#favor fanfiction

[myfavoritesstuff]

So there was this dialogue about Z's choice of dress, pointing towards the "weird body modifications to his teeth" and y/n said she wonders, "if they hurt?" I knooow she might've meant it must have been painful for him to get his teeth like that but, what if we took it the other way? What if she unconsciously voiced this thought in another situation? Would they really hurt? A neck bite? Smut please.

Embrace of Shadows

Pairing: Z (from Favor) x Reader

Prompt: How did it lead to this? Being curious leads to something more.

Note: This is a smut! I hope I understood this request correctly. Sorry if I didn’t, but either way, I had a lot of fun writing this. Please read all the way through, it gets better, I promise! NOT PROOFREAD

I wonder if they hurt…

"Curious, aren't you?" Z's voice was a whisper, “why do you stare at my teeth?"

You blushed, realizing you had been caught. "I apologize," you stammered. "It's just...they're so different. I've never seen teeth like yours."

Z tilted their head, studying you with eyes that seemed to pierce their very soul. "Sharp teeth are a necessity for survival," they said. "For feeding. For protection."

Your heartbeat quickened. "Would it hurt?" they blurted out. "If you were to bite me?"

Z's lips curved into a half-smile. "Ah, the curiosity of mortals," they murmured. "You wonder about pain, about pleasure. About surrender."

Your mind raced. They hadn't meant to reveal such thoughts, but now the question hung in the air like a forbidden fruit. "Would it?" You pressed, their heart now pounding in their chest.

Z got up from the opposite side of the table and stepped closer, their breath cool against your skin. "Pain and pleasure," they whispered. "Two sides of the same coin. To be bitten by a demon is to dance on the precipice of both."

Your heart still pounded. You should run, flee from this dangerous allure. But something held you in place—the pull of forbidden desire, the thrill of surrendering to the unknown.

And then Z's lips brushed against your neck, and all rational thought fled. Their teeth sank into your flesh—not cruelly, but with a hunger that ignited every nerve. Pain flared, then melted into something else—an ache that bordered on ecstasy.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Z's hair.

You could feel Z start to bite a little harder, starting to drink from them, drawing sustenance from their life force, and you surrendered willingly, lost in a dance of pleasure and pain.

When Z finally pulled away, You swayed a bit, dizzy and sated. Their neck bore twin punctures, a mark of Z's possession.

“Z…” You let out a soft whisper.

“Y/n…” his voice was deep. Your breath caught in your throat as Z pressed their body closer to yours. Z’s touch ignited a fire within you that threatened to consume everything.

“Y/n” they whispered, “keep your eyes on me, okay? I only need you to see and think only of me.”

A devilish smirk made its way onto their face. “You think you can do that, darling?”

Swallowing, you nodded. Their smirk turned into a small smile. “Good because after tonight, I won’t ever let you go or see anyone else with those precious eyes of yours.”

Z’s words made you feel warm inside. You never had someone talk to you this way before. Your thoughts were interrupted by Z speaking once more.

“I’m going to be taking what’s mine now. I hope you’re up for a few rounds.”

Your face flushed at their words, yet you did not stop them when they grabbed you by the arm and turned you around so you were facing the table. Their claw-like nails then proceeded to rip your clothing apart, leaving you exposed for them to see.

While the air was cold, your body felt hot. Just imagining the things Z could do to you made you feel excited. Z then began to strip themself of their own clothing. Once fully striped you could feel them start to trace their fingers along your body. You shivered as Z’s fingers started to travel lower.

“I want to taste you so badly”. As they said that, they kneeled down with one hand pushing you down so your ass was spread for them.

Their fingers made their way down to your hole, and started circling it. You gasped as they then stuck their forked tongue into your hole, stimulating the area inside. You grasped onto the table, as your legs started to shake from the pleasure you felt. Their tongue worked wonders as all you could do was grip onto the table.

Z seemed to notice this, for they suddenly pulled themselves away from your hole, stood up and turned you around. They then started to passionately kiss you and their hands made their way under your legs, signaling you to wrap yourself around his waist.

Your mind was in a haze. All you could focus on was him. Suddenly you felt something around your hole once more. As you felt them slip in, your immediately clenched around them. Groaning in response to you, they gripped hard on your legs, making you gasp.

They took this opportunity to slip their tongue into your mouth, making its way around your own tongue and to the back of your throat.

You slightly gagged on it but didn’t mind as you were overcome with an immense amount of pleasure.

Their thrusts hadn’t helped either as their hips angled themselves to hit a certain spot inside. Feeling the way their cock spread you open had you moaning their name. It was almost as if they were shaping your inside to the shape of them.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt an intense sensation wash over you. Moaning out their name again, you felt yourself come down from your high. Z however did stop, in fact; they kept going and increased their pace, trying to reach what you felt moments ago.

Whining from overstimulation you placed your head on their chest, letting them continue with their pace until they eventually reached their end. And it wasn’t long after until Z did. However once they were finished, you could feel a trail of their cum going down your leg.

You heard them make a sound of displeasure as they started thrusting back into you pumping the cum back into your hole. You gasped as you groaned from the pleasure that started to build up again, and you gently grabbed onto his shoulder.

“I hope you weren’t thinking that I was done with you, cause I told you that we were going for a few rounds.”

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[sparklingcid3r]

No thoughts, just Darry “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” Curtis

[taytrashmouth]

hello lovely!! would u consider writing a peeta x reader, where ur both in the quarter quell, but reader is separated from peeta from the start and goes through mutt attacks/blood rain/jabberjays by herself and when peeta and the group find her on the beach she is injured and traumatised. hurt/comfort, where he looks after her afterwards and comforts her, washes her in the water and stuff? loooads of gentle comfort and fluff. sorry for my bad english!!

Okay I am absolutely obsessed with this request!!!! Omg can’t wait for you to read this!!! Ahhhh! Okay okay I hope you love it 😊

Peeta x reader

(Catching fire)

Requests are open so don’t forget to send them in!!!! Prompts under my profile!

:readmore:

When you woke up the morning of the games in Peetas arms you somehow felt safe. It was like you weren’t being sent to die that day. He kissed your head and told you he’d be by your side.

You had dreamt about the last games, how you were separated and the only reason you survived was because he became allies with those horrible kids from 1 & 2

When you eventually found each other, all you did was help Peeta get better, applied the ointment and comforted him. He did all the killing, he saved you.

You only survived the first half by dumb luck, that spear was supposed to hit you…not Rue. If only you hadn’t moved out the way.

The whole lovers idea was Peetas too, only it was true. Deep down you both knew you’d liked each other since kindergarten back in 12

But here you were in the little glass tube that sucked you straight into hell. You felt sick but you really wanted to throw up when you couldn’t see Peeta.

“Peeta!” You screamed as the countdown started. Sweating and getting panicked. You couldn’t do this again, not without him. You had a deal: stay together.

The games had begun. You needed a weapon. You jumped off the platform into the water swimming for the weapons.

Once you found your feet at the cornucopia, you began to hear screams and watched people start to fall. You grabbed a machete and ran for the jungle on one of the thin arms of rock.

“Peeta!” You screamed from the beach. But no answer. That was when a knife flew past your head and missed by an inch.

You couldn’t kill somebody. So you ran.

You shoved past trees and vines running deep into the jungle.

You found a spot hollowed out under a tree. It was hot- and you needed water.

That was when you heard his voice. Peeta.

You screamed for him as you ran towards the sound.

“Help n/n!” He yelled.

“Where are you!?” You frantically turned around. “Peeta?”

That was until his voice became overwhelming. Your ears started to ring. His cried for help, his screams.

You began to cry, realising this was some cruel trick of the capitol. “STOP IT!” You yelled, throat raw. You screamed as loud as you could covering your ears to get it to stop but it didn’t help. It was overwhelming. You tried to run but a forcefield locked you in. You screamed and banged on it but nothing worked.

You grabbed your machete and banged at the field but it just ricocheted.

You sunk to the floor, covering your ears and cried. You were there for what felt like a decade but was probably only an hour.

When his cries suddenly stopped you felt a strange sense of sadness. The screaming had been awful but you were worried about him. What if he was dead.

You began to walk deeper into the jungle, sweating and with tear stained cheeks. You had never been so thirsty before, after screaming so loudly in what felt like 100 degree heat.

As desperate as you were you stumbled across a little pool of water. You smiled dryly and lay on the floor, drinking out of the pool. A sigh escaped your mouth as you quenched your thirst. You splashed your face. And sat up leaning against a nearby tree.

This is where you would sleep. You gathered sticks and placed them in a circle around the area, to ensure that if someone walked by you would hear them.

The music began to play, you looked up at the sky, holding your pin. Praying you wouldn’t see Peetas face. You didn’t. Relief washed over you as the final canon went off.

You barely slept when you felt a warm air hitting your face, as your eyes opened you were greeted with a large mutt, two inches from your face.

You took a shocked, shaky breath in and slowly reached for your machete. It belted a loud noise sending a signal to the rest of his friends.

You closed your eyes as you wedged the sharp end of your blade into the mutt in-front of you.

You pulled the machete out of its body and stood up. Swinging at any that got a little to close. Just as one of the beasts began to jump at you, you decided the best option was to throw the machete and run.

As the mutt jumped and you released your blade, the woman from 6 who had been hiding in the trees tried to save you. And the machete hit her instead. A scream escaped your lips. You had killed someone.

You covered your mouth with your hands, shaky breaths escaping your lips. “No!” You sobbed.

