTheyâve never tried anything with you,â Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.
âNo, theyâre respectful.â You assure him, âJust crass.â
âYes, well,â Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, âThey havenât had Jedi training. I suppose Iâm not surprised.â
He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that itâs still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.
You feel your insides ignite with a fire you havenât felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell thereâs an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if itâs not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so youâre granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts.Â
âOkay. Enough with this childâs play.â You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, âI want a real match. A long one, now that weâre warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.â
âWinner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,â Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind youâre in betrays you.
âFine.â You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. Itâs tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but itâs etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wanâs robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. âI know just the one Iâll pick. In my room, thereâs one just above the bed. Maybe Iâll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.â
âI think the heat might be getting to you,â Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. Itâs hard when youâre as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and youâre doing the same. Itâs awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. Itâs of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you canât afford to entertain the thought, not around him. âIâm not sure which outcome is more delusional; that youâll win this duel, or that youâll win at holochess.â
âYouâre wasting time,â You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, âI think youâre scared.â
âDo I feel afraid?â Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, âReach out, Y/L/N, all youâll feel is confidence.â
âIâm not sure I could feel you if I tried,â You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, âNot while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.â
âPractice more,â He chides, âLess chess, more meditation.â
âOne is a lot more boring than the other!â You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, âAnd the less boring one is chess, so thatâs really saying something.â
âIt may be boring but it is beneficial,â Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks youâre still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.
âNow Iâm starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,â You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, âYouâre very dull as a Jedi Master!â
You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.
You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.
Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesnât matter that itâs on its training setting; itâs inescapable and daunting when itâs an inch from your skin. Youâre done for.Â
âI may be dull,â Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, âBut I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?â
It does. Heâd been standing over you then as he is now, and youâd had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.
A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isnât the most daunting thing in the room. Itâs Obi-Wan.
He swallows, his adamâs apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.
âYour thoughts betray you,â He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. Theyâre of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.
âYour body betrays you,â Youâre able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. Itâs only grown since youâd last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.
He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips.Â
âItâs natural.â He weakly supplies, a poor defense, âItâs adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.â
âReally? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?â You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. Heâs flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.â
âY/N,â He begins, his voice weak, âI wish you wouldnât use such foul language.â
âIs it the language that bothers you?â You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, âOr is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. Itâs natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.â
âIt is against the Code,â He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know itâs because he has none.
âItâs not.â You insist, âThe Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.â
âThatâs the problem,â He chuckles weakly, âI donât have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.â
âYou seem as though you do.â You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, âIâve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.â
âThatâs because I havenât been around you in a long time,â He admits, âNot consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.â
You sit up now, fully straightened. Youâre still between his legs, but youâd need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.
âThe Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.â
âI will know.â He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, âY/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we⌠If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.â
Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. Heâs loyal to the Order, he always has been. But youâd been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that youâd assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But itâs not, and you canât earnestly be angry with him for it.
You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.
âIt sounds like you should walk away.â You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.
âBut will you forgive yourself if you do?â
You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. Theyâre washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors.Â
âNo. I couldnât,â He admits, âBut-â and thereâs always a but, âThe Council would never forgive me if I didnât.â
âThey wonât know.â You insist, but itâs lost on him, âObi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?â Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, âWho is more important⌠me or the Council?â
He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if heâs trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but itâs not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than youâd have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise youâd mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.
When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. Heâs letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether youâll suddenly switch positions; itâs like heâs afraid that youâll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you donât, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.
He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but heâs suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.
âAre you absolutely sure,â He starts, but canât seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, âThat you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-â He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, âI cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed⌠I will not be able to forget what we do. If youâre not interested⌠please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.â
You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesnât reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.
âI just spent five minutes,â You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, âBargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you donât think I want this?â
You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.
âPlease. I need to hear you say it.â He seems almost self-conscious, worried youâre not interested in him the same way heâs interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and youâre more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.
âI want you,â You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, âPlease- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.â
He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.
He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that youâve pledged your devotion to him. Heâs not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.
âNo one is coming,â You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, âNo one- no one can see us.â
âI want you in your quarters.â He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, âI want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.â
âI will let you,â You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, âYou may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,â
âImpatient,â He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he canât find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.
Heâs a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. Heâs a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and heâs not sure heâll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.
Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. Theyâre seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.
You canât help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. Itâs sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like youâve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.
His skin tastes of the sweat thatâs currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. Thereâs no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.
Youâre guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you canât resist mouthing at his covered bulge. Heâs half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue.Â
His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.
âOh, Y/N,â He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.
âDarling, please, I canât- I wonât last for very long. Please, have me properly.â
He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. Itâs of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. Itâs a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, itâs the most disgustingly tantalizing thing youâve ever smelled in your entire life.
Thatâs why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. Heâs painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesnât help. Or it helps too much; either way, heâs close to cumming and you havenât even had a chance to put him in your mouth.
âDarling,â He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, âPlease, I- it all feels too good. I canât take it. I wonât last long.â
âThatâs okay,â You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, âWeâre here for a good time, not a long time.â
âTerrible,â He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. Itâs so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.
His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You donât care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle youâre indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds.Â
His restraint is put to the test. Heâs a member of the Jedi Council, for Forceâs sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that heâs not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as heâd like.
Heâs twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You donât need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that heâs devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.
âIâm going to-â He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, âI canât- I canât help it, Iâm going to cum.â
âCum,â You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw thatâs wired so tightly that youâre sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, âCum, Obi-Wan, please.â
Even if you hadnât asked him so kindly, heâs sure he wouldnât have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.
Evidently, youâre more in tune with his thoughts than heâd expected. Youâd caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isnât sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that youâre breathing in his sweat-marred scent like itâs the purest oxygen youâve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, theyâre his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he canât control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury heâs almost frightened of.Â
Heâs always calm, collected, in control. But now heâs grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you canât back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, heâd be apologizing. But he canât, not when youâre swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. Thereâs obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. Theyâre deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.
A part of your training that hasnât left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wanâs hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. Youâre only slightly ashamed to admit that youâd willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.
Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you canât breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, âOh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?âÂ
At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. Heâs hunching now, even though youâve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though heâs just finished, and heâs more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.
âMy quarters,â Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, âWe can- itâs soundproof, no one will know.â
âYes,â He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes heâd shed while sparring with you, âUm- we can... Anakin still hasnât gotten the air conditioning running.â
âUh-uh,â You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, âHurry, letâs go before-â
âGeneral,â The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than youâd like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, âThe kid needs a multitool.â
You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, âGet him a multitool, then.â
Youâre sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like youâve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wanâs trousers donât look like theyâve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.
âI lost mine, general,â The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before youâd been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times theyâve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.
âI have one in my quarters,â You sigh wearily, âLetâs see to it that we donât misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.â
âYes, General,â He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.
âObi-Wan,â You turn apologetically, âWeâll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. Youâre welcome to follow us, though Iâm not sure itâs any cooler out there than it is in here.â
âIâd like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you donât mind,â Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments heâd shed, âI think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if Iâm liable to trip over my own tunics.â
You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasnât in your mouth only minutes ago.
Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment youâd felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. Thatâs all heâs guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. Itâs not his fault that youâre canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. Itâs a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack thatâs affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.
You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. Itâs phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooperâs shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. Youâre thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.
âHere,â You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, âTake it- uh, keep it, Iâll put in a request for more supplies tonight.â
âThanks, General,â He nods warily at you, and you pity the way heâs taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, âMy apologies again.â
âNo worries,â You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that heâs laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, heâs completely still, completely silent.
âGoodbye.â You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.
âIt seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,â His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, âNow I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.â
âShut up!â You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooineâs twin suns, âDonât tease me-â
âIâm not teasing you!â He insists, voice sounding aghast, like itâs out of the question, like heâs offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.
âYes you are,â You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. Itâs warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss.Â
Typical.
Youâd gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and heâs kissing your forehead.
âDarling,â He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though youâre interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face âYou had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. Iâm not going to make fun of you for having a toy.â
Oh. Perhaps he hadnât forgotten.
âSuch a foul mouth,â You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard.Â
He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish werenât between your skin and his, âYes, well, itâs because Iâve had yours all over me.â
His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You donât know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area heâs chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.
âDarling,â He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, âIf you still want toâŚâ
âI do,â You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, âDo you think we have time?â
âAnakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,â Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isnât committed to fondness or resignation. Youâre sure heâs proud of his padawanâs abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.
âHmm, that might be cutting it close,â You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.
âYouâd occupy yourself with me for hours?â He teases, but when you nod, itâs earnest.
âIâd occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.â
The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.
âHad you said the word,â He elects to speak the truth, even if it isnât even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, âI would have left the Jedi Order.â
Would have.
You know why he wonât now, and youâre not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you donât relate to them.
âBut AnakinâŚâ
âI know,â You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirtâs fabric edge and fastening there, âYou made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldnât ask you to leave.â
âWould you have? When we were younger,â He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.
âMaybeâŚâ You admit, âMaybe if Iâd known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if Iâd known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didnât. So I never asked. And I never will.â
He doesnât react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isnât an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. Youâre no stranger to the feeling, but itâs different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.
âLet us pretend,â Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldnât have perceived it, âFor the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we donât have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.â
Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wanâs eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and youâre tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that heâll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption youâd suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like heâs worried youâve somehow changed your mind.
You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. Itâs a move heâs not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. Heâs nimble even if heâs unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. Youâre more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.
âObi-Wan,â You beg, your voice weary, âWhy are you hesitating?â
âIâm not hesitating,â He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, âIâm admiring you, darling. Iâm not unsure, Iâm more sure than Iâve ever been in my life.â
âProve it,â You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, âPlease, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.â
âI do not feel bad for having you,â He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, âPerhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But Iâm not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.â
âOh, well, thatâs good to know,â You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin thatâs marred by the scruff of his beard. Itâs prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, âIâm glad youâre not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.â
âOh,â Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, âThatâs awful. Really, truly vile.â
You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, âkiss me, you mustâ, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly.Â
His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until heâs lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morningâs worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. Youâre self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.
âIâm sorry,â You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, âI wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesnât prevent sweating.â
âI donât want you to shower,â He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, âSex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.â
Youâre not sure whether itâs his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.
âTake it off,â You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. Theyâre gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.
âDoes it hook or button?â He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesnât have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and youâre barely able to mumble âclaspâ before pressing your lips to his own once more.
âThree,â You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesnât have the garment undone, âThereâs three.â
He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait youâd admired even in your youth. While youâd been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, heâd take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than youâd have gotten if youâd spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.
Youâre pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where youâd tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin heâd worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man heâs become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because youâd grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawanâs wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. Heâd laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. Heâll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.
He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravityâs harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, âYouâre beautiful, darling.â
He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. Theyâd usually pebble in the cold but now theyâre pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.
âBeautiful,â He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva heâd left behind.
His beard rubs against your skin and itâs not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. Heâs licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.
âObi- Obi-Wan,â You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. Youâd ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now youâre able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling.Â
You donât pull hard, but itâs unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wanâs teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than youâd have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures youâve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.
âOff,â You pant, âPlease, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.â
In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that youâd admired earlier.
You have half a mind to do to him what heâs been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. Youâd gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos youâd wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone elseâs schedule before his own has meant that heâs softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.
Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than theyâre used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge heâs accumulated just as much as youâd have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.
âDarling,â He groans, choking on the word like itâs gagged him, âI- I think we ought to- are you ready?â
You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that heâs not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. Youâd been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and youâve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss.Â
âIâm ready,â You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, âIâm ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.â
A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, âI want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.â His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.
He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time itâs a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. Itâs satisfying, knowing that youâve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasnât yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other.Â
The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that heâll have a very hard time forgetting you.
âObi-â You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname heâd loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, heâd protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, itâs not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. Itâs about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesnât kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.
âObi-â You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, âOff. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take âem- off.â
He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesnât provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. Itâs an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as theyâre out of his way heâs reaching for your own underwear.
You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. Itâs curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and thereâs precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but thereâs no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.
âUp,â Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that youâre groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.
âDarling,â He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.
He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, youâre almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all.Â
He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like heâs not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.
âObi-Wan, no!â You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, âYouâll- you said- donât cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!â
âI will cum in you,â He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, âMy darling, Iâll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,â He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, âPlease, Darling, I want you here.â
âHave me,â You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesnât bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, âPlease, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.â
Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesnât breach it, doesnât delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when heâs replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach heâs taken to appreciating every drop you give him.Â
Itâs too meticulous.Â
After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. Youâd let go of the strands when heâd given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where heâd been lapping at your thighs instead.
âHere,â You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until youâre certain heâs unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.
âI need you here, inside, please.â You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, âPlease!â
His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.
âForce,â He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.
It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick youâve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock.Â
His cock, oh, youâd forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.
He licks you out like heâs drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. Heâd moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. Itâs a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface.Â
You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and âOh, please, yesâs, and âObi-Wan- kriff!âs. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that youâre not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscantâs train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.
Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that youâll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after itâs begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though itâs never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but youâre tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.
âObi-!â You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, âObi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.â
He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but theyâre seconds you canât afford to spend on Obi-Wanâs tongue, or the clock wonât ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that heâd missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.
âAlright, darling,â He pants, out of breath from the way heâd spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.
He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.
âIâm here,â He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesnât have long, and he grinds against your hip until youâre ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. Heâs not composed the way that he normally is, but heâs managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you donât act fast, heâs going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldnât be distasteful by any means, but youâd rather him paint your insides with it.
âYou are intoxicating,â Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that canât wean off of his drug, âI donât know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.â
âDonât,â You beg breathlessly, âDonât forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,â You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, âWhen you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-â He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control heâs composing, â-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.â
âI will,â He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, âPlease let me have you. Please,â He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, âPlease darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.â
Youâve never seen him babble before. Not when heâd been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when heâd been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old masterâs funeral, the light from the pyreâs flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.
You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that heâs buried beneath layers of meditation and balance.Â
He comes undone.
