#There is absolutely nothing going on between us
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What about bf!harry gets hard in public and hes basically using you as a human shield and pulling you into his lap while subtly grinding into you🫣
This is a very fratrry thing to do once they get together tbh
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Warnings- exhibitionism, don’t do stuff like this in public plz, filthy talk
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“You don’t know what this fuckin’ dress does to me.” With lips mouthing at her neck, she had to take a deep breath as his handsy palms ran over her stomach and tugged her closer to him. The conversations continued around them but as usual, he only had eyes for her. The obsession becoming unglued as his breath left chills on her skin.
“I think I have some idea. It’s against my ass.” She muttered lowly, taking a sip of some sort of lemon drop concoction which- ugh. Whoever was bartending at this party really shouldn’t give up their day job. “You’re like a feral dog sometimes. Just running around grinding your dick into me.” Her voice was kept down but it was hard not to push back into the slow rocking. The guise was he was moving with the music, but those jeans did nothing to shield her from the feeling of the thick length against her ass.
“So try n’tame me then.” He would really like that. The man had been nearly begging her to go to his room but she’d promised her friends she wouldn’t disappear too quickly. Harry was demanding of her time since they’d gotten together, clingy and slightly annoying but she liked to make him work for it a little bit. For a man who had been slutting it around with whoever he wanted- his words, not hers though it did seem like something she’d said- it felt really nice to know she he liked her that much.
“You’d like it too much.” She sighed, tightening her grip on the red solo cup as teeth nipped over her throat. He was borderline obnoxious with the PDA, but Harry really had no sense of shame when it came to that. Her fingers made the cup crinkle, a betrayal from a longtime friend as it exposed just how much it actually got to her. “Can you behave? For one night?”
“Mmmm… nope.” He sighed against her skin. “M’gonna be annoying and hope you stop caring what other people want so you can come upstairs like you really want to do.” Thankfully he kept his voice down as his hand rubbed over her tummy, exhaling a sigh. “I can’t wait until I get you alone and I get t’bury myself in that tight little cunt. Nice n’snug for me, and I’ll make sure you can feel it in this cute belly.”
Harry knew he had a hold on her that she didn’t let a lot of people see, feeling her neck heat up against his lips as she said his voice in a low warning that she mean absolutely none of. “Harry. Stop it. People are around.”
“And that does nothing but get you to soak those panties. Is it the nasty little thong today? The one you left for me t’wrap around my dick when you went home for the weekend?” He hummed. “Got them nice and sticky. T’be honest, if you’d let me I’d take you over into the corner, nudge your dress up and fuck you just like this.” He kept his hands where they were but his cock rubbed over her ass, giving him some friction. She could feel it throb against her, the lump in her throat thick as he continued to talk. His filthy mouth never did know where or when to quit.
“If you’d let me I’d have you walkin’ upstairs with my load down your thighs. Or your cum all over my fingers. I’d give you anything you’d let me have, honestly. And if you think I can’t tell you’re clenching those incredible thighs together, that I don’t know you’re slick between them and probably makin’ a fucking sloppy messy on your skin, you should think again. I know how much you love when I touch you. Like to growl at me like a little kitten but your body can’t hide from me.”
Y/N couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to. Clenching her jaw she fought the flush working its way over her chest, heat flooding her body as he finally moved a hand from her stomach to turn her face so he could catch her lips.
The lack of shyness from the man had him kissing her deep, unashamed of the wolf whistles and groans from his friends as he kissed her like he owned her mouth. She was reminded of it as his tongue brushed against hers and his thick fingers held her chin in place so he could kiss her how he wanted. He did- god, he really fucking did.
“Get a room!”
Harry broke the kiss with a wicked grin. “Don’t mind if we do.”
#jarofstyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#harry writing#frat harry styles#frat boy harry#teenage dirtbag
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Older!DinerOwner!Eddie x Fem!Reader
This is for my 1.6k celebration based on the prompt “make me” requested by @gri959 ❣️
Summary: You’ve been fucking your boss for almost a year now and he still won’t make it official, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Wk: 1.5k
Warnings: Age gap(Eddie is early 40s reader is mid 20s), jealous/possessive Eddie, spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, breeding kink. 18+MNDI!!
You were driving Eddie absolutely insane, and you knew it too. It was like somehow your little work dress seemed even tighter tonight and the way you were walking around swinging your hips, leaning down on your hands in front of customers faces, giving them a nice little peek at your perfect tits.
It didn’t help that you were being extra flirty with the new line cook, Alex. He was your age and he honestly kind of reminded Eddie of himself when he was younger. Why would you want him when you could have the newer model? But despite his insecurity that was rearing its ugly head, Eddie knew he had you wrapped around his thick ringed finger and that you were just doing this to rile him up.
“When you’re done with this table, come talk to me.” Eddie brushes past you while you’re taking an order, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You make eye contact with him just long enough for him to see you roll your eyes as he’s walking off.
“What’s up?” You walk over to where Eddie is standing behind the counter near the register and look up at him all innocently, which you are far from.
“What’s up? You know exactly what’s up, I know what you’re doing, quit it out.” Eddie looks down at you through slanted eyes, his tone a gruff whisper.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about? I’m just doing my job.” You raise an eyebrow at him and set your lips into a mock pout.
“Drop the innocent act. You’re trying to make me jealous, just admit it.” He smirks at you and leans down further than is probably appropriate for a boss and employee, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck, it’s his diner, he can do whatever he wants.
“Why would I be trying to make you jealous? There’s nothing going on between us, right?” You turn your head slightly, lowering your voice even more to make absolutely sure only he would hear. “It’s just physical, right? So why would you be jealous?”
“You know what?” Eddie’s jaw ticks as he exhales through his nose. “I want to talk to you in my office after we close.”
“Yeah? About what? I have plans.”
“And I don’t care. I’m your boss and I need to speak to you about something regarding your job. Now get back to work.” He walks off, not giving you time to argue further.
“Okay, what’s the deal?” You walk into Eddie’s office, pushing the door closed behind you and stand in front of his desk with your arms crossed.
“Are you serious?” Eddie scoffs, abandoning the document he was signing on his desk in favor of glaring up at you.
“Umm yeah? You told me to meet you here and you didn’t say why so I’m asking what you wanted? Pretty normal if you ask me.” You shrug and Eddie swears he can make out the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips.
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t play games you know you’ll lose.” Eddie chuckles, pushing up from his chair to come around and lean against the desk in front of you. “You really thought you were being sneaky? Prancing around here like that, bending over right where I can see, flirting with my employees, did you get a new bra? I’m not blind, baby.”
“Like I said before, there’s nothing going on between us… so… why would you be jealous?” You fully smirk at him now and god he wants to wipe it off your pretty little face.
“Just admit it, you were trying to make me jealous.” Eddie returns your smirk with one of his own as he leans back on his hands and crosses his legs. He’s so hot in those black Dickies work pants and his non-slip converse. He has on his restaurant manager shirt that accentuates his toned chest and shows off his thick tattooed arms. His hair is in that low bun that you love to rip out when he goes down on you and his facial hair is just a little longer than usual. Fuck.
“Why don’t you just admit that you were jealous then?” You give him a pointed look and he exhales through his nose because he’s about at his limit with your attitude.
“You know what? Bend over the desk.” He steps to the side, patting his hand against the wood.
“Why don’t you make me?” You roll your eyes, a dry chuckle escaping your lips, and that’s his final straw. He closes the distance between you and laces his fingers through your hair, pulling your face so it’s inches from his as his glowers down at you with his honey eyed stare.
“I said bend over the fucking desk.” He says your name through gritted teeth as his grip on your hair tightens, causing you to whimper, your bratty facade already breaking. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Fuck, okay.” He releases your hair and you whine as you walk on already semi shaky legs over to his desk, laying your top half across it, causing your dress to ride up and show off a sliver of your panties. “If you weren’t jealous you wouldn’t be all worked up like this so maybe you should just -“ your sentence is cut short when a harsh smack lands on your ass, making you yelp.
“Drop the attitude, doll.” Eddie’s hand pushes your dress up to reveal your plush asscheeks and tiny lacy underwear that barely cover anything. He pushes himself against you, his already hard cock brushing up against your barely covered pussy. His hands grip onto the globes of your ass, kneading it and shaking it in his palms. “I don’t know why you’re walking around here trying to act like this ass doesn’t belong to me, you know it does.”
“Maybe you should just get over yourself and make me your girlfriend then.” Your snarky tone earns you another spank, rougher than the last.
“What did I say about the attitude?” Both of his hands come down on your ass, his rings stinging against your skin causing you to moan. He does it again. And again. Until he starts to see faint welts from his rings and the marks of his handprints.
“This ass is mine.” One of his hands travels down to cup your pussy, thrusting the heel of his palm against your clit. “This pussy is fucking mine. Say it.”
“Admit you were jealous then.” Your voice comes out way whinier than you’d hoped, it practically sounds like you’re begging him as you subconsciously grind down against his hand. “Say you’re mine too.”
“You want me to be yours, baby, huh?” He pushes your panties to the side and runs his fingers through the slick lips of your pussy before bringing the tips of his fingers to your clit, circling it. “Tell me who owns this pussy then. Tell me and I’ll give you this dick.”
“It’s yours, Eddie, it’s all yours, m’yours.” You sound cock drunk already and he’s barely even touched you but you don’t even care. You want him so bad. You’re putty in his hands and he knows it.
“Yeah, that’s right baby girl, I fucking own you.” You hear the clanking of his belt before you feel the tip of his cock running through your folds, he collects your wetness, using his hand to jerk it along his shaft. He pushes his tip in, pulling it back out a few times before slamming into you. He starts fucking into you at a brutal pace, the desk sliding against the floor, your hips slapping together.
“Fuck, fuck yes, feels so good.” He’s so deep from this angle, practically bullying your sweet spot as your hips dig into the wood of the desk.
“Yeah, that’s right, take this fucking dick baby. This is my pussy, you’re so fucking tight, damn.” One of Eddie’s thick inked arms laces around your shoulders, pulling you up so your back is flush against his hard chest while his other finds your clit, his thumb rubbing quick circles against it.
“Oh god - fuck, fuck Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” You’re practically drooling as he plows into you from behind, he shoves his hand down your dress and into your bra, expertly finding your nipple and tweaking it between his fingers. “Shit, I’m cumming, tell me you’re mine Eddie, please, need to hear it.”
“I’m yours baby, this dick is fucking yours, pussy feels so fucking good squeezing me like that.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses there. “Gonna fill this pussy up, paint those pretty little walls, maybe I’ll knock you up, then everybody will really know who I belong to.”
“Yes, fucking fill me, fuck a baby into me, want it so bad.” Eddie groans, his hips still against yours as his cock twitches, ropes of his cum spilling inside you.
“Fuck, baby doll, fuck.” Eddie breathes heavily as he pulls out of you, grabbing onto your hips to flip you around. He reaches down between your legs, gathering the cum that dripped out so he can push it back inside of you. “Wouldn’t want any to go to waste, would we?”
Divider is by @strangergraphics & older!Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#older!eddie munson#older!eddie#older!eddie x reader#older!eddie smut#Dolly writes
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i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.
it's been so long since did a funny lil piece like this
TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?
gn reader
Bakugou Katsuki
Demonic spirit
He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.
He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep.
He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.
Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.
You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.
You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.
Midoriya Izuku - Deku
Hybrid between fae and troll
He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating.
Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.
Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over.
He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.
Shoto Todoroki
Vampire
It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.
Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.
You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.
He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.
He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.
Touya Todoroki - Dabi
Hyrbid between incubi and vampire
He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more.
Until you.
You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.
His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.
He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.
Shigaraki Tomura
Ghost
You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.
It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.
You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.
Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.
Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.
Keigo Takami - Hawks
Guardian Angel
Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.
You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.
He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.
And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.
He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.
Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.
#yandere#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere my hero academia#yandere bnha#yandere bakugo#yandere bakugou#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere katsuki#yandere katsuki bakugou#yandere dabi#yandere touya#yandere todoroki#yandere tomura#yandere midoriya#yandere izuku#yandere keigo#yandere hawks#yandere headcanons#yandere hitoshi#yandere hitoshi shinso#yandere shinsou#yandere shoto#yandere shigaraki#yandere shinso hitoshi#yandere shouto#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere tomura shigaraki
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"Any plans for your days off, Buck?"
Buck knows his grin is a little feral, but he's kind of hoping that'll throw them off the trail. It's barely been a year, and in that time they've had three natural disasters, one copter crash, a boss intent on making Buck's life a living hell, and two almost break-ups.
It's too soon, to know for sure, except Athena and Bobby had known, and Hen and Karen had known even if they were too scared to admit it at first, and Chim and Maddie may have taken a little longer to get there but they'd known.
And Buck knows. He knows he's never felt like this about anyone before. Knows no one has ever had the ability to infuriate him and calm his fears quite like Tommy Kinard can. Knows they could have done this like they joked about six months ago and they wouldn't have regretted it.
Hen is making a face like she's trying to decide if she wants to know whatever head-tilt-cheek-bite sexual innuendo Buck's got in the barrel, because she only appreciates that about half of the time and Buck's praying she decides on no because he's a terrible fucking liar and he doesn't like keeping things from people. But it's sort of a secret, for the next 48 hours, and Buck also wants to bask in it, wants to enjoy keeping it to himself for just a little while.
"Our Buckaroo is all grown up and refusing to over share about his sex life, praise be," Chim chips in, and Buck tucks his chin to his chest and hopes his pink cheeks read as embarrassed.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and around him lockers slam and voices drift over him. He's only got eyes for the text that just came through.
Bird's ready, suits are pressed, room is paid up. You wanna go to Adele, after? I think I know one of her people.
You know everyone, stop bragging, I'm already impressed
I'm always gonna try to impress you. You still at the station?
Yeah but not for long. I'll see you in like forty
"--right Buck?"
Buck blinks, hums, stares across at Chim.
"Please tell me you're not sexting at work right now."
"Technically, we are off the clock."
"I'll remind Clipboard Buck of that next time he shows up."
He's zipping up his bag when his phone buzzes again.
See you soon, baby.
He's pretty sure he's gonna get away with it - Hen and Chim are arguing about some reality show as they all trudge toward the open bay doors, and though he can hear their voices further back, Eddie and Bobby still seem to be deep in conversation.
Ravi comes out of left field, because of course he does, just finished inventory still clutched in his hand as he rounds the engine closest to Buck. "Hey, Buck, you and Tommy wanna catch that movie tomorrow night? I picked up a shift but I've got like twelve off in between."
Buck winces. Damn, so close. "Sorry, bud, we actually won't be in town."
Which he's realizing now is pretty uncharacteristic of the both of them, and Hen and Chim have clocked it, so he's gonna have to make a run for it, but he catches sight of raised brows and questioning expressions and he can't give them nothing.
"Tommy's taking me to Vegas, we might see Adele, okay bye!"
They absolutely let him make a break for it, let him scramble into the Jeep, let him send them all a quick wave before he peels out of his parking spot, and Buck spends the drive to Harbor viscously ignoring the steady buzzing from his phone.
---
Tommy snags the backpack from his shoulder before he's fully out the door, and tugs a belt loop to pull him close. Buck is pretty sure he'll never get over how much he likes being manhandled, just a bit.
"You wanna tell me why Chim and Hen both wished us a good flight?"
"Ravi ambushed me on my way out the door. Technically, they don't know anything about anything, except maybe Adele."
Tommy's fond smile makes Buck feel all warm and tingly inside, and he basks in the glow as Tommy nudges a knee between the open bow of Buck's legs.
Tommy's expression morphs, a bit, lips dropping as he tilts his head. "You having second thoughts? We don't have to-."
"No. No second thoughts."
"Evan, I know how close you are to your family. If you want to wait, make this something you can share with them, we can hold off."
He's so goddamn charmed by this man - by how he cares, by how well he knows Buck, by a million and one tiny things that Buck gleefully hoards his knowledge of like a dragon over his caverns of treasure.
"I kinda don't want to share you, for this." It's the first time since Tommy's brought it back up that Buck's been able to express exactly why the prospect makes him so giddy, but there it is. Possessive jealous Buck rears his ugly head again, only Tommy has always been a little charmed by that. At least when Buck expressed it in a healthy way.
"The moment they know, it's gonna be a spectacle," Tommy agrees, fingers curling over Buck's side.
"Exactly. So. Take me to Vegas and wife me up before one of them shows up trying to tag along."
He expects the dramatic eye roll, and Tommy's fingers digging into his sides. He doesn't expect the ear-ringing whistle echoing through the bay door to their left, or the smirk on Lucy Donato's face when she lets her looped thumb and pointer finger drop from her lips.
"We should definitely go before any of them remembers to hit her up for more details."
"Why would she -."
"Yeah she caught a look at the manifest and snooped until she found the rings."
"So you're actually worse at keeping a secret than I am."
"They're all gonna know before we land back home."
"Hen's gonna break like thirty bylaws trying to decorate a county owned chopper."
"Evan, seriously, we can still -."
Buck only knows one sure-fire way of stopping Tommy from spiraling too much - he uses the little bit of leverage he has plastered to the open door of his Jeep to catch Tommy's lips, and the resulting pleased hum shivers down his spine. Evan takes a moment to be pleased that Tommy hadn't shaved this morning like he'd threatened, and then he's tilting his head for a better angle and losing himself in it long enough that a few more wolf-whistles make their way across the tarmac -- Wendell and York, most likely, but when Buck finally breaks the kiss to dart a look over Tommy's shoulder, everyone has made themselves scarce.
"You gonna marry me or not, Kinard?"
It's a rare thing, but sometimes, when Buck makes him a little extra wild, Tommy does this growling thing that Buck always feels down to his toes. Tommy kisses him breathless again when Buck responds to this growl with a satisfied smirk.
---
"How much you wanna bet Hen convinces you to do a vow renewal within six months."
Buck's busy nipping at a spot of flesh just above Tommy's transverse abdominis, so it takes a second for his brain to catch up with the words.
"It's gonna be Maddie, and she's gonna rope you into it before you realize what's happening."
Tommy hums, pleased, not denying it, and runs a hand through Buck's hair, palm curling over his crown. It takes Buck a moment to figure out why it doesn't feel quite as familiar as it always does, and then he's reaching for it with a hand of his own, the tips of two fingers sliding along the smooth metal surface of Tommy's ring.
The smile he shoots up from the general area of Tommy's groin is all puppy-dog grin, and he basks in the soft, warm grin Tommy sends back. Buck tracks the crinkle of Tommy's eyes like a lifeline.
"I'm gonna lord it over everyone's head that we didn't get married because of, during, or after a health scare or a natural disaster."
"You asked me two days after we made up because of a flash flood we both thought we were gonna lose each other to, but okay."
Tommy's smile is soft. The fingers that slide around his scalp to brush reverently over his birthmark are even softer. "That time doesn't count, because we didn't follow through. You thought I was joking."
He had, honestly, at first, because they'd technically still been broken up at the time and the adrenaline and the terror at nearly losing one another had still been close. It'd taken him three days and Tommy angrily re-ringing his house key back onto Buck's keychain to realize Tommy maybe hadn't actually been joking about hopping in the chopper the next time they both had 24 off.
He's glad they'd taken the extra time, though. Glad they'd had time to drive halfway across the state in search of a ring shop they could be sure they wouldn't run into anyone at, glad they'd had the time to get new suits tailored, glad he'd had time to fuss over vows he'd still cried about while he was saying them, glad they'd done it without an Elvis impersonator standing just off to the side.