You bent down to try help her, applying pressure to the wound. “I’m sorry.” You cried as she became limp.

You held her to your chest in the hopes it would cause a miracle.

Soon you noticed the mutts had began to run as a white smoked reached the edge of the water, you stood up, knowing something was coming.

One of their claws ripped the back of your calf open as it ran away. “Shit!” You fell into the smoke, immediately screaming and running.

The sun had started to rise, and you were limping with an excruciating pain in your arms and legs with growing boils from the poison.

You screamed as you ran not caring about attracting other tributes. The sun has begun to rise, and you were now an easy target.

You ran through the jungle searching desperately for the beach but it was so overgrown you had no way of knowing.

You stopped in a small clearing. Crying and sitting in the dirt. Desperately wanting to rid yourself of the boils.

After a while of crying A cool liquid hit your face. Rain. You looked up at the sky, hoping the water would help your sores. Opening your mouth to quench your thirst.

It was definitely not water. You gagged. Spitting onto the dirt. Blood.

You sobbed and ran wherever you could and tripped over a log of wood. Tumbling onto the sand of the beach. 

You screamed and cried. Not knowing what to do. You hated the capitol. You hated that you didn’t know where Peeta was. You hated this. You hated that you had to die.

Just then you heard voices. You put a hand over your mouth trying to quiet your whimpers.

Tears running down your face. You couldn’t run anymore. This was it.

You shuffled back, trying to find and escape route but there wasn’t one.

You got on all fours and crawled on the sand, dragging your leg with a gash in it in the sand.

You let out chokes of pain and self pity as they grew closer, you refused to look.

“N/n!” You heard him…peeta. “Oh my god it’s y/n!!!”

You screamed and covered your ears lying in the sand. You would rather die than listen to the jabberjays again. Until someone rolled you onto your back and you were met with Peeta.

He looked so scared for you. You immediately started to cry as he hugged you tightly to his chest. “You weren’t real.” You sobbed into his chest, feeling his hair, his back, anything to make sure he was there.

“I’m real now. I’m here now.” He kissed your forehead and held you again. Until you hissed when he touched your boils.

“Oh shit! I had them too see-“ he showed you the faint scars on his hands.

“I need to get freshwater.” He began to get up but you held onto his hand. “Don’t leave” you whispered.

He stared at you for a moment too long, his eyes laced with concern.

“Finnick! I need water.” Peeta yelled at the group that was a safe distance away.

While you waited, Peeta brushed hair out of your eyes that was covered in blood and sand, just like the rest of you and you squeezed his arm in pain.

“It’s okay.” He kept repeating. Kissing your head despite your state.

When finnick returned Peeta poured water all over your boils and you screamed in pain as they vanished.

“Thank you.” You smiled sadly. Overwhelmed. Peeta often said you were a kind sole, you wouldn’t hurt a fly at home, literally. You sang songs and picked flowers. You weren’t meant for this. Nobody was really….

“Come on, let’s wash you off…if at least half this blood is yours, we’re in serious trouble.” He joked and you attempted to laugh. He picked you up bridal style.

You would argue that you could do it yourself but it just wasn’t true.

He dipped you into the salt water. You hissed in pain, clutching his wetsuit.

“I know it stings. I’m sorry.” He rubbed your arm but kept you underwater.

“It okay. Thank you.” You whispered again, almost scared something bad would happen like it had been. One after the other. Peeta cupped water into his hand and tilted your head back rinsing the blood out of your hair and carefully brushing through it with his fingers.

He washed you off, holding you with one had at all times. Afraid to let you go. He was careful around your cuts and scrapes.

“I killed her.” You let out, staring at nothing.

He stopped his movements and just helped you too his chest.

“Who?” He whispered.

“Six… she tried to save me and-“ you chocked on your tears.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay…I’m here. You don’t have to talk about it now.” He assured.

You were both wrinkly like the raisins Peeta used in his raisin bread back home by the time you got out the water.

You tried to walk but you could barely stand on your right foot.

“What happened?” Finnick asked before Peeta got the chance.

“Mutts.” You answered simply, trying to see the gash on the back of your calf.

You almost fell but Peeta caught you. He picked you up agin and placed you on the leaves they were using as beds in the sand tonight.

“Now we match.” Peeta smiled at you pulling up the leg of his wetsuit to reveal his prosthetic leg.

You laughed, for the first time in days.

The others were asleep while Peeta took the first watch. You sat in his lap, and wrapped your legs around his torso, like a koala.

Head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he leaned against a tree looking at the waves.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered, a tear running down his face. You sat up slightly to wipe it. “Me too.” You assured and squeezed his hand.

“So much for sticking together.” He half laughed.

“Yeah.” You looked at his brown eyes and played with his blonde fringe. He leaned in and Kissed you gently but passionately. Holding your cheek and pulling you in by your back. Carefully avoiding your right leg that was tediously bandaged with leaves and vines.

When you broke apart for air. You smiled softly at each other. Heart still heavy from the past two days.

“I love you n/n.” He spoke with only truth in his tone. It wasn’t just an act and you knew that.

“I love you too…so much.” You teared up thinking about how you were going to have to say goodbye soon.

You resumed your position on his chest and fell asleep to his hand rubbing your back and his whispers of “it’s okay.” And “I love you.”

[justaz]

merlin being so overwhelmed by everything he’s been put under, crumbling under the weight of destiny and being pulled in so many different directions he’s being torn apart, going to the one person who can offer him the most comfort out of everyone, his best friend, his other half. arthur who doesn’t realize whats happening until he turns and sees merlin’s desolate expression and tear filled eyes. merlin going “i know you are king (or prince) and you refuse to call me your friend, but you are mine and i really, really need my friend right now.” and before arthur can manage a word, merlin is stumbling forward into arthur’s arms and pulling him into a desperate hug, muffling his sobs as best he can but arthur can still feel the tears soaking his shoulder. arthur not asking any questions and just wrapping his arms around merlin while he breaks down.

[minniiaa]

Pirate King Luffy on his throne with Law on his lap holding him tighty against his now much larger frame with a content smirk on his face, hands down his pants. Law does his best to hold back his moans of pleasure knowing he won’t last long with Luffy touching him so perfectly after a few weeks apart.

“Gotta make sure you remember who you belong to, Torao,” Luffy breathes in his ear, Law’s head falling back against his shoulder as his eyes flutter shut, the possessive words of his lover enough to bring him to his climax.

Like he could ever forget.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (writing masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[chessb0r3d]

i cracked the code.

[penvisions]

return the favor {{masterlist}}

Fandom: The Last of Us (TLOU), will mostly follow the timeline and events of the HBO show, but will pull lore and tidbits from the games as well!

Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader

Summary: With a past as rich as anyone in the times after the Outbreak, you find your medical and survival skills to be a valuable asset. You were dropping off some medical supplies that FEDRA was willing to pay big for when you got tangled up in a mission that involves a teenager with a mouth almost as smart as yours and gruff older man whose graying curls were his only redeeming quality. But the longer you traveled with them and the more that happened out in the open land of what once was, the more you find yourself connecting with them and wanting to protect them both at any cost.

Word Count: 131.5k - ongoing

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, description of injuries, description of anxiety, symptoms of anxiety, tense situations, sexual content, sexual propositions, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v (pls don’t do this w/o previous communication w/ your partner), joel’s emotionally constipated 

chapter 1 || chapter 2

chapter 3 || chapter 4

chapter 5 || chapter 6

chapter 7 || chapter 8

chapter 9 || chapter 10

chapter 11 || chapter 12

chapter 13 || chapter 14

chapter 15 || chapter 16

chapter 17 || chapter 18

chapter 19 || chapter 20

chapter 21 || chapter 22

chapter 23 || chapter 24

[myfavoritesstuff]

Visual Novels & Webtoons

Note: Please do not read if you are not okay with yandere tendencies or violence!

Discord!!!! Please join if you like reading and/or writing or just want to talk (text). It will be my way of talking or obsessing over these characters.

Note: The Discord Link is now updated! Feel free to join!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dreaming Freedom

Nothing yet

The Kid at the Back

Through the Illustrated Veil

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

“Your Andy”

Possession from Within

“Yes, We Really Do” (smut)

Through the Illustrated Veil

14 Days with you

Through the Illustrated Veil

Mushroom Oasis

Nothing yet

A Date with Death

Nothing yet

Favor

Embrace of Shadows (smut)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[littlefingies]

Look. Sometimes being a fandom is suffering.

And sometimes it's really fucking lovely actually, because first @mxmollusca wrote this achingly beautiful story, and then kninjaknitter narrated a gorgeous podfic, and now 1happydaiz is releasing a remix with the most perfect music and editing and soundscapes transforming it practically into cinema for your earholes and it's just...

Sometimes I get overwhelmed at how incredible it is, that people put the most beautiful things into the world, purely for the joy of it.

Anyways if you're not listening to this, you should be - whether you've already read and loved In Favor With Their Stars, or if it's completely new to you.

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 10

It’s been 800 years… but she’s back! The duo has arrived. I can’t wait to see what you guys think of them

The Favor masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to part 11 and 190+ exclusive writings

WC- 7.8k

Warnings- aftercare, dom/sub dynamic, mention of cuckolding, theyre kinda fucked up about Danny but fuck that man, slight mention of anxiety, oral sex, mention of edging, daddy kink(very brief) domesticrry

Aftercare was one of her absolute favorite parts of being with Harry.