His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and youâre sure itâs growing raw, but you couldnât care less. Heâs not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer.Â
Youâre grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that youâre making noise just the same as he is. Itâs softer, quieter, but itâs there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans.Â
All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, heâd squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that heâs after, and he takes great care with the vessel itâs enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and youâre much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.
âObi-Wan,â You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.
âObi- Iâm gonna- ooh, Iâm gonna cum,â You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. Youâre slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.
âPlease- please do,â He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, âForce, I- ah, thereâs nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-â
âKiss me,â You plead, even though heâs never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. Itâs far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.
He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. Itâs no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You donât need perfection, you need him.
You canât help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. Theyâre heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. Heâs rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.
If you hadnât been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, youâd have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. Itâs abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though heâs been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as itâs snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. Itâs mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock thatâs all too happy to continue occupying the space.
He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. Youâre well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone whoâd gone through endurance training since childhood, and youâre not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does.Â
His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isnât nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.
Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. Heâs in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if youâll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wanâs coarse hair against your flesh..
âYou look beautiful, darling,â He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.
His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasnât impossibly more captivating.
His eyes search yours, for what youâre not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.
âDo you regret it?â
You suppose you didnât have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if youâre going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.
He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect itâs because heâs been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.
âNo, I donât.â He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.
âYou needed convincing at first,â You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that youâre not puppettered by lust, âAre you certain it was the right thing to do?â
âNot at all,â He admits, âIn fact, I think it was wrong of me. But Iâve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.â
âWhy wrong?â You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when youâd clean scrapes and cuts heâd acquire while sparring.Â
âI am more attached to you now than ever,â He offers simply, but it doesnât seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety. âAnd Iâm not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I donât know that I could think rationally about you. Thatâs not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.â
You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.
âAll the same,â He continues, âJedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,â He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, âKi Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps Iâm not the most blasphemous Jedi theyâve ever seen.â
A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wanâs face softens into a grin of his own.
âFive,â You correct him, âHe has five wives.â
âForce, heâs a heretic,â Obi-Wan exclaims, but itâs all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.
âIâm happy for his wives,â You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, âBut I prefer your beard over his.â
âOh, but heâs got a better mustache than me,â Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter youâve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, âMaybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.â
Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundiâs, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents youâve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.
âHe did it!â You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that youâre topless, âOh Force, Anakinâs a wizard! He really is, heâs a mechanical wizard, and Iâm going to buy him a speeder for this.â
âDo not,â Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, âThe last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.â
âHe did it,â You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wanâs. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when heâd run himself ragged with doubts.
âThat means weâll be off soon,â Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, âBut I donât think comming each other should be any issue.â
âEvery night?â You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.
âThatâs- ambitious.â He chuckles, but itâs not meant to tease, âEvery night, darling.â
âYou can send me dirty videos,â You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wanâs hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.
âI will not!â He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, âForce, if I pressed the wrong buttonâŚâ
âPerhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,â You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, âHurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!â
Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after youâve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasnât managed to flood the entire compound yet, and youâve been exercising, so itâs excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didnât mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.
âAnakin, youâre fantastic,â You call, rushing through the empty hangar where heâs standing near the ramp of the ship, âYouâve saved us all. Iâm fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if weâd had to melt here for any longer.â
The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, âFor the record, I told your master Iâd get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.â
âY/N,â Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesnât speak further.
Anakinâs eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. Heâs a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadnât just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasnât managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like.Â
âTake care of yourself, and donât let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.â
Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.
âIâd appreciate it if you didnât add to my apprenticeâs willfulness,â He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, âHeâs got enough of that on his own.â
âTake care of yourself,â You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, âI know they donât send you out much, because heâs only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.â
Perhaps if Anakin hadnât been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there werenât five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesnât, all he does is nod,Â
âWe will,â He vows, and you nod, satisfied.
âI mean it,â You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, âComm me.â And you think back to the request youâd made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, âAnd⌠think of me.â
You know heâs recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.
âI will,â He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, âAnd please take care of yourself, too, General.â
Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy youâd shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.
âMaster Kenobi,â You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.
âGeneral Y/L/N,â Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.
He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship theyâd taken, Anakin waiting until heâs passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until theyâve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planetâs heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.
âGeneral,â One of your troopers lingers behind you, âIs everything alright?â
âYes,â You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, âIâd just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. Iâm fatigued; I think Iâll retire to my quarters for some rest.â
âGeneral,â He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in.Â
You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like youâd just escaped the throes of battle.Â
There is a shirt on your bed.
Itâs white, though itâs been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. Itâs rumpled, from a hasty removal. Itâs laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. Itâs impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasnât forgotten.
Itâs Obi-Wanâs.
You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.
Itâs Obi-Wanâs; itâs yours.
The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. Itâs invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.
The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.
You and Obi-Wan.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan kenobi smut#obi-wan kenobi fanfiction#obi-wan kenobi imagine#obi-wan kenobi fluff#obi-wan kenobi oneshot#obi-wan kenobi one-shot#obi-wan kenobi one shot#obi-wan kenobi headcanon#obi-wan kenobi headcanons#obi-wan kenobi hcs#obi-wan kenobi hc#obi-wan kenobi fan fiction#obi-wan kenobi fanfic#obi-wan kenobi blurb#obi-wan kenobi drabble#obi-wan kenobi dialogue#obi-wan kenobi x y/n#obi-wan kenobi x you
931 notes
¡
View notes
Text
ćŁ Â â
ŕŠâĄËłÂˇËâś â TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER
Gojo has something to tell you. Megumi is unfortunately still a member of the male species. Tsumiki just wants to watch the sunset.Â
wc â 1.5k
cw â interlude between tried to live in a softer way and stockholm (coming soon), ćŁ means "wild plums", Megumiâs a good boy but heâs still a boy (gross), part of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together, I lowkey forgot Tsumiki existed when I first started writing Teen Dad! Gojo so now I have to retcon her inÂ
Megumiâs mouth is smeared with purple pulp.Â
âYou better have washed that,â you warn him as you carefully cut Tsumikiâs fruit for her. Your knives drip juice onto the ground, requiring careful attention to make sure the sugar wonât rust them.Â
Some cursed weapons are durable, outlasting generation after generation of the sorcerers that wielded them. Yours are more delicate. Like flowers, they require great care.