"You're stuck with me now," Buck tells him, and Buck knows Tommy's delighted bark of laughter will keep him warm for years.
#one day i'll start a ficlet and keep it short#one day#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#tevan fic#is it still eloping if you've been secretly planning it for six months
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just like putty [ii]
or, how to reduce them to a cataclysmic state of horny, featuring: jo togame, ren kaji, choji tomiyama
a/n: throwback time babes! ‘just like putty’ was my first ever official headcanon post, so it’s incredibly special to me. I know it technically wasn’t that long ago that I posted it, but still; I feel like it’s a throwback. featuring some new boys this time (psst: next up will be hiragi, sugishita, and kiryuu >:3)
c/w: explicit sexual content, nsfw headcanons, subtle allusions to fem!dom (kaji + choji), dumbification (togame), cock worship, praise/degradation, face riding, coming untouched, afab!reader, it’s really fucking filthy guys ye have been warned.
jo togame absolutely has a cock that is worth worshipping. it’s long and thick, nicely shaped and hangs heavy against his large sack, and it smells absolutely delicious — clean like soap with the faintest trace of masculine musk to it.
and togame knows this; in fact, he’s well aware of it. and he knows the effect it has on you. and, oh, isn’t it a beautiful effect?
with just one look you’re losing it — you’re swallowing it down before he can even blink, paying no heed to your innate need for oxygen, thrusting it down your throat as far as you can as fast as you can. and, god, it’s such a treat to watch your eyes fog over, for your skin to turn that pretty shade of pink, to watch you shove your hand between your legs and hump it desperately as you suck his cock to no tomorrow.
your cunt is no doubt crying for him, fat tears sliding down your thighs in the same way the tears are sliding down your cheeks, looking up at him with those eyes while you melt into his personal cocksleeve.
your throat and mouth vibrate brokenly with moans, with mewls and whimpers, because you just love it that much; and when you stop to catch your breath but still nuzzle into his sloppy cock, spreading spit and pre all over your pretty face, whimpering about how big it is, how much you love it and want it, togame absolutely loses it — and he fucks you straight into oblivion.
after all, you love his cock so much; why wouldn’t he give it to you?
ren kaji, unsurprisingly, has a major oral fixation. he’s not entirely sure if it’s an after effect of constantly having a sucker in his mouth or not; all he truly knows is that when you exploit it, he’s spraying like a fountain in less than a minute.
what really gets kaji going is when your fuck his mouth with a sucker — he loves it when you slide it across the insides of cheeks and caress the roof of his mouth with it, loves to feel it slide over his tongue again and again as you just so subtly push it past his tonsils; and if you add your fingers into the mix, he’s completely melting in your hands. he gets harder than a rock when you press down on his tongue with two fingers, and especially so when you shove them to the back of his throat in attempt to muffle the lewd sounds dropping from his lips.
kaji is irresistible when he’s in that state — his face is red and clammy, pupils blown wide and he’s unable to keep his eyes from slipping closed or rolling back every now and then, lips swollen and sticky and slick and slobber slides down his chin. he becomes an absolute mess, moaning and begging and humping against you while you molest his mouth. he could cum just like that, with your fingers in his mouth and his hard cock rubbing against any part of you.
also really gets off on degradation; he loves when you remind him how much of a mess he’s making, how hard his cock is, and, if you’re very careful with your wording, even when you liken him to the male equivalent of a slut and spit about just how dirty he is.
choji tomiyama loves to be used; or, more particularly, for his face to be used.
and even more particularly, for his face to be used by your cunt.
nothing turns him on quite like when you cage his face with your thighs and hold it still. choji doesn’t want you to start slow, he wants you to buck wildly on his face from the get go — he wants to feel your sloppy cunt slide all over his face, not just his mouth. he wants to taste that sweet nectar directly from the source, wants to feel it dry to his skin.
the cherry on top is when you slide your fingers into his hair and pull — and he wants you to do it hard. he wants you to use the leverage to shove his head up into your cunt for firmer friction. he wants you to completely smother him and show no mercy; there’s nothing quite as arousing as the rush he feels when his lung prick from the lack of oxygen, when his vision starts to go black because he’s been buried between your thighs for so long. the lightheadedness is addictive; almost as much as your taste is.
don’t forget to praise him while you’re using his face — he’s being such a good boy, isn’t he? flicking his tongue out to give you extra stimulation, sitting completely still to avoid knocking off your rhythm, moaning into the sloppy heat of your cunt because he loves it so much — that’s good, isn’t it?
and, oh, it’s such a treat to hear you say it. to hear you tell him how good he’s being, how good it feels, that you’re going to use him forever, that you’re about to cum — and he’ll whimper and beg for it, buck his hips up to chase friction against the front of his jeans — and when your cunt explodes on his face, he’s painting the inside of his boxers with his own thick cum in time with your jerking hips.
it’s just way too good when you use him, he can’t help it.
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Astarion, his siblings and his "victims"
I wrote a blog about how I really do not get those folks, who do honestly in their heart believe that Ascending Astarion is the "good" ending. And frankly, the comments that AA fans left underneath really make me just shake my head.
One of the people understanding my point also put a really good comment underneath:
Because I really get the feeling that the AA fans do not even consider the siblings and the "victims" of Cazador as actual characters within the story.
And yes, sure. From a writing perspective they are not big characters. I mean, the siblings do have very little in terms of background. Some have a bit more (mostly Leon and Darylia), the others a bit less, and then there is Yousen, about whom we know nothing but the name. And out of the other 7000 we obviously only really do know Sebastian in any regard. Which from a writing perspective is absolutely fair, because the focus definitely is on Astarion. Yet, the interactions you do have with the siblings - and with Sebastians - are meant for the player to understand that this is about empathy.
It is very likely that pretty much all of the siblings got abused just as much as Astarion - or at the very least lived in the same fear of abuse as Astarion. They are all the victims, even though it is fairly likely that they also abused each other. That is just something that abusers use in their advantage: Trying to get their victims to abuse each other. BUT that does not stop them from being victims.
And yes, it is absolutely heavily implied that some of Astarion's "Victims" also have raped him (same with the other siblings). Because as he was ruled by the order of Cazador to bring him victims he had not even a lot of chance to fight back. But we know that is not true for all of those 7000 souls. Some of which will just be purely innocents, who got seduced or kidnapped, and who have at times been made to suffer endless hunger in that dungeon for at times 100 and 200 years!
This means that to ascend Astarion, what you do is to kill a lot of innocent victims of abuse. More than that, you are with it condoning the abuse their abuser had put them through - because you are quite literally enacting the plan this abuser has come up with.
I feel this is a big thing that is also missed with the Vellioth memories. While Vellioth obviously would have prefered to live and go on abusing Cazador for years and years to come - he is also proud for Cazador to defeat him and then continue the circle of abuse. Because in Vellioth's minds he has "taught him well".
While yes, Cazador wants to ascend himself, at least if Astarion ascends all the planning for the ritual, and all the "lessons" he has taught were not for nothing. Astarion will continue Cazador's legacy. He will simply become the next Cazador, until inevitably one of his own spawn will rise up against him and so on and so forth.
If Astarion ascends, Cazador lives on through Astarion. Because in that case Astarion does all the things Cazador would've wanted to happen.
Of course we as players are biased for Astarion, because not only is he the one vampire spawn we know, but we really get to know him really good. Not the very least given the fact that Astarion also is literally the companion with the most playtime for his companion quest. But just for a thought experiment imagine that by sheer luck one of the other spawn also has gotten loose from Cazador and was doing a quest with some of their own companions, while Tav/Durge, Astarion and other companions were doing theirs. And now imagine that other spawn - no matter who of the other six it might have been - went in wanting to sacrifice everyone else, including Astarion, to ascend themselves.
I can guarantee you, that each of them could have made as much of an argument for it, as Astarion.
Would you still think that would be a good thing?
By all means, argue about the fact of how good the relationship between Ascended Astarion and your own Tav/Durge might be. How it is totally not an abusive relationship despite the non-consensual choking...
But that does not change the fact that the ascension itself is a bad thing that is going to continue Cazador's plan and Cazador's legacy.
And no, there is simply no world in which killing 7000 people, of whom all have been abused before, while at least several thousand of them are innocent, is "the good thing".
... Also, I just want more fandom content about the vampire siblings, because I just think they are neat.
#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion#astarion ancunin#the pale elf#cazador szarr#bg3 cazador#bg3 aurelia#bg3 yousen#bg3 leon#bg3 petras#bg3 darylia#bg3 violet#vampire spawn#analysis#media analysis#cw abuse#abusive relationship
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Cowboy/ 2
Pairing- San x Named Reader
Word count- 3.2k
Includes- Couple from Cowboy, oral, blow job, deepthroating, pussy eating, cum eating, cock riding, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, squirting, fluff
Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa
@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @amyz78
Masterlists- check out for more fics
📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝San Masterlist
San POV
The director yells cut and I look over at her
She's already looking at me and she smiles widely when she sees I'm looking at her
I smile back
I'm so lucky to be with her
It's been a year since we got together and it's been amazing
She transitioned from best friend to incredible girlfriend easily
And I think I did a pretty good job of transitioning into boyfriend mode
I've made changes to my schedule to make sure I have time for her
I take her everywhere with me, photo shoots, events, performances and tours
And we just moved in together a month ago and it's been awesome
I even went public with us and for the most part, ATINY accepted us
There's been minimal hate and I always handle it so she doesn't have to
I've honestly never been happier
She's my absolute world and I'd do anything for her
"Ok we're gonna go do the digging scene. San, you have a prop to hold so make sure you get it before heading over to the set"
I nod, "Sure"
Getting up, I walk wave at my naekkeo, then follow the guys and the staff to the other part of the set
--------------------------------
Break time
Finally
I make my way over to her, a smirk on her face
"Naekkeo", I murmur as I walk right into her open arms
"Baby", she giggles, "How's my cowboy?"
"Tired", I whine, nuzzling into her neck
"Aww baby", she laughs, "It's almost over. Then I'll take you home and cuddle you"
"Promise?", I ask, wanting that so much right now
"I promise"
"Mmm", I say contently, lifting my head and pressing a kiss to her lips
Her hands slide down from my neck, her fingers grazing along my chest and abs, making me shiver
"Why do they put you in nothing?", she murmurs between kisses, "It's torture watching you be so fucking hot and I can't touch you"
I smile, getting giddy at her words
Giddy and horny
But hell, all she has to do is look at me and I'm horny so it doesn't take much
"And the cowboy thing? Really Sannie?"
I smirk remembering how we got together
"Wanna ride a cowboy again?", I ask, whispering in her ear, her body shivering with chills
"Do I get to be a cowgirl again?", she asks
"Definitely baby. You can wear the hat the whole time"
She flicks the fringe on the vest I'm wearing, "And this?"
"If it's the only thing your wearing", I murmur
"Ok", she smirks
God, she's killing me
Taking her hand, I drag her towards one of the trailers on the set
Getting inside it, I make a beeline towards the back of it
There's a bedroom back there in case one of us wants to take a nap
A few of the trailers have beds in the back
I thankfully picked an empty one
Getting in the room, I close the door, locking it then turning to her
She grabs me by my belt, pulling me to her, her lips against mine in a searing kiss
She gets my belt undone, zipper and button open, my pants and boxers dropping to my feet
Kicking my shoes off, I get my bottom clothes off
Pulling her against me, I unzip her dress, letting it fall to the floor, her bra following it
She pushes the vest off me as her lips press into the skin of my chest
I moan at the pleasure of her soft lips kissing me, the feel of them against my skin so good
Her kisses are out of this world and I will take them anytime anywhere and on any place on my body
Her fingers run along my back as she spreads her kisses lower, all over my abs now
I know she loves them and I work out to keep them for her and myself too
And the best part is I know that she loves me with or without them
She made that clear to me when we first got together
I watch her tongue lick down my abs, going lower, to my dick, then lick up it
"Naekkeo", I groan, her tongue making me harder than I already am
She gets on her knees, her tongue swirling and playing with my head while her hand wraps around the rest of my cock, stroking me
"Mmm baby", I whimper, her tongue licking my slit, my cum all over it as she swallows
Her mouth moves around my head, sucking and sending bliss coursing through my body
She takes more of me in her mouth, every few sucks, her head going down
I move my fingers in her hair, holding on as she starts bobbing her head on my cock, my tip entering her throat
"Fuck naekkeo"
Each move has my cock entering her throat more and more, the tight space of her throat feeling so incredible
She swallows on my cock, her throat constricting, sending sparks of pleasure up my spine
She goes at it, sliding up and down my cock, her hand moving away as she bottoms me out in her mouth
She moves back, sliding down my cock then surging back, taking me all in
God, I love watching my cock move in and out of her mouth, her lips so pretty around me, her teary eyes on me
"So pretty baby", I praise her, her mouth sucking hard around my cock
As good as it is, I need her to stop
I need to eat her cunt then fuck her
We don't have all the time in the world, the break isn't gonna last forever
So I tug on her hair, her eyes rising to mine
I nod and she pulls back, off my dick
Taking her hands, I help her up only to push her into the bed
Now I move to my knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed
Taking the string of her panties in my hand, I pull the fabric ripping easily
"Sannie", she whimpers
I grab the other side and rip that off too, tossing the remains to the floor
Spreading her legs open, I bite my lip at the display in front of me
Her small cunt looking so fucking good to eat
Dripping wet, puffy lips, swollen throbbing clit
My fucking favorite
Leaning down, I burying my face in her cunt, my tongue licking up her juice immediately
"San!", she cries, her body shaking
God, I can't get enough of her
Her taste, her scent, her sounds, how she feels
I'm so fucking in love but I wouldn't have it any other way
She pulls the cowboy hat off me, her hand plunging in my hair, tugging
Pushing her legs up, I devour her cunt, my tongue fucking into her hole, feeling her throb around it
Pleasure creeps down my spine with every pulse, my cock so hard it aches
I'm drowning in her pussy and I don't want to be saved
I drag my tongue up her cunt, spreading her lips open, rubbing across her clit
"Yes Sannie!", she screams, her body shuddering
I concentrate my tongue there, lavishing her clit in licks, the pulses feeling so good
Eating her out is one of my favorite things to do
Her pussy tastes so fucking good, her cream the best thing I've ever tasted
I crave it, I'm addicted
Wrapping my lips around her swollen clit, I suck hard, her screams music to my ears
Both hands are in my hair, pulling hard and I fucking love it
"Mmm cum for me baby", I command, slurping desperately on her clit, "Cum in my mouth"
"Oh fuck San!", she cries, her body arching, holding my head against her pussy
Slipping my tongue down, I shove it in her orgasming cunt, the throbs making my mind go blank
When she finishes, I pull my tongue out, licking her cunt and making sure I get every drop
Moving on top of her, I kiss her sweet neck, her arms moving around me
"You taste so good baby", I tell her, "Best thing I've ever eaten. Fuck, I could eat you all day"
I have before
All day between her legs, her cunt coming in my mouth, feeding me over and over
Fuck, it's the best
"Mm Sannie", she sighs
"Are you gonna ride me baby?", I ask, "My cock hurts naekkeo. Wanna be deep inside you"
"Yeah Sannie", she smirks, "Wanna ride my cowboy"
With that, we move and I lay down on the bed, pillows behind me, propping me up so I can see her
She takes the hat and puts it on, my desire for her shooting through the roof
She looks so fucking hot with that hat on
Turning around, she gets on my lap in a reverse cowgirl position, her soaking pussy dripping on my dick
Reaching behind her, she aligns my cock to her hole, sitting on my head
"Mm yeah, that's it baby", I groan, watching her tiny hole spread beautifully around my cock, "Go down baby. All the way"
She slowly slides down my length, her pussy juice running down my dick that's not in her yet
We both moan when she gets me all in, her ass hitting my legs, her tight cunt throbbing, her pretty hole straining
"Cock feels better?", she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me
I nod, "So much better. My pussy feels so good"
She smirks, turns around and bends over, her cunt sliding up my cock to my head
She squeezes the tip, making herself extra tight, then pushes down, taking me back in
She keeps moving, slow but deep, her hips moving sensually in a circle as she takes me in over and over, her cunt leaving a mess of cream all over my cock
The way she moves is so fucking pretty, so hypnotizing, like she's dancing on my cock, her back muscles moving as she rides me
I watch her pussy swallow my cock, her puffy lips wrapped perfectly around my length, her pink inner lips looking so fucking good sliding up and down, leaving me a wet mess
"Mm Sannie", she moans, bouncing a little faster, making sure she takes all of me in
"So pretty baby. Fuck, your pussy is so pretty on my cock"
"Mmm you're cock feels so good", she moans, her hips moving a touch faster
My head rubs her spot, her cunt tightening hard around me as she moans
"There's Sannie", she cries, "Fuck, right there"
She keeps my cock right there, fucking herself right into that spot, cream pouring from her cunt
"Yeah baby, keep going", I cry, pleasure running through every inch of me, "Fuck yourself there. Fuck, use my cock to get off"
She moves a little faster, rolling her hips as she takes my cock, the skin of her back visibly shivering in pleasure
"Sannie", she moans, her pussy throbbing like crazy as she cums
Bliss washes over me as her cunt works my dick over, crushing my cock between her pussy walls
"Yes baby, feels good, fuck", I groan, "Cum for me just like that, fuck"
Her pussy slides on my cock, coating my entire length in her creamy cum, her moans of my name so fucking beautiful
I swear her voice can get me to do anything for her
She sits on my whole cock as she finishes, catching her breath
"Turn around naekkeo. Lemme see you"
She nods, getting off
Before turning around she bends over the bed and picks up my vest
She puts it in and turns around, my mouth dropping at how fucking hot she is
Her boobs are popping out of the vest, the fringe on it swaying against her hips as she crawls in my lap
She smirks, leaning over, her fingers under my chin and pushing my mouth closed
"Like it baby?", she asks
I nod rapidly
God, do I like it
She presses a soft kiss to my lips, my hands cupping her face, keeping her in place so I can kiss her
Her fingers slide in the back of my hair, crushing the strands as she deepens the kiss, our tongues playing with each other's
Her other hand moves between us, taking my length and guiding it to her entrance
She takes me in slowly and I can feel every inch of her pussy stretching around me, every suck in that her cunt does
And how wet she makes me
She bottoms me out, her hips grinding and rocking on me, my head right against her spot
Each rub of her spot, her pussy closes around my dick, squeezing tightly and throwing me into pleasure
She breaks the kiss, sitting up and leaning back, giving me small bounces in between grinding
"Mmm Sannie", she moans, pleasure all over her face
"Good naekkeo?", I ask, watching her move on me, hypnotized by her
She nods, leaning back on my leg, "So good Sannie. Fuck, you're the best"
I bite my lip nodding, "You're the best baby"
I move my hands to her hips, my eyes sliding up, watching her boobs bounce for me, the fringe on the vest swinging with every move
I can fucking watch her all goddamn day
The way she moves is just....it's everything
I slide one hand up her body slowly, over her stomach, up between her boobs, just feeling her soft skin against my palm and fingers
"Fuck Sannie", she whines, shivering as she bottoms me out, "Fuck, I love your hands baby"
I smile, moving my other up her back, touching her anywhere I can
I know she loves when I touch her, when I run my fingers on her, when I kiss her body, when I play with her hair, when I hold her
She's all about me and I've never had that before
I've had girlfriend before, flings too but none of them paid attention to me like she does
None wanted me as much as she does
None loved me like she does
I know she's extraordinary, one of a kind and I'm never letting her go
I'm not stupid
I knew she was my one from when I was a kid and I'm all about her
Everything I do is for her, so I can take care of her, give her everything and anything she needs
Give her all my love
Her hips roll down, her pussy sliding down my cock, feeling utterly good
"Mm naekkeo", I moan, thrusting up the next time she rolls her hips down, my cock sliding in deeper than before
"Yes Sannie!", she cries, her back arching
"Don't stop baby", I murmur, moving up into her, meeting every bounce down, "Don't stop"
She shakes her head as we both fuck each other, her pussy decorating my cock like a creamy waterfall
"I won't Sannie", she answers, "Won't stop"
I hold her hip tightly as we meet each other's moves, my free hand sliding down her body, thumb pressing into her clit
I rub her slowly, her loud moans of my name so beautiful, her hips keeping the steady pace with mine
I'm in so much ecstacy right now, her pussy feeling so good as she clenches down on me again and again
"Need you to fill my pussy Sannie", she murmurs
"Do you?", I whimper, looking at her through my sweaty hair
"Yes. I need it. Need your cum inside me"
"Fuck", I groan, "I'll fill your pussy baby. Don't worry"
"Now Sannie", she whines, "Want it now"
"You first", I breathe out, rubbing her clit faster, fucking up into her slightly faster
She nods, her head tilted back as she shudders, her mouth crying my name as she orgasms
My whole lap gets soaked as she squirts, some flying onto my abs and chest from how much liquid is coming out of her
The constant squeezing of my cock throws me over the edge, ecstacy barreling into me as I shoot my cum into her squirting pussy
"Joanne, fuck. Naekkeo, oh god", I cry, stars blasting in my vision, blinding me
She keeps riding me, the exquisite pleasure going on and on
It's so much my body's actually shaking
That's not such a surprise anymore
She gives me shaking mind blowing orgasms frequently and I'm so here for it
"Naekkeo", I moan, stopping her movements after we both finish
I pull her down to me, taking the hat off her and tossing it to the floor so she can be comfortable
Then I wrap my arms around her, holding her while we both catch our breaths
"Mm Sannie", she whispers, cuddling into me
We lay in comfortable silence, tangled up together just how we both like it
And now is the best time
"Naekkeo", I say softly
"Hmm Sannie?"