Sitting in the warm, silky bath water after returning home from the club, she had been babied, petted and loved on more than she ever knew in her life. Rings off of his fingers, he ran them over her body with the sweet smelling body wash as he kept her laid on his chest. Her nose nudged the crook of his neck, cheek on one of the inked numbers on his collarbones. He’d messily tied her hair up on her head, ensuring it wouldn’t get too wet. It was the little things

“What did we like, what were we not so fond of, and what surprised you?” His voice vibrated against her cheek as he inquired about her experience. The dominant had taken incredible care of her tonight, swiftly letting them leave after she recovered in his lap with sweet kisses and her focus solely on him. His clean hand had caressed her cheek and he’d tugged her panties back over her before ushering her out as soon as her legs felt strong enough. He’d put her coat on her, adjusted her hair and placed a few kisses on her cheek as they waited for the elevator with a promise of getting them a playroom the next time they came so they’d not need to rush home.

His reference to his house as ‘home’ had left her feeling more warm and fuzzy in her gut than she could care to admit.

“I liked all of it, except maybe having to leave so quick.” She’d sunken into his hold, letting him run the warm washcloth over her chest as she spoke. “I liked your idea of getting a room next time so we don’t have t’run home so fast after. But I liked all of what we did.” Her eyes looked over his hands, the bones of his knuckles and the cross inked near his thumb. Her tummy turned slightly at the idea of everyone having been able to see that same hand around her throat, squeezing it to keep her quiet. That cross tattoo against her skin. Blasphemy had never felt so good.

“Mmm. Noted. I noticed you seemed rather calm when we were at the table originally.” He pointed out the behavior. “Did you like being on your knees for me like that? What was goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” The tone of it restrained just how badly he wished he could crawl in her head and read every thought she had like a book. Though sometimes there was a thought that maybe he could. He did well enough with knowing what she felt through body language alone.

“Honestly?” A little laugh erupted from her swollen lips. “Not a lot. It was really nice because of it. At first it was a lot of racing thoughts but as I sat there and you kept playing with my hair they all sorta calmed. The one thing I was thinking about, though…” Now that she wasn’t looking right at his face it felt a little easier to divulge some of the things that had her a little embarrassed. “I kept thinking about if I was gonna be naughty, cause I really wanted to suck you off.” The admission lingered like the steam on the bathroom mirror. “I was debating if you’d let me, if you’d get mad at me. But I didn’t want to chance asking because…” The bravery she’d originally conjured up had faltered slightly, which he noticed.

“Because what, love?” He asked genuinely. “Y’know you can ask me for anything. M’never going to get mad at a request- you just have to be open to hearing the word no and waiting for it.” Harry had a hard time telling her no, but he wasn’t sure she knew just how far that went. As a dominant, he’d found a healthy medium with her where he could do it for the sake of knowing what she needed to get her the best results, but as Harry? She had no idea the power she wielded over his weak will.

“Well, I was nervous that if I upset you or went off script that maybe you’d like- you’d not want to bring me anymore, or be my dominant. I know that most of the submissives you’ve brought there had some idea of it and I know you’re only doing this as a favor so I don’t want to risk you decided I’m too much of a brat-” Y/N’s entire world was flipped as her body was turned over, a startled squeak leaving her as Harry manhandled her to be straddled on his lap as opposed to sitting back to front.

“Stop right there.” His voice rasped, hand coming behind her neck to hold lightly. “There is a lot wrong with what you just said.” Nerves swelled in her belly as she caught a glimpse of his face, but there wasn’t true anger in his features. Concern, maybe? “ First of all, I wouldn’t just stop playing with you because you decided you felt a little bratty. Do you know what I would have done if you’d have been a brat?” Green looked at her expectantly, watching her shrink slightly under his gaze, shaking her head in response. “I’d have punished you. Maybe taken you over my lap and gave your ass a few swats, maybe I’d make you warm my cock with your mouth, or fucked your throat without giving you my cum. I could’ve even made it so you didn’t orgasm tonight. But it’s part of playing. I would never think of you as a bad submissive because of that. You’ve already told me you wanted to test some of that out as it is.” The feeling that had settled in his chest at the idea of her feeling insecure about him not wanting her was uncomfortable to say the least. Maybe he hadn’t spelled it out clear enough, but it was time to do that now.

“And the most ridiculous part of what you said- hey, look at me. Look at me, Y/N. Oi, sweetheart… You’re not in trouble.” His voice softened as he saw her wince, not at all wanting this to turn into a real scolding. The tone had been a bit intense considering how fully he felt about it, but she couldn’t read his mind. It had been unfair of him to think she would. “There we go. Thank you.” When she returned to his gaze, he leaned forward to peck the corner of her mouth- it was something he couldn’t help. “The most ridiculous part of all of that was you saying that I’m only doing this as a favor because…” His mouth felt a little dry as he broached the subject. “That isn’t the case in the slightest. I wouldn’t have done this only as a favor, Y/N. I would have accompanied you to find someone else to help you if need be, but if I had no sort of fondness over you at first sight, no attraction, I would have denied. If we’re being honest here, it isn’t an ideal situation.” It was immediate that he could see her eyes falter, making him curse internally.

“Darling, none of that. No. M’not going where you think I am.” Squeezing the back of her neck, he tried to offer more physical comfort. “What I’m saying is going into this I had no idea what to expect, but we fell into it so naturally. Didn’t we?” The corners of his lips twitched as he watched her nod in agreement. “Yeah. It was very easy for us to fall into it. You’re such a fast learner, such a good girl, I enjoy every single moment between us. In the arrangement or not. I’m not just doing this as a favor to your shitty boyfriend, darling. M’doing this because I want to be.” The statement hung between them for a few moments before he continued, noting the surprise on her face. “I really don’t think there’s anything you can do to make me want t’stop doing this with you. I know it’s inappropriate to say that, I know you’ve got a complicated situation going on with him, but there are things we need to talk about soon and I think that it’s better suited for a fresh mind that isn’t emotionally wrought after such an experience.”

There was a hint at what it was obviously about, that there were more feelings than either of them had bargained for, but after an intimate moment and the visit to the club he was making sure she had time to think on it and relax before he dropped a bomb that would inevitably change the relationship.

As much as he wanted to be selfish right now, he cared too much about her. He liked her so much that it knocked the wind out of him if he thought about it for too long. Moving his grip, his hand cupped her chin as he searched her face. Conflict, interest, relief, attraction, there were a lot of big emotions he could place on her face, but he couldn’t make out what to fully make of them.

“Okay.” Y/N sighed, lifting her wet hand to the back of his neck to mirror how he’d been holding her. It felt slightly possessive in nature and he had to admit that he really fucking liked how it felt. “Is it okay if we kiss, though? Even now?”

Harry was right to wait because obviously her brain was still a little fuzzy from their play earlier if she thought she had to ask for permission to kiss him. As if he didn’t want their mouths attached for hours at a time. Leaning himself up off of where he’d leaned his neck against the back of the tub, he connected their lips in a soft gesture. Thumbing over her chin, affections clear with how tenderly he touched her. She was so soft, so pliant in his arms that he could feel her melting at the kiss. This was what he wanted.

If he had it his way, he would have her in his bath or shower every single night. There would be no ‘going home’ because this would be her home. This would be her bathroom, and she’d leave her mascara tubes on the vanity that he’d inevitably put away later when she was asleep or otherwise distracted.

“Just to ease your fears a little…” She spoke lightly against his lips. “Whatever the discussion, I’m sure that however you feel is the same as I do. So don’t worry about a thing.”

Her reassurance, despite being the one who initially needed it, touched him. Sometimes he forgot he needed that too, and Y/N had been the one so far to remind him that the right person would check in on him too. As much as he loved and craved being the one in control, feeling cared for beyond the ropes and leather was something that he really loved. “Ditto, darling.” He laughed quietly. “Let me finish washing you up so we can have a proper cuddle, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

—-

Harry had left momentarily to grab himself a refill on his water bottle- and to fill her own. It has become a bit of a habit now, seeing things and being reminded of Y/N. It had started slowly at first, reminders trickling in when he cleaned up after she left and the house felt weirdly empty. Then it was seeing the menu and a meal she would probably like, or the song she had showed him played in the radio. The pink pony song, more specifically. A car that looked like hers.

It had snowballed into him finding bits of her in everywhere he went. Realistically he knew he was in dangerous territory, not even bothering to duck for cover anymore as he made sure the straw was clean and popped the lid back onto the blue coated aluminum bottle. A powder blue with cherries and strawberries decorated all over it, something he had a feeling she would like based off of the cherry print panties she had ‘accidentally’ left here and the same ones he had lost his mind over finding.

It was a little bit of a blurred line, if he was allowed to buy her gifts like this, but he wanted to and she deserved cute little trinkets so when he’d seen it while shopping for some new food storage for his snacks, he’d thrown caution to the wind and added it to his cart.

It was ridiculous to be worried about her reaction to a water bottle, but he still was. He didn’t want to overstep but he also didn’t want to hide all of his intentions anymore. Harry liked her, liked-her liked her. He wanted her. There was no doubt in his mind he could provide leaps and bounds more for her than her current partner who had effectively handed her over to him on a silver platter, something he couldn’t ever dream of doing.

Harry knew that if he got the privilege of calling the woman his in all senses, he’d do anything he could to make her happy himself. No other men would be touching her. Looking? Fine. Welcomed, even with him being borderline selfish thus far. But touching would never happen because he wanted to own the rights to her orgasms and her nails in his skin and the trembling limbs underneath him. The taste of her mouth and the heat of her wrapped around him. No one else would get the pleasure.