Tsumiki takes the slice you hand her with gratitude and pops it into her mouth with a little shiver of happiness. Her fingertips are turning purple to match Megumiâs lips. You pour a little water from your bottle over them, and place another slice into her mouth yourself.Â
âA little dirt is good for him,â Gojo calls from where heâs wedged halfway inside the trunk, fighting for the folding chairs he threw in haphazardly. Now theyâre stuck. You told him they would be, and he hadnât listened.Â
You make an unconvinced noise in the back of your throat, pursing your lips. He canât see you, of course.Â
âGerms are gonna make his immune system stronger. Eat up, Megumi!âÂ
Megumi wrinkles his nose and unhappily swallows his bite. The next time Tsumiki hands him a slice of her (washed) plums, he takes it. Nothing ever works as well on him like Gojo and inadvertent reverse psychology.Â
After another minute of letting Gojo struggle to prove a point, you reach over and tug on a latch. The chair Gojo is struggling with snaps shut so you can effortlessly pull it out of the trunk. Gojo smiles sheepishly.Â
âWhat did we learn from this?â
âWife is always right?â He says cheekily.Â
âCan I help?â Tsumiki pops up underneath your elbow.Â
âItâs okay,â Gojo ruffles her hair. âWe got it.âÂ
He pushes you gently away when you try to take a chair, carrying three singlehandedly to the spot where Megumi and Tsumiki are waiting with the picnic basket. You know he wants you to gush over him, but you donât want to give him the satisfaction.Â
You purposefully turn away to start setting out the food, only for him to saunter over as soon as Tsumiki and Megumi are sitting in their newly placed chairs.Â
âDid you see that?âÂ
âYou are the strongest, Satoru.â This is easy work for him.Â
âOkay, but itâs still cool, right?âÂ
Sometimes you want to ignore him and sometimes you want to give in. Gojo, like Megumi is predictable. He needs the carrot and the stick.Â
âYeah,â you smile. âIt was cool. You know what would be cooler?âÂ
Heâs setting out the dishes before you even have to ask.Â
Youâre not fooled even though Gojoâs acting completely normal. As lighthearted and nonchalant as he is, anyone who didnât know better would think thereâs nothing in the world that could phase him, but you do know better.Â
Heâs not the type to share his issues, especially not when he thinks he can solve them on his own, which is what you think is going on here. Itâs fine.Â
You donât press. Heâll tell you when heâs ready.Â
âSomeoneâs coming,â Megumi announces.Â
Gojo raises an eyebrow. âAnd how do you know that?âÂ
He looks away, eyes shifty.Â
âYou know youâre not supposed to be summoning your dogs in public!â You scold him.Â
Technically, heâs not supposed to know anything about his technique yet. Young sorcerers arenât allowed to use their technique if theyâre not enrolled at Jujutsu High. Of course, itâs different for clans, especially big clans. None of the elders who sit on the council are going to punish one of their own for getting ahead of the game. In fact, theyâre quite willing to turn a blind eye to anything that makes their clan more powerful, even if it means starting their young off early. Too early, in your opinion.Â
Gojo disagrees with this judgement, as he disagrees with everything the elders say. Heâs been training Megumi in secret, slowly getting him used to the Ten Shadows. The dogs, which Megumiâs manifested since he was young, were the first to become tamed. Theyâre the easiest for him to control, so he looses them more often than he should. Regardless of what Gojo thinks, itâs simply not safe. You donât want to give the Zenins any reason to take Megumi and Tsumiki.Â
Megumi calls his shikigami back. They evaporate into shadow just as an old couple hobble up the dirt path.Â
âOy, granny!â Gojo calls, ignoring you as you smack his arm. âYou need a hand?âÂ
âIâm okay,â she calls back. âDonât worry about me! Just taking my daily walk.âÂ
Gojo gives you an aghast look.Â
âWhy are they hiking up here? One of them is going to break a leg,â he hisses.Â
âAre you sure?â You ask them hesitantly.Â
âMy, arenât you sweet! Iâm alright, hon. The fresh air will do these old bones some good.âÂ
Beside her, her husband nods in agreement. He seems like the silent type to her extrovert.Â
âWhatâre you two doing up here?â She says, picking her way over.Â
Tsumiki holds up her plate. âPicnicking!âÂ
âHow cute,â the old woman coos as she pinches her cheek.Â
âAnd you! Why, I could just eat you up,â she tells Megumi, who looks mildly alarmed, not at her words, but at her attention. He squirms in his seat.Â
âYour little brother?â The couple smiles as you stiffen. Itâs not their fault. They have no idea.Â
âMy son,â Gojo says, his own smile turning unpleasant.Â
âOh!â She seems to sense sheâs made a mistake of some sort, taking her husbandâs arm once more. âIâm sorry, you seemed so young. Well, Iâm sure you want to get back to your picnic without these old folk. Be careful not to stay out too late! I hear thereâs a storm brewing.âÂ
Her husband helps her carefully over the grass back on to the dirt path. She turns back to wave, just once.Â
âThat wasnât nice,â you say, watching them leave. âThey didnât know.âÂ
Gojo rolls his eyes. âWhatever.âÂ
âLook!â Tsumiki jostles Megumi, whoâs still focused on his food instead of the sky. âThe sun is setting!â
Gojo picked a good spot. No trees obstruct your view of a sky stretching as far as the eye can see. As someone whoâs lived in the city for so long, itâs almost a miracle to witness.Â
The sky is awash in floral hues. Burnt orange, ashy lavender, and muted links spread throughout the clouds. Youâre smiling, awestruck at the sight, when you hear a click. You turn back just in time to see Gojo shove his phone in his pocket.Â
âDid you just take a picture of me?âÂ
âNope! Why donât you sit tight while I repack everything?âÂ
Even when you try to help, Gojo pushes you back in your chair. His little helpers dash back and forth from the makeshift campsite to the car until everything is safely packed away.Â
When you finally get up and brush your lap off, Gojo offers you his arm.Â
You laugh at him. âCome on, I donât need that.âÂ
He pushes his arm in your direction again, insistent. Heâs being such a baby today, but you canât help spoiling him. You take it as he escorts you to the car and opens the door for you with a flourish.Â
The kids donât want to go home, but Gojo distracts them with promises of McDonaldâs on the long, winding trip down the mountain. Megumiâs at that age where he knew better than to trust the strange white haired sixteen year old who offered to take him in but still gullible enough not to understand there are no McDonaldâs on mountains.Â
He and Tsumiki fall asleep in the back seat as the rain patters rhythmically on the windows. All around you, the earth is lush and verdant. Youâre in Eden before the fall. Itâs hard to stay mad when the forest is putting on such a show for you outside. The earth is blooming, beckoning.Â
Gojo rolls down the sun roof so the warmth of weak sun beams shines into the car. If you look up, the rain beads on the glass like crystals on a backdrop of dove grey storm clouds.Â
Itâs still raining when you get home.Â
Gojo carries Megumi and Tsumiki inside, one in each arm. Itâs a testament to their sleepiness that neither protest. You drop a kiss on each cherubic little cheek as you tuck them into bed, pressing the covers down around them.Â
Gojoâs waiting in the kitchen when you quietly close their bedroom door.Â
âI have something to tell you,â he says almost half-heartedly, looking out the window. âBut you have to promise not to be mad.âÂ
You knew it.Â
Whatever it is, youâre sure you can take it. You and Gojo have been through the worst of everything together, from a bullet in the shoulder to whiney, feverish children. Thereâs nothing you canât handle to keep your little family together.Â
âThe Zenins want to take Megumi away,â he blurts out.Â
Okay, maybe that wasnât what you were expecting, but itâs fine. You can make it work.Â
âTheyâre coming tomorrow.âÂ
Youâre going to kill him.
#sera writes#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojou fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Resort (Part 1)
THIS IS AN URGENT ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL THOSE IN THE [REDACTED] & [REDACTED] AREAS
Hello,
It has come to our attention that an unfortunate accident at one of our chemical treatment plans has occurred on the [REDACTED]st of [REDACTED] 2023, resulting in the contamination of the water supply in the above mentioned areas for a period of approximately 3 hours and 10 minutes.
