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daimyosprincess · 4 months

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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.

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.

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.

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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the-kr8tor · 10 months

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Hii this is my first ask, and I was wondering if I could get a hobie x gn!reader who's kind of like pearl from steven Universe? Like something going on with her, but she doesn’t open up because she doesn't have a good handle on emotions of other people, nor of her own? Idk the idea just came to me 😭. Anyways I love all your works and you are such a talented writer. Have a good day/night/afternoon, and remember to rest, eat food, and drink water 🌟

Thank you for requesting, lovely! I'm not quite familiar with pearl's character (I only know her from the few episodes I've watched) so I hope I wrote this okay 💛 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, cw panic attack, cw drinking, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The leather seats squeak under you, Hobie's arm slung over your shoulders, a cold pint in your hand. The condensation drips on your pants uncomfortably, the loud chatter of the pub makes you grit your teeth. Stuck on the inside of the booth, you stare blankly at a random nail poking out of the table. Your fists tighten around the glass of your abandoned drink.

The walls feel like they're closing in on you.

“Oi,” you feel your chest tighten, the air hot against your cheeks. “Love?” there's fingers rubbing softly on your wrist. “Y/N” you blink back to the present.

The entire table has their eyes on you. You clench your jaw together.

“Yeah? Sorry, I guess I'm more tired than I thought.” You chuckle humorlessly. “What were you saying, Hobie?”

Hobie's eyes are soft on you, “I was tellin’ them about that weird lookin’ dog we saw yesterday.” he bracelets his fingers around your wrist. “‘m gonna go out for a smoke, come with me?”

For a second you thought he's addressing someone else, but he only looks at you with a faint smile on his lips. It's enough to make you say yes.

“Okay” you slide out of the booth, blood rushing back to your legs.

Hobie cups your hand unabashedly, his friends hoot and holler. He flips them off without letting you go.

“Where are you lot goin’? Bathroom's that way!” One of his mates comments.

Hobie whispers in your ear, doing his best not to shout despite the roaring laughter behind you and the karaoke echoing throughout the old pub. “Don't mind them, yeah?”

You could only nod, the sweaty bodies you're weaving around makes you hold on to him tighter.

Exhaling, you finally feel like you can breathe again. Unclenching your fist, stretching your fingers, you find the crescent shapes on your palms. Large hands slide to your palm, wrapping your entire hand in both of his hands. He rubs at the skin gently, calloused fingers careful against the angry marks.

Hobie doesn't talk, you watch his face illuminated by the single street light. His brows are furrowed, lips tightly closed.

“You're angry” you break the silence.

“What?” He blinks in surprise, hands paused on your palm.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't listening”

He'd think you were joking if not for the serious look on your face. “Not angry, love. Don't” Hobie surrenders your hand back to you, opting to hold your face in his hands. You let him, leaning on his touch. “Don't apologize. Were you uncomfortable inside?”

“I’m—” he encourages you to continue with his thumb massaging your cheek, his rings are cold against your searing skin, a nice reprieve from the warmth. “Yes, I was. I should've said something, sorry–”

Hobie cuts your unnecessary apology off with a soft kiss on your forehead. Shutting you up completely, skin warm once again but for a different, better reason.

“Works like a charm” he chuckles at your flustered face.

You hold his hands that's still glued to your face, not to take it off, no, but to show your own affection, knowing you won't be able to say a single word after what he did. You'll surely mess it up or get tongue tied.

Hobie beams at you, moving your face gently to the side to pepper your temple with not one or two but seven kisses. Each longer than the last until you laugh quietly in the dingy alleyway.

“There,” he huffs like he's out of breath. “I wasn't letting you go without hearing that laugh of yours.” You tilt your head to face him better. “What do you say we go home?”

“What about your friends?”

You keep finding yourself laughing more around him. “Okay, let's go home”

“They're your friends too.” You smile softly at his words. “Fuck ‘em, they didn't even laugh at the funny lookin' dog I showed ‘em.”

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bitterchocoo · 8 months

Note

hi can i request wxs with a reader who bakes a lot, and often surprises them with fresh pastries? if you dont wanna write all of them just rui or emu is fine! 😊

It Only Takes a Taste

Wonderland X Showtime | M. Reader

----------

"You remind me of a girl I once knew.."

----------

Tsukasa Tenma

Will praise your baking skills like there's no tomorrow.

You once make star-shaped sugar cookies for him and he cherishes that thing like it's a real star.

100% brags about having someone who has amazing baking skils

If he sees you baking in the kitchen, he'll help you and you don't have the right to say no. I mean just look at him! Don't you see how he shines brighter than the freaking sun at the thought of baking with you?

The face he makes every time he takes the first bite is always priceless. His eyes practically sparkle.

Also suggested that you should open a bakery, claiming that, "with your skills you'll definitely become a famous baker in no time!"

Rui Kamishiro

Will tease you for giving him a surprise pastry.

Definitely eats them as a snack as he builds his inventions and draws his blueprints.

Either that or midnight snack. Let's be honest, he probably only gets 3 hours of sleep at best with how many inventions he makes. Not to mention those ideas of his.

If he ever catches you baking, it can and will turn into a flour fight. Honestly it'll probably be a war that ends with the kitchen being all messy.

Jokingly say "My compliments to the baker." although he truly meant it.

Nene Kusanagi

Will act all shy because she never has anyone give her anything and a surprise at that?

Definitely eats them as a snack while she plays her video games.

If she sees you baking in the kitchen, she'll try her best to help you. Cooking Mama style. Do the Mama accent and you either get a laugh or a jab in the gut.

She either groans or giggles as you make a Minecraft reference while making a cake/cookies.

She probably suggested you make foods from different games/shows. For example, cookie cat from Steven Universe, butterscotch cinnamon pie from Undertale, the cake from Portal, etc etc.

One day you surprised her by making bacon pancakes from Adventure Time for breakfast and her face lit up.

Emu Otori

Congratulations, you've officially become her favorite person.

Will ask you directly if you have any pastries with you. Who can blame her? It's delicious! And if she could she'll eat it all day everyday!

If she sees you baking in the kitchen, she'll be super excited at the thought of helping you. Imagine a child who wanted to help their parents cook/bake with stars in their eyes, yeah, that's her.

Will also suggest you to open a bakery.

Gives you a small kiosk in Phoenix Wonderfully because she thinks that everyone should try your pastries and it would definitely, absolutely, 100%, guarantee, make everyone smile with just a single bite with how delicious it is.

----------

Another day, another show, another successful day for the troupe.

"You guys did wonderful today, a total of 246 tickets were sold." [Name] stated, looking through the clipboard in his hand.

He's been friends with Tsukasa since childhood who have found joy in the world of theater although not being talented in either singing or dancing, [Name] has become their manager. He's quite grateful for such an opportunity. After all, what's a troupe without a manager?

His carrying nature made him the perfect manager for the troupe and they can't ask for a better manager.

"246 tickets!? That's a lot!" Emu cheered, it's only been a few months since they all started their path towards their dreams and to think they've already made such a progress. "Of course! It's only expected that people wanted to see our show! To see a star!" Tsukasa claims as he smiles proudly at their achievement.

Nene merely smiles as she watches the group being happy at their rising to stardom. "So manager, what's on our schedule for today?" Rui asked curiously.

"Why don't we have a break? It's been a long day."

As the group have a small break, [Name] left to grab something before long he returns with....

"Cookies! You're the best [Name]!" Emu cheered, her eyes sparkles the moment her eyes locked on the small container in their manger's hands. "When did you have the time to do this?" Nene asked.

[Name] puts the container on the table, smiling softly as he watch the group enjoy the cookies he made. He had always enjoy baking and surprising them with fresh pastries had easily became a hobby of his. "I managed." He replied, taking a seat next to Nene.

"Hmm~ You should open a bakery! These are delicious!" Tsukasa compliments as he took another bite of the cookie. "Fufu~ as expected of our manager~" Rui chuckles, eating the pastry with a cheshire grin.

"Honestly, you don't have to.." Nene says, nibbling on the cookie. "But I wanted to~ plus seeing your guys faces every time I gave pastries are always a joy to see~"

Their manager's baking skills had never failed to surprise them. They look absolutely adorable and they're really delicious! The first time he does this, they thought it would just be a one time thing but as time passes. [Name] continues to give them copious amounts of pastries.

They're forever grateful for their manager, not only for the pastries, but for his whole support.

It won't be long until their little theater troupe would make it big and they have their manager to thank them. Who knows? Maybe [Name] might actually start a bakery with Wonderland X Showtime promoting it? Killing two birds with one stone, no?

#project sekai #project sekai x reader #project sekai x male reader #pjsk #pjsk x reader #pjsk x male reader #wonderland x showtime #wxs #wxs tsukasa #wxs rui #wxs emu #wxs nene #tsukasa tenma #emu otori #rui kamishiro #nene kusanagi #x reader #x male reader

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rosellacwrites · 5 months

Text

oh, my dreams

(part 1: it’s never quite as it seems)

summary: Your name’s put you in some strange situations before, but this one might win the prize.

pairings: Steven Grant x fem-presenting!Reader**

rating: general audiences

warnings: strangers to…?, administrative fuckups, descriptions of anxiety/anxiety attacks. **I wrote this with a masculine-named AFAB reader in mind, for reasons I’ll explain below, but it could also be read as a transfem reader being deadnamed, so please read with caution if that’s a sensitive issue for you.

word count: 2650

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — this is entry #5 for “One Bed.” And thanks to @silvernight-m for the encouragement to finish this. 😘

Happy reading! ❤️

dividers by @firefly-graphics

You tap your keycard against the lock, half your mind on the lecture you’d just attended and the other half laser-focused on turning your brain off and some trash TV on. It’s the best way you’ve found to decompress, after a day of the sheer chaotic overwhelm that is more usually known as the academic conference.

Opening the door, you vaguely register someone else’s presence; it’s always irritating, the university’s insistence on saving money by forcing the grad students to share hotel rooms, but there’s nothing to be done for it. Dues must be paid, and someday, you’ll have tenure and you’ll never have to share a room again. But when you emerge from that pleasant daydream, you realize that something’s gone very wrong.

There’s a man in your room, lounging on the bed, tilting his head at you. “Hello,” he says, rather tentatively. “I — I think you might have got the wrong room.”

“Oh God — “ You fumble for the tiny envelope your keycard had come in, and can’t find it. “I’m so sorry — you must be right, let me just… but I swear it said 303, it’s got to be here somewhere…” After what feels like a year, you manage to unearth it, and it’s right there in black and white. You glance back to the still-open door, and those numbers haven’t changed either. Belatedly, it dawns on you: it’s happened again.

“Oh, shit,” you wail, dropping your bag on the floor. “Shit shit shit.”