It went beyond that, though. Walking up the steps with the bottles in hand, ice clinking in the out of them, he felt light thinking about walking in to see her with her hair piled on her head and one of his shirts on top of her form. She would be in his bed, safe and sound, waiting for him to hold her in his arms and relax her enough to sleep.

He also had to tell her about the text that had been waiting on his phone, but he wasn’t sure just how to break that.

The view was just as amazing as he imagined it, the girl sitting cross cross on her side of the bed with her phone in her hand- which was promptly clicked shut as he gained her attention.

“I got you something.” He murmured, sitting himself next to her. “It’s uh- I saw it the other day and it reminded me of you. The colors and the fruits on it. I figured you could have something to stay on your side of the bed.”

Y/N took the bottle in her hand, eyes widening slightly as she brought it up to take a look at it. His eyes studied her as she looked at the bottle, then back to him, then to the bottle. He hadn’t expected her to place the bottle to the side or for her eyes to be teary when she turned back to him, but there was little time to react before she threw herself at him. Climbing into his lap, her fingers splayed on his cheeks as she kissed over his lips and chin, making him laugh in surprise at such a large reaction. It was just a water bottle, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Woah- woah, darling.” He chortled, wrapping an arm around her while putting his own bottle on the nightstand. “You alright?”

Concern brewed from the tears, but her smile was there as she nodded quickly. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m happy. I thought the kisses would show that- ouch!” The sass was interrupted by a pinch to her ass, Harry smirking as she gave him a look before it softened. The dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t just him being ‘Sir’ right now- that’s the same thing he’d do to Y/N. Not just his Pet.

“They did, even if they came from a smart mouth. I’m just unsure why you’re still crying, love.” He kept his tone light while wiping away a tear track, but it felt good to know it was a happy tear. There was no instance that Y/N would look bad. He was fully convinced of this.

“It’s just- I’ve never had someone do that before. I always hear people talk about their friends or significant others who say ‘oh, I saw this and thought of you’ and gave them something. And it isn’t about getting anything with money! It could be a rock, for all I care. It’s just… I dunno.” She ducked her head slightly, looking at his bare torso. “It felt nice to have that. It’s never been me, you know? Not saying no one cares about me but just in general, I think it means more because you… you know me better than most do.”

Even in the short time they’d known each other, Y/N was fairly certain Harry knew her better than Danny. Listened better, too. Every gift she had gotten from Danny had been something she had to point out. Nothing of his own accord. Every day with Harry had her questioning why she was still with the other man, even if only in name right now.

“You deserve those things. I wasn’t sure if it was an overstep so I.. I held off a bit on giving it to you. But if you’re okay with this sort of thing, it’s very often in my day that I find things that make me think of you. Is it okay if I get them? Give you gifts?” The question was asking permission so she didn’t feel overwhelmed or indebted. He wanted to do this. She hadn’t asked or implied it, but he liked giving her things. Orgasms, water bottles, smoothies, the lot.

“I… well, as long as it isn’t really expensive, sure.” She couldn’t be blamed for feeling excited. Having a man who wanted to do that for you, let alone expressing that he thought about her often enough to find things in their daily lives that they felt compelled to buy? He seemed unreal. Part of her wanted to doubt it, think that he wouldn’t actually do it, but Harry’s shown nothing but follow through.

“Amazing.” There was something lighter on his face. “Uh, I don’t want you to think this is just to soften a blow, because I promise that it isn’t. But I wanted to show you a text I got. I didn’t check my phone most of the night but, this was what I got.” The visible nerves on his face had her slightly confused.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked down at his phone, Danny’s contact pulled up. He hadn’t texted since they’d went to meet the first time to discuss this arrangement, but the most recent one had her stomach dropping.

‘Hey h, was wondering how it’s going? I know it’s a weird request but can u ask y/n if she would be down to have me see what it is you guys get up 2? I kno it’s a weird thing to ask and I kno ima little tipsy lol but I keep thinking about what you guys are doing and idk I’m a little jealous. Maybe seeing it will calm that down? Idk idk idk. Can you run it by her?’

Another one followed.

‘We haven’t been talking a lot bc I want 2 give her space to get this out of her system and I don’t want her 2 be mad @ me but idk. I want to see it. Thanks bro’

Y/N sat silently as she looked at the phone, her mind going haywire as she tried to develop the right response. There was one answer she felt currently that was definitely not the right thing to say, but it ended up slipping out of her mouth anyways. It seemed that Harry had mixed some sort of truth serum in his kisses or the fruit he fed her, because her words were probably a bit more truthful than she would have chosen to be.

“Is it bad that I…. I kinda want him to watch? Because I want him to know that he can never do that to me?” She whispered, dropping the phone on the bed next to them, turning her head to look at him. It was slightly uncomfortable to say but if they were going for the truth, she may as well go all the way. Even if it was something that may make her look bad. “I feel like a terrible person. I feel like…. He’s made me feel so shitty, and I want to punish him for it but not in the… I don’t want to use you like that. I want to show that you are the best I’ve ever had and no one can compare to that. So I don’t know. What do you think?”

Harry was delicate in the way he responded for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because shamefully, her answer had truthfully made his cock twitch. Hearing her say that he was the best, that no one else could compare, that she wanted her boyfriend to see that Harry was the one who made her cum… it was tempting. The possessiveness in him liked the idea of laying claim to her that way.

He had tried so hard to be morally correct in this whole thing but the further he fell, the less he cared about Danny. The more he resented him. But if he wanted to subject himself to watching him fuck his girlfriend, if he wanted to see how much Harry could provide that he never could, if Y/N felt that way about it, maybe he could let morals cool down and do something that was a bit selfish.

But the real question was being raised in his head and he had to know the answer before he gave a yes. He had to know. The silence was louder than anything he’d heard before and he knew that it was now or never. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect time to ask, but he had to.

“Are you going to get back together with him, Y/N?” His question caught her off guard, but there wasn’t much hesitance with her answer.

“No.” She inhaled shakily. “I think… I know he can’t give me what I want.” Instant relief, instant gratification. He had a chance. He could have her, if he played his card right. There was no room for guilt anymore.

“Who can?” Harry’s hand crept under her shirt, leaning into her and letting their noses brush. His heart was thundering and he could feel her nerves but she was his brave girl. “Hm? Who can give you what you want?”

“You can.” The words were quiet, but the room was silent. He could hear a pin drop if his heart wasn’t beating hard in his ears. It was hard to believe she was giving him the answer he wanted all on her own, eyes searching hers as she gave into him. He could feel the shift, feel how she was handing a little more of herself over.

“Yeah. I can.” He confirmed, running his nose along the side of her cheek. “I can give you exactly what you want. So… yes. I think we should do it.” Fingers splayed along her bare back, pulling her into his body as her face nestled itself against his throat and he ghosted his lips against her hair. “M’not going to let you down like he’s done. So I’ll text him back. I’ll schedule it for next weekend… and then you’ll do it.”

What laid beyond that wasn’t completely certain. She could back out and decide not to break up with him, but Harry truly didn’t think that would be the case. She seemed certain on her own and without his pushing, but maybe he’d given her a bit of a gentle nudge himself.

Maybe she’d need a taste of what Harry could be like as a boyfriend and not just a dom.

——

Y/N woke up to soft kisses on her cheeks. A large hand under her shirt, similar to last night, but slow caresses moving rhythmically up and down her ribcage. Legs tangled together, she felt Harry notice she was awake but didn’t say a word as he connected their lips in a proper kiss.

Something last night had shifted them. She had a feeling it was the confirmation she wouldn’t be staying with Danny, but even more so that he had been confirmed to be the one who was able to give her what she wanted. As wrong as it may be to go through with that, she didn’t care.

Waking up to the most incredible shows of affection, something the other man had never truly given her besides a cuddle every once in a while, she had a glimpse of what Harry was truly like with her. A layer peeled back as the soft sounds of slow kissing filled the bedroom. Arching into him, she lazily draped her arm over his shoulder and felt him smile into the kisses, his own shaky exhale making her think about the fact that she probably wasn’t the only one heavily affected by it.

“Hi.” Pulling back nearly hurt her, but she wanted to hear his voice. The mornings in his bed she had experienced so far had been some of the best she could have ever imagined. It would have been a hint to her earlier that her relationship with Danny would be- should be- finished, just by how hard her heart beat when he laid in the bed next to her. Harry’s treatment of her had always been exceptionally gentle, but it took on a new meaning just by the look in his eyes as he met her sleepy ones.

“Hello.” He whispered, knuckles caressing the side of her cheek, still slightly marked from the pillow. Such a tiny detail, but it only seemed to make him feel more fond. “I tried to let you sleep for a bit, but… got a bit bored, if I’m honest.” The boyish smile was so different to the sensual, flirty ones she had gotten used to. It sparked a new sort of fluttering in her belly as he leaned his cheek into the pillow, looking her over. Studying her. Maybe she should feel a little more self conscious by such a close proximity examination, but she didn’t. Not in the slightest.

“S’okay.” She replied, eyes fluttering closed as he switched to fingertips mapping over her face as he pleased. “I don’t want to sleep the whole day away. I know you said you wanted to go somewhere today.”

In all honesty she was giddy at the idea of it. Harry had mentioned a little farmers market where he wanted to get some goat cheese to make this ravioli from scratch for dinner, and French bread that he claimed he could make but felt a little lazy in the idea of doing both homemade pasta and bread. Y/N couldn’t really be added to do either, so he wouldn’t have heard complaints from her either way.