A statement has been issued to water providers by The Companyâ˘ď¸ and a number of anti-transformative chemicals have been released to counteract the imbalance.
However, the damage has been done and we wish to report on it as such.
As you may know, some of the affected water infiltrated the [REDACTED] Beach Resort where it unwittingly transformed multiple male patrons into what is colloquially referred to as "Cuntboys". IE- Men with a fully functional vagina, uterus, ovaries, etc. Others not as diligently exposed to the chemicals did not experience full "Cuntboy-ification" as it has been deemed.
This transformation is reported to have first occurred with a sudden and dramatic increase in the size of the lower extremities, glutes, lower back muscles and an initial reduction in penis and testicle size.
This reportedly occurred throughout the premises, including the pool's filtration system, the resort's water system (showers, baths, commercial water taps), and available on-tap drinking water.
The following changes consisted of what we are dubbing a "hyper-fertile cycle" where the excess chemical exposure was processed into a mixture of testosterone, dopamine and oxytocin. This resulted in a dramatically increased libido.
Fortunately the spread of the affected was contained within the resort and secondary exposure (either through sexual fluids or otherwise) was rendered ineffectual as the transformative chemicals were able to penetrate the skin barrier in less than 0.2 microseconds). This resulted in numerous impregnations or otherwise sexual encounters in and around the location, of which have been documented.
We encourage all those affected either through direct exposure or through coupling and secondary exposure to report to one of our branches to undergo a full physical exam and analysis.
We also encourage all currently, or presumed to be, pregnant to not terminate the pregnancy as we wish to ascertain valuable research data on the growth of the foetus within this timeframe.
We hope to reveal more information to the public as it becomes known.
Regards,
The Company.
~~~
You smirk as the commercial comes to an end, the broadcaster for the local news station thanking The Company for their transparency regarding the situation and continuing with more news on the recent baby boom caused through the accident.
You couldn't pay attention for long though, not as the hot little cuntboy you picked up from the resort was busy swallowing every inch of your enhanced cock down his throat.
You fisted his hair, shoving him down to push his nose in your pubes, loving how his throat spasmed around your dick and the gurgling sound that came out of his tight throat.
"You hear that baby, they wanna give you a checkup."
A soft whimper comes out as the only response. He looks up at you, tear-filled baby blues staring into yours. He's been working your cock for hours, thoroughly content with kneeling between your spread thighs and swallowing every enhanced load you can give.
"Yeah I know you're pregnant. They just wanna make sure you can give me a while lot more."
A more pleased sound comes out as he resumes his enthusiastic sucking. You're sure that's his fifth load in as many hours.
You sigh as the hot cum shoots up your rock hard dick. You might as well put off that appointment till tomorrow...
Story in collaboration with @maleagetransformation , Part 2 over on his account!
453 notes
¡
View notes
Text
i posted about this before, but let me (as a journalist irl) elaborate what's likely going on with daniel!!
when no one asked dan about his future during press day last week, we all automatically recognized this was probably the result of an embargo (we have quite a few f1 fans in the newsroom). stranger still that christian horner was in the TP conference and didn't speak on it either. we had expected that combo to make a sort of joint announcement.
so what's an embargo/how does it work?
essentially, it's when a source gives you any information ahead of time, but requests you do not publish anything on it until a certain date and time. this can be done for a lot of reasons. embargoes usually request that you refrain from sharing information from a press release or document.
usually embargoes are put in place so essentially you keep to your time table of when the information becomes "public," but news outlets aren't left scrambling because they have already written their story and have it ready to go live as soon as it's acceptable. in the case of f1 this also applies to instagram posts and things like that. that's why you'll often see the posts go live straight away when an announcement is made; everything's pre-confirmed & pre-written, they're just waiting for the green light.
if you violate an embargo in sports journalism, you'll likely have your credentials to, say, get into the press pen revoked. you/your outlet will no longer receive any privileged information. and you'll likely be asked to take it down. not for any legal reason -- you're just burning a bridge and violating trust. so this info COULD be leaked, but under the honor system, it rarely is. (especially bc if you post embargoed info & ruin your org's reputation with the source, you're probably losing your job.)
so what's going on in DR's case?
most likely, all credible sources have either A) been given the information under an embargo, or B) been told the time they can expect an embargoed press release. (i work with law enforcement, so for me this is usually just something like "you can expect the records to be sent out before dinner time friday night but it will be embargoed till 9 a.m. when they're officially public record.")
either way, everyone has probably been warned off asking those questions, but they also likely already know the answer. whatever they received, even if it doesn't reveal all the cards, most likely said daniel would not answer questions prior to the official release time and essentially, don't bother.
what's up with all the rumors?
essentially, when every credible source has their hands tied, there's no one to counter all the randoms. we see it all the time -- people yapping trading theories when we actually know what happened and can't say. unfortunately in f1 some of the randoms have some sort of name recognition -- and for some reason there are like 500 completely not credible news outlets full of untrue shit. so right now, they are the only people 1) free to bang on with theories and 2) who dont either have the info or know when the info is coming available. so that's allowing them to take up all the space.
conclusion: this isn't necessarily good or bad, but explains why we're hearing so many irrelevant people's opinions on this and not hearing anything from VCARB, daniel or his team. it was most likely done to give preferred sources the jump on announcing the news, but also to allow daniel to focus.
i'm assuming the embargo will be lifted monday morning european time, but we may hear a vague denial this weekend as theres probably some building frustration (like daniel saying yeah you'll see me in COTA or whatever).
115 notes
¡
View notes
Text
30 Things I Learned As An Adult
In honor of me turning 30 in January, Iâve decided to write out a list of 30 things I learned as an adult. Now, some of these worked for me through trial and error, while others did not.
1. Self Care Is Important
I cannot stress this enough. We all need to practice self care, to take time for ourselves. It takes baby steps to find a good self-care routine, and thereâs plenty of online resources to find one to your tastes. Remember it is all about trial and error, and donât worry about perfecting it right away. Research some different self care routines online as a starting point.
2. Read Books, Not Fanfiction
Okay, donât get me wrong, I do love reading some good ole fanfiction, and current events. However, definitely pick up a book once in a while. Whether itâs a graphic novel, comics, manga, please develop a reading habit. It definitely helped me out a lot as a former college dropout, there are reading lists on sites like Goodreads, here on Tumblr, even colleges have lists what books students are required to read. And it does help with expanding your knowledge and vocabulary. As Iâve previously said, Iâm a former college dropout whoâs currently back in school, however, developing a healthy reading habit is what kept me grounded. If you need a starting point, I recommend reading a fiction book, preferably in the SciFi/Fantasy genre; or reread a book from your childhood. Also, PLEASE GET A LIBRARY CARD! Youâll definitely be saving a lot of money, and we need to support our public libraries now more than ever.
3. Say âNoâ More Often
If you donât feel comfortable going out, or if your manager calls and asks to cover a shift, just say âno.â Remember, you have the power to set boundaries, especially with family, friends, and work. This correlates to number 1 on my list, self care is super important, and you cannot put your health at risk for anyone. Iâm going to repeat that last part: SELF CARE IS SUPER IMPORTANT, AND YOU CANNOT PUT YOUR HEALTH AT RISK FOR ANYONE!