“Are you all right?” He gets up and pads over to you, peering curiously at your stricken face. He’s British, clearly, from the accent; tousle-haired and dark-eyed and cute in the gentle, nerdy sort of way you like. Far too cute to be tainted by the swirling vortex of bullshit that always seems to follow you around.

“Fuck.” You scrub at your forehead, trying to ease the sudden headache that’s developed, and laugh bitterly. “It’s not personal, I promise — I don’t even know you…”

“Well, I’m Steven. With a V. Steven Grant.” He smiles at you, radiating a careful sort of friendliness, as though you’re a stray dog of uncertain temperament. “So now you know me a little bit, yeah? D’you want to come in and see if we can sort this out?”

You’re too flustered to object, and you step into the room and flop down into the desk chair, because your legs don’t seem to want to hold you up anymore. “Okay. It’s okay,” you repeat softly, trying to calm yourself. “He seems nice. He’s probably not a serial killer...”

“I’m definitely not a serial killer, if that helps.” His eyes are kind, concerned, and you feel oddly safe with him, despite your embarrassment at realizing you’d just said that out loud. “I’m just Steven, perpetually exhausted student. So what’s happened here? Is it something I can help with?”

“It’s my stupid name,” you growl. It happens all the time, no matter what you do to prevent it, and every time it does, it feels like sandpaper on your skin. You’ve put your pronouns in your email signature, you’ve written Ms. before your name, and none of it ever matters because people don’t fucking read. “They see it on the registration forms and just assume I’m a guy, and then something like this always goes wrong.”

“They did tell me I’d have a roommate,” he thinks out loud. “I saw your name on the list and I thought you were this bloke I know from my college, so I didn’t think anything of it…” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing you, and that’s when it hits you.

The bed.

The single, solitary, admittedly large and very comfortable looking, but still only, bed.

“There’s only one bed,” you sigh. “Of fucking course there’s only one bed.” Tipping your head back, you study the ceiling as though it has an answer for you.

“Well, that’s it then,” Steven says. “We’ll have to talk to the organizers — I’m absolutely sure it wouldn’t be a problem for them to move one of us to another room. I’ll go with you and talk with them, if you like.”

“I can’t,” you interrupt. You feel it rising, that itchy, frantic, skin-too-tight feeling, the certain knowledge that when one more thing goes wrong you won’t be able to hold the screaming in. You’re frantically trying to gather up the cracking pieces of your carefully constructed shell, and the tigers in the tall grass will be upon you before you know it. “I can’t, because then I have to admit they’ve put me in the wrong room, and they’ll have to shuffle everyone around and it’ll make a big fuss and I’ll have Pain In The Ass stamped on my forehead when I go to network and I’ll never find a PhD advisor and — “

I don’t need you anymore, you’ve tried to tell it so many times. There aren’t any tigers here — you don’t need to protect me like this. But it doesn’t work that way, and you know it. It’s a bit like a wild animal itself, the anxiety, the way you’ve tried your best to tame it with meds and therapy and other, less doctor-sanctioned remedies, and sometimes it feels like you’re finally learning how to be friends.

And then it turns on you again, vicious claws and teeth sinking deep, and you remember you haven’t learned anything at all.

“I just can’t,” you whisper.

Steven’s hand lands on your shoulder, and you flinch; you hadn’t noticed him getting up to approach you again. “Breathe, love,” he says gently. “Just — take a minute, yeah?” You try, but your brain and heart and lungs don’t want to get with the program, and he sees the panic in every line of you. He half-sits down on the table, never taking his hand off your shoulder, and the other hand finds yours and curls around it comfortingly. “The only good thing about having anxiety attacks,” he says quietly, “is that you know what to do when someone else is having one.”

He breathes, deep and slow, leading by example, and gradually your heart settles into a slower rhythm as though his own is pacing it. His hands are big, and warm, and they ground you, bringing you back to yourself. Tigers in the area, the anxiety whispers, fading, but not here, not right now.

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options,” he says softly, letting go of you and ticking them off on his fingers. “Option one, we go and talk to the organizers and let them sort things out.” You shake your head quickly; he must see the panic rising again, because he switches tracks immediately. “Option two, we, er — don’t do that, and just leave things as they are.”

Your eyes fly wide. You’d been half-ready to just leave, throw your opportunities away and run back to the airport with your tail between your legs, but... “You mean…”

“This isn’t some kind of a — a come-on, or anything!” he assures you quickly, brows furrowed. “I don’t want to be the conference creeper, you know? But it is rather late, and if you’re really sure you don’t want to talk to anyone about it, I don’t mind at all if you stay.”

“Even though there’s only one bed? Doesn’t that bother you?”

He shrugs. “It’s only two nights — I think we can manage to be grown-ups about it for that long, yeah?”

The faceless Many, the Here Be Dragons on the map, versus the gentle sweet-faced One, familiar only by a technicality: it’s an easy choice, after all. It’s probably not your smartest, and even as you make it, your rational brain is pressing you to reconsider. But the anxiety, for once, is silent.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

You stay, and it’s — well, it’s nice. He’s nice.

He’s nothing but cheerful all evening, going out of his way to help you feel more comfortable with him and with this whole clusterfuck of a situation. And he’s funny, with a sassy wit that offers a glimpse of the brain below the messy curls. (You have a momentary thought of gratitude for the opportunity to see Steven Grant with bedhead tomorrow morning. It’s going to be epic.)

“I’m at Cambridge,” he tells you at one point. “About halfway through my PhD in Egyptology. On the linguistics end, mainly, not digging up tombs and things. But I have been on a dig or two.”

“Wow, Ancient Egypt. That’s like — the gateway drug. The thing that makes kids want to be archaeologists in the first place, and here you are doing it.” You smile at him, and he flushes.

“I suppose you’re right — always had a thing about it, as long as I can remember. Probably watched too many old movies as a kid.” He grins back at you, and it’s endearing as hell, warm and a little shy but somehow cheeky, too. “How about you? What’s your field?”

“I’m on the tech side. Mapping, satellite photography, ground-penetrating radar, all the fancy-ass things that tell you folks where to dig.”

“Oh, that’s fascinating!” he exclaims. “I could never — I’m hopeless with technology. Utter disaster.”

“Most of you are,” you retort before you can think better of it. “That’s why you have us.”

He laughs for the first time, and you immediately want to make him do it again. “That’s why we have you,” he acknowledges with a tilt of his head.

You’ve always been prone to crushes. They tend to creep up on you, more subtle than the anxiety, but no less consuming. The first tendrils always wind delicately around your ankles, and by the time you’ve registered their presence you’re already bound up to the knees. No no no no no, you tell yourself, you cannot do this right now. This is Not Allowed. This whole thing is more than weird enough already, without bringing his kindness and his intelligence and his big brown eyes into it.

Oh, no.

It’s already too late, isn’t it? the anxiety taunts.

Sure fuckin’ is, the crush responds.

You shove it down, ruthlessly, burying it as deep as you can. You keep it light, trading fieldwork tales, always the preferred currency at these things but more important than ever now. I’m for real, they say, trustworthy and honest and normal about things. I’m safe to talk to.

Steven ventures out for snacks to give you a chance to get ready for bed in privacy (god, how is he so nice), and when he comes back he nibbles on dark chocolate while he regales you with stories of Egypt. “Most people don’t know this,” he says, “but Cairo’s literally right up next to the pyramids. There’s a bloody Pizza Hut across the street.”

You stare, skeptical. “No. No way. That can’t be true.”

“Have a look at your maps,” he insists, pointing at you with the chocolate bar. “It’s absolutely true. Fastest way to spot the Egyptologist in the room is to show ‘em a movie where someone visits the pyramids and gets ‘lost in the desert.’”

You trade a few more stories, and then you can’t put it off any longer; your commitments tomorrow make a reasonable bedtime imperative. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you stand up and stretch. “I’m just gonna — “ you say awkwardly, gesturing toward the bathroom, and disappear to brush your teeth again (since he’d given you half the chocolate).

When you come out again, he’s rummaging for his own toothbrush, which means you have at least two minutes alone to decide how you want to navigate the inherent absurdity of getting into bed with a stranger. Don’t make it weird, the anxiety cautions. “By the way, do you have any, uh — bad habits I should know about?”

He looks up, startled. “Pardon?”

“I mean, like — do you hog the covers? Or snore?” You shrug as though it’s a perfectly normal question to ask someone you met a couple hours ago, and try to ignore the heat rising in your face.

“My, er, brothers — Marc and Jake — they say I talk in my sleep, sometimes. So I’m sorry in advance if I say anything bonkers.” Steven laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Still don’t know if I really do, or if they’re just having me on.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” I promise. “And if — if I can’t sleep, I’ll try not to keep you up.”

He smiles at that. “Likewise.”

And once he’s brushed his teeth, there’s really no putting it off any longer, and it doesn’t end up being as weird as you’d thought. Just two people climbing into opposite sides of a bed and settling down for the night, nothing weird about that at all. It feels rude to turn your back, somehow, so you curl on your side, facing him, and he clicks off the light and does the same.

You’ve tried to talk yourself out of it, but the apology spills out anyway. “I’m sorry — this is probably the last thing you needed tonight…” Your voice is small in the quiet room. “But — but thank you. For helping me.”

“No, no, it’s no trouble at all! This is good!” Steven protests. “I mean, not that you’ve got anxiety, but this — whole thing.” He waves his hand in a vague circle around the room. “It’s a good distraction. Means I’m not getting in my own head about my lecture tomorrow.”

Okay. That makes a certain amount of sense, and you begin to feel slightly better. “Do these conferences bother you too?”

He pauses for a moment. “Maybe… not quite in the same way as you? I don’t mind talking to people one-on-one and that, but presenting to a crowd always gives me a few fits, beforehand.”

“Do you — “ You swallow hard before continuing; it’s going to sound silly, maybe, but he’s looking at you so gently and like he understands, and you blurt it out. “Do you want to know a trick I have? It might help, if you want it…”

“Yeah?” He’s waiting as calmly as if you’re having this discussion over coffee, in broad daylight, not inches from each other in bed in a darkened hotel room, and it emboldens you.

“If I’m nervous about meeting someone, or — or giving a talk, or whatever, sometimes it helps me to, um — get there first.”

“Get there first,” he repeats, considering.

“Yeah. Get there first. Then it’s like — they’re coming into your territory, and you’re in charge.”

“That’s quite clever, actually.” He begins to smile, a broad grin creeping up like sunrise, and nods happily. “‘Get there first.’ I’ll remember that.”

A tiny glow of satisfaction burns in your chest, and you lie in silence together for a time. It’s a comfortable one, strangely intimate; you could talk, if you wanted, but for once you don’t feel like you need to. It’s enough just to be here, next to him, somehow knowing it’s enough for him, too.

It’s just — nice.