"Will you marry me Jo?"
Her head lifts, her eyes on mine, her mouth dropped open, "What?"
I smile, reaching into the pocket of my vest she's wearing
Pulling out the ring I made for her, I hold it up to her, "I love you naekkeo. More than anything in this world. I told you when we got together that I wanted to marry you one day. Somehow you knew we were meant for each other when we were four years old. Marrying you has never been out of my mind since you first told me you were gonna marry me during my 4th birthday party. I was excited then and I'm excited to marry you now. You are all I want and I'd be so happy if I can call you my wife"
She smiles widely, gazing softly at me, "Yes Sannie. Of course it's a yes. It wouldn't be anything but yes. I love you so much"
I pull her to me, kissing her soft perfect lips passionately, her hand against my cheek, kissing me back
My heart pounds in joy as I realize that I'm going to marry the love of my life
I'm over the fucking moon
"Should I get down on my knees and do it the right way?", I ask
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she giggles, "No Sannie. This is the right way. I can't imagine a better way to ask me to marry you than laying in your arms. It was perfect"
"I'm glad naekkeo", I tell her, relieved, "But just so you know, if you want me to do it that way too, I'll do it"
Anything for her
"Don't you move", she says, laughing, "But you can give me my ring now"
I laugh, nodding, "Ok naekkeo"
I put the ring on her finger, her eyes lighting up when she sees the ring
"Sannie!", she gasps, "It's so beautiful baby! My god, you have good taste"
I chuckle, "I just know what my baby likes"
Her eyes move to mine, "Yeah you do. Thank you baby"
"Thank you for making me the happiest man on the planet"
She nods, her forehead against mine, "Thanks for making me the happiest girl on the planet Sannie. I love you"
"I love you Jo", I whisper
She leans down, her lips against mine in a sweet soft kiss, full of love
#choi san fanfic#ateez san fanfic#san fanfic#choi san smut#ateez san smut#san smut#ateez fanfic#ateez smut
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Ten minutes in heaven | Wrioney [n$fw]
A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN THE AFTERNOON WONDERFUL FABI @lovelynim! I hope you enjoy this little gift! It's my first time working Wrioney, I hope I made them justice and you like this! I LOVE YOU ❤️
Summary: Wriothesley not only stood him up, but also ghosted him. It's only Lyney is so mad.
Words: 2k+
“Sigewinne, let me out! I'm not kidding!”
“Nope.” The sweet voice came from outside. “I'm tired of listening to you both bickering, so you'll both stay there until you reconcile.” They couldn't see her, but Sigewinne nodded, proud of herself. “Or else you won't get out. I'll be back in ten minutes.”
00:01:00
Lyney whined, pressing his forehead against the wooden door. If he had known that his visit to the Fortress of Meripide would end with him locked in that small closet with the person he least wanted to be around at that moment– well, he wouldn't have gone in the first place.
Besides, he had only gone for one reason: he wanted to fight. He wanted to argue with the administrator of the place, also called Wriothesley, also called his boyfriend. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Wriothesley standing behind him, arms crossed above his broad chest, with his imposing stature and his warm eyes fixed on Lyney. Lyney frowned, also crossing his arms and leaning his back against the door. Wriothesley chuckled and a deep blush spread across his cheeks from pure anger; he bared his fangs in a snarl, glaring at the other man.
“What?!”
Wriothesley shook his head softly, “are you really that mad at me, kitten?”
Somehow, Lyney felt heat radiating from his vision, he was ready to attack at any second. “Don't call me that! I hate you so much, get me out!”
Wriothesley chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders. “I can't. Sigewinne has the key and I'm not planning on destroying my office.”
“Hmph!”
00:02:07
Lyney couldn't decipher the emotion in Wriothesley's eyes. Something between sadness and tenderness and shame and love– he couldn't stand looking at him anymore and he closed his eyes, turning his head.
“Listen, kitten-”
“Don't call me that.”
“Lyney, I'm truly sorry about what I did,” Wriothesley said, gently touching Lyney’s elbow, but the magician jerked away. “You know my work here is not easy, I truly wanted to be there on time, but then Neuvillette came by and I had to take care of some stuff and-”
“It's not just that!”
Lyney hated that he felt his eyes tearing up. He was used to Wriothesley's rudeness, but knew it was not on purpose. It was true that his job wasn't exactly an easy one, and Lyney forgave every time Wriothesley missed one of their dates or arrived ridiculously late, because he understood, he really did. But just because he knew that Wriothesley's job kept him busy most of the time, Lyney made sure to invite him to a super important show he was having months in advance, and he made sure to remind Wriothesley every single week, every single day and he promised so sure of himself that he was going to be there.
But of course, he wasn't, but the worst thing was that it had been two weeks since that day and Lyney had heard absolutely nothing from Wriothesley in all that time! He even thought that something bad had happened to him, but what was his surprise when he found him stuck in his office; when their eyes met, Wriothesley didn't even seem surprised to see Lyney and greeted him as he normally did. Wasn't that too much?!
“I can't believe you treated me like that. And you know it's not only about you not coming to see my show, but you just not reaching me in two whole weeks! Do you know how worried I was?!”
“I'm so sorry, I really have no excuse for that,” Wriothesley said sincerely, scratching the back of his head. “I thought you'd be really angry with me, so I wanted to give you your space, but… I think I messed up even more.”
“Yes you did!” Lyney wiped the tears from his cheeks angrily, and taking a single step forward, he encountered Wriothesley's body and punched him in the chest. “I felt so bad! I thought you didn't want to see me anymore! You're so stupid, Wriothesley!”
Perfect, now he was really crying. Lyney whined and growled when Wriothesley suddenly hugged him, pressing him tightly against his chest. He struggled, trying to break free from the embrace, he didn't want to be comforted, he wanted Wriothesley to know that he had made him feel terribly bad!
“I'm truly sorry, Lyney,” Wriothesley said softly, his deep voice against Lyney's ear making him shiver. “I was just careless and stupid. I truly wanted to go see you, but I didn't dare– I didn't know how to face you and what to say to you after promising for months that I would be there. I'm sorry, kitten.”
Lyney pressed his face against Wriothesley’s chest and cried. The last two weeks had been hell for him. Had Wriothesley stopped loving him? Had he missed Lyney's show because he never wanted to see him again? Worse yet, had something happened to him? Did he get into an accident when he was on his way to the show? A thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind, they didn't let him sleep, eat, and sometimes even breathe. He was afraid to go to the Fortress of Meripide because he didn't want to know if something bad happened to Wriothesley, but in the end he did and to find him there… just working.
“I was scared! I hate you so much, Wriothesley!”
That was a lie, of course he didn't hate him, on the contrary, the only reason he was there was because he loved him desperately. His heart longed to see him safe and sound, he wanted to be in Wriothesley's arms again and hear his voice. Lyney just couldn't hate him because he loved him too much.
Wriothesley gently cupped his flushed, wet cheeks, his thumbs gently rubbing under his eyes to wipe the falling tears away. He pressed a tender kiss to Lyney’s forehead, then his nose and the corner of his mouth before pressing their foreheads together.
“Please forgive me, Lyney. Just this once. I promise I'll do better.”
Lyney whined, his eyes crossing a little as he tried to look at Wriothesley’s. “I just want you to let me know you won't come and if you're okay! I understand about your stupid job!”
Wriothesley chuckled and Lyney couldn't help but smile, gently hitting his arm. “You are so stupid!”
00:04:45
Wriothesley nodded, “I am. I missed you very much, kitten.”
Lyney pouted and with a smile, Wriothesley kissed his lips. A small, chaste kiss that made Lyney feel butterflies, but a small kiss like that wasn't enough for the two weeks they hadn't seen each other. Lyney wrapped his arms around Wriothesley's waist and brought him close to him, his tongue pushing between the other's lips, making him gasp into Lyney's mouth. Wriothesley grabbed the back of Lyney's head, tilting his head back slightly so he could kiss him better. A war broke out within their mouths; gasps and soft moans escaped their lips as they hungrily devoured each other.
Lyney felt light-headed, breathless. His heart was beating fast, bouncing within his chest. He had missed Wriothesley's passionate kisses so much, his strong hands holding his face, the warmth of his body against him. He had missed it so much. He opened one of his eyes, his sight slightly blurry with tears; Wriothesley's expression was a sight to behold… but why was he looking so happy after the torture he made Lyney go through? He had forgiven him, but would he get out of this without being punished? Of course not!
Lyney tapped his fingers against Wriothesley’s waist, between those fierce kisses, Wriothesley barely noticed the light touch on his waist, but it was very different when Lyney pressed that super sensitive spot just above Wriothesley's hips.
00:05:37
Wriothesley gasped, quickly pulling apart and grabbing Lyney's shoulders to push him away. “What are you- ngh!” His words got stuck in his throat, Lyney was smirking widely.
“What? Did you really think I won't punish you? Silly Duke.”
Wriothesley opened his mouth to say something else, but Lyney pressed against him, cornering him against the wall as his light fingers clawed at Wriothesley’s hips, making him jump and break into loud laughter. He arched his back, but Lyney simply pressed against him tighter, one of his legs between Wriothesley's. He always found it funny how a big guy like Wriothesley became almost useless when tickled; even someone small like Lyney could manhandle him a bit like this.
Wriothesley's hands tried to push Lyney away, but when his nimble fingers moved under his arms, Wriothesley pressed his arms to his sides, laughing brightly. He squirmed and begged between gasps and laughs and squeals for Lyney to stop, but his pleas fell in deaf ears.
“Ah, so your armpits are still really ticklish, hmm? What about here?”
“N-NoHOho! K-KihiHIhitten, plehehease!”
Snorty giggles left his mouth when Lyney started to wiggle his fingers against the sides of his neck, a sweet spot the magician especially loved. It made Wriothesley so desperate, his laughter panicking and his squirming intensifying. It seemed completely torturous to him and Lyney couldn't help but feel a little sadistic seeing Wriothesley's state. He was flushing already, even crying as he mercilessly tickled his neck and- oh?
00:06:40
“You are disgusting, Wriothesley. Why are you grinding against my thigh? Ah, I see, you liked your tickles too much?”
Wriothesley shook his head, going crazy with the tickling on his neck. His hands lacked the strength to push Lyney's fingers away, and Lyney laughed.
“S-Stohop, PLEHEASE, I- NGH!”
“You don't want me to stop,” Lyney purred, the maddening tickling stopping so he could palm Wriothesley's hardening cock above his clothes. “You're not supposed to enjoy your punishments, Wriothesley.” Lyney wrapped the red tie around his hand and pulled at it, bringing Wriothesley’s face close to his. “I really should show you how pissed I am with you, hmm?”
“K-Kitten,” Wriothesley gulped, his teary eyes blinking and trying to find a way out. Lyney smirked. “I s-said I'm sorry. And you said… you forgave me.”
Lyney shrugged, “and I did, but you need to learn your lesson. Do not mess with me again, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley gasped when Lyney suddenly dropped on his knees in front of him, his fingers hooking on the waistband of his pants and the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down to his knees at once. Wriothesley whimpered and he tried to cover his half hard dick, but Lyney slapped his big hands away and took Wriothesley’s cock between his smaller hands.
His cock wasn't even half its usual size, but Lyney knew what to do. He lifted the cock with one hand and his tongue traced a warm, wet path of saliva from Wriothesley's balls to the tip. Wriothesley's legs shook and he pressed a hand against his mouth to keep from making a sound. Lyney laughed, closing his mouth around the tip and circling with his tongue. The salty taste of precum exploded in his mouth as his hand moved up and down slowly, stroking the growing length.
“L-Lyney,” he moaned, his voice muffled behind his hand.
“There we go,” Lyney said, pulling the cock out of his mouth with a pop and it kept up, moist and dripping. “That was fast, huh? Were you pent up? Did you miss me during these two weeks? You just wanted to fuck me, right?” He slapped the tip of Wriothesley's cock and he trembled, a deep moan leaving his mouth.
“I- I didn't only miss f-fucking you, I-”
“You didn't? I don't believe you,” Lyney said with a shrug, his hand wrapping around Wriothesley's cock again, stroking him fast. “I think you just wanted to put this thing on my butt all these days.”
Wriothesley shook his head, grunting and moaning, his hips circling and thrusting. Lyney smirked, oh his poor Wriothesley was so close to cum. He really was pent up, hmm? What a shame~
00:08:59
“No you can't.” Lyney stopped, his hands moving away, and Wriothesley cried, clenching his dick as trying to reach his peak, but it was useless.
“H-Huh?! W-Why not?!”
Lyney pouted, looking at Wriothesley's cock as the tip of his finger tapped against the wet head, making it twitch. “It's frustrating right?” Lyney pressed a kiss to the tip and looked up at Wriothesley. “That's how you make me feel, Wrio. So. Frustrated.”
Lyney stuck his tongue out and licked the salty precum before pushing the whole length into his mouth. Wriothesley was huge, but Lyney wasn't scared of it anymore, rather he was hungry. Wriothesley moaned loudly, his hands moving to grip at Lyney's hair. The magician frowned and slapped at the hands, pushing them away from him as he started to bobble his head, sucking Wriothesley. One of his hands gripped Wriothesley's thighs to keep his balance while the other started to tickle his balls.
Wriothesley gasped. “Nngh! H-Hold on! Hold ohohon! D-dohon't tickle me t-tohoo!”
He squirmed and Lyney frowned, pressing his hand against Wriothesley's hip to keep him in place.
“L-Lyney… ah! Ah! I'm c-cumming. I'm-
“Phaw!”
00:09:15
“N-No, please! Le-Let me cum, please. Please!” Tears of despair fell down Wriothesley's cheeks. Oh, Lyney loved seeing him so desperate. He smiled angelically.
“Ow, you wanted to cum, Wrio? I'm so sorry, I had no idea!” Lyney raised, placing Wriothesley's cock between his legs, making him hiss. “You really wanted to cum?” He whispered against Wriothesley's lips and he nodded desperately. “I really wanted to see you these two weeks.”
Wriothesley whined, “I'm sorry, Lyney. I'm s-sorry- anh!”
Lyney began to move his hips, squeezing Wriothesley's cock between his thighs. The duke moaned, his eyes crossing. Lyney smirked, his fingers flicking Wriothesley's hardened nipples over his suit. “Are you feeling well, your excellency?” Wriothesley shuddered, nodding as his breathing became erratic. He was close again. “Oh no, his excellency is going to cum, does he deserve it?”
“Yes! Yes, please don't stop, please, I-”
00:10:03
“I am back! Are you guys reconciled?”
Wriothesley gasped and Lyney giggled when he pressed him tightly against him, but he pulled away, leaving his cock twitching with yet another ruined orgasm.
“What a shame, you were so close, Wriothesley,” he whispered, shrugging and winking at him before turning around. “We're ready, Sigewinne, we're good again.”
“Great! Then I'll open the door.” Lyney heard the key turning in the bolt and the padlock opening, Sigewinne's small hand closed around the knob and she turned it, trying to open it. ‘'Huh?! Why can't I open it?!”
A wide smile appeared on Lyney's face as a hand pressed against the door, right next to his head.
“Sorry, Sigewinne,” Wriothesley said, his voice strained. “We still… need to talk.”
“Ah I see,” Sigewinne said, leaving the knob. “Then I'll let you to it then. I'll be back in another ten minutes!”
They both heard small footsteps walking away and then the office door opening and closing. Lyney laughed softly.
“Do you need something, Wrio?”
00:01:01
“Yes and we have ten minutes for it.” Lyney gasped when Wriothesley pulled his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hard cock. A finger touched his butthole and he whimpered, holding onto the door. “Let's see how much you missed me, Kitten.”
Lyney purred. “I wonder~”
Lyney wondered if ten minutes would be enough to satisfy Wriothesley… and himself after being away for two whole weeks. Ah, make-up sex was always the best.
#genshin impact#genshin impact tickling#Wriothesley#lyney#wrioney#ticklish!Wriothesley#n$fw#spicy#mia's things#mia's fics#fabifabifabifabi#HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAAAAIN ❤️
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So I played through some more dbh last night and woke up thinking, God, there is a good reason Markus and Kara, and their respective companions never got as popular as Connor and Hank. Literally The Bridge is surrounded by the most *do everything for absolutely no reason* chapters, and there's no comparison.
First the Kara chapter wastes your time, she barely gets any small talk in with Luther, then the car breaks down, then you're just doing tiny tasks, doing a shitty sum up of her story so far when Alice asks you to make one up- they could have done something interesting with that story but they chose not to, literally anything specific anything that would function as a parallel to their journey would have actually had some value. Then you barely start a conversation with Luther, where are you maybe get a hint of his personality before we're back to just talking about the plot and Alice, but then it's over again and you meet the Jerries and you learn almost nothing about them.
It is a chapter where you do nothing interesting, and you learn almost nothing about the main characters, for a downtime chapter, I expect character development and get barely a sneeze of it. There is so much room and so much time for you to really push and question your main characters but it just doesn't get used.
Honestly I think the protagonists all could have probably really benefited from the audience getting to hear their internal monologues if they weren't actually going to talk to their companion characters, but even that would just be a substitute for decent writing.