“Mhm. I wanted t’make breakfast with you, though. Gonna get lunch out, but I think we could make some kick ass French toast. I’ve got this blueberry syrup and we can toast some pecans with brown sugar… trust me.” He inhaled deeply, pulling her into his body with the arm under her waist. “It’ll be so worth it.” His lips hovered over hers, giving a soft kiss to the swollen mouth before he forced himself to pull back. It was easy to get carried away. “I’ve got t’let Buttons out, so you can take a minute to wake up but…” filtering his eyes down towards her body, he took a moment to see the side of his shirt hanging off her shoulder. “Keep my shirt on. Alright? Just the shirt. Nothing else.”

He rolled out of bed, making his way towards the door when Y/N called after him.

“Is it an order from Daddy?” She said coyly, on her side as she ran her hand over the empty side of the bed.

“No. Jus’ something I want to see. Just Harry.”

—-

Harry hadn’t really thought the whole arrangement through.

In theory it had been simple enough, but in practice? It had gotten messy fast. He wasn’t supposed to do a lot of the things he had done for her. Get her gifts, kiss her outside of scenes, text her as much as he did. The biggest one he was positive he shouldn’t have done, though, was fall in love with her.

It wasn’t something he was going to admit to her yet. Even if he wanted to gather her in his arms and whisper it into her throat as he watched her pad into the kitchen with her bum peeking out slightly when she bent to pat Buttons on the head, he would wait. He’d wait as long as he had to, because last night she had restored his faith.

She was going to break up with Danny, and that meant she’d have room for him. He knew this could be considered a full blown affair if someone argued it that way, but in reality he had pushed them at each other. Two people beyond compatible in the bedroom had been shown to have even more of a connection outside of it. They got on incredibly, laughed together, had their little jokes and it had only been a relatively short amount of time compared to the amount she had dated her soon to be ex.

“Hm? Who can give you what you want?”

“You can.”

Fuck. That had been running circles on the hamster wheel that was his brain since she said it. Damn right, he could. He’d do it or die trying.

“How can I help?” She asked with her freshly washed face. The smell of mint and vanilla, her toothpaste and the body spray she had left in the bathroom. He could place them easily.

“Can I trust you to crack two eggs?” He asked with a bump to her hip as he reached over her head to grab a bowl. “Y’kinda give me the vibe that you get shell into it but… I’m willing to give you a chance.”

“You are rude this morning.” Y/N scoffed, hip bumping him back as she went towards the refrigerator. It felt so fucking good to see her in his kitchen. Messy bedhead she’d attempted to tame, his marks on her thighs exposed when she moved the right way, his shirt hanging off her body. This wasn’t the sort of feeling he had towards most of his submissives.

No, this was very clearly girlfriend territory.

“No, sweetheart. M’just joking. You know that.” He plugged in the electric griddle. “I’ve got the black stone outside but if I’m honest, it’s humid out and I can’t be arsed to deal with the whole going in and out thing. So we’ll stick to the kitchen.”

The mention of him being unnaturally attracted to seeing her padding around his kitchen barefoot was nowhere to be found. That was an inside thought for now.

“Whatever you say, boss.” She snorted. “You know I’m exceptionally good at taking orders. Put me to work.”

The quip resulted in a quick slap to her ass, glossed over by his slightly narrowed eyes before he got to talking. Y/N knew how to make French toast, as did a lot of people, but it was stupidly cute to see how focused she got. Making sure no shells got into the egg, whisking it together, sprinkling with cinnamon before Harry took the battered bread and let it sizzle on the cooktop, they worked as a well oiled machine.

“Alright. The final trick is to put the pan into the oven for a few minutes with the brown sugar and blueberry syrup to caramelize it a bit.” He answered her internal question as to why he had been putting them on a baking sheet without her having to ask. It had been so nice to just do something domestic like this. So low key and calm, falling into it like it was something they did daily. He could only wish for that.

Y/N placed the dishes into the dishwasher as he put the baking sheet into the oven and set the timer, giving him a lovely little peek of her ass when he turned back around. She wasn’t trying to be sexy at all, but he found that it just came naturally to her. Perhaps he was just that down bad, that desperate for her, but he felt the itching of his palms to grab her when she stood back up and he decided he wasn’t going to stop it.

Cool marble make her squeal as Harry lifted her up onto the countertop, the quickness of how he got her up there not giving her a second to even really understand what was happening until it was done and her knees were forced open so he could stand between them. “What happened to hello, how are you?”

“Hello.” His hand slipped under the shirt, splaying across the bottom of her spine as he pulled her closer to him. “How are you?” He wasn’t holding back from his pressing thoughts as he finally let himself bury his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. The soap from the bath the night before, the vanilla body mist, the lingering of his sheets and imprint of the scent of him. Comfort wrapped around him like a blanket- or better said, her arms- as he felt fingers run over his bare shoulder.

“I’m good.” The lightness of her voice settled something in his stomach. Y/N took most things in stride, but it meant the most that she was taking this part so well. This wasn’t something he’d particularly fully indulged in with her before, but he’d wanted to. That little layer of separation was being chipped away, piece by piece as the connection to her boyfriend fell apart. “How about you?”

Harry pondered for a moment if the truth was something he should fully delve into, or if he should mask it. The depth of what he felt was intense and that wasn’t something he would think she’d be ready to hear quite yet, but he was praying that she would return the sentiments. Maybe after the official breakup. “M’wonderful, baby.” The pet name casually dropped into conversation seemed to effect her, the soft shiver not gone unnoticed. Regretfully, he forced himself to pull his face from her throat after giving a chaste kiss to the side of it to get a look at her features.

It sort of hit him in his stomach when he caught her eyes again. Seeing that fondness reflected back to him, one he knew was radiating off of him in waves, it swelled in his throat as he tried to swallow it back down to his belly. How had such an arrangement ended up in something like this? Handed over one of the most enchanting creatures on a silver platter for him to pluck straight into his lap? It only solidified that Danny had never deserved her.

To have her affections officially, to be the partner of someone who had used to talk highly of him and put up with such half assed attention, he had to wonder how anyone could take it for granted. He’d been in a few relationships, a time or two, and he’d been in love before. He knew he was a different man than her boyfriend, but never in his life would he take a look at the sweet fucking simper she was giving him right now and even fathom the idea of letting anyone else ever touch her. He’d be selfish, rightfully so. Hell, he was selfish now.

Harry was going to fuck her in front of said boyfriend as a parting gift. Show him what happens when you hand over your gift to someone who could treat her better, see the true value in her rather than take her for granted and brush aside her likes as a phase. He was going to take pleasure in every single whimper she gave him, every clench of her cunt, every scratch of her nails, every single time she called his name, because it was going to be a glimpse into her future- without him. Y/N was going to be his, if she allowed it. He was thoroughly prepared to fight and prove himself as someone worthy enough to have access to not only her body, but her heart.

The vision of her under him last night, on her knees with her face the vision of content as she rested her cheek on his knee and her hair stroked back with his fingers taking note of every strand was a reminder of what he could offer her. Y/N had shown him another side that further aided in his thoughts that she was made for him. Their playtime at the club wasn’t something that felt like a one and done- neither had their fuck at the bar right under her boyfriend’s nose as he had chosen to get drunk instead of spend time with the pretty goddess that now sat in his kitchen, with her arms around him. “Are you sore at all?” He knew her body had taken a bit more than one would be used to this weekend. “Are you feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I feel good.” She peeped, watching his eyes as fingers pushed hair off of her neck. The marks were steady there, blotches of passion on display. It would be hard to hide them, but he doubted she would want to. “I’m excited to spend the day with you.”

And, god, take him now. His chest heated and his heart melted into a google between his ribs, the smile lifting the corner of his lips inevitable as he was reminded of the day they’d be having. “Me too.” He was beyond excited. Giddy, even, but he had the ability to hide just how worked up it made him. “Gonna have a good day with you. Don’t want you t’go home after, though.” That would be the worst part. She had work the next day and as much as he wanted her to stay….

“Well…” She went shy, making him pause his thought process. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but i um… I brought my work clothes and laptop. Just in case we got… I dunno what my thought process was. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but if you really want me to stay-”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to go. I hate watching you leave.” He interrupted her. “House feels… Empty, i guess. When you leave I can feel it. I love having this place but I….” His words had left his brain without his permission, but he’d already been digging himself a hole since last night. “I didn’t realize how lonely it could feel until you left. I like how it feels to have you here. It feels right. “ It was a little much, but then again, she didn’t seem thrown off. If anything, her eyes brightened and she sat up a bit straighter.

“If you’re sure. Then yeah, I can stay.”

“Good. Cause knowing what I know now, I don’t think I’d let you leave.”

He just hoped she knew how far that statement really went.

—--------------

“Oh my god-” Her gasping voice broke through the bedroom as she writhed on the bed, her fingers tugging at the back of his head. The hum leaving his throat had her arching up into him, desperate to keep him close as his fingers fucked into her slick hole and his tongue lathed over her swollen clit. “M’gonna cum, m’gonna cum, can I cum?”

The desperation leaked in her voice. It had started out with him teasing her about the plug she’d washed in his bathroom sink from the nights prior and snowballed into him suggesting she wear it out. Suddenly she was on her second orgasm from his ruthless tongue and fingers, her little sundress flipped up over her tummy so it ‘wouldn’t get too dirty’.