And then he stretches and turns, and for half a second your brain shorts out. “G’night,” he says, his voice already blurred with sleep. “Sweet dreams.” And he’s out like a light before you can even return the wish.

Even as your eyelids grow heavy, you’re convinced you’ll never sleep; how could you, when you’re literally in bed with a complete stranger, kind as he is? But the soft rise and fall of his breath is better than your white-noise machine, and the last thing you remember seeing before drifting off is his strong profile, silhouetted by the moonlight seeping through the space where the curtains don’t quite meet.

If you dream, you don’t remember it.

But it’s the first time you’ve ever been to one of these things and slept through the night.

part 2 coming soon…

@juneknight @spacecowboyhotch

author’s note, again: I got the idea for this fic from something that did, actually, happen to me as a teenager. Only in my case it was a summer music camp, not a conference, and my mother threw an unholy fit and made them change my room immediately.

(Sorry, Andrew. I guess we’ll never know what could have been.)

If your own name doesn’t match your gender presentation, for whatever reason, please know that I am fist-bumping you in solidarity and I love you.

#moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x f!reader #moonknightevents

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the-little-ewok · 1 year

Text

Push

Jake Lockley x F!reader (Lesser Marc Spector X reader / Steven Grant X reader )

Rating : M

Word count: 3500 (ish)

Warnings : Platonic relationship with hints that more may come (Jake), established romantic relationship (Marc/Steven), DID, divorce mentions, lil bit angsty, lil bit fluffy, lil bit jealousy, mention of voyeuristic intentions

Summary : Set within the Tilt/Balance universe the reader finally meets Marc and Stevens third alter. But Jake has been watching for some time…

A/N : I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. What is contained here is based solely on my research, the MK show and comics, and is not intended to cause any offence.

To the anon who requested I hope you enjoy. Sorry if it came out a bit boring

A/N 2 : Reading Tilt / Balance will give you a bit of background to these characters but it isn't exactly necessary to enjoy this.

A/N 3 : While listed as F/reader due to the universe it's set in, this can be read as G/N reader also

"Sorry I'm late!" You shout, bursting into the flat, kicking off your shoes. "I swear give me five minutes and I'll be ready!"

You rush past Marc as you run to the bedroom, grabbing your outfit from your bag, already knowing that the chances of making your table reservation are slim given the traffic in London on a Friday night.

As you throw it down on the bed something makes you pause. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and when it does you groan.

"You cooked?" You whine as you inhale the delicious smell of food from the kitchen. "Marc, you didn't have to cook. I know I'm a bit late but we can still go out."

Turning to complain at him you pause, taking in the man standing in the sitting room, surrounded by Stevens books, wearing Marc's t-shirt and pants, looking at you with a smug smile and raised eyebrows. The man who wears your boyfriend's face, but isn't him.

The realisation sinks in quickly of who you are looking at causing your heart to thunder in your chest and your mouth go dry.

"Jake?

He nods in confirmation taking a step towards you, one you mirror by stepping back.

Marc has told you very little of Jake, only that he isn't sure he's ready for you both to meet, still getting to grips with knowing his third alter himself.

You assumed Jake already knew of your existence, and that he knew that you knew of his, but you found with the boys it was easier to let them take things at their own pace no matter how curious you were about meeting their third, their protector.

Suddenly faced with Jake you aren't sure what to do. Physically he still looks like Steven, like Marc, but there's something in his eyes, in the way he holds himself, that is nothing like either of them.

Steven always makes himself small, Marc holds too much tension, like he carries the weight of the word, but Jake, Jake is a statue. Jake is unreadable, at least for now.

"It's nice to finally meet. The others have a lot to say about you," he smiles easily, as though you already know each other.

"All good I hope?" You give an awkward laugh, unsure how to handle the situation. "Is um, are Marc and Steven okay?"

The little you knew about Jake was mostly that he fronted when the boys needed him, when it was dangerous, or too much for either of them to cope. When you'd left the flat for work both of them seemed as happy as usual. You'd left Steven pondering over books, and Marc had called you at lunch to make sure you took a break and had something to eat. Nothing had seemed particularly out of the ordinary, but then nothing in your life was ordinary anymore.

"They are fine. I just decided it was time we meet." Jake shrugs like it's nothing, but you notice an all too familiar twitch of his fingers, one that sets you on edge. Steven used to do the same thing when he was fronting and Marc wanted in, generally when you and Steven were arguing and Marc was itching for control to stop you both.

"So Marc agreed for us to meet? Because that feels like something he might have mentioned." You keep your tone light but you tuck your hands behind your back, curling them into fists the way Marc has taught you.

While you have no reason to fear his alter, the fact this seems suspicious makes you uneasy, especially given everything Steven and Marc have told you about Konshu's hold on Jake. Jake himself may not scare you, but Konshu did.

"We had a long talk about it today." Jake doesn't even miss a beat. In fact his lips twitch upwards as he glances down at your arms, hiding your balled fists behind you.

"I didn't think Marc would give up date night so willingly."

Jake winces, and that tells you all you need to know. Marc knows, but he doesn't have control to stop it. It makes anger spark in your chest on his behalf.

"Can I speak to Marc?"

Jake sighs and opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he has a chance to speak.

"Let me speak to Marc," you repeat, more firmly this time, trying to sound more confident than you really feel. "Or I will leave until you let them front."

A tense silence follows as you do your best to stare him down. Jake gives an amused chuckle at your stubbornness.

"I see why they like you. Alright, speak with him. We can continue this afterwards."

Jake's eyes roll and he lets out a choked noise before Marc stares at you, immediately jumping into an apology as if it's his fault.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, baby! Jake just took me by surprise before I had a chance to stop him."

"Took me by surprise too," you let out a soft laugh, that comes out more nervous than you intended, betraying your wildly beating heart. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Are you okay?" He takes a few steps towards you, and this time instead of stepping back you walk forwards to meet him, allowing him to pull you into a tight hug.

"Yeah just a bit shocked that's all. I thought the days of me dropping in, not sure who I'd find, were gone. Little bit of excitement to my boring day though," you grin, trying to make him feel better as Marc regards you with worry.

"Dinner looks nice," you continue with a smile, gesturing to the beautifully laid out table, trying to distract him.

"I didn't… Jake cooked it." He grits out, clearly annoyed by the situation.

"Oh."

"I've got control of him now. It won't happen again. We can still go out if you feel up to it?" Marc offers.

You hesitate to answer, your mind whirring with questions. Why has Jake decided to intervene now? Was something wrong? Was it just pure chance? Why had he cooked dinner? Did he know it's your favourite meal or had that been a coincidence? Have you met before without knowing?

"Baby?" Marc prompts when you don't answer.

If he says no you won't ask again until he's ready, but now you're here, you have to ask the question. Maybe a little push is what they need.

"Marc," you start softly, taking his hands in yours, "I know you have reservations about Jake but he is a part of you, and I think it's important I get to know him too. I mean after all he has to live here and if I keep dropping in we should know each other."

"Yeah but not like this! Not just out of nowhere before we've even had a chance to talk about it." Marc scowls, his whole body stiff, as though preparing for a fight. You wonder if Jake is fighting to take over again.

"Nothing happens the right way with you anyway. I mean look at us, our relationship has been upside down, sideways and shaken," you laugh affectionately, and though Marc continues to frown his expression softens just a little. "Jake said you talked about it today?"

"Yes. But we didn't agree to anything. And you didn't agree to anything, so you don't have to let him push you into this." Marc cups your face gently, his eyes flicking between yours as he tries to get a read on you, on where your head's at.

"I know. Nobody's forcing me. I just…want to know all of you. You know how badly it turned out when you wouldn't speak to me." You regret the words instantly as Marc drops his eyes, still ashamed of his behaviour during the first few months of your relationship with Steven. You take his hands from your face, holding them and squeezing in a gentle reminder that you've already forgiven all of that.

"But look at us now. The three of us are closer than ever. Jake is the last puzzle piece here. Let me just say hello so he knows I'm not some crazy psycho who's going to hurt you. Plus I won't panic if he fronts when I'm around again. He cooked my favourite food." You shrug, trying to lighten the mood a little and still distracted by the mouth watering smell. Marc ignores your feeble attempt at making jokes.

"Only because the perverted bastards been watching the time you spend with us! I didn't tell him that!" He bursts out, glaring at the table as though it somehow personally offended him.

Your stomach turns uncomfortably at the thought of the intrusion. Marc and Steven had an agreement that when it came to you, for the most part, they would stay out of each other's relationships. That way you knew the time you spent with each of them was solely for that person. But the fact Jake knew things about you, makes you uneasy. Did Marc know the extent that his alter had been watching you? What exactly had he seen?

"Okay, that's… yeah…. weird." You wrap your arms around your waist, shielding yourself from the moment as your mind whirs with questions and concerns.

"You don't have to agree to this, love." You're drawn out of your unsavoury thoughts by Steven’s soft British accent. "Marc's having a word now. Well, several in fact."

"I know but… honestly Steven, I think it's time. And I have questions I want answers to." You glance at the food on the table with a frown.

"I don't know if I'll be able to take control back," Marc warns, clearly feeling he needs to step back in.

You give him a reassuring smile, hoping it comes off as confident. "I don't think Jake is going to hurt me. Hurting me would hurt you both and isn't he supposed to stop that?"

"It's not that. I'm just worried what he will say to you."

"Marc," you start seriously before breaking into a grin, "I very much doubt Jake finally confirming you actually do love Beauty and the Beast, is going to be that bad."

Marc doesn't take the bait, still too wound up in his head, and no doubt listening to the voices of his alters.

"It's not that. I just….I've done some bad things." And there it was. Marc was worried somehow Jake would reveal something he didn't want you to know. Something about the past he keeps carefully locked away and hidden.

You take Marc's hands in yours, squeezing tightly.

"I'm so proud of you. You didn't deny loving the film!" You coo, much to Marc's annoyance as he pulls a face at you, clearly unimpressed.

"Whatever happened in the past, whatever you or Jake or Steven did, it doesn't matter. I know you Marc Spector, and you are a good man. You all are. Now let's get this over with okay?"

Marc looks at you pleadingly, but you stand firm. This has to happen sometime, and while it's out of the blue, so had your meeting been with Marc the first time when you thought you were meeting Steven.

"He says one word out of line," Marc growls, leaving the threat unsaid.

"One word," you agree with a nod.

"And he only gets to eat dinner with you. This is purely an introduction."

You nod again, unsure of anything else Marc might be worried Jake would ask you to do.

"And I get an additional date night with you!"

You try and bite back your laugh but you can't help grinning at him. You could tease him later on his little bout of adorable jealousy. If you were honest, you would miss the time with him too.

"And just to remind you, I hate that film. And if you and Steven watch it one more time!" Laughing, you kiss him softly. Marc's expression relaxes in an instant. "You're sure?"