4. Register To Vote, And Vote In Every Election
With politics being so polarized and divisive in the past decade, and the upcoming 2024 US Presidential Election, please register to vote. And voter suppression has been very rampant in the past two, arguably three, decades. To anyone about to turn 18 here in the US, please register to vote ASAP! And vote in every goddamn election, both national and local. I seriously cannot stress this enough.
5. Eat Healthy, No Seriously
I love some fast food once in a while now, however, please take some time to learn about healthy eating. It will catch up with you in the future, and our US healthcare system is already fucked as all hell. I know the rising costs of everything, including food, is insane right now; but please keep informed about how to prepare good healthy food.
6. Take Breaks From Current Events, Social Media, and the Internet
This also correlates with number one. While it is very important to stay informed with what is happening in the world/country of origin; especially with the US Presidential Election year. Remember, itâs okay to take breaks from reading too much news, and scrolling through social media feeds. It really does have an effect on your mental health, and unfortunately too many people tend to fall down the conspiracy theory rabbit hole on all sides of the political spectrum. To the teenagers and young adults, take breaks and focus on your mental health and well-being. To the adults, read the previous sentence. With everything so polarizing, take care of yourself first. Â
7. High School Friends DO NOT LAST!
My friends from high school and early college years were definitely the âride and dieâ type of friends, metaphorically speaking. If you have that one friend who was/is the âgive the shirt off their backâ type, check in on them once in a while. However, with the former, just move on. The friends I had in high school definitely had a lot of childhood trauma, and in one aspect, Iâm glad that they were honest about it; it was/is a way to heal. However, any âfriendâ who just doesnât want to better themselves and use you for any convenience, DUMP THEM AND CUT OFF ALL CONTACT! Remember just as you set boundaries with your toxic family members, and even for your job, you should do the same with friends.
8. Change Jobs, ASAP!
This is a very important one. I didnât really have a job as a teenager, I wanted to enjoy being a kid for a little longer, however, I did have an occasional babysitting job. At 23 years old, I got a job at a fast food place. While I do appreciate part of the experience, like how to use the âcustomer serviceâ voice, however, any red flags that pop up in your head, change jobs, ASAP! It was toxic, too political (for some weird reason) and a lot of drama (and not from the teenagers). The grocery store I work at now does have its busy times, however, itâs much more calmer, and I donât see too many âKarenâ types.Â
9. Declutter More Often
This is also a definite must as you get older. Whatever you donât need anymore, donate them. Whatever is completely broken, throw it away! Whatever it is that is in good condition, sell it or maybe give it to someone as a birthday/holiday present. Any old makeup, throw it away! Itâll help reduce the amount of clutter and mess. If you need a starting point, I suggest the KonMari method. It really did help me out a lot.
10. Use A Planner
This is a life-and-time saver. Write down any appointments, cleaning days, paydays, bill charges, etc.; into a physical planner. If youâre in college, please use one! And write down any assignments to work on/turn in BEFORE the deadline. Also, anything important, put into your calendar app on your phone and laptop as a reminder.
11. Have A Skin Care Routine
Okay, I know having a skin care routine isnât for everyone, and we all have different reactions to skin care products; however, donât be afraid to experiment with a good skin care routine. In my early teen years, I used Proactiv skin care for my acne, and it helped out a lot. Remember: cleanse, tone, any serum of your choice, and moisturize. This also helps out if you donât feel like jumping into the shower. Also, use sunscreen, seriously.
12. Donât Get Married, Until Youâre Ready
This is coming from someone who is single, lol. If you plan on getting married to your romantic partner, Iâm proud of you! Marriage is about communication, being honest, and doing equal amount of work (finances, household chores, etc.) Save money if youâre planning for a wedding, or go to your local courthouse to get a marriage license if you donât want the big, fancy reception. Â
13. Donât Have Kids, Until Youâre Ready
Again, this is coming from someone who is single and childless, lol. Having kids is a lot of work: physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially. Not everyone is capable of being a parent, and I have read PLENTY of posts on here and other websites about toxic parents/parenting styles. Take time and think about if youâre ready to become a parent.
14. Learn How To Budget Your Money
This is for anyone of any age out there. Please learn how to budget your spending. Look for stuff on sale or clearance, or cut back on certain types of spending. I know most people have no idea where to start, but there is! Thereâs some great websites and YouTube channels on how to budget your money. Another great tool to use are spreadsheets like Microsoft Excel or Google Sheets. I use a Google Sheet template to help track my spending and budget my finances. Also, if you have gift cards from your birthday/holidays/etc; definitely use them, you won't be breaking your bank account :). Also, definitely have some paper cash in your wallet for emergency use.   Â
15. Open A Savings/Emergency Funds Account, ASAP!
This is a huge one to have as an adult, especially during the COVID-19 pandemic. Anything left over from paying the bills, from a side hustle, or from your tax returns, put that into savings. Certain banks will also have the option of creating âfinancial goalsâ in savings accounts; so I highly recommend using that as well. This also correlates with number 14. If youâre interested, open two or three savings accounts, the last one should only be for emergency funds.
16. Get A Physical Hobby, AKA Exercise!
It doesnât matter what type of exercise you do, please do it! And for anyone who is physically disabled, there are modified options provided on YouTube. We do lose certain motor functions as we age, so definitely pick an exercise thatâs right for you, as they say. Even if it's just going outside for a walk for 30 minutes, please do some type of exercise.  Â
17. Learn How To Meal Prep
It doesnât have to be for every meal of every day, pick a meal you want to make and prepare ahead of time. And prepare that meal the day before, so it will be on hand when you leave your house. There are some great videos on YouTube, and some ideas from Pinterest if you need a starting point.
18. If Youâre Able To, Go To The Dentist!
Seriously though, try and go for a checkup/teeth cleaning. Youâre only given one set of teeth after all your baby teeth fall out, and you need to take good care of them. If youâre able to, or live near to one, local colleges have free cleanings through their dental training programs. Â
19. If Your Job Offers a 401K, GET ON IT NOW!
My old job at a fast food restaurant didnât have retirement benefits, but my current grocery store job does. I jumped on it right away, even if itâs not the job I want right now. And itâs a good starting point to have some money saved up for retirement. If you leave the job that has a 401k, you can do what's called a rollover. This will put the money that was set into the first retirement fund into another one; you can do this with your bank or if your new job has a 401k.
20. If You Donât Have Health Insurance, Sign Up With The State, or Through Your Job.
In my experience, I have insurance through the state at the moment. If your job offers health insurance as well, jump on it right away, even if itâs not the job you want, itâll be a starting point that correlates with number 19.
21. Itâs Okay To Not Go To College
This is coming from someone who was a college dropout at 19, and currently back in school. If you donât feel ready to go to college, thatâs okay too. College is very expensive, especially here in the US, and not everyone can get a scholarship, even if they did apply for a lot of them. Maybe get a part-time job or two (for some income), explore some hobbies you enjoy, and take some time to think about some goals.  Â
22. If Youâre In College, Itâs Okay To Stay At Home
Again, coming from a former college dropout, I stayed at home while attending a nearby community college in another state. However, out-of-state tuition and housing is also very expensive. If you have a good relationship with your parents, and if youâre going to school in-state, talk to them about staying home while going to school. If you donât, then talk to a trusted friend or family member about getting an apartment together that isnât on-site housing while youâre attending school.