“Gosh, I dunno.” Harry hummed, slick lips pulled into a faux frown. “Are you gonna stop fuckin’ teasing me today? Flashing that little cunt at breakfast, walkin’ around in your slutty bra… I already let you cum once.”

“Please, let me. Let me cum, I’ll be good. You can do whatever you want to me when we get home, I’ll suck you for hours, I’ll let you do anything, just let me cum.” Her eyes filled with frustrated tears again, surely messing up her mascara. It seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes, making her cry from pleasure.

“Oh, baby. You sweet little thing, I was already going to do whatever I wanted to you t’night. But I suppose we need to get a move on.” Clicking his tongue, as if it was a shame he couldn’t keep edging her all morning, he let out a sigh of defeat. “Suppose you can. Only because I don’t want t’hear you whining all morning about how mean I am.”

Really, it had been the fact she had called this place home. When we get home. Harry liked that quite a fucking bit.

Returning to his prior place, he let her pull him into her cunt and listened to her sobs of relief as she thanked him, gushing all over his tongue with a moan and trembling thighs locked around his ears. For the first time he let her do what she wanted in that regard, and he couldn't deny how much he loved it. Feeling her buck against his mouth and be unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer, her worked her through it with her cunt gushing around his fingers and swollen clit pulsing against his mouth.

He knew it was going to take him a moment to calm his cock down, but he did like to hold off for a bit. As easy as it would be to flip her over and use her warm, supple pussy to cum into, he wanted to play with her later. The wait would be worth it. Climbing up her body, he cooed softly at her as she looked at him with bleary eyes- only to laugh as her hands caught his face and tugged him down to kiss her. There was that whole other level of satisfaction he felt from having her be frantic for him, knowing she felt even a fraction of how he felt for her.

“You good, angel?” He asked softly, wiping his clean fingers under her eye. It hadn’t caused too much damage, but she’d need to go fix herself up.

“Mhm.” She giggled, nose brushing against hers. “I’m gonna need a moment to get feeling back in my legs. I don’t know how the hell you can do that.”

It was one of those moments that felt far more like a relationship than just a Dom and Sub dynamic. She hadn’t used any honorifics, not had he asked her to. He’d merely gotten to the point and Y/N had happily followed. “I’d apologize but m’not sorry in the slightest.” His smile brightened up his face before it fell slightly, lips falling back on hers. The comfortability around them had changed, merged into something else that he wasn’t sure what to call it- but he liked it. He liked it a lot. “I think after we get back, we can go for a soak in the hot tub. Sound like something you want to do?”

Contrary to popular belief there were differences between the bathtub and and the jacuzzi. He’d fight anyone on it. It was a hill he was willing to die on.

“Okay, that sounds like fun.” With her eyes falling shut, it gave him an opportunity to give her another admiring glance over. Her panties tucked to the side, sweat still beaded at her hairline, she looked so relaxed that he felt proud. He’d been the one to get her to this state. Hopefully she’d let this happen again, and again, and again.

“Perfect. I’ll help you clean yourself up and touch up your makeup and then we can go, okay?” Storoking his knuckles over her lip, he smiled when they pursed to kiss the skin. Such a small action that sent such a big reaction through him. “Think Buttons will want t’go with us?”

That had her eyes popping open, an excited gasp leaving her as she looked back up at him to see if he was serious. “Really? We can do that?”

The excitement was yet another thing that was an arrow right to the heart, having another strand of the thread keeping him from admitting how far gone he was with her fray and snap. Such a small thing had her eyes fucking sparkling up at him and he was probably going to fall over at how much he utterly adored that little look. “Of course we can.” He laughed under his breath. “The market’s outside and we can sit out on a patio for lunch. Get him a treat. It’ll be fun.”

Though when he saw Y/N waiting at the door with his leash in her hand and one of his denim jackets slung over her arms, bouncing on her heels as he approached, he had vastly underestimated how much he could see his future in that very image. Slipping his hand into her own as they walked towards his car and hearing her coo at his dog, talking about how ‘daddy had been so nice to offer them a day out’ before shooting him a wink, he felt the last little bit of that tether snap and the ground beneath his feet felt a lot like the open air.

Harry needed to keep this, recreate it and cherish it forever. If his future didn’t have Y/N hopping into the passenger seat of his car and sneaking Buttons a biscuit? He didn’t want it.

[taytrashmouth]

Heyy I was wondering if u could do prompt 22 with peeta I’ve been having peeta brainrot for so long 😭

tysmm!!

This is so real!!!!! Peeta supremacy. I really hope you love it.

Prompt 22: “You’re staring!”

Requests are open so please send them in!!!!!!!! Prompts under my profile.

(Set before the games)

:readmore:

It was a cold day in district 12, the snow had started to fall. But it was a good day, because you had somehow giggled your way into getting a date with Peeta Mellark.

You pulled your small brown bag, that’s been patched up so many times you couldn’t tell which fabric was the original. And began to walk to the bakery.

You pulled your dark blue beanie over your ears as you approached the door. You contemplated for a minute before knocking.

Peetas family were gathering supplies from the local market, they wouldn’t be back for the next few hours.

He opened the door and smiled the minute he saw you. You smiled back.

“Hey.” He ushered you inside, looking at the snow that dusted your shoulders.

“You must be freezing.” He took your coat and put it over the chair by the entrance.

“Only slightly.” You joked.

“You’ve got- umm snow.” Peeta pointed to your eyelashes. You giggled “oh, would you?”

You closed your eyes and he gently dusted the snowflakes off of your long eyelashes.

His hand lingered on your cheek as you opened your eyes.

“Thanks.” You spoke just above a whisper.

“I’m making bread.” He let out as he pulled his hand away. You smiled at his awkwardness.

“I’m glad! Your bread is like what I look forward to the whole week.” You told him as you walked to the kitchen.

He smiled shyly.

“I just need to get this in the oven and then we can do whatever you want.” He spoke, walking over to a metal bowl where the dough had been rising.

You sat on the kitchen counter and watched him knead the bread. You were mesmerised by the muscle in his arms, and the way he used his whole body to knead the dough.

He was talking about something but if you were honest you didn’t know what.

“Y/n-“ he called and you broke out of your trance. “You’re staring…” he smiled cockily.

You turned crimson looking at your hands and swinging your legs. “Sorry-“

“Don’t be…” he let out as he placed the bread into the oven.

“Come on.” He spoke and helped you down from the counter by your hips.

You blushed more.

He led you to the living room where a fire was going, it was small like all the houses in 12. But it was nice. Cozy.

You took your beanie off and attempted to smooth out your hair. Messy curls bouncing everywhere.

There was a severe lack of chairs in the living room. All single chairs in every corner of the room and a huge table in the middle. Furniture wasn’t one of the luxuries the Capitol provided.

You noticed some daisies lying on the table. Peeta picked them up. “I- I uh picked these for you. They grow down by the river.”

You smiled. “They’re beautiful.” You smelt them.

“Like you.” You both blushed then.

He took a daisy out of the bouquet and placed it behind your ear.

After a while of talking Peeta spoke “what do you wanna do? Unfortunately when it’s snowing there’s not much to do is there?”

“We could read.” You suggested fishing a book from your bag.

“Where did you get that?” Peeta examined it in awe.

“My dad, he knows a guy in 7 that owned a library before the rebellion. He’s really old. But every month my dad travels to get wood from 7 for our district and he gives him a book for me to read.” You explained.

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, when I was little he said that if the Capitol ever crumbles the library’s mine.” You smiled at the memory.

“You’ll have to take me with you.”

“Always.” You looked at every feature on his face. “You can lend some of them anytime you want. I have a feeling we’re gonna have to wait a long time for the whole library.” You joked and Peeta laughed

I would love to, but I’m not that great at reading.” He hesitated to speak. You could tell he was embarrassed.

“That’s okay, my mom taught me. Honestly I don’t blame you, schools here just care about coal and the rebellion.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry by the way.” He was talking about your mom. She died a few years back.

“It’s okay.” You smiled sadly.

“I can read to you if you want.” You offered.

He nodded. Hiding his excitement.

He sat on one of the chairs, and you sat on the floor next to him.

“Hey don’t sit on the floor.” Peeta sat up.

“No no! I’m fine, you won’t hear from over there, really.” You insisted.

“Sit with me.” Peeta suggested.

Blush crept into his face the second he said it.

“You don’t have t-“

“I want to.” You stood up.

He sat back onto the seat squeezing as far right as he could. You tried to squeeze next to him but you were half on top of him. You were both tomato’s.

He carefully placed his hand on your lower back and under your thigh. You took a sharp breath in as he moved you to sit on his lap, legs over the armrest.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

“Perfect.”

You began to read and he held onto every word. He was in deep and he knew it. He watched your lips move and the way you smiled when something good happened. And giggled when something romantic happened.

“Peeta-“ he broke from his trance when he realised you weren’t reading anymore.

“You’re staring.” You smirked.

Now he was the blushing mess. “It’s hard not to.” He moved some hair behind your ear.

You squealed and hurried your head in his chest at how perfect he was. He chuckled and stroked your hair as you continued to read, head on his chest.