You step back, letting go of his hands and giving him a nod. You were as ready as you were ever going to be.

"I'm sure."

"We'll be right here if you need us, love. Just say the word," Steven assures you, before he steps back.

Watching the transition is hard. It's not like Marc and Steven, whose switch between them is so smooth it's hard to notice. It's not quite like the way Steven had described his blackouts either, back in the days before he knew Marc. But it's clearly still a difficult transition until Jake slips into place.

"Shall we?" Jake smiles, gesturing to the table, as though he'd never been gone. You suspect he's been listening the whole time.

So far you are yet to fully understand Marc’s hesitation at meeting his alter. You and Jake have made small talk and introductions while you eat. Jake had been perfectly friendly, and if you're honest, even a little funny. Although you were trying to make it hard for him, given the way he had jumped in, you still found yourself enjoying his company, at least a little.

"Why the introduction now?" You ask, sipping your drink. It's your favourite and you could assume that Jake had purely got that by coincidence, since Steven always made sure he had some in the cupboards, but combined with the food you suspect not.

"They are going to ask you to move in."

You choke on your food in surprise, snapping your head up to look at Jake, waiting for him to laugh. Only he doesn't. He stares seriously at you.

"Steven decided a while ago but Marc is scared to ask. He feels you might say no."

You swallow, trying to dampen the excited butterflies that erupt in your belly.

"I don't know how he got that impression?"

Jake shrugs, "you know Marc, he has a hard time believing people do actually like him."

You do know that. If you've learnt anything about Marc over your relationship, you've learnt that is a key component. Marc always thought people preferred Steven, and he had a hard time believing anything that suggested otherwise.

"Well, if they are listening," Jake's quirk of his lips let's you know they are, "then I wouldn't say no. I would love to live here, with them. I mean I practically do anyway!"

Steven had already given you a key to the flat, and other than the evenings they were gone, you spent basically every night here.

"That's another reason it was important for us to meet. You never know when we might run into each other." Jake smiles, but his words bring up a remembrance of your concerns. Have you met before?

"Well really you would think we had met already, given you know my favourite food and my favourite drink, probably a lot more than that too. Should I ask if you know what colour underwear I put on today?" The words have a clear bite to them and to your surprise, Jake splutters on his drink, a look of shock widening his eyes.

"I would never!"

You scoff disbelievingly, gesturing to the table.

"Oh come on Jake! Let's at least be honest with each other."

"I have limits," Jake insists, wiping his mouth. "I would never invade yours, or their, privacy that way."

You find that hard to believe.

"Except you already did," you point out.

Jake sighs, defeated.

"Not out of malice or perversion. The last time Marc let someone this close to him it didn't end well, and it took some recovery time. I had to be sure he was okay, and that you could handle it…us."

Layla. Marc has spoken about his ex wife a handful of times. You knew he left, and when they found each other again in the end they decided to part as friends. To your knowledge she was off travelling Egypt, working on archeological sites. Whatever the reasons they didn't work out, Marc had never mentioned, and you never asked. You felt it wasn't your place or your business. Another past item Marc kept locked away.

But it still doesn't make sense. You'd been dating Steven a long time, and Marc a while now too. Why had it taken all this time for Jake to decide to vet you?

"Well, you took your time," you comment, watching his expression.

Jake lets out a soft laugh with a nod.

"Not out of choice, Cariño. Marc keeps you well guarded."

That is easy to believe, and you understood as much from the handful of times the boys have mentioned their other alter. Jake was their protector, and he would do what needed to be done in order to protect them. You got the feeling Marc was scared that Jake wouldn't like you, and subsequently remove you from their lives. You hope you've at least made a good enough impression that that wouldn't happen.

"You swear you've never watched us…" you gesture with your hands, heat prickling the back of your neck, unable to say the words.

"Never," Jake confirms passionately, before he grins, raising an eyebrow, "unless you wanted me to? I'd be more than happy to oblige any desire you have."

It takes all your willpower and sense of decorum not to throw your drink in his face, and you imagine Marc is seething. Judging by the way Jake swallows hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, he's fighting Marc for control.

"Let me guess, the boys not take that well?" You give him a smug smile and sip your drink, pleased just a little at their protectiveness of you. Jake holds up his hands in surrender with a nod.

"I seem to remember you allowing Marc to speak to you in the same way."

You open your mouth to protest before closing it again, knowing Jake is absolutely right. When you first started dating Steven, Marc would often make little remarks in much the same way to wind you up, until he realised he had fallen for you, then he'd stopped entirely until the night it all came tumbling out.

"Marc helped me and Steven come together. He gets a free pass on that time in our lives."

"You are good for them, for us," Jake smiles, a soft warm genuine smile, perhaps the first true warmth he's given you all evening. "When you found us everyone was unhappy. We were in a dark place, Marc especially. When we-"

"If it's not something I don't already know, then I don't want to know. Marc doesn't want me involved in his past and I'd like to respect that. Please," you interrupt.

Jake tilts his head, like a dog who doesn't understand. "You're not even a little curious?"

You shake your head. Curious would be an understatement but you had meant what you had said to Marc. The past was the past, and it didn't matter now.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is now and if Marc or Steven wants me to know something, they will tell me."

Jake smiles and leans back in his chair, regarding you proudly. You get the feeling you just passed another kind of test.

It isn't the last of the evening either. Now and again Jake says something, asks something, that feels a little off, leading you somewhere, pushing you, testing you. It makes for an exhausting dinner, and nothing like the relaxing meal you had planned to have with Marc. You do your best to be honest, truthful, and loyal.

All you can do is hope you pass the exam.

When the food is finished you help Jake clear away the plates, feeling at least a little accomplished that their alter seems to tolerate you, if not like you a little.

"Does this mean I'll see you more often now?"

"Why, do you want to?" Jake grins. "Sabía que no eras inmune a mis encantos "

Laughing you shake your head, "I never said that. It's just I don't want you to feel like you can't front with me around. I know Marc doesn't like it, but I can talk to him. If we are going to live here then we should do it as a family."

"I appreciate that," he pauses for a moment before he adds "and your trust. You didn't have to meet me tonight but you did."

You smile, "I've learnt that sometimes with those two, it's better just to get the truth out of the way."

Jake smiles, regarding you for a long moment with an expression you can't quite place. It leaves you with a warm feeling in your chest.

"I should go," he says finally, "Thank you for having dinner with me. If you ever change your mind about wanting an audience-"

"I won't." You reply quickly, cutting him off. Jake raises an eyebrow before he lets out a soft laugh.

"Never say never cariño. I look forward to changing your mind." He takes your hand and leaning down, brushes his lips against your knuckles.

In the blink of an eye Jake is gone, and Marc’s furious frown falls into place, his fingers squeezing yours.

"I'm going to murder that bastard! If he thinks he can flirt with you-" Marc cuts out as you laugh, drawing him into your arms to hug him tightly.

"You have nothing to worry about, Spector. I only have eyes for two men in my life." He still frowns unhappily but you persevere, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Don't let it get to you. There's still a whole lot of date night left you know? I can think of something I want for supper."

Marc's expression changes in an instant, his fingers gripping your hips a little harder.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile, pulling his mouth to yours for a much more insistent kiss.

You try not to wonder if Jake is watching.