Either way, after that, we come back to Connor and Hank, who do almost no tasks in this chapter, *but spend the entire time TALKING.* They talk to each other in a constant volley back and forth for the entire length of the chapter and it's probably one of the best chapters in the game, it's certainly one of the most important in their story. You spend the entire bridge scene learning more about Hank and Connor's inner worlds, and how they think, and how they feel, you spend the whole chapter learning so much about their perspectives, this chapter is all about asking the hard questions about both of their individual characters, and the tension is high, it's a straightforward chapter to play, and it really fucking feels like your choices matter here, there will be immediate consequences, not just walking through your environment trying to find the right answer, or being dragged through an interaction. It's just plain good.
And then Markus infiltrates the Stratford Tower, and you get the most boring and useless and frustrating chapter in the game that doesn't seem to serve any purpose beyond looking cool. If Kara's last chapter was only to gain sympathy and create some soft and fuzzy feelings, this chapter is only about looking cinematic. This is probably my least favorite chapter in the game, honestly I've just gotten lost on that yellow ass office floor building too many times, even though I'm very familiar with the game now I still managed to get lost again last night.
I will admit that eventually it does become an opportunity to decide between pacifism and violence but that seems to be the only real development for Markus, and it wouldn't have been hard to make that kind of opportunity in another setting. Because we get next to nothing watching him get past the front desk, or from walking around that floor, just some outfit changes and pretending to be a machine and a little more Android hate in the background, Markus is almost completely silent yet again, there is almost no talking with North once she appears. We actually get more about North's personality here than Markus', she just feels like she has more lines somehow, because sometimes she just talks without it being connected to the plot and Markus never does.
This bit is more speculative, but my fiance and I were going off last night about whyyyy did they have to break into the tower? We're never given any reason for what the steps are and why they are important, just usually pretty important in these mission impossible type scenes, they're usually explaining in a voice-over why they are taking the steps that they are taking. But we get no explanation for why he needs to go to the 47th floor or whatever, No explanation for why he needs to change into a maintenance Android uniform, why North was in the stairwell, how Josh and Simon got in, it's all just handwaved, and whyyyyyy they couldn't have just?? Made a recording and then hacked the station's broadcast remotely and basically just posted the speech? I don't know, it's just a particularly frustrating chapter to play, personally, but it isn't strong.
Either way, you've got two chapters with next to no character development, that just have a lot of empty space and time where the characters could have been talking or could have been doing something else, but didn't because the vibes were more important, sandwiching a simple scene with ten pounds of character development and it just feels weird. And once I noticed it, it just made the Kara and Markus chapters look incredibly weak and poorly written... And conversely, make the Connor and Hank chapter look much, much stronger in comparison.
It's like Detroit become human almost needs it's own type of Bechdel Test, just to show how much they fail Markus and Kara. "Do they talk about something that isn't the plot?"
"Do Kara and Luther talk about something that isn't Alice or getting to Canada?" "Does Markus talk about anything besides his speech for this chapter?" "Does Alice talk at all beyond basic communication with Kara?" "Does Markus or his buddies talk about anything that's not the revolution or just Markus himself?"
... They don't pass a lot.
It's just hard to take these characters above simply *likeable* when they just, don't, ever, talk. There's little to no development for Markus or Kara, and because they've just become deviants, there's hardly any character establishment in the first place, they barely even get the chance to just be flat, because if they don't really know who they are, we don't really know who they are.
Connor and Hank's friendship is more functionally the main plot, more so than the deviant investigation, and for Markus and the team, and Kara with Alice, that's simply just not the case, there is hardly any relationship, they're just in the same boat. This is why Connor got astronomically more popular, and why he and Hank have the staying power that they do.
Markus and Kara just don't ever talk, and Connor does. And I'm fucking mad about it. The amount of time that was just wasted in their stories, I could probably take a damn stopwatch to all the moments where there could have been a little something-something, and nothing was put there. It's not to say Connor doesn't get some quiet moments too but he always gets the chance to make up for it.
Even at the beginning of the Stratford Tower chapter, I noticed that they could have had Simon and North talking about something maybe unrelated when Markus walks up, but there's nothing, only silence until Markus comes in with a plan. And of course we know about every time Luther tries to bring up the fact that Alice is an android, only to be shut down and walked away from. It fucking kills me how much time Mark is has the focus of the camera but it's only so he could look cool for a minute, and share no thoughts of his own, none of his new feelings, everything is only implied and then followed by the action where he is only allowed to be the leader of the revolution and never just Markus. There's a tragedy in that, but they could have driven it home harder by *pointing that out.*
#dean talks to himself#detroit become human#dbh connor#markus dbh#Kara dbh#and it's not like i don't know there's racism and sexism in fandom and in production. obviously Connor is a white man. i didn't forget#and there's the insanity that happened with GR and creating all that personality for an asshole with four appearances throughout the game#which makes you wonder why didn't the fandom do the same for Markus and Kara bc wtf#But honestly the logic kind of tracks. GR showed so much personality and he has the benefit of being human so we can more easily extrapolat#we know what humans tend to do with their time and what they act like and we barely get to see any androids actually doing the whole#becoming human thing.#I've tried building them up in my head but I'll admit it's kind of hard. they're more blank slate than sandbox#GR is a human and Hank's foil and that's easy to extrapolate on. 900 is Connor but Better and that's easy to extrapolate on#i think we somehow see too much and not enough of Markus and Kara and it has us pressing the brake and the gas at the same time#just trying to figure them out around these points. it's like a damn maze and a lot of speculation that doesn't have anything to grab onto#it's just a damn crying fucking shame because there was so much time to spend on them and it just doesn't get spent on them#anyway rant over hope you didn't hate it
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WORTH THE RISK
—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader
—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.
—WORD COUNT: 10.8k
—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, dad’s friend!Boba, reader has parents mentioned in the story, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), secret relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), light choking, this is straight up filth y’all I’m not even joking, if the previous things are not your cup of tea this will not be the fic for you 🥴
Please let me know if I missed anything!
—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll post this fic in a couple weeks! literally a month later here we are besties, the dad's friend Boba fic inspired by @maybege's post!! this fic ended up taking waaaay longer than I expected since the story took a turn I didn't plan for, but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end! big shout out to Moss for betaing and all the besties who sent me incoherent emoji scrambles for my snippets along the way 💖 enjoy y'all!
Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist
Setting out the last of the dessert trays on your parents’ patio table, you swipe a hand over your forehead. A delightfully cool breeze ruffles the hem of your dress, signaling the coming summer evening and carrying the pleasant mixture of laughter and music from the backyard. Satisfied with the arrangement of treats, you look out over the party of family and friends gathered on the lawn: neighbors, coworkers, and family of all sorts gathered together for your parents’ annual cookout, which your father fondly calls the “Bar-bo-polooza” (and which your mother decidedly does not).
Scanning the crowd, you spot her bouncing their neighbor’s baby girl on her hip while your father diligently lectures her partner on proper grilling techniques over his beer. A swarm of kids darts around the party in what appears to be a high stakes game of tag, while a gaggle of your aunties and Uncle Steven are clumped together in tight conversation over the latest gossip. A smile curls up your lips—nothing bridges the generational or cultural divide quite like a juicy piece of insider knowledge.
Giving the yard a final skim, you give up on locating your boyfriend and head for your chair by the fire pit. You’re no sooner settled when you feel your phone buzz.
<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Better give me those panties now, princess>
Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You still can’t see him from your seat, but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides just high enough to still be considered appropriate for a family setting. Your phone vibrates again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.
<boba 🖤🧸🧋: I’m not going to ask twice>
A heated shiver snakes down your spine, pooling in the dampness already nestled between your thighs. Your plan to tease Boba to the edge of insanity is already taking its toll.
Logically, you know you shouldn’t be riling him up like this at a family function, but you can’t seem to stop yourself after he’s been out of town. You’ve missed his bone deep comfort, his small touches, and the safety of his arms. Hell, you’ve even missed the smell of him, breathing in that balmy spiciness that’s all his own.
Of course, you’ve also missed his keen knack for making you black out with pleasure. But who could possibly blame you for that? The man is nothing short of a god when it comes to making you feel good, so it’s not your fault you rubbed him half hard in the driveway or brushed up against him in your flirty new sundress during the party set up. Besides, you’d been an absolute angel in his absence: texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drank enough water every day, and not touched where you wanted him most just like he asked.
Really, you’d been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises. Just the thought of what he said he’d do has your thighs pressing together. So, with a sly grin sneaking over your lips, you tap out a response.
<Or what? You can’t do shit with all these people around, old man>
Adrenaline pumping hot in veins, you hit send and click of your screen. You make a show of stretching so your tits press together, sure Boba’s got a laser focus on you after that message.
Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You search for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.
“My, my, my, such a dirty little mouth on such a pretty little girl.”
A hot shock of electricity shoots down your spine. Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin deceptively gentle, like a blade wrapped in dark velvet: sheathed, but no less dangerous.
Your pulse jumps under the thin skin of your throat. You don’t need to look up to know you’re in treacherous waters. His tone alone tells you everything you need to know—your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially when you acted like you could get away with them. Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Wanna find out how dirty it can get?”
The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” His umber eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours… don’t make me add to that list.”
Something hot and dangerous spikes in your core. You can practically feel his lips on your overheated skin, the scrape of his teeth down your neck. Luckily for your rapidly evaporating self-control, however, you catch Ari waving at you and you signal at their saved seat. The reprieve gives you a moment to swallow back the well of desire pressing against your throat. You’re already playing a dangerous game with your relationship—you really shouldn’t be adding to it by tempting fate, or Boba, in your parents’ backyard.
After moving to town two years ago, Boba and your dad had become fast friends, bonding over their love of classic cars and good whiskey. Freshly cut in your former employer’s downsizing, you had come home just after they had started spending weekends drinking and working on the old Chevy in your dad’s garage. It was over for you the second you saw him: broad shoulders, tanned, and impossibly gorgeous, Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.
For a torturous year you danced around your simmering mutual attraction, months filled with “accidental” touches and excuses to see each other more than strictly necessary for a daughter and her father’s friend. He gave you rides when your poor 2003 Toyota finally met its end, helped you move in with Ari, and even let you drunkenly cry on his shoulder at last summer’s cookout when you were sure your life was a failure. You really fell for him then. Hard.
Always teasing you with winks and flirty smiles, things finally came to a head at your parents’ New Year's Eve party. Scrabbling down the stairs for the countdown, you’d crashed right into him, his arms wrapping around your waist to halt your fall. By the time the voices outside yelled “Happy New Year,” you already had your hands (and mouths) all over each other.
The instant chemistry between you has only become more explosive since. In the almost six months of your relationship, you’ve orgasmed harder, louder, and more often than you thought was possible for a human being. But more importantly, you’ve also grown and learned a lot about yourself, with Boba coaxing you to embrace your needs without shame, both sexual and not. Mentally, you’re in a much better place than you were after you were let go from your dream job; and physically, well… you’ve never been more satisfied.
Of course, you’re not nearly ready to reveal all this to your parents.
Boba has respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, despite his desire to claim you as his own every time your mother introduced you to some nice boy from her temp agency. Her mentioning that she invited “Kevin from Jimenez Landscaping” today is partially what made you decide on wearing the particular little sundress you had on. Not for him of course, but to drive Boba wild while you humored your mom and talked to the guy. The rest of your scheme—putting your hand down Boba’s pants behind his truck and digging yourself into a very deep hole over text—had been more or less spur of the moment.
Staring up at him now, dead serious with little patience left for mercy, has your insides twisting in tight, needy knots. Boba is a man of his word and not above leaving you unfulfilled when he thought you deserved it. Maker did he know how to make you squirm.
“Okay, okay,” you relent, doing your best to tamp down the need leaking into your voice. “I swear I’ll take them off when Ari gets back.”
You might be a brat but you’re not stupid: you know when you’ve flown too close to the sun.
He smiles then, smug and shining, leaning down to plant what appeared to be an unoffending, fatherly kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s more like it. Not so hard to be a good girl, now is it, darling?”
The sensual rasp of his whisper calls forth memories of love made sweet and long, making your stomach flip and tighten. Praying for the heat to leave your face, you clench your thighs together to ward them off.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Your head snaps up to see Ari’s freckled face plastered with a sardonic expression. Your confidant since childhood, your cousin is the only person who knows about your relationship—and isn’t afraid to give you shit about it.
“Of course not,” Boba answers breezily, patting your shoulder, “we were just commenting on how perfect the weather turned out.”
Ari scoffs, dropping down next to you. “Yeah, sure. If anyone else here actually had eyes, they would see right through the two of you.”
You grin and accept the offered lemonade. “What? Can a young lady and a handsome older gentleman not talk at a party?”
Boba’s hand squeezes your shoulder in a silent warning to behave. Still glowing with his praise of “good girl” echoing in your ears, you opt to stay so.
“Last I checked, they can,” Ari gestures back and forth between you. “It’s just the ‘fuck me’ eyes that make it totally obvious you’re screwing.”
“I myself prefer the term ‘making love’ over ‘screwing,’” Boba chuckles.
Ari immediately makes retching noises, their face screwing up in disgust. “Making love?! What are you, like a thousand years old?” They hold up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t even want to think about that more than I already have to.”
Despite your cousin’s reaction, his words bloom heat in your stomach. As good as Boba is at straight up fucking, he also loves you so tenderly and slowly some nights it nearly brings you to tears. With sweet kisses wrapped in praise and gentle touches laced with assurances that you were his and he was yours, he crafted a devotion more sincere and pure than you thought your heart could hold.
Ari elbows you, pulling you back to reality. “Now unless you got tea to add to this conversation, sir, I’m gonna need you to beat it. Me and your girlfriend have some important information to discuss. Auntie is three margaritas deep and just told me some very interesting things about her divorce.”
Boba’s fingers drift across the nape of your neck in a subtle reminder of delicious possession. He makes a show of sighing in exaggerated defeat and comes around your chair. Sticking out his hand, he nods. “Ari.”
“Fett.” They shake and Boba heads over to where your dad is flipping burgers on the grill. Somehow even his walk made you thrum with electricity.
When he’s out of earshot, Ari whispers behind their drink. “Finally. Now, she said that she was the one who instigated the divorce…”
It’s not until you head inside to pee that you remember your promise to Boba.
<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Clock’s ticking, princess. Panties. Now.> Received 6 minutes ago
Shit. You groan and throw your head back on your shoulders. Why is there always a line when you want to use the bathroom? Especially when you need to get your panties off before your boyfriend reaches up your dress and rips them off for you?
When the door finally opens, you rush in. Clicking the lock, you immediately yank off your underwear, taking the briefest moment to admire them. Pink, cute, and soaked in the middle, you feel deliciously dirty holding up the scrap of fabric in the mirror to snap a pic.
<All yours 😘> 1 image attached
The urge to run and take another picture in his truck is extremely tempting, but a knock on the door has you rushing to finish up.
Boba’s waiting for you when you step outside, looking handsome as sin as he leans against the deck railing. As casually as you can with a naked cunt and a pair of panties balled in your fist, you slip next to him and press them into his large hand. Maker, the sight of him stuffing the illicit garment into his pocket should absolutely not be as fucking hot as it is.
Seeing the scrunched look on your face, he chuffs a quiet laugh. “I can smell how wet you are, babygirl. Something’s got you all worked up, huh?” His tone is molasses, thick with self-satisfaction. “Brats do always love it when the consequences of their actions catch up to them.”
In an attempt to diffuse his pride, you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you said I was your good girl.”
He flashes you that jaw-dropping smile of his. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Before you can get any more hot and bothered, you see your mother approaching with a gangly young man in tow. You curse under your breath; you’d forgotten about Kevin-from-Jimenez-Lanscaping.
Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”
Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re going to have to make polite small talk with your mother and a stranger with your panties stuffed in your secret-boyfriend-who-makes-you-scream-with-pleasure’s pocket.
You’re also aware that it turns you on an embarrassing amount. Fortunately (or not), you don’t have much time to contemplate the extent of that particular depravity before Kevin and your mom stop in front of you.
“There you are!” she exclaims happily. “Kevin, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.” The young man smiles and shakes your hand politely and your mom turns to the older man. “And this is Boba Fett, our neighbor and family friend.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “Now he’s very protective of her, so be careful. Even worse than her father.”
Boba bares his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile, gripping the younger man’s offered hand harder than necessary for the brief shake. The act of possessiveness has your blood boiling even hotter as the poor boy’s eyes widen in surprise. After a couple minutes of tedious conversation that’s mainly Boba glaring over your shoulder, Kevin excuses himself, thanking your mother for inviting him and apologizing for having to leave so soon.
Watching him dart for his car, she levels a scolding tone at your boyfriend. “How is my daughter supposed to find someone when you stare murder at every single person I bring over?”
Unrepentant, he shrugs and smiles. Your shared secret dances on his lips. “I just want what’s best for her. Surely you can’t blame me for that.” Seeing your mother still unconvinced, he throws an arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek.
He sneaks a wink at you and you make a show of rolling your eyes even as your insides warm at his attention. Morally, you’re sure it’s wrong to enjoy this deception so thoroughly, but in this moment you don’t care; it lights some infernal fire inside you that burns hotter than any desire you’ve ever had.
“I hate to say it, but Boba’s right,” you play along. She still looks skeptical and he looks entirely too smug, so you elaborate. “I mean, what good is a guy that’s too chicken to even have a conversation with this grandpa?”
She bursts into a round of laughter that wipes away the previous exasperation from her face. “Oh, be nice to Boba,” she admonishes, lightly smacking your shoulder. “He’s no older than your father.”
A grin splits your face. “Gosh, you’re right, Mom! Boba’s only what, twice my age? I should really have more respect for my elders.” The words barely leave your mouth before Boba turns out his solo cup of ice water out over your head. Shocked with the sudden cold pouring down your face and neck, you instantly resort to tattling and finger pointing.
“No, ma’am, don’t come crying to me!” she manages through a peal of laughter. “You earned that one fair and square!”
Boba is positively dripping with his own self-satisfaction. “Sure did,” he brandishes a double-edged smile, paternally crossing his arms over his chest, “And I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”
Your skin burns so hot you can feel the rivulets of water trickling down your neck heat up. Memories of your tits pushed up against the chilled hood of Boba’s truck flash across the backs of your eyes—you had complained you were cold after a skinny-dip in the lake and he wasted no time in warming you back up.
“Careful, princess,” he panted damply against your neck. “You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”
It’s a miracle that you don’t immediately buckle when you catch his hand digging into his pocket to fist your panties. Keeping your eyes decidedly off him, you rush through an excuse to go up to your room to change. Before you can scurry off, however, he catches your elbow.
“Here, take this.” Boba pulls off his overshirt and wraps it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catching a cold, now can we?” Your mom nods approvingly before she’s pulled away by another guest. Once she’s out of earshot, he drops his voice low. “Go inside and meet me in the garage. I’m going around front.”
Even as you repress an excited shiver, your heart warms in your chest at Boba’s caution. He never made you feel bad for wanting to keep things private and always structured your affairs so you were never seen going or leaving together. And although you look forward to the day you’ll be ready to hold his hand and steal kisses in front of the world, sneaking around in the meantime did add an extra layer of excitement to your sex.
Sandals slapping wet against the tiled floor, you race across the kitchen to yank open the door to the garage. Thick, sun-warmed air hits your face with a pleasant staleness, smelling of cardboard and motor oil. The quietness of the space clashes with the clamor of excitement pumping through your veins. Sweeping your eyes from one side to the other, a frown weighs on your lips when Boba is nowhere to be seen.
No sooner does the displeasure darken your expression than you’re scooped up into a pair of strong arms and whirled around.