[piratefalls]

i emerge from my pile of blankets in the freezing midwest just long enough to drop this. there's all kinds of fun stuff this week! and, despite being housebound because of subzero temps, i'm so far behind on reading it's not even funny, so it's a little shorter than usual.

masterlist.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes

Alex had pulled away at the sound of the door opening, is the thing. He’d looked up at Henry with wide eyes and spit-slick, swollen lips, and Henry knows intrinsically that he will never be rid of that mental image. He’ll take it into the shower later, into bed tonight, into the rest of his natural life; if he hits his head tomorrow and winds up with some medically implausible form of amnesia, the key to unlocking his identity will be the enduring memory of a beautiful mystery man and his perfect cock-sucking mouth. Because Alex was—Christ, he was— Or, Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

wake and shake by weather_stained

Alex wakes up to find Henry indulging in some...classical literature.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz

Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him. And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame. -- Or, surprise, it's a love confession

check-in closes at too-early p.m. by coffeecatsme

A passenger plane, even if he was in first class, wasn’t going to wait for the former FSOTUS to stop making out with his boyfriend so they can fly. Or, 5 times Alex misses his flight and 1 time he doesn't.

sometimes we break so beautiful by Anonymous

It’s his own damn fault; Alex knows this. It’s his fault for having everyone over for a small birthday party only to spend the evening whispering filthy things to Henry when no one was looking. (And when they were looking, because it’s his goddamn birthday and he can be as inappropriate with his boyfriend as he fucking wants to be.) It’s his fault for pushing Henry, for bratting off with antagonistic words like ‘what are you going to do about it—give me birthday spankings?’ and ‘do you actually think you could put me in my place? Because I’d like to see you try.’ It’s his fault for taunting Henry by suggestively licking the birthday candles, for doing anything he could possibly do to bring attention to his mouth, to his ass, to his fingers. It's his fault that he’s now on their bed, lying on top of Henry, arms stretched out in front of him on either side of Henry's head and wrists tied to the headboard.

There's Something Missing in My Heart by allmylovesatonce

When Alex goes to London to tell him he loves him, Henry sends him away. How do both of them react to being without each other and what happens when their emails are still leaked?

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge

“I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.” Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.” Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.” “And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

Keep Me Waiting (Give Me More) by bleedingballroomfloor

Alex rubs his face with his hands. “You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that you got a guy off three times — three fucking times — without even touching his dick? I don’t even think that’s scientifically possible.” Henry’s wine-drunk grin grows a little wider. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Sweet, Like Sugar by everwitch

After Henry dates a series of certified assholes, Pez has had it and signs Henry up for a sugar dating app. Henry doesn’t expect much at first, but that’s before he connects with Alex; obscenely wealthy, devilishly handsome and unexpectedly sweet, Alex sweeps Henry right off his feet. But what does Alex expect in return for his extravagant generosity? And why is he so secretive about what his life looks like outside of his intimate conversations with Henry?

even sleeping you astonish me by accol

The utter irony. To be at a climate conference and have a storm descend upon the proceedings was perhaps poetic. To have the storm be intense enough to flood half the hotel and cut off transportation to the mainland was concerning. But to have it all culminate in Henry having to share a room with Alex Claremont-Diaz was as if Mother Nature herself was having a laugh.

9 to 5 by smc_27

Henry is Alex’s favourite colleague. By a fucking country mile, to be honest. He’s intensely competent, has an insane memory for process and policy, and is kind to everyone. Also? He’s fucking pretty, and Alex might be new to bisexuality, but he’s not that new. He knows what he likes, and what he likes are men with pretty eyes and kind smiles and nice cheekbones and English accents. Other men, too, but like. Be serious. Henry’s top of the list. Unfortunately, Henry lives in London. Alex lives in New York City. They work closely together and meet once a week, if not more, and Slack one another almost every day. Alex is on the legal team, and Henry is in business operations, and the second Alex met Henry for the first time, he knew he was truly fucked.

before the first light by stutteringpeach

“I don’t feel anyone. And I’m not going to feel anyone. Because I don’t have a soulmate.” Alex looks confused. “What? Everyone has a—“ “I don’t have a soulmate,” Henry tells him with a sigh, “because I don’t have a soul.”

Song In My Head by MayQueen517

Henry is an explorer and finds himself in a different situation entirely. === He’s restrained. By vines. His wrists and his ankles are encased in the surprisingly soft vines and around him is the scent of blooming honeysuckle that had charmed him so the night before. Henry groans, tilting his head back and he’s aware, briefly, of the vines gently supporting his head, as if they’re concerned over his comfort.

learning to love (without it having to hurt) by viciouslyqueer

Alex nods. “I get that.” He pauses. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right? If things aren’t great.” Henry’s face softens, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I know,” he murmurs. “Thanks.” He turns back to the television, and Alex forces himself to do the same. He tears his gaze away from Henry’s profile and focuses on their Star Wars marathon again, refusing to acknowledge how cuddly Henry looks in soft pajamas and fuzzy, mismatched socks. Alex’s heart leaps in his chest anyway. He knew having a crush on his roommate would be confusing, frustrating, and borderline heartbreaking. None of that stopped him.

address me properly by headabovethewater

25. Royalty kink

Pitching a Tent by cmere

Henry looks Alex up and down appraisingly. Alex feels heat rising in his neck and wills it to stop, burning with curiosity about what Henry’s going to ask. He finally says in a low voice, “Are you a serial killer?” Alex smirks. “Even if I was a serial killer, wouldn’t I just say no to get you alone?” “Dammit, you’re right,” Henry says, grinning. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances then.” “Live dangerously, sweetheart.” - or - “our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi i guess we’re spending the weekend together” AU!

take my hand if you can take me as i am by anincompletelist

It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault. But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook. Alex has looked. 

'till the gravity's too much by IndestructibleHeart

He’s been pacing the length of the house for the better part of an hour now, restless after 48 hours of involuntary confinement. The blizzard outside is unrelenting, to the point that city officials have recommended staying indoors until conditions clear. It’s actually a “suggestion” that Alex might’ve tested if a) Henry weren’t taking the ‘sTaTe oF eMeRgEnCy’ so seriously and b) if not for the fact that their door has literally been frozen shut. “Baby,” Alex says, deliberate and slow, because he knows it’ll earn him the long-suffering, utterly helpless expression it always does. “I’m crawling out of my skin here. Can you just… distract me?”

a quick study by @whimsymanaged

Alex is new to bisexuality, and he turns to a friend for some guidance.

where every wish comes true by HypnosTheory

“Locked out?” “I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.” Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?” -- Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

Anything You Want by somuchworse

Alex rubs his thumb against the stubble on his chin, a soothing balm to the fire melting it’s way through Henry’s bloodstream. “You can tell me, baby. Whatever it is, I won’t care. I won’t judge you. Nothing. I’ll just listen.” And that helps. Henry opens his eyes, and his blood cools just enough to let him speak as he peers up at Alex through his eyelashes. “I’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve tried on my own, and with other people, and I always get close… But then it disappears. So, yeah. Never had one.”

I did one thing right (starry eyes sparking up my darkest night) by theprinceandagcd

"Sighing happily, Alex focuses on the feeling of Henry’s arm around his back. The tips of Henry’s fingers are brushing featherlight up and down his spine, and Alex can feel goosebumps rising on the flesh in their wake. It’s so fucking tranquil that Alex is pretty sure he could die right now and be perfectly content with his life, except – 'We should get married.' 'Pardon?' Oh. Fuck. He said that out loud."

like strawberries on a summer evening by Anonymous

He saw something wiggle in the blanket pile, and then Alex’s face appeared under a mop of messy curls, frown stuck firmly onto his face. “Ugh,” he said, from his spot on the bed. - Alex is having a rough time, and Henry is concerned, like any good boyfriend would be.

even though we know it isn't true by matherine

For so long, academics had been the one thing Alex could count on when everything else in his life was falling apart, the one thing he had always been good at. It didn’t matter that his parents were getting divorced as long as he could figure out how to factor an equation, didn’t matter that June was moving out to go to UT-Austin as long as he could analyze Jane Eyre, didn’t matter that his mother was on the campaign trail more often than he ever saw her as long as he could balance lacrosse with his position as valedictorian. But now, every time a paper comes across his desk marked to within an inch of its life, bleeding a C – or even worse, a D scrawled in bright red ink, his chest grows a little tighter, his breathing a little quicker. Thankfully, he’d not yet managed to fuck up spectacularly enough to get himself a real, honest to God F. He’s not sure he’d survive it. He’s already not sure how well he’s surviving. Alternatively: Alex is failing a class. Henry learns how to help him cope.

Twice the speed (of you and me) by @myheartalivewrites

“Hey. So, you know Pez?” Alex asks bluntly. No easy way into this, he’s decided. Henry looks up from his phone, frowning. “My best mate?” “Yeah, that one.” ——— Alex has an idea.

Don't Quit It by inexplicablymine

“And goddamn last but not least on my Hit It and Don’t Quit It list would be the Saracens rugby player Henry Fox. That man has great depths, and he could so easily plumb my depths, if you know what I’m saying. An all-around fantastic player, but also someone who is ridiculously smart off the field. And we all know by now that everyone on this list features my mile-wide competency kink. Henry, if you are seeing this, we could play around with some balls that aren’t just in play.” Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck. Alex has just accidentally outed himself to 6.7 million people. And according to the comments section, they seem to be all too aware. Or... Announcing your crush via viral TikTok... that's one way to get his attention ;)

Hall of Fame by politics_and_prose

“It is an unbelievable honor to be inducted into the New York Mets Hall of Fame. If I could tell the eight year old boy sitting in the stands at Shea that we would end up here, I don’t think I would. This journey has been … it’s been everything to me. Thank you, New York, for loving me as much as I love you. Thank you.”