If you enjoyed reading please consider reblogging and letting me know your thoughts! Remember reblogs keep writers writing!!

~~~~~~~~

*Spanish - I knew you weren't immune to my charms

Thank you to @mandinlore for being amazing and beta'ing this for me!!

#jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley fanfic #moon knight fanfic #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader

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lolahauri · 8 months

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✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

Anon's: 🌹-🕯️-🍁-❤️-

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahaurisfw

AO3: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

-> EVENT MASTERLIST <-

DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write:

Sex Crimes of ANY KIND, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering, Lesbian x Male, Gay Man x Female, Stepcest etc... no exceptions!

Fluff, Angst, Platonic. (Go to my other fanfic blog for that.)

Things I Will Write:

Genderbent Characters, Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Bloodplay & Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

*if you aren't sure, just ask!* :)

HC's, One Shots, Multi-Chapter, Drabbles, F/O Imagines.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request other characters from these fandoms, but it might take me longer!)

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve. Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee. YOU: Joe, Love, Beck, Peach. Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta. Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson. (Human Ver) Attack on Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin. BNA: Michiru, Shirou. Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans. (Including SDVE & RSV) Total Drama: All season 1 contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley. SheRa: All Adults (Except Rogelio) King Of The Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luanne, Nancy, Dale, John Redcorn, Kahn, Min. Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V, Tony. Riverdale: FP Jones, Jughead, Veronica, Hiram, Betty. Creepypasta: Ben, Jeff, Jane, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Toby, Nina, Clockwork, Splendorman, Kate. Gravity Falls: Stan, Ford, Soos, Giffany Steven Universe: Jasper, Amethyst, Blue Diamond, Peridot, Lapis, Garnet, Rose, Bismuth, Greg. Adventure Time/Fiona and Cake: Princess Bubblegum, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona. COD: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria. Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabby, Edie, Mike, Lynette. DC: Batman, Harley, Joker, Ivy, Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenburg). Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface (general), Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Wraith, Huntress, Trapper, The Trickster, Pearl, Carrie White, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven. Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Waluigi, Bowser. Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo. Rick and Morty: Rick, Beth, Jerry. Stranger Things: Robin, Billy, Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper. Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast. Princess & The Frog: Shadow Man, Tiana, Lottie, Naveen. Ratatouille: Collette, Linguini. The Nanny: CC, Fran, Maxwell. Full House: Danny, Jesse, Joey. BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Amy, Penny. Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew. Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite. Breaking Bad: Skylar, Jesse, Walter. National Treasure: Benjamin Gates, Riley Poole. Superstore: Jonah, Amy, Dina. Spongebob: Man Ray, Dennis. Tangeled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell. Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy. Jane the Virgin: Jane, Micheal, Rogelio, Petra, Xiomara, Rose, Luisa. Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie. Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie. Scott Pilgrim vs The World: Kim, Gideon, Ramona, Wallace. American Animals: Evan Peters (Warren), Barry Keoghan (Spencer). The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler. Little Mermaid (2023): Ariel, Eric. Bob's Burgers: Linda, Bob. Avatar: Jake, Neytiri. Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.My Hero Academia: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa. Futurama: Leela, Amy, Fry, Bender. Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Wiploc, Zeebo, Valerie. Supernatural: Dean, Sam, Castiel.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson. Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch) Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River) Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby) Randy Marsh (South Park) Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Prairie) Master Chief (Halo) Ian Hawke (Alvin & The Chipmunks) Poe Dameron (Star Wars: The Force Awakens) Linda Gunderson (Rio) Bruce (Beyond Therapy) Jack Harrison (Transylvania 6-5000) Peggy Bundy (Married… With Children) Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto) Scarecrow (Batman Begins) John Wick (John Wick 4) David Levinson (Independence Day) Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)Mike (5lbs of Pressure) Santa/Babbo Natale (Violent Night) Dan Conner (Roseanne) Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House) Lt. Robert 'Bob' Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick 2022) Francine (American Dad) Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs) Fujimoto (Ponyo) Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980) Doug Remer (Baseketball) Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park 1993) Rose Tyler (Doctor Who) Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops) Astarion (Baulders Gate 3) Trevor Phillips (GTA5)Shaun Murphy (The Good Doctor) Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia) John Doe (John Doe Game) Paul Blart (Paul Blart Mall Cop) Fezzik (Princess Bride)

#x reader #self ship #shipping #ao3 writer #fandom #minors dni #intro post #pinned post

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romanarose · 6 months

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2000 followers!!!!

Graphic by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 🥰🥰

Wow, I'm in tears y'all I can't believe I'm at 2k!!!!!

I'll be straight up, the 1k celebration was a lot ;-;

And with school, I can't commit to a whole lot especially writing things for people who don't interact with my shit at all. So, I decided to do something specific

My talent lies in series more than one shots. It's where I shine. So I think the celebration will be centered more around my different universes! Acceptable universes will be listened an linked at the bottom.

Here's how to participate!

Fuck Marry Kiss

Pic 3 canon characters or OC's from any universes. If you say "Marc Spector" Specify if its from Seattle or Sunshine. Make sure I know which series bc there slightly different characterizations sometimes. Same with reader. MOST of my readers have a nickname like Little One or Madonna. Example: FMK: IYWBW Santi, Lorenzo, and Puppy Girl reader

2. Bonus chapter or thoughts (or thots)

Ever wanted to know how Zach and Lorenzo fell in love? Ever wondered what Jana and Will's friendship is like? Wanted to see what Guard Dog! Joel and Reader do for fun? Now is your chance! Please be clear if you're looking for thoughts or an organized chapter. Example: Can I please request a scene with how Santi calms down Laci when she has PTSD now that's she's a few years into healing? Example 2: Was wondering if you had some random thoughts of what shows Jake and Sam have watched together over the years?

3. Crossovers!

Want two characters from different universes to meet? Have a cross story ship? Think two readers or OC's would be besties? Think a pair of characters would be fun in a different AU? Come on over!

Example (From Fen): Leather and Lace Santi and Laci meet The Wrong Way Joel and Little one

Example 2 (Also from Fen): What if Sam met Becca.

Example 3: I think Angela from Blessed be the Fruit would absolutely love Candy and they should date.

Acceptable universes to ask for fics or crossovers from:

If You Wanna Be Wild (Santiago Garcia x Latina!Reader/OC x Javier Pena) with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside (Steven Grant x OC x Marc Spector) Seattle (Marc Spector x Jewish!OC) Leather and Lace Universe (Santiago Garcia x OC, Frankie Morales x AfroLatina!OC, William Miller x Vietnamese!OC, Ben Miller x M!OC) Awakening (Reader x all 4, IronPope, FishBen) Darkness on the Edge of Town (Joel Miller x reader, no age gap) DBF!Joel Miller Holiday Fucks (Joel Miller x reader, large age gap) Pieces from my dark side blog @romana-after-dark are allowed too. I have 2k followers here but Ill want to open the worlds in here to the event.

The Wrong Way (Dark!Joel Miller x reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x reader DDDNE) Guard Dog (Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!reader) Blessed Be the Fruit (Dark!Joel Miller x darkish!reader) Puppy Girl (dark!Joel Miller x reader, pet play) Room's on Fire (Reader x Santiago, Francisco, Will, Ben, FishBen, FishPope)

If you have other ideas, just ask!!!

Spring Break is coming up so im excited to do some of these and my commissions!

I CANNOT thank my lovely followers enough for all this!!! I love writing so fucking much and many have reached out to me about fics being healing for them

so, thank you. I mean it. Man of these stories, like LaL universe or TWW have been healing for me, processing a lot of feelings through them and i pu tmy heart and soul into my stories, so it makes me so happy and proud yall want to read.

#romana's 2000 follower celebration #triple frontier #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #santiago garcia #jake lockley #joel miller #moon knight fanfiction #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #triple frontier fan fiction #dark joel #dark joel miller #santiago garcia x reader #follower celebration #romana is blessed

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aliorsboxostuff · 1 year

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MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands.

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

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moonlight-prose · 11 months

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✧ WE HAVE TIME ✧

a/n: this day was written late yesterday and if it wasn't for @soulores cheering me on for kinktober i might not have skipped it. but here we are! marc spector is especially filthy in this story and i am here for it. honestly this man just deserves some really good head. so i'm here to deliver. and with this fic week two is complete!

day sixteen - sixty-nine + anal play | kinktober 2023

summary: "yet for a moment you felt entirely at peace. as if the universe had stopped time to give the two of you this moment—this small amount of serenity to indulge in the fruit of each other’s bodies."

word count: 1.3k+

pairing: marc spector x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, sixty-nine, anal play, oral (f + m receiving), giving marc sloppy head, marc giving you sloppy head, spit play sort of.

Fingers curled desperately into the bed sheets below, heart practically beating out of your chest. Yet for a moment you felt entirely at peace. As if the universe had stopped time to give the two of you this moment—this small amount of serenity to indulge in the fruit of each other’s bodies.

You sighed, head resting against his bare thigh, eyes fluttering shut as his palms cupped your ass. Pulling you even closer to his mouth. A single touch from him made you go dizzy—nearly incoherent with the way his mouth pressed a line of kisses up your inner thigh. The two of you barely got moments like this. An entire afternoon simply dedicated to watching each other fall apart.

Sunlight filtered in through the windows, warming the bed as he worked his way upwards, his moan muffled against your supple skin. His thumbs kneaded at the flesh of your ass, spreading you open until the cool air settled right along the tight puckered hole he’d been ignoring. Your body shivered at the sensation. His tender caresses and even softer kisses made you ache—your heart screaming out for more than just this.

“You smell so good baby,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse with sleep. Just thirty minutes ago you’d been curled in his arms, waking up to the sound of Steven’s alarm going off.

“Marc,” you whined, hand sliding along his muscled thigh, nails scraping the skin until he shivered beneath you. “Need you.”

He grunted, hips bucking up and cock practically begging for your attention. It leaked against his stomach, smearing precum everywhere, and you felt your mouth water at the sight. Could practically taste him on your tongue. With a soft grip, you maneuvered him towards you kiss bitten lips, eyes drooped and glazed with lust as you admired the ruddy head of his cock. The redness that tinged his entire body.

“C’mon baby,” he breathed, biting into your ass and drawing a moan from your lips. “Put me in your mouth yeah? Get me nice and wet for you.”

Heat spilled into your body, causing you to clench around nothing and he groaned at the sight—his thumbs spreading you even further. You felt shameless. Open for him to take what he wanted and perhaps that’s what spurred you on. What made you take him into your mouth with a soft moan—cheeks hollowing when he grunted long and rough against your skin. His taste burst across your tongue, heady and delicious as you took him further. Until the head of his cock reached the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, thumb pressing lewdly against your entrance, curving in and spreading your hole slightly. “You take me so fucking well baby.”

You moaned, tears stinging your eyes at the lack of oxygen in your throat, but the feeling of his thighs shivering made you keep going. Until you had no choice but to pull up, gasping for air—hand rapidly pumping him. He slid his thumb to your clit, mouthing along your ass, a grin being pressed into you when he heard you moan. The sound, high and broken.

“You like sucking my cock don’t you?” he said, the smile prominent in his tone. As if he was teasing you for getting so fucking wet from this.

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, eyes trained on the pearly drop of precum that slid down his length. Sticking to the skin of your palm as you continued to pump him. “Want you to cum down my throat.”

“Shit.” He let out a long groan when your tongue licked from the base to his tip, lips wrapping around him again. Only for him to yank your hips back, mouth sealing over your dripping pussy—ripping a cry from your throat.

His hips bucked up into your mouth, causing you to gag, but that seemed to be exactly what he wanted. Sure Marc loved to tease you. Rile you up to a point of begging. But when it really came down to it, he was far more eager than you. Willing to devote as much time as humanly possible when it came to making you cum. Which is why when his tongue slid along your pussy, lips sucking your clit into his mouth, you felt the tightness in your stomach grow at an impending rate.

Pulling yourself off of him, you moaned a sloppy version of his name, your throat thick with need. He licked at you like you were the only meal he’d get, the only taste he could ever want on his tongue. And it didn’t take long for him to bring you to the very edge.

His thumb slid up, spreading your slick until it pressed at the tight ring of your asshole. White flashed behind your eyes, your body attempting to curl away from his touch as the pleasure heightened to an intense degree. But he simply yanked you back. Spitting against your entrance and spreading it upwards with his tongue. Until you were loose enough to let his thumb sink into you right to the knuckle.

“So fucking tight back here,” he groaned, sucking one of your lips into his mouth and letting it go with a pop.

“Oh god Marc.” In an attempt to get him right where you were, you lifted your head and spit directly onto the head of his cock. Watching in awe as your saliva mixed with his juices. Making a mess of your hand.

Taking him back into your mouth, you relaxed until he hit the back of your throat with ease. A strangled groan being ripped from his chest and pressed into your ass. It caused pride to bloom in your chest—knowing you could render him as incoherent as he could you. There was nothing quite like it.

The pleasure was mounting faster than you expected and you bobbed your head, attempting to drag him down right along with you. Yet you didn’t expect him to sink two fingers into you at once, filling you completely and stretching you in a way you hadn’t felt before. A slurred cry was muffled around his cock as you toyed with his balls, your hips pressing back against his mouth as he licked at you loudly.

“Cum for me,” he growled, sucking at your clit roughly, teeth scraping along the throbbing bud.

Moaning around his cock, you felt your entire body go taut. Pleasure filling you to the very brim, until you could hardly stand it. You gushed into his awaiting mouth, eyes rolling back as he doubled down on his efforts, dragging you even higher. Until your legs were trembling and you were choking on his length. Spit drooled down your chin, tears spilling free, but Marc could feel it. The way his stomach tensed, balls drawing up in an almost painful way.

A sound tore from his chest, reverberating against your pussy as he spurted into your mouth, nearly dripping down your throat. And you drank him down, moaning softly at the taste of him now permanently etched on your tastebuds. Only when he tugged at your hair, pulling off his cock did you stop. Sliding your fingers through the mess on your neck and licking them clean.

You laughed lightly, draping yourself over his thighs. “Better than breakfast.”

A smack echoed in the room, his hand hitting your ass as his chest rumbled. “Careful. I’m more than happy to keep going.”

The offer was awfully tempting, but you could hear the clock ticking in the distance.