23. Watch Non-English Language Movies
If youâre a movie lover like me, take some time to watch some foreign language films once in a while; and I know we anime fans do, lol. To be honest, it does get very boring watching English language films all the time, whether from the States, England, or Canada. Watching foreign language movies will definitely help you to understand the world a lot better, if you donât have the means for traveling yet; and they will help you to understand that no matter where we live, we all have similar issues, hopes, dreams, etc. If you need a starting point, I recommend any of the Studio Ghibli movies, I would start with Kikiâs Delivery Service; or Guillermo del Toroâs Panâs Labyrinth. Â
24. SET BOUNDARIES
Remember: toxic family members and friends are not worth it. You are worthy and valid for love and respect. This correlates to number 7. This is also very useful in the workplace. Â
25. Express Yourself Through Fashion
Like everyone else, I feel most comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt myself; however sometimes I like to dress up just for fun, or to build up my self esteem and image. This also helps when learning to pair an accessory with an outfit. Play around with different color palettes and clothing styles, and find the one you feel the most âyou.â For example, Iâve always looked my best in jewel tones and a cooler color palette. Read some fashion articles or watch some YouTube videos about how to pick out an outfit.
26. It Is Not Selfish To Prioritize Yourself
This correlates with number 3. I have noticed itâs mostly a Western/American/Christian culture norm, weâre always told to take care of others before taking care of ourselves; or weâre selfish for prioritizing ourselves over others. It is not selfish, it is part of self care. Again, this is tied in with number 24.
27.  Failing and Making Mistakes Is Part of Growing
There is so much societal pressure on trying to be successful in life and work, especially in the Western/American hemisphere. However, making mistakes and failing at something is part of growing, and learning as an individual.
28. It's Okay to Not Have a Label to Define Yourself
Hear me out. I understand the use of labels in society and culture in general; everyone wants to belong somewhere and feel accepted. However, it is okay to not have a label to define who you are, and who you want/choose to be. Take all the time you need to figure out what's best for you. And sometimes people don't realize a label will fit them until they are much older in life. Or they couldn't at the time.
29. Don't Compare, You'll Get There
We are human, and we all have the tendency to compare ourselves to others. Unfortunately, this doesn't end after high school and college. And that needs to seriously change, especially in the Western/American hemisphere. Simply writing down "don't compare, you'll get there" is a great reminder to have for yourself. Everyone learns and grows at their own pace.
30. It Really Is The Little Things That Keep Us Going
When life seems to get too hard, it really is the little things that keep us going. Whether it is something as simple as someone holding a door open for you, or someone complimenting* you on your outfit or your work ethic; those moments are the ones that matter the most. Remember those moments, hold on to them.
#january#january 27th#birthday#aquarius#self care#self worth#self improvement#mental health#reading#books#food#vote#physical health#personal finance#adulting#college#community college#university#movies#college life#study motivation#30th birthday#you are valid#you are worthy#lgbtqia
288 notes
¡
View notes
Note
You briefly said something in a Vox post about how he gets turned on by his partner being affectionate easily, and it's sometimes not always in private.
Can you do a post that's about having public sex with him when that happens. I am just interested in the idea of public sex/'taking care of that when it happens and how that would work with his image problem. đđ
[Entry #12] 'Really? Here?' : Vox x reader smut
(Drabble)
A/N I actually had a brief concept for something like this already planned as I saw that hc I had and was eyeing it off too haha
He'd never have genuine public sex, that would not make him look good and it's too risky, so this is semi-public.
Listen man, I so rarely write stuff where Vox is actually domtop because I strongly believe that dude can only bottom properly but like I'm writing this and i'm kinda đ¤đł
Cw: NSFW/18+ ONLY, gn!reader, semi-public sex, blowjob, rare instance of me writing Vox getting his way
- It had been a long damn couple of days for Vox, to say the least.
- Something had happened to the electronics system in hell after a storm, and he had been working horrendous hours for 3 days straight trying to get everything in order.
- So yeah, when he saw you for the first time in 3 days after just messaging and calling you? Needless to say, he acted up a bit.
- On the day he finally got everything done, he unfortunately had an overlord gala to attend that he couldn't turn down for public image sake.
- Not necessarily due to him needing to attend, but because if he didn't keep Valentino and Velvette in check, their reputation would be utter shit by the morning at such a prestigious event, most likely. Ironic
- And you were of course going with him to it to make sure he didn't lose his shit after not sleeping at all and just staying connected to power and a shit ton of energy drinks (He would never admit that, so he just says something about being able to bring a plus one. You, of course, catch on over the phone but don't mention it.)
- All was well initially. You two met up out front of the giant and overly ornate venue, relieved to finally see each other. (Even with the amount of paparazzi and the heavy atmosphere to perform properly in such high status company)
- You spent the night trying to keep up appearance. Keep a very argumentative Velvette in line from trying to start drama with Carmilla and herding a very drunk, barely upright Valentino out of the building so he'd stop hitting on the servers.
- It truly was a breath of relief when they both left and you two could finally actually semi enjoy the party despite the high power individuals surrounding you two with their own plus ones or family.
- It was during this time enjoying the party that you two made the mistake of actually dancing.
- You laughed quietly as Vox gripped your hand in his claw and spun you with a flourish before dipping you.
- Your heart thudded in your ears as you watched him crack his first real smile of the night seeing you react, and as he pulled you back up to rest on your feet at arms length, you pulled him close and wrapped your hands around his shoulders - practically embracing him as you gently swayed together to the orchestra playing in the background.
- You could see Vox hesitate to let you be close to him like this around the other overlords, fearing for how it made him look to be cuddled by his lover while here.
- But, despite himself, he accepted. Whether it was the drinks he'd had or the time you had spent apart, he wanted to be near you in any way, even in the public eye.
- Vox sighed, relaxing into your touch and returning the embrace, placing his hand on your lower back and pressing you against him as he leaned down to kiss you.
- You smiled against him as lips formed in place of his screen, meeting yours chastely with a slight zap as per the company.
- As much as he wanted to, it's not like he could start making out with you then and there.
- You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, a slight grin on your lips.
- "Try not to look too desperate to leave so we can be alone." You teased him.
- Vox flushed, lips curling slightly as he fought the urge to grin at you, opting to look angry at the teasing rather than showing the fact he actually liked it.
- It didn't matter. You already knew he did
- "I believe that's called projecting, doll." He spoke lowly.
- You snickered, moving your hand to gently pinch the side of his screen. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was awaiting that as well," you smirked up at him. "It's been 3 days after all." You laughed as you watched his blush brighten, screen flickering a couple of times with quiet zaps.
- Vox breathed deeply, shutting his eyes as he furrowed his brow. "Not in public, (name)." He growled half heartedly.
- You simply hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his screen again. Making the mistake of gently brushing your fingers over the back of his head as you gently moved your lips against his own, a strange metallic taste entering your mouth as your lips glided across each other's.
- Vox, being tired and wanting nothing more than to be touched, didn't really have the self-awareness to take a step back.