Familiar lips and a suede voice swiftly gentle your startled yelp. “Quiet now, darling,” Boba purrs, practically preening with the pleasure of your surprise, “you don’t want to get us caught now do you?”
Your gleeful giggles of realization are smothered by his barrage of kisses, each one an intoxicating mix of passion and urgency. Boba hooks your legs around his waist, not caring about the water soaking into him as he walks you deeper into the garage.
The intense press of need pushing against your chest melts under his touch, releasing your lungs and draining to pool in your thrumming core. It’s been so long, too long, without him, your body surviving on the mere scraps memory could provide you—nothing in comparison to the sustenance of the man himself. Having him back in your arms, his marred skin beneath your fingertips, his thick torso filling the empty space between your legs… it unhooks the final thorns of discontent left from his absence.
A wave of relief washes away the tenseness of separation, leaving you pliable and radiant once more; the release has Boba’s lips parting in a gratified groan at the satisfaction of being your sanctuary. You take the greedy opportunity to lick your way into his mouth to savor the way his taste fills yours. Lost to the sensation of your tongue sliding along his, a hiss escapes your lips when the back of your thighs hit the freezer’s lid.
The chill dissipates quickly in the glow of Boba’s urgent heat. “Fuck I missed you, babygirl,” he pants against your pulse, “Even if you’ve been a karking terror all afternoon.”
“S’not my fault,” you slur, dragging your teeth across the tan skin of his throat, “missed you too much.” His salt seeps into the warmth of your mouth, spurring memories of late nights pressed together under a quivering lake water moon. Seeking that passionate warmth, your heels dig into Boba’s thighs to press him deeper into your eager desire.
Unyielding and unrushed as ever, he pulls back, refusing to let you usurp his control. Bereft, a whine flies from your throat and you keel towards him in a desperate arch.
Boba catches your cheek in his palm and sharply angles your face to his. Pure dominance radiates off him in the unwavering set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eye, their darkness glinting like two sable jewels in the dim light. His raw power, sanctified by his restraint and your willing submission, shimmers in the air between your bodies—the ephemeral calm before his storm’s consequences.
He knows that disquieting stillness of his never failed to draw your desire. Without a word, his free hand disappears into his pocket to free your panties.
“Mmm, is that the problem?” His strong fingers dig into your cheeks and he turns your head towards the dangling bit of bows and lace. You can feel how the visual evidence of your arousal affects him. He presses the damp fabric against his nose, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your needy little cunt making you act out?”
Your answer comes out more as a whoosh of air than a word, your insides twisting with the searing heat in his tone. “Noooo…”
“So you’re just a naughty brat then?”
You want to protest that you’re nothing but innocent but your throat is too tight with the thrill of his wrath. He balls the frilly underwear into his fist. “Shame. I was thinking about taking mercy on you for your good behavior while I was gone.” He cuts his eyes back to you, smirking. “Too bad brats don’t get that privilege.”
You jolt, panic locking your ankles at the small of his back in an attempt to keep him close. “No! No! That’s not what I meant!” you cry, your voice taunt with distress.
A dangerous chuckle sounds in his throat. You’d shown your desperation, giving him the easy advantage. “Better start explaining then, princess. Or else I’m just gonna come all over these pink panties and you’ll get nothing.”
You blink up at him with pitiful eyes and a swollen-lipped pout. “It’s because I missed you,” you simper, tracing a finger down his chest. “Seven days is a long time. Too long.”
Even through the haze of your shared arousal, Boba resists temptation. “Too long? Babygirl, we talked on the phone every night.”
He lets you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and your fingers begin to loop into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…”
“No thigh to get off on?”
You squeak when he pinches your ass, the subconscious roll of your hips halting.
“As cute and sincere as you may be, my darling girl, you still have a debt to settle for your behavior today.”
That’s fair, reasonable even. You had pushed him further than you yourself would have been able to stand. You slip your fingers under his shirt hem to graze your nails over the dark hair trailing into his jeans. “What if I gave you a little apology?” you offer with a fluttering of lashes. “Show you how sorry I am?”
Boba’s breath hitches but he turns up his chin like he’s uninclined to accept your offer. “You really think a handy is gonna cut it after everything this afternoon?”
The fevered dream from his absence flares white-hot in your mind. Grabbing his belt buckle, you haul your hips forward to press your slick folds against his bulge. “Not even if that apology is you fucking me into the mattress in my childhood bedroom?”
Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.
“Not even if it’s you ruining me in the room where I learned to touch myself? Where I’d cry out into the pillow thinking about what it would feel like to have a real man fuck me instead of stupid, silly boys? Not even then?”
“Princess-”
“I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while, you know… what it would be like to bury my face in those cute flower sheets while you fuck my tight little cunt till I’m sore. Had to take a cold shower while you were gone just to keep my hands off myself.”
In a burst of strength, he forces you flat back against the freezer. “Enough,” he hisses through locked teeth. “For Maker’s sake, enough.”
Despite his protests, he’s rutting his twitching cock into the slick mess at your apex. You grin into his kiss—you’ve got him right where you want him.
“Awww, pleeeease?” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. “Pretty please… Daddy?”
The sound that scrapes up from him is so utterly depraved that for a second, you think he might’ve come in his pants.
“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”
“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”
Boba pushes his hand over your mouth. “You… you have ten seconds to get in your room before I’m fucking you where you stand. And I don’t give a karking shit who sees. Do you understand me?”
“So, apology accepted?”
“One.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Two.”
“Okay, okay! I’m going!”
“Three.”
You’re flat out running for the kitchen door, wrenching it open without checking if someone is behind it. Luckily, your path is clear as you fly up the stairs up to your room. The lavender paint and neat rows of school awards are nothing but a pastel blur when you fling yourself onto the twin bed. Quickly positioning yourself, you hike your dress up around your hips so you’re completely on display.
At this point, you don’t even care about the danger; you drop your hand between your legs and delve two fingers between your wet folds. The friction burns delightfully after days without so much as a finger to your clit. The relief is so sweet you have to bite down on your neckline to halt the sounds of delight from spilling out. Imagining just how much better it’ll be when Boba gets his hands on you has you bucking under your fingers.
“Just can’t help yourself, can you, little brat?”
It’s no use snatching back your hand—he’s seen your transgression and is all too ready to add it to your growing list. Grabbing your wrist, he wrenches you up off the bed and whirls you around so your back digs into the door.
“Oh, babygirl,” he husks in a low, cruel voice. “You’re so fucked.”
He’s pressed so far into you the damp fabric of your dress burns, absorbing his overwhelming heat. Pure, wanton desire floods your brain, drowning any hope of sanity until all that remains is him.
Boba yanks down the ruffled sleeve covering your shoulder and sinks in his teeth, groaning when you buck against him. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? You like it when I put you in your place, when I treat you rough.” His large hand snakes up your chest to grab your throat.
“Yes-yes, Daddy!” you gasp, writhing with prickling pleasure when he greedily palms your breast.
He grunts, his hips thrusting into you. “You think calling me that will get you out of trouble?”
“I mean being in my old room… seems kinda fitting, doesn’t it-oh!”
Boba shoves his hand over your mouth. “Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”
Fuck that should not make your clit throb like it does. Just when your knees start to tremble from the sweet friction he’s smoothing over your nipples, he tears himself away. Your cry of displeasure is choked off by a squeeze of his hand. With big, shining eyes, you blink pitifully up at him in a bid for more.
“Don’t bother with the kitten eyes, darling. It won’t save you… and neither will anything else you say.” He rubs his thumb gently over your pulse point, a jarring contrast to the pressure on your throat. “After your little attitude this afternoon, you’re going to have to earn the right to speak.”
Boba just tuts when you pout, a wicked flush of darkness shadowing his expression. “Brats don’t get what they want, especially not such disrespectful ones.” Licking his lips, his voice sinks even deeper. “Still think I can’t do shit with all these people around?”
When you don’t answer, he releases his grip on your neck to run his fingers up your skull and jerk your head back. Taking his time, he kisses you, devouring you until you’re fighting for air. “Little princess, I can do whatever I want to you no matter who’s around, do you understand that? Do you?”
Your answer is nothing more than a pitiful waver but he takes it all the same. “Good. Now take the dress off before I tear it off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat until I’m satisfied you’ve learned some respect.”
You’re out of the offending garment before he even has time to unfasten his belt. Despite the heat in your veins, goosebumps blossom across your skin, heightened by the moisture from your dress. When Boba sees you rubbing away the chill, he smirks and snaps you to his chest. “Looks like you need some warming up…”
Sliding his hands over your ass, he hikes you up into his arms with a puff, chuckling at your small sound of surprise. When he lowers you gently onto your bed, you wriggle into the position you know he wants: laid out on your back with your head hanging off the edge, ready for atonement.
It feels almost like relief. This was the reason you tested Boba’s patience with your antics and attitude; you crave the way he gives you no choice but to comply, the thrill of a fantastical danger shaping you into something vulnerable and eager to please.
The fire in his eyes dampens some as he caresses a hand over your cheek. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into the soft gesture. “Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts gently. When your eyes drift up to his, a smile warms his face. ��I know you like it rough and I’m going to give it to you, but I need you to promise to mind your body, okay? Let me feel your three taps to stop.”
As you’d practiced many times, you reach up and slap your palm against his thick thigh. His white smile gets even bigger and he bends to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. You glow with his affection. “Boba?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can you grab a towel for me to lay on? I’m going to soak a spot on the sheets if you keep talking like that.”
A devil’s grin stretches across his bronze features. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he instructs, his voice already husked smoke, “or I will make you only watch while I jack off with those panties.”
If he’d waited a second before darting to the adjoining bathroom, he would’ve seen the way your slicked entrance clenched at his threat.
For a fleeting moment you consider sneaking a hand to your peaked nipples, but the threat of him making you watch and not touch is far too distressing to test. Before you can get too tempted otherwise, Boba strides back into the bedroom with a towel in hand. Without a word spoken between you, he bends and you hook your arms around his neck so he can lift you and lay the towel down.
Boba hums in appreciation when you stretch back out before him, biting back your longing under his gaze. He lets his belt loose and his pants slide down his thighs, finally revealing the gorgeous image of his thick cock. Flushed rosy with want and beautifully slicked with desire, it bobs against his belly full and ready for your touch.
He steps back so you’re forced to crane your neck to see him. The baneful fire has returned to his dark eyes. He pumps his length once and your mouth waters in anticipation. “Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you just because you finally decided to behave.”
You shake your head.
“No talking and no hands, understood?”
Now you shake your up and down. You know far better of him than to disobey.
“Good. Now we don’t have much time before someone comes looking for you, little princess, so open up that mouth and make Daddy proud.”
Thank the Maker for that towel.
Tilting your head back to make your throat one smooth channel, you stick out your tongue wide and ready. Just seeing the way his expression darkens with desire at your obedience has fresh slick wetting your thighs. Hell, your obedience turns you on. Not just any man could make you want to give yourself over to him and you’re sure there are next to none who could possibly deserve it.
Boba steps forward, cupping your cheek in his rough palm and dragging the slippery head of his length over your lips, coating them in his arousal. You stay still, enjoying his taste and gentle attention; he would tell you when he wanted more.
When he rocks forward to let your tongue slide down the vein that runs the underside of his cock, you claw your fingers into the floral sheets beneath you. Your heart pounds against your ribs and your lungs bellow more air into your chest. He’s so close yet so far from where you want him. Spit begins to dribble from the corners of your mouth and your jaw twinges from its wide angle, heightening your need for him even more.
Boba continues his leisurely pace across your tongue, rumbling a few low, pleasured sounds. He notices your frustration—he always notices everything—and chooses to ignore it. It’s a lenient punishment in light of your behavior but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier or your cunt any less desperate.
The whine that escapes from you when he lets his head graze your front teeth is so small it’s almost silent, but he hears it all the same. “Mmm, is there a problem, darling? Something the matter?” The slow drag of him doesn’t stop.
You flick your tongue over his frenulum in a wordless response. Although you can’t see him, you know his pretty brown eyes flutter shut at the sensation.
“Aaah hah hah,” he chuckles through a groan, “is this not enough for my princess? Is getting her tongue used while she’s naked on her pretty pink bed not enough for her?”
Again, since he hasn’t given you permission to speak yet, you stretch your head up to capture the head of his cock between your coated lips, lightly suckling his sensitive tip. When he doesn’t stop you, you let your tongue snake up to lick the pearled drop from his slit.
A faint tremor runs through him, making his length thrum in your mouth. Boba curses and stoops to lay a hand on your throat. No pressure or grip to it, just his hand resting over the exposed column of your neck.
“Swallow.”
His simple command races through you like a spark up a gunpowder trail, igniting the tinder of aching pleasure between your thighs. Reflexively your body snaps to follow his order, your jaw closing and your muscles pushing him deeper into the wet heat of your mouth.
“Fffff- that’s it, babygirl. Juuuust like that… let me feel how good you take me.”
The jagged sound of his enjoyment shoots bright seams of glittering ecstasy into your veins. Conscious of the lack of permission to touch him, you dig your heels into the mattress to push further up his shaft, sucking in a final deep breath before letting his girth slide down your waiting throat.
The next seconds dissolve into a filmy timelessness where every single one of your senses are his—your every sensation and fiber belonging to Boba. Your breath, your sense of smell and taste, sense of direction, everything is all in his control, all his to direct and decide. Even as the need for air burns through your ribs, you feel impossibly free, weightless and perfect within his care.
Retreating into that protected soft space of submission, your mind goes blissfully blank, your sole happiness being Boba’s grunts of pleasure as he pumps his cock down your throat. Sweat slicks your skin and hungry breath claws at your lungs but they’re none of your concern, all you have to worry about is keeping your jaw open. Though it had taken some time to learn to get there, now you rejoice in finding this quiet place within his storm, relishing the way you fall out of time and into his world. Even with the strain and weight of him pressing down onto you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
After some wonderful, unknown period of time, air hisses through Boba’s teeth as he retracts from your warmth. Still blinded by submission, you gasp in big bubbles of air, blinking against the tears of exertion pricking your eyes.
You feel the muted thump of him dropping to his knees near your head. His thumbs are brushing away the salty trails as he cradles your head like a fragile flower against the wind, a smile blooming radiant on your damp face. “Baby… my darling girl,” he pants through seeded kisses, “you did so good for me, took it all… can you believe it? Almost couldn’t stop myself from coming down that perfect throat.”
You’re still hazy, drifting through the fog of your accomplishment, but you manage to pull apart your wet lashes to see his beaming smile. Its luminance turns up your own lips. “I… I did?”
Before now, you’d never managed to get the last thick inch of his cock down your throat—though not for the lack of trying. As oxygen flushes through your system, your head clears. “See,” you croak, buoyed by your success, “doing it in my old bedroom was a good idea.”
Genuine mirth crinkle up his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.” Boba turns and scoops you into arms, pressing you close to take in your scent. “I still gotta make you scream into the sheets, remember?” he murmurs against your temple.
You happily slide against him, relishing the way he fits perfectly against you. “Pretty sure I said ‘screamed into my pillow.’”
He snorts, caressing his hand along your jaw. “How about I make you do both?”
Taking your wild giggle as confirmation, he flips you onto your back to hover over you. You bite your bottom lip against your laughter as he trails tickling kisses down your neck and over your sternum, your breath hitching when he latches onto a pert nipple.
“Tell me…” he rasps through his mouth’s divine suction, “tell me how you would touch yourself.”
The great, crested wave of fire that crashes through ignites your limbs, making you jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. You never felt ashamed with Boba, he has always been your safety, your refuge; he’d wiped more tears than you’d let anyone else ever see and you’d twisted fantasies into his ear that would make the devil blush. But telling him how you rutted into your hand, sweating and barely keeping in your breathy sounds as you tried desperately to understand why boys your age never turned you on suddenly felt absurdly embarrassing.
He must have felt you stiffen under him because he prompts you again.
“I, um… I mean…” Why was this so embarrassing? It’s not like he didn’t know you were into the more seasoned male age range. Sucking in a steadying breath, you realize he’s stopped his ministrations to observe you with a keen eye.
It only makes your unforeseen shame bruise darker. You force a chuckle from your gut. “Sheesh, you know how to get a girl to blush, don’t you?” Your words are too high and paper thin—your façade not remotely convincing, not even to yourself.
Boba’s eyes flick over your strained expression, his lips pressing into a thin line before he bows his head to place a small kiss on your stomach. “We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later,” is all he says. It’s all he has to.
You blow out a weighted breath. His way of making you confront life while still giving you a degree of choice could be as infuriating as it was liberating. If you talk about it now you likely won’t have time for the down and dirty you’ve been craving all week (and, at this point, might shrivel up and die without), but the thought of soldiering on in this cold shadow of shame is utterly unappealing.
Maker, you’re a buzzkill.
Boba slaps a smack against your hip and you yip at the sharp sensation. “No apologizing,” he warns. “Just answer the question, princess. Don’t worry about anything else.” His palm opens to rub away the lingering sting.
Feeling your anxiety swarm like wasps, you try to sink back into your warm mental refuge where things were easier. Try as you might, however, your brain refuses to release itself from its nervous confines to slip into that softer shape.
It had been so terribly confusing back then. Watching your friends swoon over boys in your grade or just above, you tried to see what they saw in them: the supposedly hot guys on the basketball team with their burgeoning height or the apparently dreamy, mysterious poet laureate of your high school. You never understood what they saw in these lanky, acne covered boys or why they would cry so profusely over them. A real partner wouldn’t make you cry, you’d thought, he would take care of you, show you the love you were told you deserve.
But oh how you had wanted to understand, to have a believable answer when the subject of crushes came up at the lunch table or someone’s sleepover. Everyone else did.
You only made the mistake of saying the school’s head coach was hot once—the grossed out looks and “old enough to be our dad” comments made sure of that. Eventually you settled on the safe choice of the football team captain for your obligatory answer whenever the subject came up. Even though it wasn’t true, the pressure was off then.
When you went to college, things didn’t change, no matter how much you hoped they would. You thought maybe it was just the boys at your school you weren’t attracted to, that maybe you were normal after all.
Tears lodge in your throat at the memory of the guys you’d fucked trying to fix what was surely broken inside you, the nights you spent wishing it wasn’t the kind eyes and visible signs of life experience that drew you to the men you desired. Trying to pursue the older guys at bars and social events never ended well for you either; their kindness always dried up when you didn’t want to go back to their place immediately, followed by cutting comments about “daddy issues” and all the mean things that came with them.
Finding Boba, finding acceptance had been a taste of heaven. A golden slice of peace, the vindication that you weren’t some freak or wrong to want a partner who cherished and cared for you. Your stomach drops at the thought of that pure, devoted love. He gave you all of that, asking for nothing in return but your happiness, and you can’t even bring yourself to claim your relationship in public.
Shame curls in on you like leaden weights. He deserves so much better than you. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world they love him and proudly walks at his side—not some scared girl who can’t even bring herself to face her own parents. The wound you thought had long healed rips open inside you, spilling its tainted blood into your heart and a scalding brine down your cheeks.
Before the first sob can sound from your chest, you’re pressed tightly into Boba’s front, held fast by thick, warm arms that stall your rising grief. A watery stream of words tumble out of you all at once. “Back then, it was-I thought-and I couldn’t, I mean I tried-”
“Shhh, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, everything’s alright… yeah, just like that, princess, that’s my good girl.”
His gentle touch and storm soothed voice has your sobs ebbing under his care. “I-is there something wrong with me?” you whisper in a fragile voice.
Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?”
Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman.
Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.
Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.
You’re vaguely aware of being pulled under covers and tucked in tight to his side. Despite the furnace warmth of him and the blanket, you can’t seem to stop shivering against some inner cold. Piece by patient piece, Boba pulls out your discontent, wiping away new tears and kissing the old ones from your lashes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the darkening sky outside your window but he assures you Ari’s got your absence covered.
Tracing his roughened fingertips up and down your spine, he tilts up your chin to kiss your forehead. “Darling girl, why did you never say anything? That’s all too heavy to have to deal with by yourself. Especially when I’m here to help.”
Why did you? You’d shared so much of your other burdens—your disillusion after losing your dream job, your struggle coping with your life not following your set mental timeline—why had you kept all this to yourself?
“I don’t know…” you whisper, letting your pointer finger trace along the collarbone of his newly revealed chest. “I guess I felt like… like even though what I like isn’t normal, that being with you would make those bad feelings go away… and you make me so happy I thought maybe they would disappear if I never looked for them.” Hearing these half-baked assumptions out loud makes you hide your face in his shoulder. You feel like an idiot. No, worse. An idiot who’s wasted all her sneak-away time crying instead of getting railed by her boyfriend.
Boba makes a sympathetic sound, squeezing you closer to him. “I want you to listen to me, princess. Really listen. Number one, no keeping things from me that hurt you or make you upset. If you need to cry the whole thing out or scream about it until you’re hoarse, that’s fine as long as you tell me. Understood?”
You make a noise of agreement and borrow deeper into his hold. He allows you his comfort for a few more moments before gently unfurling you to run his thumb across your cheek.
“Number two. There’s no such thing as normal. Not a fucking thing. You like what you like just like everyone else likes what they like. Being attracted to handsome men like myself is not anything different than having a preference for blondes or brunettes, yeah?” He kisses you on the tip of your nose and you can’t help but smile up at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t find anything wrong with me being attracted to special princesses who have dirty little mouths and dirtier minds, would you?”
Heat rises to your cheeks. “As long as I’m the special princess,” you mumble into his palm, suddenly self-conscious under his attention even as you revel in it. Maker, how do you still want him to pound you into the mattress after an emotional breakdown? All his patient love seems to only make you hornier now that your tears have been shed and your fears have been voiced.
“Always.” Boba chuckles and chucks up your chin for a kiss. When you slip your tongue into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to murmur, “Still needy, darling?”
How could you not be? Your need for him feels different now, though. Not so much more or less intense but an entirely different kind altogether, like a fire that burns just as hot but with a different fuel than its predecessor. Treading carefully around this new flame, you hold a tentative hand out to test its heat. “We don’t… if the mood isn’t right, we don’t have to… and we’ve been gone for too long already-”
Boba drags his hot mouth over your jaw, positioning you beneath him. “Then a couple more minutes isn’t going to change that, now is it, babygirl?”
You frown even as your hips seek his. “But the whole ‘sexy fantasy’ thing is kinda ruined.”
Taking your hand in his large one, he draws it down his chest and over his stomach until you feel the hardness of his arousal filling your palm. “Does it feel ruined to you?”
Rock hard and fire hot, he leaks into your fingers. Your stomach clenches. Not too distant memories burn bright and vivid behind your eyes: recollections of impossible fullness, banished thoughts, and the generous stretch to accommodate him.
“Tell me,” he commands, knowing his firm tone always had you melting like silvery mercury in his palm. “Does it feel like I don’t want to be buried in your sweet cunt? Ruining your ‘innocence’ all over again like you want me to so badly?”
His roughness, the obvious tint of desire in licking up his neck and cheeks all have their intended effect: you succumbing to your desires within the paradise of his control. “N-no, it feels like-fuck-it feels like I want you inside me,” you pant, desperate and breathy. You arch up in offering and he bows his head to enjoy the fruits of your desire.
Sliding a hand down your waist, his fingers trail torturously close to your wet heat only to skim over it with the barest of touch. “How did you imagine it back then?” The crackling weight in his voice sinks through your skin to light in your core. “Soft and sweet? Gentle nothings whispered in your ear as you came apart?”
Without warning, he slaps at the wet flesh between your thighs and covers it with his broad hand, claiming it for himself. Perfect nettles of pain flash across your mind and you jerk against his hold. “Or did you want something a little rougher? Want a man who knew how to treat this pussy like it was all his?”
You can’t help it now. The fire he coached is burning you from the inside out, blossoming from you with slips of petaled flame. “A-all yours,” you manage thickly, twisting against him for more. “Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”
“Yeah, I know, baby, they didn’t know how to touch you, did they?” Two of his thick fingers push past your lower lips to slide through the slick seam there. Trailing over your slit for a languorous second, the pad of his middle finger circles your swollen hood. “They didn’t know how to rub that cute little clit so you screamed, huh?”
“Not at all,” you sob, your voice quivering as you shake from the electric sensation of his fingers. “Never knew, never knew-”
Boba smothers the rest of your pathetic sounds in a kiss that pushes deep into your pillows. “Awww, my poor princess,” he croons. “So achy and needy with no one to help. No wonder you were all over me that first time, whining and riding my dick like you would die without it.”
Never mind that he had been equally out of his mind, pounding into you that night like a man possessed with adoration.
He notches a finger at your fluttering opening, ringing it around your flushed entrance just to see you squirm to get him deeper. “Remember how you begged me to fuck you, princess? How you didn’t even want to wait for me to stretch out your tight cunt?” Sinking in an effortless finger, he dips to lap up the beads of sweat from the hollow of your throat.
By the time he’s pressing in the blunt head of his cock, you’re face down and ass up, shimmying your hips back onto his length through a babble of pleas. “Please, Boba, please I want it deep, so fuckin’ deep I cry.”
Huffing out a breath that curls over the dampness of your spine, Boba grips the back of your neck to snap that first delicious thrust into you. Your broken sob is muffled by the rucked bedding, matching the slap of skin in a salacious accompaniment. Never one to do things in half measures, he digs a hand into your hip, anchoring your body to drive into you harder. He hits that divine spot that you didn’t even know existed before him.
The air whooshes from both your lungs in a blurred haze of ecstasy. “Shit, baby,” Boba squeezes your nape, “I’ll always give it to you… always, darling girl. Anything you want, I’m always yours, forever.”
You know it with every breath in your body and hair on your head—Boba loves you with every fiber of his being and he never hid that fact from you. From the way he looks after your safety to the care he takes just to see you flash a simple smile, you never had to wonder if he loved you the way you love him, not even for a second.
The realization happens suddenly then, tipping your axes so you could center on the one truth that had orbited just out of your consciousness: Boba is worth the risk. He always has been. No matter what you might lose or gain by sharing your relationship, he would always be worth the risk.
You swirl with dazzling vibrancy, this epiphany developing in full splendor within you. “Yes-yes-yes!” you repeat mindlessly, flinging an arm back to search for his tethering touch. His hand disappears from your hip to intertwine with yours. Face crushed into the rose covered sheets of your old bed, breath tearing into your lungs as soon as it’s knocked out again, you smile. It had all led to this: all those years wondering if you were somehow broken, all those loves lost trying to fix what didn’t need repair, that one New Year’s night when you stopped denying what you truly wanted—all of it, everything, had been worth the risk.
Boba pulls on your hand, forcing you to arc farther back so that last sweet, solid inch of him is finally able to press into you. “Ffffffff-that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re better than heaven, babygirl, you know that? Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”
You want to tell him the same but your head is filled with hot, sparkling clouds of stardust and your throat is tight with cresting pleasure. “Yes, Daddy, yes!”
“Shit, you calling me… say it again. Say it again and don’t fucking stop.”
You’re chanting now, watching how the room around you shrinks to a pinpoint as you draw higher and higher with him. The prick of light and the chorus of your glass-thin cries shake with impending explosion when he drags his blunt nails down your back, swelling over your hip to find your throbbing center. “Is it as good as you imagined?” he husks, his own voice leaden with delicious strain. “Getting fucked into the mattress you dreamed on?”
Each snap of his hips sends your clit skating over his calloused fingertips. “Better, so much better!” Crushing your eyes closed, you surrender to the scorching wave waiting to take you. “Please, Daddy! Please fill me up so everyone knows I’m yours!”
Boba jerks forward, breaking the pattern of his thrusts to fold over your back. His sweat dampened skin melds to yours and fuses you into one splendid being. His hand travels from your shoulder to clasp around your throat. “You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”
Your answer doesn’t waver, solidified by your new-found conviction. “As long as they know you’re mine, too.”
Muscles rippling to lock at your affirmation, Boba’s head drops to your shoulder. The groan that heaves from his chest rattles through your bones like a welcome spirit charged with animating the last gasps of your union. “C-come for me then,” he chuffs in your ear with his last dregs of restraint. “Come for me so they know what you fucking do to me.”
Would he ever truly know how easy, how intrinsic to your being coming apart for him is? How your world had only ever been ordered by his particular equation, even before your eyes first met? Unraveling to be respun with his thread is your very nature, and you would always yearn to be in his weave, stitched and re-stitched by his expert hand. His fingers press tight against the glowing center of pleasure at your core and you burst into a glorious, unbound tapestry of light. Undulant patterns of pleasure flow through your every inch, anointing your entire body in golden thread from the crown of your head down to each individual toe.
Feeling the hot claim he spills inside you is the final beautiful detail in your joint creation. These final fleeting moments where it feels like your very souls mesh together are always your favorite; Boba’s guard comes down and you rise to catch him, your usual roles reversing as he burrows into your warmth. “Always, baby. Always yours,” he promises, his voice thick and sweet as honey.
Echoing his sentiment in utter bliss, you tighten your grip on his hand, joy taking flight when he does the same. Content and at peace, the pair of you roll so you’re pressed flush together, still joined in the middle when your limbs re-tangle. Boba pushes your hair back from where it had stuck your forehead and plants a kiss in your hair.
You’re happy to smooth your palms over the scarred bronze of his chest to rest them lazily around his neck, his heartbeat jumping under your touch. How could you not realize this, that he, is worth more to you than any fallout from revealing your relationship? Was this not what you shed all those tears for, what you wished for every single time you tried to fit into another man’s mold?
A resplendent joy feathers out in your chest, floating down your arms, then your legs with soft announcement. “Boba?”
His finger traces up your spine. “Yes, my princess?” His voice is dense as goose down and packed with comfort.
You swirl your own shape into his skin. “I meant it, you know. I want… I want everyone to know we’re together. I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”
He goes silent, his only sound the movement of air in and out of his lungs. Even as you know he always takes time to consider his next move, your pulse still ticks up with a spate of nerves. The lines on your spine continue and you do your best to temper your unease as the long moments inch by.
Eventually, a rumble reverberates in his chest. Your ears prick up.
“You don’t have to do that, babygirl, not before you’re ready. Just because it slipped out in the heat of the moment doesn’t mean it has to be set in stone.” Boba shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer. “I know there are more risks for you than me in our relationship.”
You hate the far off note of despair in his voice. You hate the way he sounds like he’s resigned himself to a truth that isn’t at all what it has to be. “No,” you sit up on your elbow to cup his cheek, “there’s not. Not in any way that matters to me. You’re-”
“Princess, it’s okay, I-”
You silence him with a kiss, suddenly feeling like you have to get the next words out of your body before they explode. “You’re worth the risk, Boba. You always will be. Every single day since I met you, you have done nothing but prove that to me.” Your pace picks up as your truth spreads its wings. “I was afraid before, not of being with you but of what others would think about my preferences. I didn’t want them to judge me and think I was only with you because I have “daddy issues” or whatever, not because I love you more than I thought people could. And I know my parents will be shocked but all they want is what’s best for me, and you’re what’s best for me. I know this now—and I’m not ashamed of it.”
As quickly as you started, you run out of steam. No longer inflated with the sense of frantic urgency you had before, you sag back down onto his chest. A quiet second flicks by, then Boba’s grabbing you, hauling you up into his arms to kiss you like a man desperate to live. He says nothing, his lips working against yours in fervent passion but you can feel the sentiment he doesn’t speak. Each pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth communicate more than any words could: his joy in your self-realization, the excitement of proclaiming your love to the world at long last. Your only wish is that you could have given him this sooner.
When he finally lets you break for air, his handsome face is lit up with a smile more radiant than any sun. Whispering your name with a reverence of only the truly devoted, he brushes his nose over yours. “Babygirl, I… I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me.” He sweeps his lips over yours again. “I love you. Always have, always will.”
Besides his love, Boba’s greatest gift is his forthrightness. You never have to guess with him and now, no one else will have to either. They’ll know where his loyalties lay.
“That’s a good thing,” you tease into a quick kiss. “Because all my aunties, and uncle Stephen, are going to be very jealous that you’re off the market.”
Boba chuckles in that bone-deep way that always makes you warm all over. “I didn’t realize I was in such high demand.”
You push yourself up on his chest. “Oh, don’t lie to me, Boba Fett. I’ve seen the way you flirt and wink at them. They eat it up and you know it!”
Sitting up with you, he grins. “Just being polite, princess. You’re not jealous, are you?”
Maker, how could you ever be jealous of anyone after the sex you’d just had?
“Oh, not at all. Because at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.” You smirk up at him. “Speaking of which, we better get back out there before those same aunties start tearing the house up looking for you.”
“Only if you promise not to clean up and put these panties back on for me, darling girl,” he counters with a devilish smirk of his own.
Giggling, you bite your lip. “Anything for you, Daddy.”
He’s worth the risk.
#i made my own slutty self blush with this one 🙈#zwei writes#boba fett#boba fett x reader#boba fett x f!reader#boba fett x fem!reader#boba fett x you#boba fett fanfic#boba fett smut#boba fett fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#dad's friend!boba#fanfic#worth the risk fic
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Hi hi! I see you just opened your Kaiju no. 8 requests and I’m head over heels for our boy Kafka! I’m not sure WHERE to take this but like him having saved you in a similar fashion as Kikoru (so you know he’s part kaiju now) and months later after A LOT of flirting Reno finally blurts out “JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY JEEZ!!” or something🤣
If you’re not a fan you can take this however you want or ignore it lol thanks for indulging me lovey! *screams please & thank you <3
HE LISTENS
Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
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Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8
Pairing(s): Hibino Kafka x Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Kafka and Reader are the same age, Reader is implied to be shorter than Kafka
Notes: I absolutely adore Kafka! He looks like he’d give the BEST hugs!
The reader is written with fem!reader in mind, but no pronouns are used!
CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA
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You knew you should’ve evacuated at the first siren.
But noooooo! You just had to go back to your apartment for your laptop! But hey! Your dissertation for your doctorate was saved on there, and there was no way you were losing it when you were this close to finishing and graduating!
You ducked under another swipe of a Yoju. It’s some spindly long thing with too many eyes and a mouth full of too many teeth. It takes another swipe at you, and you duck, narrowly avoiding dropping your laptop bag as you trip over some stray rubble. Your right arm shoots out to catch your fall while the left cradles your precious dissertation and homework.
Pain jolts up your right elbow, and you’re pretty sure you have road rash all up and down your fingers and your palm. You look up and see the Yoju opening its maw to swallow you whole and only think of one thing.
You knew you should’ve evacuated at the first siren.
You close your eyes, accepting your fate but curling into a tighter ball in a sorry attempt to make it harder to eat you. (What kind of logic was that?)
But nothing happens.
What?
You peek open an eye and see something that has your jaw dropping open in shock.
Scales as black as pitch and outlined in azure light. A demonic-looking skull and a pronounced spinal cord with spikes lining the length of it.
Another Kaiju?
But that wouldn’t make any sense, seeing as it was holding the mouth of the Yoju open to keep it from eating you. The humanoid Kaiju effectively stood between you and the monster… Was it… Protecting you?
The creature turned its head slightly to look at you and winked. It winked!
“You might wanna get outta here, sweetheart, I’ll deal with this one.” Its voice was vaguely male-sounding yet demonic at the same time.
It could talk?!
That snapped you out of your shock, and you scrambled to your feet, holding your laptop bag to your chest as you sprinted around a corner just as the Kaiju readied a fist. You peeked back around the corner as the punch landed and quite literally exploded the Yoju on contact. You flinch back as organs and blood go everywhere. But it’s so quick that some of it gets on your sweater, effectively ruining it, as well as your slacks and shoes.
The blood begins to burn, but you pay little attention to it as a young man—no older than eighteen—with silvery white hair rounds a corner. His uniform exposes him as a member of the Defense Force. He holds the long rifle-like gun that all Defense Force members have. The man skids to a stop before the Kaiju but doesn’t shoot it.
“Senpai!” He chirps, and you watch as the Kaiju begins to change.
It shrinks in size, scales retracting into skin, and horns retreating into a head of spiky brown hair. Soon enough, a man stands before you in the same uniform, back to you.
“Yo! Ichikawa!” The man greets him in return
What.
The.
Hell?!
“Ichikawa” seems to hear something and turns to see you. His face drops in shock and surprise before darkening in anger. Though it wasn’t at you, it was at his “senpai.” The Kaiju-man-hybrid-thing notices the anger and turns around, spotting you. But he doesn’t seem angry. Instead, you watch his face light up in pure panic.
“I thought I told you to run!” He squawks awkwardly, and you stand on shaky legs, jabbing a finger at them.
“You never said how far! I thought around the corner was good enough!” You retort, though your knees shaking betray just how scared you are.
Would you be killed? This was clearly a closely guarded secret between the two of them.
Did the Defense Force know they had a Kaiju on their side?
Did anyone else know?
Ichikawa digs his foot into the man’s side in a ferocious kick and sends him stumbling.
“I thought I told you to make sure the area was clear of civilians before transforming!” He shouts, and you flinch at the vicious tone. Though the other man was clearly older than Ichikawa, he seemed to be in charge.
“But if I had to check the area every time I had to punch somethin’, nothing would ever get done!” The man whines, and Ichikawa simply sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Um…” The two men look at you, and you flinch again, your grip tightening on the laptop bag. “I won’t say anything, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me!” You manage to squeak out, and the older man looks at Ichikawa with bright eyes. You could practically see a puppy tail wagging behind him excitedly.
“See! We don’t have to worry about anything!” He exclaims, but Ichikawa isn’t convinced.
“How do I know we can trust you?” He says, eyes narrowed and brows pulled together in skepticism. You swallow thickly,
“Well… He saved my life. I’m indebted to him, and the least I can do is keep a secret.” You say, and Ichikawa stares, mildly surprised but relenting.
“Fine!” He says, turning on his heel to glare at his friend. The man spews apologies for revealing his identity to a civilian, but the duo doesn’t seem too upset about it.
You hiss in pain as adrenaline wears off, and you’re left in bloodstained clothes that are currently melting off your body. You high tail it to a nearby shelter where they provide a spare change of clothes. While you change and shower, you can’t help but think of the odd duo you met today.
You’d likely never see them again.
Right?
You stare at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your blazer for the millionth time, making sure your button-down is tucked into your slacks and scuffing your feet along the floor.
It was almost time.
It had been nearly six months since your interaction with Ichikawa and his friend (whose name you still didn’t know). You hadn’t seen them since then, but your life had changed drastically as a result.
You successfully graduated after defending your dissertation. Your research was making waves in the Defense Force and Kaiju-enthusiast community in general. So, you were summoned by the Defense Force to give a presentation to the officers about the importance of it. And today the presentation was to be given to the entire Defense Force.
You were only a little nervous. (You were bullshitting yourself, you felt like you were going to pass out.)