He sighed, head falling back against the pillows, hands kneading your ass gently. Exhaustion riddled your bodies, calling you back to that lovely state of sleep. Yet you knew the remainder of the day awaited. Kissing his thigh, you rested your head against his leg, feeling his lips drag along your skin.

A soft moment of peace before you had to leave it behind for good.

#marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector smut #moon knight smut #my writing #kinktober 2023 #marc spector

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

Bonuses For Fifteen Points

Steven Grant X GN!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Summary: You and Steven settle in for a comfy night in front of the TV watching quiz shows. But it's not too long before your mind starts to… wander.

Warnings: Swearing! Typossss! Fragment sentences! (the big three) oral (m receiving), idiots in love, finger sucking, slighty subby steven?

A/N: ‘Only Connect’ and ‘University Challenge’ are quiz shows that are usually on Monday nights on BBC 1 in the UK. I don’t know why I am obsessed with the idea that Steven regularly watches and enjoys these shows, but I am. So I thought I would make it everyone else’s problem as well.

Word Count: 2818

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem

_______________________________________________

Mondays were always a particularly difficult day. The metaphorical start to the week, the beginning of the grind, the day everyone hated. And even though technically Steven’s rota changed regularly, and he was routinely scheduled in to work weekends, it still felt like Monday was the beginning. It just had that taste to the air.

Monday evenings, however, were a much different story.

A low buzz of excitement settled in his stomach as he busied himself in the kitchen. He had practically run home, (part of him was pretty sure that he would have beaten the bus and the regular dismal London traffic if he had been on foot), showered and quickly hoovered around the flat.

He’s last seen you on Friday morning, not that long ago relatively speaking, a rushed breakfast and quick kisses before both of you had to part ways and make the journeys to work. Hell, Steven had spoken to you on the phone yesterday, you had both sent each other messages today, but still it seemed like an age since he had held you in his arms.

The weekend had dragged. Work on Saturday had moved at a snail’s pace, Sunday had seemingly existed outside of space and time. Perhaps it was because you had been in Lincoln visiting friends, the physical distance between the both of you warping reality itself.

But it wouldn’t be long now before you’d be here. Before he could finally see you in person.

Steven stirred the pasta sauce absentmindedly, trying to focus and not let his mind wander too much. He turned the heat down slightly just as his phone buzzed.

‘Sorry! Running late! ☹’

His heart sank.

It didn’t matter, not really, the dinner would keep. He’d still see you, he’d-

His phone buzzed again: ‘Stupid lift isn’t working. Just taking the stairs.’

Steven frowned. Wait, were you talking about his building's lift?

He turned the hobs off completely and walked to the door, typing as he went.

‘Which lift?’ He deleted the message before he sent it, unhappy with the tone. ‘My lift?’

He deleted it again, one hand on the door latch when there was a knock.

He flinched back ever so slightly at the sudden sound before quickly checking the peep hole, and then promptly flung the door open when he caught a glimpse of you.

“Hello Ste-”

He was on you in a second, squeezing the air out of your lungs with his tight embrace.

You laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m all sweaty!”

“I don’t care.” Steven mumbled against your neck as he hugged you tighter.

You giggled again as you untangled yourself from his limbs, quieting his small wine of protest with kisses.

“Oh love!” He pulled away, his warm hands holding yours. “You’re freezing!”

You shrugged, beaming at him in a dopey lovesick way that you couldn’t help. “I forgot my gloves.”

“No,” he guided you into the flat, closing the door with his hip while he never let go of your hands, placing kisses along your knuckles and holding them as close as he could. Seemingly trying to warm them as quickly as possible by sheer force of will.

“It’s fine, you know me. Sweaty face from walking up some stairs, freezing hands.”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You shook your head and grinned. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He kissed you again, softer and slower than before.

Steven finished and plated up the pasta, while you showered and changed, before you both ate in front of the television for your traditional Monday night.

Watching Only Connect and University Challenge.

Steven was naturally better at quizzes than you, seeing the patterns in the sequences round with an almost uncanny lightning speed.

You loved it. Loved seeing his nose wrinkle in thought, the way his eyes grew wide and his excited hand movements when the answer came to him. Loved him.

In all honesty, you probably spend more time watching Steven than the shows.

Occasionally you teased him a little about his not so subtle crush on the host, Victoria Coren Mitchell, and giggling when he teased you back about your less than subtle crush on her as well.

“You should go on there you know.”

“What?” He shifted a little so that he could look at you better.

After eating you had both ended up laying on the settee. Your head on his chest with his arm wrapped around you.

You looked up at him. “You could go on Only Connect.”

Steven pulled a face. “Me? A contestant? I don’t think so.”

“You’d be amazing!”

He shook his head, but you could see the hint of pink on the edges of his ears.

You dug him gently in the side. “You would.”

“You need three people.”

“They do that thing where people make teams out of people who want to go on.”

He made a dismissive sound.

You paused and then grinned, leaning a bit closer to his face, all conspiratorial. “You could ask Victoria for a kiss when you win.”

Without warning Steven’s hand that had been resting pleasantly on your side attacked your ribs, tickling you mercilessly. You squealed and swatted him away, still laughing.

As you settled back down on his chest you poked your tongue out at him. He poked his out right back.

“I could ask her to give you a kiss.” He muttered, trying to hide his smile.

You didn’t look up at him. “I think you should.”

Steven giggled loudly.

You didn’t like University Challenge as much as Only Connect. It wasn’t so much the topics of the questions, as much as the matter in which the questions were said were a riddle in themselves.

You often thought teams should get points just for working out what was being asked in the first place.

That was most of the reason why your mind started to... wander a little.

You couldn’t focus on what Jeremy Paxman was saying or what Imperial College and some tiny off branch of Cambridge were replying.

All your mind was filling up with was the fact that you hadn’t held Steven at all over the weekend, hadn’t touched his skin or heard him moan.

Small prickles of heat tiptoed along your skin, you bit your lip and looked up at him.

He was watching, enwrapped, his fingernail between his teeth as he listened intently to the questions being asked.

A wicked little thought crept into your mind.

Slowly, ever so slowly as not to alert Steven to your plan, you inched your way upwards closer to your prize.

He didn’t notice until almost the last second, your mouth tantalisingly close to the sweet spot on Steven’s neck: just below his ear.

“Love, what-”

He cut himself off with a shuddered breath as you pressed your lips against him. Grazing his skin with your teeth before kissing and sucking hard just the way he liked it.

Steven let out a sharp moan, his body instinctively curling in towards you, his left hand gripping hard at your hip.

You put your hand on his face gently. Just enough pressure so that he bared his neck more fully as you continue to kiss and bite.

Arousal shivers down his spine and pools in his abdomen, his cock already half hard.

“Love, oh, fuck.”

You feel his little jolts of pleasure as you suck on his pulse point, bruises already forming under your actions.

He bucks upwards instinctively, trying to reach friction that isn’t there.

Steven doesn’t care about you leaving marks. Wait… that’s actually a lie. He does care. He cares too much. He wants them. Craves them. Needs them so, so much.

The second time you had sex you had apologised for the love bites that you had littered across his neck.

Steven had cut you off as quickly as he could, blurting out his words in a rush for fear you wouldn’t leave them again. He had told you how much he liked them, liked other people seeing them. Especially at work. He liked people knowing he was yours.

He wines, shifting and trying to turn his body towards you more so that he can grind against you. But you lean down against his shoulders, pushing him back against the settee as you continue your onslaught of his senses.

You tilt his jaw even more to the side with your hand and Steven darts out his tongue against your fingertips, unable to keep quiet.

He’s wrecked already, skin flushed and hair a mess. His eyebrows pinched together, eyes screwed shut as he squirms under your touch, desperate for more.

You kiss up to his ear, biting gently at the lobe and he gasps.

“Love, pleaaase.” He draws out the word between pants of breath.

He is achingly hard now, his cock straining against his jogging bottoms. You brush the edge of your thigh against it teasingly and Steven sobs.

“Please!”

You can’t deny him when he asks so prettily. But still you can’t help but tease.

“Please what?” You whisper between slow, light kisses. Barely touching your lips to his skin.

“Pleaaaase,” he moans again as you continue to just rub your leg against him. Enough pressure for him to feel it, but not enough to relieve any of the ache. It burns worse, a fire ignited under his skin.

Steven lets out a choked sob when you suck against his neck once more, the pressure of your teeth sending spikes of heat along his spine.

You push lightly against his jaw, giving yourself easier access and resting your fore and middle fingers on his plump bottom lip.

Steven’s tongue darts out, flicking against the skin between your fingers before taking them mouth into his mouth and moaning around them.

Your actions falter for a second as he sucks on them, spit running down his chin as he takes them as deeply as they can go. Bobbing his head and running his bottom teeth along the underside.

You lick a strip up his neck and nip softly below his ear. “Is that what you want?” You whisper, voice low and molasses slow.

Steven moans low, the vibrations running along your fingertips, his eyes screwed tight as he bucks up towards you.

“Hmmm?” You press your thigh fully against his crouch. “Is that what you need?”

He lets out another choked sob around your fingers, arching his back off the settee into your touch so he can grind himself against you.

You watch him for a moment, savouring the sight of him. His head thrown back, the tension in his neck and the dark bruises on his skin. Before you suddenly move away.

Steven sobs at the loss of contact, his eyes fluttering open.

However he doesn’t get a chance to speak, all too quickly you are just easing up his top so that you can kiss the hot skin just above his jogging bottoms and nuzzle his left hip bone.

He jumps a little at the swipe of your tongue but groans and arches into your touch.

You pull down his waistband just enough so that his cock springs free, slapping against his lower stomach. The sight of it makes your mouth water and Steven sighs as you take him in your hand.

Precome shines in the weak light and you lap it up eagerly, pressing your tongue flat against the tip of him and swiping along his slit achingly slow.

You can feel the tension in his stomach and legs, the small twitches of muscle as he fights to keep himself still as you continue to lick unhurriedly, swirling your tongue around the head and then back to teasing his slit.

The sweet little hitches of Steven’s breath are like music to your ears. You break away from your actions only to better position yourself and lick the long path back from the root of him to the tip, one hand holding his length, the other massaging his balls.

Heat is pooling in his abdomen, the familiar pressure beginning to spike.

Steven shifts onto his elbows so that he can watch as you slowly take him into your mouth, tortuous in your movement as you bob up and down, swallowing more of his cock with each dip.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he doesn’t realise he’s muttering under his breath, swearing as if the words were a prayer.

It’s so warm, so wet, so perfectly overwhelming that it pushes all thoughts out of his head, leaving his mind quiet save for the painfully delicious building of bliss.

You glance up at him, watching him watching you. His eyes are dark, gaze unfocused and mouth open. His chest shudders with each intake of air as he stares at his cock disappearing into you.

You increase your pace, sucking him harder and taking him so deep that tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes.

Pleasure cracks down on him, flares along his limbs as he moans loudly, swearing and bucking up into your mouth, just managing to stop himself from pushing too far. He falls back, head against the armrest, holding onto the sofa cushions for dear life.

“Love please, oh fuck, oh god,” words pour out of him, “so good, please, you take me so-so, fuck, I,” he’s not paying any attention to what he’s saying, to anything, other than the sweet torment of your mouth and hands.

He’s going to come soon, he can’t help it, his thighs starting to shake.

You can tell by his whimpers, the way his eyes are tight shut in pleasure and-

“Which Egyptian queen of the fourteenth century BCE was the wife of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, and is believed by some scholars to have reigned briefly in her own right after her husband's death?”

“Neferneferuaten Nefertiti...” Steven mutters between a moan, not even realising he’s said it.

“Neferneferuaten Nefertiti.” One of the contestants answers.

“Correct.”

You pull away from Steven with a pop, unable to hold back your laugh.

His eyes snap open, the pleading look on his face quickly jumping to confusion and then, “did- did I just answer a...?”

You nod, grinning wildly.

Red sears into his cheeks and the tops of his ears, panic flooding his features. “Love, I’msosorryIdon’tknowwhyIdidthatIwasjustlostinthemomentI-”

You dive back on him, chasing all other thoughts away as you swallow him down and set a brutal pace.

His hand flies to the back of your head, fingers tight in your hair but not pushing or pulling as his tip hits the back of your throat again and again and again.

Curses race past his lips between the moans and stuttered sorrys.

His orgasm builds ridiculously fast, your mouth bringing him to the edge and threatening to pull him over as Steven tries to retain some control over himself.

He can barely get his words out, “I’m, I’m,”

You hum around him, not slowing for a second, and scratch your nails along his thighs.

Steven comes loudly with a snap of his hips, coming hard into your mouth as you eagerly swallow around him, drinking down every last drop.

All the tension leaves his body at once, leaving him jellified under you.

Slowly you ease off of him, giving the tip of his cock a final lick to make sure you cleaned up all of his release before tucking him back into his jogging bottoms.

You run your hands along his arms as you sit up, gently massaging his muscles as he comes back to himself.

His breathing evens out and he blinks heavily, gazing up at you.

“That was,”

You don’t let him get the words out as you kiss him lightly. Steven moans and moves up with you as you try to move away, cradling the back of your neck with his hands and bringing you back down to his mouth.

You smile and deepen the kiss, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

“I’m sorry I answered a question while you were sucking me off.” He mutters.

The bluntness of his words, and the genuine sincerity behind them, make you giggle. You kiss him again before pressing your forehead against his.

“I think it’s very sexy of you.”

Steven snorts, but at least he’s smiling now.

“I think we’ll have to make it more interesting next time.” You mutter. He gives you a quizzical look and you grin wickedly, a dark light shining in your eyes.

“You’ll answer the questions, and if you get one wrong I’ll slow down.”

Steven stares blankly back at you, and for a moment you think he doesn’t understand. It’s not until you see a familiar flush on his skin and hear the little increase in his breathing that you realise it’s the opposite.

You bite your lip. “You’d like that?”

Steven nods rapidly, so much he almost becomes a blur.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #my writing #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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pleasurebuttonwrites · 1 year

Text

Hung the Moon (Epilogue)

Chapter 9 | Masterlist

Pairings: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader, Jake Lockley x f!Reader

Summary: A day in your life nearly a year after you said goodbye to the boys in New York.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: smut, breeding kink, light bondage, oral sex (m + f receiving), deep throating, unprotected p in v sex

Word count: 4K

A/N: I can’t believe I’m at the end of this story! I want to say thank you to everyone who has followed along and commented, reblogged and liked these chapters. Each and every one of your comments brightens my day and helped me to continue to write this series. And if you’re finding this in the future, welcome! I’d love to hear what you think!

On a personal note, I have been writing for many, many years, but I typically have a lot of trouble finishing a story. This has been quite a journey for me, and I’m proud to have gotten to the end with this one!

Translations are inline and contained with in < >.