- He groaned lowly as your pointer gently grazed his ports, the gesture sending a strong stab of arousal through him alongside pooling warmth he hadn't been exactly tapped into being right up against you.
- The hand on your lower back pulled you closer against him unconsciously, pleasurable friction only worsening as he spaced out from his actions and growing arousal.
- You pulled away from the kiss, looking at him in disbelief as you could feel something hard poking against your stomach.
- Vox seemed to snap back into reality as you pulled away, looking horrified down at you as he realised the exact... 'position' you two were in. Mainly him.
- "Are you-" Vox cut you off with a shushing noise, stiffening in your embrace (in another way)
- You fight to stop from laughing loudly, but you can't stop the breathy puffs of air and quivering that you do. You watch his embarassed expression worsen as he frowns, eye automatically trying to hypnotise you as he hissed out a: "shut up."
- Which, of course, didn't work with the blue light contacts you had begun wearing a few months into your relationship.
- You felt yourself pinned closer against Vox, who seemed to be desperately trying to both compose himself and also to hide his arousal - using you. You took a deep breath, trying to stop laughing as you just knew he'd be extra pissy if you didn't take the reigns to try gtfo as fast as you could before someone noticed anything was up.
- You looked to the side. There was a doorway leading to a darkened room a few metres away that seemed abandoned.
- You tugged his quivering hand off of your lower back and pulled the coat you wore off, pushing it into his hands. "Here, hold this, darling?" You asked, gesturing to the empty door which stood open.
- The door to the next venue room shut behind you two, locked by you, and Vox immediately began cursing under his breath, pressing his glitching face into his clawed hands next to you.
- That was before he looked up at you, glaring. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch the fucking ports?!" He whisper-yelled.
- You scoffed. "I know the dude who just got a boner in the middle of a room full of overlords after dancing with me like some sort of hormonal teenager is not saying shit right now." You said, looking back at the door with slight concern.
- Vox glitched on what was assuredly a string of expletives directed at you, throwing down your coat on a nearby table and then sitting down next to it as he gripped his head trying to control himself.
- You were right, and it pissed him off. He really was overly pent up. As he calmed down slowly, he looked up again and saw you patiently waiting for him to calm down so he could properly speak again.
- "So what are you gonna do? Whack off in here?" You joked as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
- He went to bite back at you, but then shut up for a few seconds, clearly thinking about something.
- You raised an eyebrow at him, silently looking you up and down, then watched as a grin spread across his face.
- "Get on your knees."
- Your blinked dumbly as you let out a disbelieving laugh. Ain't no way-
- "Your mouth is awfully big tonight. Maybe you should put it to use if you want to run it so much." He said - more demanded - with a raised brow.
- This motherfu- "Really?" You asked, strain clear in your voice. It was clear you weren't on board and were very much irritated that he was demanding you come suck him off right after he went ahead and blamed you for what was arguably definitely his bad.
- Vox's brow twitched, but despite his annoyance, he sucked it up and dug his claws into the table. "Please." He spat it out like it was disgusting to him.
- You slowly sighed as you watched him cringe, looking to the side as he bounced his leg in clear desperation.
- "Okay. But don't be loud." You wandered over to him, getting on your knees and placing your hands on either one of his thighs to position yourself comfortably. You heard him let out a breathless laugh above you, and looked up.
- His face was flushed and a bead of 'sweat' ran down his face with clear nervousness. "This is a terrible idea." He mumbled, lips twitching into an unsure smile.
- You raised you brow at him with a deadpan look, stopping in place.
- "Don't stop." He said. His heart was absolutely pounding with a mixture of fear, adrenaline and excitement, a dangerous mixture of emotions to feel while there was a party of some of the most high ranking people in Pentagram city in the next room.
- The music distantly echoed through the darkened, empty room. Pretty thick walls, but he wouldn't be taking any chances (or so he told himself).
- You hummed softly, knees already aching on the hard tile floor as you reached for the very obvious dent under Vox's belt, savouring the sharp inhale of breath he gave as you undid his pants.
- Pushing your hair back from your face, you deeply inhaled and then wrapped your lips around the twitching dick being arched into your face by a demon all too greedy for you to pleasure him.
- Really, it felt kind of laughable.
- This guy who constantly talked so much shit about being perfect in public - never displaying PDA, never behaving in a way that would bring shame upon yourself but particularly him - shoving his hard on into your mouth with utter desperation in the room next to an extremely prestigious event after getting a boner in public because you were dancing slightly intimately.
- Your cheeks flushed as he let out a loud groan. His head leaned back: prompting you to hit his clothed thigh to say 'shut the hell up'.
- It didn't take long before Vox was letting out stifled but still loud moans - completely ignoring your attempts to quiet him down, a clawed hand digging into your scalp to guide your mouth further onto him.
- You startled and let out a gargling whine as the toe of Vox's shoe began rubbing your clothed sex. You squinted slightly, brow furrowed as your eyes looked up at him to see his smirking face.
- "Yeah, eyes up here." He purred lowly with a chuckle, relishing the vibrations your voice made on his dick as he more firmly ground his foot against you.
- You looked back down as you began bobbing your head faster as the demon began rutting his hips excitedly into your mouth, you trying and failing to keep up with his messy pace.
- He was too far gone to give a shit as slurred praise slipped from his mouth rapidly.
- "Fucking hell you're so good. You're just perfect like this, doll." He panted.
- A fluttering warmth rocked through you at his words in combination with you grinding your hips against his shoe. It was so embarrassing and stress inducing to be in this position here, but Christ, you were turned on as well.
- You spluttered as his hips began pressing his dick too far in your mouth, the feeling of you choking seemingly only motivating him to go harder as his claw gripped your hair harder.
- This sadistic fucker. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears beading at the corner of your eyes as you were pushed down hard on his dick, hips snapping against your face. Vox let out a loud, animalistic growl, coming so deep inside your throat you didn't even taste it as you instinctively swallowed.
- The claw in your hair slowly let go as Vox panted, satisfied now, relaxing back into his seat.
- You pulled your mouth off of him with a loud pop, gasping in a deep breath of air as you could finally breathe properly.
- You stood up, looking down at him with a rather unhappy look on your face, particularly at the treatment there at the end.
- You'd be lying if this situation wasn't hot as fuck to you too, but that was beside the point-
- "Fuck." Vox huffed as he came down from his high, his hand sliding down his face, looking up at you calmly as he saw your irritated expression atop flustered cheeks.
- "Can we please go home now." You asked, fidgeting slightly. You hadn't exactly gotten your fill.
- "You want me that bad, huh?" He grinned slyly.
- Your eye twitched. "No, because we evacuated abruptly into this room and locked it, and you were moaning out like there wasn't a room full of people on the other side of the door while I blew you." You inwardly smiled as you watched his expression fall to embarrassment again as it dawned on him that he hadn't been much controlling his voice.
- You turned away, looking back at him over your shoulder. "And yes, because I want you. Let's just get the hell out of here. I want to be alone with you properly." You said.
- He laughed at that, but inwardly cursed himself. Did he really lack self-control that badly? Christ.
Masterlist
#hazbin hotel#vox#vox headcanons#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#vox smut#vox x reader smut#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut
392 notes
¡
View notes