There is a knock on the office you had been stationed in, and you jump about a foot in the air.
“Yes?” Your voice is much more level than you expected. At least that was good. An officer peeks her head in,
“The Defense Force has been organized. They’re ready for you,” She says kindly. You swallow once, nod, and scoop up your laptop (which wasn’t damaged in the Yoju attack, thank the heavens) to follow her out.
The massive lecture hall reminds you of the enormous rooms professors would give lectures in back in graduate school and college. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were modeled after one another. Officers in their uniforms line the seats, most on their phones, but some chatted with one another. You even spotted the infamous Narumi Gen on some sort of gaming device.
Silence fell over the crowd as you were handed a microphone and tapped it a few times, making sure it worked, before introducing yourself. You heard a strangled noise come from the audience, but the lights facing you kept you from seeing who it was. You could see vague shapes of people, but that was it.
So, you don’t pay it any mind and start into your spiel that you had prepared. You introduce what the lecture will be about, your contact information (mainly email) if there are questions, and promptly launch into said lecture.
“And that concludes the lecture. Thank you, everyone, for your questions and for listening. I’ll be around the next couple of days gathering samples for research, so feel free to reach out and ask any other lingering questions!” You say and switch off the microphone, setting it down on the podium as well as the laser pointer. Most of the officers trickled out, with only a few staying behind to ask clarifying questions.
It wasn’t until you were shutting down your laptop and packing up your notes that the final people in the audience approached you. Everyone was long gone by now, save for…
“You!” You gape at the sight of the man and Ichikawa approaching you. They freeze midway up the steps to the stage. Ichikawa takes the initiative.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” He says as he bows. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and bow your head in return.
“Only thanks to you two. I’m sorry, I didn’t get either of your names.” You say hesitantly, and both of them look at each other before introducing themselves.
“Ichikawa Reno.”
“Hibino Kafka!”
You can’t help but smile at Hibino’s enthusiasm and extend a hand for them to shake. Ichikawa shakes it first, his hold light but not wimpy by any means. In contrast, Hibino’s is firm and sturdy.
“Now, how can I help you both?” You ask, and Hibino looks somewhat embarrassed.
“We were just wondering if you told anyone…?” He trails off, but you know what he’s talking about.
“No. I kept my promise. No one knows save for whoever you’ve told.” You say quickly, eyes unconsciously looking around the room for any spare stragglers who might be listening in.
Luckily, no one is.
“So… You never really went into it in your lecture… But what did you major in in college?” Ichikawa asks as the three of you walk back to your office. Hibino thankfully badges you in, seeing as all the keys are electronic keycards, and you never received one. You set your bag down and sigh in relief. It was finally over and not as scary as you thought it would be.
“I graduated with a PhD in biomedical engineering with a specialty in Kaiju biology studies.” You explain as you slump into your office chair and tilt your head back. But not before you watch their faces pale at the idea of all the studying you had to do.
Which was a lot.
You laugh at their expressions and offer them a smile,
“It was a lot of work, but if I can help people, then it was worth it.”
Ichikawa Reno and Hibino Kafka become a staple in your life after that.
Even when your research into how Kaiju biology could help amputees and transplant recipients took off, they were there every step of the way.
Especially Hibino.
He was there at every lecture, asking questions and stimulating conversations amongst your peers. He allowed you to study him in his Kaiju form as his identity as Kaiju No. 8 was revealed to the rest of the Defense Force. No needles, of course. That was his only stipulation. (Who knew a man as powerful as him would be scared to death of needles?)
So, you settled for CT scans, MRIs, and other ways of study.
Hibino also took you out for meals when you were both on break at least twice a week. Ichikawa often tagged along, but more often than not, it was you and Hibino alone.
Today was a day that Ichikawa tagged along.
It was one of the rare days that he was able to come to visit from the Fourth Division while you and Hibino were stationed at the First Division. You weren’t employed by the Defense Force persay; you were actually employed by Izumo Tech while you furthered your research. But with Hibino stationed at the First Division, that was where you were allowed to go.
The diner was filled with American-style food. It was one of Hibino’s favorites in the area, so you usually indulged him when he allowed you to pay. (Which wasn’t often)
The waitress brought over your drinks just as Ichikawa arrived and sat down. You had taken the liberty of ordering him a drink that you hoped he’d like. This place was renowned for its smoothies, so he got a strawberry banana smoothie. Hibino ordered an alcoholic beverage of some kind, and you stuck with water.
“How’s research been going?” Ichikawa asks as the waitress brings over your food, and you all promptly dig in. The food was greasy but delicious. You hum through your mouthful, chew, and swallow before answering.
“Slowly, we’ve made some breakthroughs, but nothing special has come of it yet.” You say cryptically. You weren’t allowed to really disclose anything before it was published, so dancing around the topic was the best you could do.
Hibino didn’t really get the memo.
“We almost—” You lunged across the table. You shoved a hand over Hibino’s mouth before he could spill any critical information. If it got out that he said something, you could be fired, and your career would be ruined. Hibino was still talking, his beard scratching your hand as he tried to explain himself. You yank your hand back like you had been burned but silence him with a glare.
“You know you aren’t supposed to say anything!” You hiss, and he rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle.
“Sorry, I just get really excited hearing you talk about your work.” He mumbles.
That gets your blood boiling.
But not in anger.
In excitement.
No one liked hearing you talk about your work! Hell, even your parents' eyes would glaze over when you started talking about Kaiju biology and how it could help hundreds of people! But as you thought back on it… Hibino would be an active listener, sometimes even taking notes for you to clarify at a later date.
He listened to you.
Your face was burning, steam practically coming out of your ears in embarrassment. Hibino’s face mimicked yours as what he said caught up with him.
Ichikawa wasn’t impressed.
“Just kiss and get a room already!” He complains and gets up, tossing some paper bills down to cover his part of the meal, and goes to get a take-out box. He was clearly done with your antics.
Your face felt like a volcano erupting. But you couldn’t do much else other than look down at your lap.
“Y’know…” You look up as Hibino rubs the bottom half of his face, his voice barely above a mumble. As your rampant emotions cool off, you answer him.
“What?” Hibino’s face flushes even more red, and it isn’t the alcohol in his system.
“He isn’t exactly wrong… I mean… I’ve been wanting to take you out for a while… And not just to lunch!” He stammers through his sentence until you get a vague idea of what he’s asking.
“Hibino Kafka, are you asking me on a date?” You tease, mostly to hide your thundering heart. Hibino swallows thickly and nods,
“If you’ll date someone like me, that is…” A grin splits your face until your cheeks hurt, and you reach across to grab his hand.
“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” You say, and he stares for a few seconds before whooping in excitement.
“Hell yeah!” He shouts, and you duck your head in embarrassment.
“Oh! And you don’t have to call me Hibino anymore, y’know?” He cradles your hand in his larger one and swings it back and forth as you leave the diner. Ichikawa left a while ago, claiming you two were an embarrassment to be around. You can’t bring yourself to care.
Squeezing his hand in return, you lean your head on his arm and smile.
“Kafka it is, then.” You say, and he just grins.
#kafka hibino x reader#hibino kafka x reader#kn8 x reader#kaiju no. 8 x reader#kaiju no 8 x reader#kafka x reader#kafka x you#kaiju no 8#kn8#kaiju no. 8#kafka hibino#hibino kafka#fairy writes
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EVEN MORE Fictional Men Ranked Least to Most Likely to Eat Pussy
Pleased to say that since the positive reception of Part 1, I have had way more people than I would have ever imagined in my inbox asking me to weigh in on various other fictional men!!! If this is my legacy on tumblr.edu so be it
Corrections to Part 1 first: Many feel that Mr Rochester was unjustly assessed:
Thank you scholars for your input, I am listening and learning!!!!
Without further ado:
9. Ashley Wilkes — Gone With the Wind
No. no. you guys. Beau was born via immaculate conception as far as i’m concerned but if i HAVE to get more specific I’d say Ashley and Melanie do nothing except missionary. I know he’s devoted to her but that doesn’t necessarily translate to eros and being in touch with the body!! Holy wet blanket purity complex. Even if he and Scarlett ever managed to get a room together and she asked him point blank to go down on her he would start shaking like a wet lapdog and leave the room.
8. Jay Gatsby — The Great Gatsby
I HATE that you all made me think about this. Gatsby has no relationship with real bodies. I think he would cast Daisy’s pussy in wax and put it on his wall. He would buy her whatever sex toy she wanted. He might even watch her use them. But there are way way WAY too many weird repressed currents for this to happen.
7. Andrei Bolkonsky — War and Peace
Andrei isn’t thinking about pussy, Andrei is thinking about Napoleon I. He might be inclined to take a woman in a manly fashion once in a while but she’s definitely not a real person to him and odds are he’s thinking about military maneuvers and his horse while it’s happening. Oral sex does not once cross his mind.
6. Pierre Bezukhov — War and Peace
Pierre is ranked in the middle because I honestly can’t decide. On the one hand I get huge fedora m’lady reddit vibes from him but on the other hand his reading is extensive, he’s thoughtful, and he’s lowkey devoted to Natasha without ever really asking for recognition?? On the other other hand if he was into going down on women maybe Hélène would hate his guts less, but on the OTHER other other hand she seems like a women with a lot of internalized misogyny who might simp shame him for trying to eat her out so maybe it's not his fault? Despite initial awkwardness I think he and Natasha might be able to figure this out and if he had weird freemason-y ideas about sex (? not sure what these would be but I bet they exist) she would probably tell him to stop being a freak and they’d get on with it (i hope)
5. Colonel Brandon — Sense and Sensibility
If Colonel Brandon was with a different woman I would have doubts, or guess that he probably has affectionate/polite but perhaps not very x-rated sex. (Can he give himself over to true carnal abandonment? I don’t know.) HOWEVER, Marianne is so DEEPLY erotic and so obviously deserves/needs to have someone go down on her every day — he knows this and he loves her and he will do whatever she needs to be happy, so!!!
4. Captain Wentworth — Persuasion
Frederick undoubtedly would go down on Anne but would she let him?!? Would she be able to allow herself to be the sole object of attention and devotion? For him to stare at her fully between the legs with the lights on? I feel like she could get there eventually but it might take a few years. He would be patient and not rush her and probably be good at it when it finally happened!
3. Henry Tilney — Northanger Abbey
Henry would give the sweetest long-term-relationship/Sunday morning head to Catherine. Probably the kissing your stomach and your thighs before predictably doing exactly what you like thing. He would say something funny when he has to stop to fish a pube out of his mouth. He’s comfy, he’s relaxed, he nails it — Catherine giggles and everyone goes home happy
2. D’Artagnan — The Three Musketeers
Absolutely 100% will this guy eat pussy. He may not know exactly what he’s doing but by god, the will is there. Constance might have to give him some pointers but this is a man who will look at you with moony eyes and take the fucking note. Probably sloppy at first but would ask to practice every day until he can make someone come in 30 seconds. Then he would brag to his mates about it.
Henry Crawford — Mansfield Park
Henry fucks. If he lived today he would have a tiktok account for fingering techniques. if mirrors on the ceiling were a thing in 1810 he would have one. he’s a player and everyone knows it but it’s almost worth fucking him to see if it’s as good as he claims it is. not only would he eat pussy but he would hold your hips down and wouldn’t let you move until you come. he has 4 different kinds of lube. like, it’s trashy but respect the game i guess.
Bonus: Mary Crawford — Mansfield Park
Mary can shoot a single look across the sitting room at girls who think they're straight and they'll suddenly have an overwhelming urge to have sleepovers with her. She'd be like "it's okay, we're just experimenting darling" and then satisfy them sexually in a way they never will be again. I don't know what's in the water where Mary and Henry grew up but jesus christ. She has everything that Henry has PLUS staying power.
Part 1 here!
#okay i feel mildly dirty for thinking about this so hard#jane eyre#gone with the wind#war and peace#the great gatsby#sense and sensibility#persuasion#mansfield park#the three musketeers#northanger abbey#jane austen#mr rochester
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if you can’t write your own necronomicon, store-bought is fine 🪦
(not ideal but: fine) — 1/3
for @klausinamarink, who prompted 'NECROMANCY' at the @steddiesummerexchange
Steve wants this clear, on-the-record, absolutely fucking crystal, okay?
It was not his intention to snoop through Eddie’s shit.
It’s not even a ‘respect for the dead’ thing. It’s just a ‘be a decent dude and don’t go through another dude’s personal stuff’ thing.
So like. Just to be clear.
It does not start out the way it…ends up.
——————
How it does start out is this notion that gets stuck in Steve’s head about the fucking gravestone they’re putting up. He hates the idea of it being installed over nothing, just plopped atop grass and dirt and just, just…nothing.
Almost like they’re saying Eddie was somehow nothing, and when the overall notion hits on that thought specifically Steve has this simultaneous urge to break a window and vomit, and it’s just, it’s not—
He needs to find a way to curb that feeling.
He hates it enough to mention it to the others, who don’t get it. At all. Maybe because it’s Steve, and they don’t think he knew Eddie enough to be this…this. Maybe because it’s Steve and that’s not Steve’s role, is it? Having the feelings. And if Steve was in a clearer frame of mind, maybe he’d be able to wonder if the people he’s asking just can’t handle what he’s asking, can’t process more of…any of it, not right now.
But he’s not. In a clearer frame of mind. He can’t process, either, beyond the kind of fucking all-consuming need to not bury nothing under Eddie Munson’s name.
So he buys a casket. Anonymously, uses his dad’s business card. Ships it to the place he knows is doing the stone, there’s really only one option in town and maybe they’ll be confused, or maybe they’ll be pissed, but Steve makes sure when it arrives that it sits on their doorstep, moves it in the night when it gets dropped after hours: unavoidable. Unignorable. Black on the outside and red on the inside, but Steve moves it all by himself and it’s still too light. It’s still empty. It’s not quite nothing.
But fuck if it’s enough.
The only two people he’s tried to broach the subject with—or who’ve heard him in the process—and who haven’t brushed him off are Robin, and that’s because she’s his soulmate, and they haven’t slept without one another in arm’s-reach at the absolute most since they lost—
Well. Since.
The second person is Eleven, and she’d just overheard Mike scoffing and Dustin blinking silently, and Steve had known when to leave a battle that couldn’t be won because it wasn’t even gonna be fought, but he had caught her with a crease between her eyes. Her face scrunched all thoughtful.
Listening.
And if nothing else: not dismissing.
So when the idea strikes—not manic, it’s not a manic sort of idea, maybe it’s close, like in the ballpark of manic but hotdogs and millionaires are also in the same ballpark at the same time, y’know, and they’re nothing alike so fuck you—but when the not-manic idea strikes to put something, something that means something, that carries literal and figurative weight, inside that casket?
He tells Robin, who looks at him with sadness but not with pity, and who asks how they’ll manage it, rather than trying to talk him out of it. He’ll never get over how lucky he is to have her; never learn words that live up to how much she means to him.
But also: it’s good that all she does is ask how. Because Steve actually has that figured out.
He heads to Hop’s cabin when he knows both he and Joyce are gone. He explains in simple but plain terms, the kind he’s learning El appreciates best and processes easiest, especially when feelings are involved. And these feelings she grasps without hesitation, and fills in Steve’s vague ideas with concrete plans, and it takes less than twelve hours to see them at Forest Hills, where the government still hasn’t moved that goddamn trailer to give anyone any semblance of closure but definitely finds the time and manpower to put up new tape around the scene whenever it’s tampered with, fuck those motherfuckers all over again and—
Right. Well.
It takes less than twelve hours for El to distract the guards with a very minor fire on the other end of the park and some suspicious-sounding chittering she bets right on piquing their attention, giving Steve and Robin the in to sneak around the barriers and find their quarry: the version of the Warlock that never saw the Upside Down, knocked to the floor but in one piece. Weighty.
Something that means something, to mourn in the ground.
Robin’s peeking out the window, checking if the coast is clear for them to jet, for Eleven to ease off and meet them back at Steve’s car to go back to their evenings like nothing ever happened, save for the guitar in Steve’s trunk and at her signal Steve makes to follow with said guitar slung awkward across his back but then something…something pulls in him. It’s not even a catch from the corner of his eye or some shit, no, he feels it in the center of his chest:
What if it’s not enough?
So he grabs as many of the books scattered on the floor around a cracked and quaked-apart shelf in the corner as he can fit between both arms, all sorts and shapes and sizes, and then he’s ignoring Robin’s raised brow and crawling as quiet as he can back out of the trailer, out of the half crime scene, half quarantine zone, and running for the trees to get back to where they parked.
El’s waiting for them, and as he drives, honestly?
Steve thought he’d feel better about things, now. He thought this would start to calm that nauseous rage in him.
Maybe once it’s in the casket. Maybe once he feels the heft of it as a real thing.
Maybe.
——————
It would probably be logical to think that it’s the weight of the guitar that makes the shift, that turns the tides.
But that’d actually be a goddamn stupid thought because nothing about any of this—this town, what lies beneath it, the war they’re fighting the battle they lost, Steves fucking life now at large—none of it is logical, Jesus Christ. The guitar. What a fucking dumb idea.
Because it’s the books, of course.
It’s the goddamn books.
Because the guitar helps but it’s not enough. Steve tried his fucking hardest to lift Eddie’s body, had him in his arms but the gates were closing, the rope half-assed at too short after he’d cut Dustin off and with all of their wounds even Robin and Nancy—both with more upper body strength then you’d think—were basically fish in a fucking barrel and Steve was in worse shape but fuck if he didn’t get them out, get everyone out but—
He’d been the last, with Eddie. He’d felt the heft of that body, too cool against his chest but not cold, not yet—not dead weight, not dead weight, he was a person, he was this incredible person Steve was only just getting to know and he was, now he was—
No one had been unscathed to the point of being able to help Steve up. Steve had had the kind of shocking sort of clarity for being ready to stay with Eddie as the gate sizzled and narrowed, no man fucking left behind, right, but for the screaming growing ever more shrill for each failed attempt Steve made at holding Eddie different, at trying to get up and over the threshold together to no avail: he made the call the rest of them were screaming of him to make, despite the messiest fucking tears:
Leave him. He’s already gone. You’re not.
He knew how much Eddie weighed to carry, is the point. And the man was a lanky fucker with a little more build to him than first glance gave away but still: the guitar does barely half the work of filling the void.
Though the exact void Steve’s trying to fill might be…it might be more complicated than just the fucking casket not being empty.
But the casket does need more than just the instrument.
He sorts through the books he grabbed blindly; they all must at least be ones Eddie liked but…The Lord of the Rings. There are three of those, right? I feel like there are at least the three, and there are three right here that look so well loved they can’t not have meaning; Steve wanted to read them. He won’t be quick enough to read these copies, though, and that does feel like such a fucking loss, and that’s the point, isn’t it?
The grave can’t be empty. It can’t be meaningless. The marker’s meant to bear the loss.
They’re big, like, thick fucking books—one of about a hundred reasons why Steve hadn’t picked them up before. And no, he’s not…he’s not going to dwell on the why behind the way he lets his fingers flip the pages slow, stop here and there and drag the nail-tip across a line, a paragraph, wondering what some of the words mean, what Eddie would have thought of them, if he were here to ask—
There needs to be more weight. He shoves the trilogy to the side and grabs for…oh.
Oh, these are the…manual. Thingies.
For the dragon dungeons.