~~~

~ About 11 months later ~

You’re lying in bed on a cozy Friday morning. Light from the window at your feet shines through a gap in the curtains. If you lifted your head you’d be able to see the trees in the park across the street. But you don’t have to get up just yet. You stretch out your arms and then curl back under the covers.

You have a long day of studying ahead of you. You’d managed to get a late acceptance to a decent university, and the first two weeks have kicked your ass. Not only was the workload more than you imagined, but there was so much you didn’t understand and had to get caught up on.

Next to you, Steven moans softly and rolls over, tumbling into you. He wraps an arm around you and presses his chest to your back. The steady rise and fall of his breathing tells you he’s not yet fully awake. You shift a bit, moving into his warmth, your body now flush against him. In the process, your ass brushes his morning wood, which settles right between your cheeks.

His hold on you tightens and he moans again, but this one is less a sleepy protest and more an awakened desire. You push back and grind into him, and he responds by rolling his hips and slipping his hand up your shirt to play with your nipple.

“You sure you want to start something so early, love?” he asks of you and nips your earlobe.

“Mmm. Absolutely.”

You pull down your sleeping pants, kicking them off down into the blankets, as Steven pulls his down enough to free his aching cock.

He lifts your leg and wedges his thigh in between. He slides his fingers over you to check if you’re ready for him and you definitely are. “Fuck, babe, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were ovulating.”

Almost as soon as you’d moved in together nearly two months ago, a flip had switched and Steven had become really domestic. He not-so-subtly wanted to start a family. He’d agreed that for the time being you should focus on school and figure out your future before bringing kids into it, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about knocking you up.

You wouldn’t have guessed that you’d like it, but when he said shit like that to you, especially with that needy edge in his voice, you wanted to give him whatever he wanted.

He works his way into you slowly, shifting his hips to get the angle just right. His hand hooked under your thigh keeping you open for him, his hot breath settling sticky on your neck, his kisses like praise as he sinks into you.

His thrusts are short — he likes to stay buried in you, the head of his cock relentless on that spot deep inside — but his pace is brutal. He clutches tightly to you as he humps your brains out.

In between soft grunts, he whispers, “Want to fuck a baby in you…take my come so deep…make you a mum…”

You reach your hand back to grip his ass and feel those muscles working to fuck his thick cock into you. You try to pull him in deeper and you feel the tip kiss your cervix. If you were really trying to get pregnant this would be the perfect position.

Steven slides his hand down to rub your clit and the extra sensation has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love. Want to feel you come.”

Your cunt clenches around him as your orgasm rushes through you. His rhythm falters and his hips snap, driving him deep into your core as he paints your walls.

Still catching his breath, he says, “Well that’s a brilliant way to start the day, innit?”

You don’t want to move but unfortunately you can’t stay there all day. You release the generous muscle of his ass and snake your hand to the back of his head, turning to plant a kiss on his parted lips. You gasp as his cock slips out of you, and he swallows it down with a kiss of his own.

After you clean up you both start in on your morning routine, already a smooth choreography of sharing a bathroom and closet.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asks from the sink as you pull a shirt off a hanger.

You groan thinking about it. “Studying.” You say it like it’s a bad word.

He emerges from the bathroom. “None of that negative self talk today, alright? Learning is supposed to be fun, not stressful.” He kisses your cheek. “Do you want upstairs or downstairs today?”

There’s a rule at your house: you and Steven have to study in separate rooms. Because once he puts those glasses on, you suddenly find yourself climbing into his lap and steaming them up.

“I’ll take upstairs.”

“Alright. I’ll just be doing some light reading.” He grabs a huge stack of books and heads downstairs. “Give me a shout if I can fetch you some tea or snacks.”

—

You had been back in London for about two months. Initially, you, your sister, and the boys lived in their flat together, but it had gotten cramped fast, and a month ago you and the boys had moved into a townhouse a little removed from the center of London, leaving the flat to Cassie. Steven could no longer hop the bus to school, but as Jake didn’t mind driving you and Steven, it all worked out.

You’d been surprised when Cassie had decided to come with you to London. After a rough start in Spain — she’d let her displeasure at having to move be known loudly and often — she had really taken to the change. She’d loved the nightlife, especially all of the attractive people her own age. Plus, the substantial amount of cash the boys had given you helped win her over. Despite never picking up the language, she seemed to really thrive there, and when the boys had called to say it was done, they were finally free, you had worried that you’d have to leave her. Because, by some miracle, you two had actually bonded in a way you’d never managed before. It had started, you were pretty sure, when you were finally honest with her. Suddenly her life made a lot more sense to her, and you were no longer the person who ruined her life. She could finally see you as the person who wanted the best for her.

And she had been there for you, for your time in Spain had been markedly different than hers. Other than one visit 100 days — yes you counted — after leaving them in New York, you didn’t get to see your boyfriends until they were moving you to London. They called you as much as they could, at times you spoke every day, but sometimes, without warning, they’d go silent for a week or more. It was terrifying each time, and the feeling of complete helplessness was torture, not knowing if they were still alive.

They also hadn’t been very forthcoming in what they were doing. You didn’t think they kept you in the dark on purpose, rather they clearly didn’t like to talk about it. You still didn’t know the details, only that they were now free of Khonshu and that Foswell’s organization was gone and there was no one left to come after you or your sister. You weren’t sure if they would ever tell you, and you were mostly okay with that as you didn’t exactly want to know, but you just wanted to know how they were dealing with it.

You got the feeling they mostly wanted to leave it behind them. From the moment you’d reunited, their arms around you once again, they’d been all in on starting a life with you. The townhouse had been the first step, a new beginning for all of you. Gus 1 and Gus 2 — whom Steven contends are actually Gus 2 and Gus 3 — came with you, of course, and Jake adopted a stray cat that wandered around the neighborhood and he was currently in the process of turning him into a house cat. He named the cat Gustavo, which caused Cassie to opine — in front of the boys — that she wished they all had the same name like their pets. It was (mostly) a joke as she had learned all of their names, and had even chosen a favorite alter: Steven, though she claimed she couldn’t understand a word he said — whether that was due to the accent or his tendency to ramble about ancient Egypt, you weren’t sure. In any case, your sister liked to drop by, always unannounced, and the boys enjoyed/tolerated her visits on a sliding scale.

Despite Cassie’s repeated offers to re-decorate the house for you, you loved the townhouse — it felt like home to you in a way that no other place had, safe and full of love. It wasn’t large, but it was roomy enough. You’d converted one of the upstairs bedrooms into a study. Books lined the shelves on either side of the cozy fireplace, in front of which was a low-backed couch. Behind that, pushed up against the window was Steven’s desk.

All morning you’d been studying at that desk, failing miserably at taking Steven’s advice. He’d come to check on you about every hour bringing you a treat or topping off your water bottle, the plates piled up in the corner of the desk evidence of that.