He lifts one, tests it: not as heavy. But there…there are a lot, and—
And Steve’s opening them too, flipping slow just the same: wondering. Wishing he could have a running commentary alongside that boundless energy even in the face of the end of the world, maybe because of the impending doom of the end of the goddamn world and Steve, walking shoulder to shoulder with him in those fucking death woods, he, it was, they—
“He was right,” Steve remarks, and realizes belatedly that it’s the first words he’s said to Robin where she’s flicking through a stack of books much quicker than him, clinical: all about the weight for the casket but Steve’s stuck on a page that takes him back to a conversation he heard only half of, the kids trying to catch Eddie up, trying to describe what they all call demogorgons and Eddie muttering under his breath about how that sounded absolutely fucking not like a demogorgon, and there a drawing right here, black and white and:
“They look nothing like they do in the game.”
Robin meets his gaze and still—somehow—her eyes are sad but they don’t pity him. Not yet, at least.
He’ll take it.
“Nothing in these is even really, like, connected,” Steve mumbles as he flips, flinches at the marked up pages on Vecna, Jesus fuck; “or workable,” he looks at the Mind Flayer and cringes, feels the urge to hide those pages from Robin even if she isn’t close, then decides to play it safe for probably irrational reasons and tosses the book to the side and grabs blindly for another one, oh cool, this looks like…spells and shit: “like, none of this looks apple,” Steve bites his lower lip, the word he’s looking for a little fuzzy when he’s scanning over the words on the page, because they’re, they’re not; “not even applicable, y’know, in reality,” but that’s vague, they’ve set foot in more than one reality, so does that even count as a caveat anymore but then, but then—and what they fuck is his heart pounding all of a sudden, he’s just sitting down, that’s not; but then;
“Or else, not for the Upside…”
His voice gives, peters out. His pulse is thick in his throat. He’s staring so hard at nonsense, at fantasy, at, at useless pretend things that won’t change anything, won’t fucking help, and why does it all hurt in his chest so fucking much and—
“Right?”
He looks up and Rob’s already got eyes on him. He can’t imagine how he looks. His vision’s a little…blurry, and it doesn’t even feel like it’s from tears, which…it does feel like it should be—but she might have crossed over to watching him with pity, now. He wouldn’t be able to tell.
But either way: Robin knows him, down to the cells. She knows the question he speaks out loud isn’t the question he’s asking. He’s not asking for reassurance, or confirmation. He’s not even asking her an opinion. He’s sure as shit not asking for permission.
Because he’s dizzy. His heart’s pounding, and he’s fucking dizzy, and it’s nonsense, it’s not real, it’s all a stupid game and the names don’t even match—
But. All of it was real. In some way, it was real.
It’s not an exact science, not a perfect match: it never was. But that wasn’t the point. It was a roadmap. It was a way to process the unfathomable enough to get from point A to point B.
And looking at the words on the page where his fingertip is drawing a long below: he can’t…not wonder. And if he’s already set on wondering, then fuck, fuck—the rage in his chest is easy, his heart doesn’t feel so squished and his might not sick up his lunch for the first time after trying to eat more than a peanut butter sandwich from the community hub. There’s something in this. It’s what he’s been searching for. He reads the words again, again, and again and yeah, they’re absurd, they’re absolutely insane:
RAISE DEAD
But maybe…maybe they’re a roadmap. Inexact but…but up to the task. What if.
They can’t not…try.
Steve will not live with himself if they don’t try.
🖤✨🖤 join the tag list below or follow #store-bought necronomicon for updates
✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher
divider credits here and here
💫 ao3 link here
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#angst#angst with a happy ending#hurt/comfort#necromancy#resurrection#pre-relationship#(but won't stay 'pre' if these crazy kids succeed in their crazy plot!)#happy ending#temporary character death#TEMPORARY being the important part; that IS the orienting concept of the story also SEE HAPPY ENDING ABOVE#platonic stobin#an overabundance of dungeons & dragons references#grief/mourning#but: what if you took that grief for your newly-realized deceased crush & jammed it into seeing if dnd spells worked in a monster dimension#the 'raise dead' spell is getting heavy mileage here#stranger things#gift fic#klausinamarink#steddiesummerficexchange#hitlikehammers v words#hitlikehammers writes#store-bought necronomicon
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In honor of school letting out, here's some Stanley Palatable predcanons for you. Expect more uploads for various fandoms soon <3
NARRATOR:
- He's the most stuck up pred you've ever met, but the most insistent on eating you.
- He refuses to eat you if you have shoes or a jacket on. He thinks they're "too dirty" and will refuse to even let you near his mouth.
- Adventure line tongue? Adventure line tongue! If you decide to follow the Adventure line, you may end up in a bit of a..situation.
- If you fall into something he may be eating or drinking, don't expect him to help you out. You're on your own now. Just hope you can avoid being eaten long enough to find a way out.
- Don't mention him eating you to anyone else because he'll just brush you off and get embarassed. "Oh dear where did you ever come up with a thing like that?" Before you're snatched up and shoved into his pocket.
- He uses the time he has you in his stomach to get things done. He's always making sure you're safe and not doing anything stupid- he rarely has time to work on the Parable or his writing. His best bet is just to swallow you down and take some time for himself.
- Biiig fan of fear/fearplay, even if you hate it. He's really bad at knowing just when to stop so he often does go overboard- but he tries his hardest to make up for it in any way he knows how afterwards.
- His stomach is either like the zen room or bright yellow! Depends on how he's feeling. It growls a lot- on purpose mostly. He thinks it "adds to the tone" when in reality it's just nice white noise.
STANLEY:
- Surprisingly worried pred, constantly prodding at his stomach to try and make sure that you're ok.
- Needs constant reassurance that you're fine and he tries to find different ways to talk to you since he can't speak.
- Mostly eats you to give you a break from The Narrator. He's gentle and quiet- something that The Narrator isn't. He genuinely enjoys being this close to you.
- Enjoys it when you rub the inside of his stomach!
- His stomach is a duller grey-ish pale yellow, it's not harsh on your eyes which is nice. His stomach doesn't growl as much and when it does it's pretty quiet.
- After he eats you, he tries to settle down in a place where he wouldn't move much. His chair, the break room, somewhere peaceful like that. He doesn't want to disturb the little bit of "alone time" that you get.
THE CURATOR:
(this one is mainly for me. happy pride month yall. I LOVE WOMEN.)
- She is a very no nonsense pred. She won't eat you without permission but she doesn't like it if you squirm or struggle.
- She mainly eats Mariella, but if you ask her politely enough and you catch her on a good day, she absolutely will eat you.
- Her stomach is a gentle blue-purple color and it's very quiet. Most of the time she'll gently hum while working, or make small conversation, but other than that it's silent.
- Sometimes she likes to gossip about The Narrator. Nothing harmful at all, just silly little quips about her "airhead" coworker.
- Sometimes she'll dangle you between her fingers (neatly manicured blue nails.. 😋) before she eats you. She's silly and indulgent sometimes.
MARIELLA:
(this is also mostly for me. I just. love women. a lot. 😭)
- THE YAPPER EVER. She will NOT shut up once she eats you. She sees this as an opportunity to talk and talk without any interruptions. She talks about everything. Hair, nails, the weather, her job- everything.
- Her stomach is pink! It's a muted pink but it's very nice. It growls a lot but not nearly as much as The Narrator's.
- Sometimes you'll just get picked up and eaten with no explanation and she'll start chatting away. It's mostly when she's bored and has nobody else to talk too.
- She's not one for fear but she does like to dangle and tease occasionally.
- Sometimes she won't even eat you, she'll just hold you in her mouth for awhile while she paints her nails or does makeup- or on the rare occasion that she actually gets stuff done, some paperwork.
- She'll fall asleep without explanation at times. One moment she'll be talking and the next she's fast asleep.
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Hello! 😘 For the little birthday fic idea:
Depressed and lonely Ed sleeps with lots of pillows and blankets because that's the closest he can get to feeling safe and warm.
Until he has a one night stand with this guy, Stede, but after Stede spends the night holding Ed, Ed never wants to sleep without Stede ever again...
Yes! Yes!!! This turned out another one of my absolutely favorites I'm posting today!
All Ed had ever really known of love was how to make do with not having it.
And that was fine. Some people just weren’t meant to be loved. Ed was used to it. It was fine. No biggie. Ed wasn’t even worried about it.
If he spent some nights alone and crying his eyes out, wishing desperately that someone just saw him, wishing that anyone could look at him with even a smidge of sympathy or affection or compassion…well, that was between him and God, wasn’t it?
Ed knew how to cope. He took guys home for one-night stands and knew not to expect more than he would be given. He expected harsh words and cruel hands. He expected people to hurt them, and he tried not to be upset when they did.
At night, he snuggled up with a collection of soft plush blankets and lots of pillows and some stuffed animals, and he wondered why he could never feel safe. He wondered why he never felt truly warm.
Fuckin’ sucked, yeah, but Ed knew all about putting up with things that were awful. He knew how to cry quietly, biting his knuckles in the dark of his bedroom to keep himself quiet even when he was alone because he was just too embarrassed to make a sound.
So, when he invited the cute, sweet guy he’d been chatting up at the bar home, he’d been expecting the worst. Sex that hurt was better than nothing.
But Stede had laid him down on his bed, carefully arranging a pillow under his hips, and he’d asked Ed what he wanted. He’d called him beautiful. He’d asked what he could do to make Ed feel good.
Ed had started tearing up before Stede had even gotten inside him, and Stede hadn’t complained, just crawled up the bed to hold him close as he cried.
They did make it to having sex, eventually, and only after Ed promised Stede over and over that he was fine, that he wanted it. Stede had taken his time with him, made him shake and whimper and come three fucking times before he came himself, holding Ed close the entire time.
Ed had worried it was too good to be true. He’d been sure Stede would pull out of him and get dressed and leave with hardly a word.
Stede had stayed.
They’d laid in bed to cuddle, for a while, and the entire time Ed was sure he’d been looking at him like he wasn’t sure he was real. When he’d whispered about wanting a shower, Stede had asked to go with him, almost shy, like he hadn’t just made Ed come his brains out, and when they washed each other in the shower, Ed knew he was a goner.
He didn’t know how he was supposed to live without this now he'd had a taste of it.
Stede helped him make dinner, laughing and bickering light-heartedly the whole time like they’d known each other for years. He’d picked a bit of grilled salmon out of Ed’s beard for him (and, sure, maybe Ed could’ve gotten it himself, but he really wanted Stede to touch his face again). They’d laughed over popcorn and some silly romcom.
And Stede still hadn’t left.
Ed had tried to keep his distance when they climbed into bed. One of his earliest boyfriends had actually pushed him out of the bed for being too clingy.
But Stede pulled him right into his arms, just like it was second nature. Just like they were made to hold each other close.
It was the best night’s sleep of Ed’s entire life.
He fell asleep curled up into Stede’s side, an arm across his chest and a leg swung across his thighs and his head resting on his shoulder. He watched Stede smile in his sleep when Ed kissed his neck, felt Stede’s fingers tighten instinctively over Ed’s hip when he shifted.
When Stede woke Ed up with a gentle kiss to his cheek, Ed had been terrified this lovely little dream was about to end.
“Please,” he whispered, burying his face in Stede’s neck. “Please don’t leave.”
“Oh, Ed,” Stede laughed, like the mere thought was inconceivable, and he held Ed even closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And Ed believed him.
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Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 8
Masterlist
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC
Word Count: 2k
Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty
Warnings: death
Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstances keep them apart?
A/N: I'm going to be real with you guys--this chapter was just for me. It's disgusting, cheesy, romantic nonsense and I absolutely love it. I hope you do too. :)
Writing an amateur poet's love letter was so ridiculous and fun, but I also may have f'ed myself up a little bit. Save me pathetic, handsome, unabashedly romantic gentleman who respects me as a human being with deep thoughts and valued feelings but also compares my eyes to flaked amber in the sunlight and treats me gently like a beautiful flower laid softly on the shrine of a solitary goddess...you're my only hope.
My dearest Beatrice,
These nights we have spent apart have been perhaps the longest of my life.
I had not realized just how completely you had made yourself at home in my heart until you were no longer here with me. I look to the space you have carved in my soul, and I find it empty. You have gone, and taken a piece of me with you.
At night I sit in the windowsill searching the streets below, desperate to see any sign of you waiting there for me. I pray for just a glimpse of your shrouded form, bathed in the silver light of the moon. As I wait, I know I would have forever been happy to be your Leander, swimming across the sea each night, guided by your light.
I have found my days as listless as my nights, waiting to hear any mention of your name. I dread what news time may bring, yet cannot stop myself from wishing the hours to pass as minutes. Time may yet be my enemy, but it still remains the one bridge that leads me to you.
I hope you are well my darling. I see an image of you sat alone with your worries, and it haunts my every thought. I hope to find some relief in the knowledge that my family will be with you soon, even if I cannot be. I hope your brief time with them will bring some measure of comfort to you, as they have comforted me.
When my mother and sisters return, I pray they bring good news. But know that no matter what, my feelings will not waiver. I am willing to stand steadfast against any tide we may yet face, so long as it is your wish to stand alongside me.
I worry now that perhaps my lack of interest in the movements of the aristocracy may have translated poorly. You must know that my distaste for their grandstanding, their rigid adherence to proprietary, and their many pointless rules means nothing in the face of my feelings for you. So now I shall be clear, so that there can be no misunderstandings between us.
I love you Beatrice. I will love you for as long as you will have me, and then one hundred lifetimes more.
Yours eternally,
Benedict
---
Beatrice sat in her nightdress, curled up in the armchair nearest the windows of her room. She clutched Benedict's letter close to her chest as she gazed out across the moonlit garden. It looked so similar to the place where she and Benedict had first met. It was not so long ago, yet it felt like a lifetime had past since then.
She turned her attention back to the letter. In the dim candlelight it was difficult to make out his flourished words, but that hardly mattered. Beatrice had read it so many times already that she could all but recite it word for word. She ran her fingers over the last line, smiling as she thought of the man that had written it.
I love you.
She wrapped her arms around her legs, pressing her forehead io her knees as she blushed. She could hardly contain the emotions that threatened to burst forth from her chest. Even having read it dozens of times, she could hardly believe it was real. And so she read it once more, then again, only to make sure she was not dreaming.
The feelings between them had always been clear. She did not need words to know Benedict cared for her. But to have it articulated so beautifully? To have him decalre it so boldly? That was a different thing entirely. Perhaps it was best then that it was written and not spoken. If she had heard it first from his lips, she surely would have perished in an instant--her heart too overcome with feeling to possibly be contained.
Her letter expressed her worries and her desires. Now she almost felt foolish thinking of the words she had written, having believed his choice rushed. And perhaps, regretted. Still, they needed to be said all the same, and now she could rest soundly knowing she had not in some way entrapped him in a life he did not want.
She prayed they would be allowed to see each other soon, but resolved herself to do whatever she must if she was not. She would see him again, no matter what.
She sighed, taking one last look out into the night before readying herself for bed.
As she laid in the dark, Benedict's letter tucked safely under her pilllow, she smiled to herself. She drifted off to sleep, knowing she would have sweet dreams.
---
My Dearest Benedict,
I hope this letter finds you in comfort and good health.
I have wished desperately to visit you these past nights. I have longed to be near you, to see your face and to hear your voice. The thought of never seeing you again forever stalks my every days and nights.
We spoke so little about my deception before we were forced to part. I know you have assured me all is well, but even so I must beg your forgiveness just once more. It was a crime committed completely for my own selfish desires, and I made you my unwitting accomplice.
And while I cannot in good conscious condone my actions, nor can I condemn them. For if I had been honest from the start, I believe we would never have been able to grow to know each other so well. For that time we spent free of society's eyes and expectations, I will apologize, I will accept the consequences, but I will never regret.
I know you must be worried for what is to come. The truth of it is I do not know myself. There are many possibilities, all reliant on many choices made by many people who care very little for the hearts involved. Ultimately, it comes down to this: Will I be permitted to see you again and if so, will you wish to see me?
I have not forgotten what you said as we danced. That you were willing to openly pursue me in spite of my title and any trouble that may follow. I was glad to hear you say so, gladder still for you to show your resolve and declare your intentions to all with every dance we shared. But I ever worry I have put you in a difficult situation, where you made a choice in the heat and haste of a moment, and now feel you must continue to honor your word and protect my feelings.
It is the knowing you care for me, but yet surely not wanting the burdens that I will place upon you, that haunts me so. That you may one day wake to a feeling of resentment towards me for your confinement, and wish in vain for release. I know you to be a free soul my dearest, and you do not belong shakled to a crown. And so I wish to be clear that I would never disparage you, even if it should be that you choose to place your freedom first.
But if this is to be the time I lay bare all my truths, I shall do so in full and know for certain I have said all I wished to. Then, regardless of what outcome the future holds, I can live contented by the knowledge that I have spoken every wish that lives in my heart.
I love you, Benedict. I have loved you since the night we met, and I will continue loving you every night and every day that follows for the rest of our lives and beyond. Whatever choice is made, regardless of who makes it, know that my feelings for you will never change.
And while it is so that I would never blame you for chosing to live your life a free man, the truth is I desperately ache for you to instead choose to spend it locked away with me. Together in a prison made for two, with no direction or purpose other than to be forever by each other's side.
I find I am only filled with such selfish thoughts when I am with you, and so it is with such selfishness that I reveal my deepest wish. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, my love, forever and always until the day we die.
Yours always,
Beatrice
---
Benedict sat on the windowsill, reading over the letter held tightly in his hands.
While in his own letter he had chosen to make his feelings know beyond all doubt, he had not expected Beatrice would do the same. It is not that he questioned her love for him, but even so it made it no less of a shock to see it written so bodly in her own hand.
Benedict had of course been certain she shared his feelings, but Beatiece was by nature more reserved than others. Certainly more than he had ever been. Her feelings had never been uncertain, but even when they were alone it was clear that she held herself back.
Not that he minded, of course. He found her shyness enduring, and never considered her in any way insincere. Quite the opposite; he truly thought her to be the most genuine person he had ever met.
So it was not a surprise that Beatrice felt she had to be so forthcoming with her concerns for him.
That she had been so worried for him in spite of her own feelings was an unwelcome revelation. Benedict had never wanted her to feel pain over any aspect of their relationship. And that she knew his choice, but still wished to convey he was not bound by to it made his heart ache. He felt it all the more when he considered that she did so in direct opposition to her own feelings, all for his sake.
But then she had followed it all with such a bold declaration of her love. Whatever pain he held was lessened considerably by her uncharacteristicly assertive words. Despite her feelings of guilt for her actions and the weight she believed she had placed upon him, she still chose to make her wishes known.
Beatrice loved him, and she had made it clear she wanted his love in return.
Benedict was soothed then in the knowledge that she had received his letter. Whatever worry she had about his choice were surely dispelled the moment she read it. There could now be no doubt between them that they both desired the same thing.
He only hoped this separation would end soon, so that he might show her the depths of his resolve.
He loved her, and she loved him. Regardless of what choice was made by others, he had already made his decision.
Benedict smiled as he folded the letter gently, sliding it back into the safety of its envelope. He prayed, as always, that tomorrow would be the day he received the news he so desperately longed to hear. But if he must continue waiting for a word that he could see her again, he would do so safe in the knowledge that Beatrice now knew his true feelings. And that wherever she was, she was waiting for him too.
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Tags: @empressnatsume @sarahskywalker-amidala @may-and-lay @asterizee @g4ns3y @bubblegumcat229 @mhmoony @mmmunson @iamcailin08 @mads198-9
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton x oc#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#heavy lies the heart#my writing#loversatthegreatdivide
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