Sometime after lunch you hear the footsteps, the ever-so-slightly heavier footfall and even pacing. Just by that you can tell Steven is done reading for the day and Marc is seeking you out. He finds you with your nose in a book. He doesn’t disturb you, instead taking a seat in the armchair in the corner. He picks up his guitar on the stand next to it and strums for a bit, alternating between chords and plucking a melody.

It’s mildly distracting, but only because you’re so tempted to turn and watch him. He’s so ridiculously beautiful when he’s playing guitar. But on the other hand, the sound is soothing and you feel your shoulders relax a bit and a little calm settling over you, melting the stress away.

You get to the end of your reading, noticing that the notes you took are practically just an entire copy of the text, and you snap the book closed. As soon as you do, the music abruptly cuts off and you hear the hollow thunk of the guitar being returned to its stand.

Marc comes up behind you and leans down to kiss your neck. “How’s the studying going, baby?”

You’re still kind of amazed by you how far you’ve come with Marc. When the boys visited you in Spain, Marc had only fronted on the last day. You’d been having such a wonderful time with Jake and Steven, and had given up on getting to see Marc. But he appeared while you were preparing some dinner in the kitchen. From the doorway he asked if you wanted some help. You worked together mostly silently, but the air between you was buzzing. You had a pleasant dinner afterward, and he seemed to open up to you. That night you went to bed together, finally giving in to your feelings for each other. You’d never forget the drag of his lips over your skin or the sweet way he’d moaned your name.

“Oh, despite the fact that I’m not smart enough for this, it’s going great!”

He chuckles against your skin. “I know you’re just letting off steam, but Steven wants you to quit talking like that.”

You press your cheek to his and sigh. “I just feel so behind already. I have no idea how I’m going to catch up.”

“It’s bound to be hard at first, but you’ll get the hang of it. Do you like what you’re studying?”

You don’t answer right away. “I guess so? I really fucking hope so, but it’s just so hard and stressful I can’t really tell.”

In his sexy voice he says, “I think you just need to take your mind off it for a bit.”

His lips are on yours and as soon as his tongue touches yours all thoughts of school disappear. You sigh into his mouth, then remember your appointment this afternoon.

“Wait, what time is it?”

“We’ve got time,” he assures you.

You stand from your chair and wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair. You never get to touch him for very long so you have to take advantage of it when he lets you.

Sure enough, after he pulls your shirt and bra off, he says, “Wrists.”

You hold your wrists together and out toward him. He pulls a silk tie from his pocket and ties them together. “What’s the safe word?” he quizzes you.

You tell him and he nods, satisfied.

More often than not sex with Marc includes bondage. He has to be in control and doesn’t like to be touched. It was only last week that you got to reverse roles — something you were surprised by when he asked you for it. You had the feeling that he was craving punishment, but instead you had tied him up and treated him right, gently exploring his body. Though you were intimately aware of him physically thanks to your exploits with Steven and Jake, you hadn’t yet gotten to know what Marc liked. You’d taken your time with him, and taken his cock down your throat — a skill you’d been working on with Jake. The way he reacted to you, though, had you feeling he might’ve preferred the punishment to your kindness.

He strips off the rest of your clothes and you stand in front of him completely naked whereas he is still fully clothed. He has a wicked smile on his face as he guides you over to the couch. Your legs are already shaking as he bends you over, your ass up in the air.

When you and Marc had gone furniture shopping, you had found it weird that Marc would always check out the back of the couch instead of the front. With your hand in his, he’d pull you behind the couch with him. As soon as he’d come across this one, he immediately wanted to buy it. It wasn’t until the first time he’d bent you over it that you realized he had been searching for one that was the perfect height.

You’re not sure what he has planned but your lips are already swollen and slick, ready for anything. You crane your neck to try and see what he’s up to. You watch him disappear as he gets on his knees behind you. He caresses your legs with both hands then adjusts your stance, spreading your legs wider.

You whimper as you feel his breath on the upper most part of your thigh. His face presses into you and his tongue slides over your sensitive nub. You grip the cushion of the couch, wishing so bad you could reach back and tug on his hair. All you can do is squirm, and you can’t even do much of that with the way he holds your hips steady.

You hear the clock downstairs chime twice. It’s two o’clock and you both have to leave around three. One would think that was enough time, but Marc can easily edge you for an hour.

And that’s just what he does. No matter how you try to hide it from him, he always knows when you’re close. He brings you right up to the edge and backs away. Over and over. You try to lift your leg and slide it over his hip, just for some contact. But he catches your ankle and holds you in place.

You’re not sure how many times you say the word ‘please’ or moan his name.

The clock chimes three times. “Shit, Marc. We have to go.”

He doesn’t respond. Only tosses your thighs over his shoulder and buries his face in your cunt, finally allowing you the release you’ve been denied.

You go limp, your head blurry with bliss, nearly drifting off to sleep. Until you feel the head of his cock at your soaked and oversensitive entrance. He pushes in gently and even though the sensation is overwhelming, it feels amazing to finally be filled. His pace is quick, and he’s muttering to himself about how good you feel. He’s quick to his orgasm, and he only touches your swollen clit when he’s moments from cumming. You clench around him and have another, albeit weaker, orgasm.

He pulls out slowly. Your thighs are soaked and you feel his cum leak out of you too. He reaches over you to untie your wrists, giving them each a kiss when they’re free. “Let me get a washcloth. Be right back.”

You both clean up quickly, Marc washing his face of your juices and his sweat. You tie up your hair and notice an indentation line across your face from pressing it into the couch. You show him and he chuckles before flashing you a guilty look. “This better be gone before we arrive,” you say playfully.

—

You and Marc started therapy six weeks ago. You have different therapists, but you booked your sessions for the same time and within the same practice so that you could go together. You could tell it was already helping even if it was only in the most minor of ways.

After your sessions, you walk around the city with Marc, both of you in quiet contemplation. Eventually, you come out of your heads and you talk and laugh and get ice cream on this unseasonably warm day.

When you get home, you cook dinner together. Marc is admittedly a better cook than you and could probably prepare the meal much faster on his own, but you can’t resist being in the kitchen with him. He never walks by you without touching a part of you. A hand on the small of your back, a pinch to your waist, a pat on your ass.

It’s after you and Marc clear your plates that Jake shows up. You’re washing up at the sink and he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “No puedo esperar a mañana, cariño,” he murmurs in your ear. <Can’t wait for tomorrow, sweetheart.>

You have special plans to spend the whole day together, just the two of you. In the evening, you have dinner reservations and you’ll be revealing a new dress you bought just for the occasion. Later, you’ll reveal a little something else you bought underneath.

Jake pops on a movie in the living room and you cuddle up next to him on the couch. It’s a new release that you’ve both been interested in watching. But no matter how good it is, you always get distracted by the man next to you. His arm around you, his thumb tracing arcs where his hand rests on your back. His broad chest beneath your head. The smell of him so rich and sweet.

You start with your hand on his knee, gently squeezing to activate that sensitive part of his inner knee. You’re not sure when he catches on to what you’re doing — knowing him it was right about the moment you thought to do it. But as you caress your hand up his inner thigh he spreads his legs a little wider giving you more access to him.

He’s wearing sweatpants without underwear — a Marc specialty that Jake has really embraced. So when you touch him, cupping his balls and gripping his cock, there’s only one layer of fabric in between and you can really feel him.

With his arm still wrapped around you, fingertips gripping your jaw, he tilts your head up to him. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyelids heavy with desire. Then he captures your lips in an all-consuming kiss, his tongue sliding over yours. You continue to stroke his cock, feeling it harden beneath your grip as you make out.

You pull away and tug down his pants until his cock springs free. Mouth watering, you get on your knees in front of him and take the head into your mouth, letting your spit drip down his shaft. You stretch your lips wide to fit around his girth as you take more of him. When the tip hits the back of your throat, he inhales sharply then groans as you focus on relaxing, taking a breath before pushing deeper.

“¡Joder!” <Fuck!> Jake continues to curse as you bob your head, taking him deeper until your nose touches his pelvis.

You only manage to take him all the way down a few times before he pulls you off him, stopping himself from cumming. Unexpectedly, he stands up and says, “I’ll be right back.”

“Jake!” You call to his back as he heads up the stairs.

“Be right back!”

You sit back on your heels and rest your arm on the seat of the couch, wondering two things: what the fuck he’s doing, and what the fuck is happening in this movie.

He returns, one hand behind his back. “Just had to get…this.” He reveals your vibrator with a flourish, purring from the back of his throat as he does so. You roll your eyes. It turns out that out of the three of them, Jake is the goofiest.

He tugs his shirt off in a flash and shucks off his pants. You look up at him from your place on the floor, casting an appreciative eye over his naked form. When you reach his face there’s a cocky smirk waiting for you. “I didn’t go get this for me. Want to take off your clothes now?”

You strip off your shirt and whip it at him for being a smartass, earning you a wide grin. You make quick work of undressing, but when he wraps his fist around his cock you nearly trip trying to step out of your pants.

He’s on you the moment you straighten up, pressed against you, his erection sandwiched in between your bodies, lips on your neck, hand gripping your hair then trailing down your back and finally grabbing a handful of your ass so he can pull you down on the couch on top of him.

You ride him slow at first and he’s content to lay back and enjoy the show. But as soon as he turns on your vibrator and places it on your clit — positioning it so he gets a little vibe, too — he’s thrusting up into you and neither of you lasts much longer. He manages to catch the look of you as the pleasure crashes over you, then he follows with a series of grunts, dropping the vibrator, still buzzing, on his stomach to grip your hips with both hands.

His eyes are still closed as he says, words ever-so-slightly slurred, “With how often we cum inside you, you’re bound to get pregnant even with birth control.”

Your laughter is soft at first, but as the ridiculousness of his pussy-drunk brain hits you, you laugh harder. He joins in, both of you laughing at him and perhaps simply at the euphoria of the moment.

A yawn takes over as your laughter subsides and you begin to speak through the end of it. “Can we go to bed? I’m fucking tired.”

You’re not so tired that you can’t walk up the stairs on your own but Jake insists on carrying you.

In bed, he holds you tightly against his chest. There’s a glow from the bedside clock and you both watch it tick over to midnight. “Happy anniversary, mi amor.”

~~~

A/N: I hope you liked the ending. While I have no plans to continue this series, I have thought of some possible bonus chapters. I’m not sure whether I’ll write those or not, but please let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ajeff855 @bnamta @unspokenmoon @milkymoon2483 @valkyrieace @theimpalasdoctorin221b @hopefulfangirl24 @bucksgoat @rmoonstoner @foreverinwanderlust @am-3-thyst @bullet-prooflove @trashboat-the-raccoon @daisies-yellow @kingtwhiddleston @stevenknightmarc @lilredbird101

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