Sip You Like Cosmic Juice by @sparklepocalypse

“There’s this… charity rugby match in Windsor next month that my mate, Percy’s foundation organizes. I, um… I was wondering if you might want to… be my guest.” Here’s the thing – Alex knows that Henry is athletic and strong. He’d felt and, to some extent, seen evidence of this in the way Henry’s hands had gripped at his waist and back in the Red Room, the ease with which Henry had manhandled him onto the sofa in his bedroom, and in how solid Henry had felt beneath him as they’d tumbled into the supply closet at London Children’s Hospital. And Henry’s a royal – being sporty seems to be a baseline job requirement for modern royals. So yeah, Alex knows Henry’s got some muscle, and as he walks toward the stands that line either side of the rugby pitch in Windsor, Alex thinks he’s prepared. He finds a seat in the stands among spectators wearing the colors of Henry’s team – red, white, and blue – then scans the pitch for a familiar head of blond hair. It’s probably for the best that he’d sat down first, because when his gaze alights on Henry out on the field, Alex promptly swallows his tongue. (Movieverse; what if everything's the same, except the charity sporting event is rugby?)

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

[escespace]

I have something very serious to ask the author... What planet do you come from? Cause THIS FIC THIS IS OUT OF THIS WORLD

What an experience it has been to read this. It's a mini tribute to the fandom, truly beautiful!!!

Arthur being all simp for Merlin is never going to get boring and I think it's because it compensates a bit for the feeling of imbalance compared to what we see Merlin doing in the series.And let it be all whippedd by Merlin if it was satisfactory, it was perfect to make me kick my feet like a schoolgirl

Then we get to the sad part and the explanation that Merlin gives to Gwaine MADE MY EYES WATER How dare you? Merlin speaks to the reader there, I swear, we have been with him in his worst moments and we know all the pain in his heart.

It has been the perfect combination of anguish and comfort With a big and beautiful amount of fluff I'll read it a dozen more times I'm sure

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table (Merlin) Additional Tags: Everyone Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Everyone Knows Merlin/Arthur Pendragon are in Love (Merlin), Good Friend Gwaine (Merlin), Good Friend Lancelot (Merlin), Mutual Pining, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Love Potion/Spell, Boys Kissing, Boys In Love, Love Confessions, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Long-Suffering Leon (Merlin), merlin is trying to break a spell, while arthur is head over heels in love with him, merlin just wants some peace and quiet Summary:

"Merlin!” He said, smiling brightly with eyes wide. “Merlin, my love!”

“Oh Gods and Goddesses, please save me,” Merlin mumbled to himself as Arthur scrambled off the table and ran to wrap his arms around Merlin. The sorcerer groaned and looked over his shoulder at Arthur.

“But it hurts to be apart.” Arthur whined, proceeding to unceremoniously drop all 180 pounds of himself onto Merlin’s lap. “It hurts deep in here.”

Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand and rests it over his heart. Merlin just looks at him with a deadpan look as he wrestles his hand back and tries to shove Arthur off.

~~~

Or Merlin believes Arthur has been hit with a love spell and has to deal with an insanely clingy Arthur for two days while he tries to figure out how to break it.

A talk with the druids leaves him thinking about his supposedly unrequited love (and how it might not be so unrequited)

[acatalystrising]

Alriiiight! As I promised to @daimyosprincess - here at long last is Small Favors! This fic…sheesssshhh, this fic. It almost destroyed me! It’s absolute pure filth borne of one too many days of Boba brain rot, so buckle up, people!

Enjoy the ride! 🫠😉

(Zwei, this basically ended up being dedicated to you after all the lovely prof Boba content you’ve been giving us. I hope it lives up to your expectations! 💚🖤)

TW: NSFW, minors dni. This contains smut - predator/prey, fingering, dirty talk, pre-discussed non-consensual sex, piv, f!receiving, bondage, dom!Boba, pet names, teasing, slight degradation, all the usual suspects 🙃

Small Favors

The day Boba Fett called you a hellion, you were pretty certain it altered your brain chemistry.

To make things worse? He’d said it on his way out of the door, dressed in full armor, heading down to the throne room for yet another day of rulership.

Leaving you alone to ruminate on his words.

That simply wouldn’t do. You tried to be his good girl - lounging on his bed, boredly counting the cracks in the ceiling, doing as you’d been told…but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t help but let your imagination take over, wandering to a particular scenario that had intrigued you as of late.

Oh, the Daimyo was strong. Powerful, capable of overpowering you in seconds despite your best attempts to put up a fight. You could never forget it, no matter how many times he pleasured you senseless. But it made you wonder…

You knew how Boba the Daimyo handled you. But…how would Boba the bounty hunter? The mere thought of your love hunting you down like prey sent thrills coursing through you. But you’d been hesitant to mention it, given how many times he’d openly stated those days were behind him.

But the day was crawling miserably by, the hours even longer, and you needed a distraction. You knew you’d probably regret it, even as you stood and got dressed. But right now, you felt like doing something dangerous.

You were going to play with fire.

-

You were merciful (or smart) enough to wait for his last visitor to leave for the day, but not a moment longer. You struck before he had the chance to get up.

Boba still sat on his throne, powerful thighs spread like an invitation too good to refuse, as you made your way to him. His eyes followed your every step, hunger unabashedly flaring in his amber gaze.

But instead of sitting in his lap as he surely expected, you skirted around the throne, tracing a lone nail along his armor as you walked behind him. He reached for you, but you dodged his fingers with a smirk, tapping the back of his head instead.

“See you’re in a teasing mood.” His voice was gruff, tinged with exhaustion from the day’s tedious events, but you pressed on, still staying right out of his reach.

“I don’t don’t know what you mean,” you tapped his pauldron with another grin, and he shifted to face you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What game are you playing at, little one?” He patted his thigh, a command he expected to be obeyed. “Been a long day.”

Oh, you were at war. You knew it was probably in your best interest to do as he said, and he was tired, after all. Perhaps he’d be too tired to play along. But…you didn’t want to throw your plan out the window just yet.

“Maybe you need some exercise. Wouldn’t want your skills to go to waste.” You raised a brow, stepping around the armrest and stopping before him, still out of his direct range. “Why don’t you come get me?”

Boba arched a dark brow, gaze locked on you, completely still. You realized a moment too late he was waiting for you to continue. Either that, or calculating his next move. Probably both. It sent a thrill coursing through you.

“I…”

“What’s this about, hmm?” He crossed his broad arms over his even broader chest, heaving a deep breath that flexed his beskar plates as he fixed you with a quizzical expression bordering intrigue. “Wanna play hard to get? We both know how that would go.”

Ahh, there it was, your golden ticket. That, or the action that would seal your doom. At this point, you’d already committed, and it was too late to back out, now.

“I don’t think you could catch me, old man.” You smirked, hands on your hips, looking at up at him with a raised brow. “You’re a Daimyo now. Lots and lots of sitting. You’re bound to lose your edge.”

Oh, you knew you were asking for trouble.

Boba regarded you evenly, a small smirk working its way on the corner of his lip. Those thick, skillful, beautiful lips. Oh, he did too.

“Is that so?” He looked down at you, eyes narrowing imperceptibly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Ahh, so he was humoring you. Good. “So confident today, mesh’la.”

You had the audacity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to spit your tongue out at him. Him, Boba Fett. You were probably one of the few that ever could and live to tell the tale.

“Definitely.” You made a dramatic show of shrugging, making sure you leaned forward just enough to let the low neckline of your shirt do its job. “In fact, I don’t even think it would be hard. I’m fast, cunning too. I bet I’d even be able to outsmart the greatest bounty hunter who ever-”

Boba was on you in an instant, and you couldn’t help but loose a shriek as you were pulled into his lap before you could blink. Damn, that was quick. Quicker than when you had anticipated. And you’d thought you’d given him a wide enough berth. He curled his arms around you, pinning you to his armored chest, and pressed his face against your neck, breath hot and scalding - voice low like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Wanna flirt with death, little one?” He nibbled your earlobe between his teeth, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his throat, sending heat pooling between your legs. “Fine. But we both know you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

Oh kriffing gods.

You somehow managed to pull two halves of a thought together to form a sentence.

“Wanna test that? Give me two days. Bet you can’t catch me.” You shot him a smirk and shrugged. “Who knows, it could be fun.”

“And what would I get in return?” Boba’s voice was cold, calculating. Calculating, as he watched you, eyes narrowed, studying your blown out pupils and shallow breaths. He had to know you found this arousing. Especially if his hunter senses were still keen.

“Anything,” you confidently met his gaze, even as his grip on you tightened. “Anything you want.”

He fell silent for a moment, chest heaving, heart thundering beneath the beskar. A sly smirk curved on the corner of his lip, accompanied with a cutting gleam in his eyes, and it was then that you realized you were screwed.

“Anything.” He mirrored, dipping his head to meet your neck, sucking a bite on your pulse point. You bit back a moan despite your best efforts, far too keenly aware as one of his hands slid down your side and settling on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. “But you’ve already given me everything, mesh’la. Why would I risk losing what is already mine?”

Oh maker, he was playing with you. Making this harder than necessary. Punishing you for disobeying him.

“Umm, I…” you swallowed hard as his hand slipped between your legs, stifling another moan as he slowly, gently, torturously caressed your clothed clit. Gods, this wasn’t how you’d expected this to go. “I…just thought it would be fun, ya know? I’m always…maker…always wanting to try new things with you.”

He hummed, kissing your neck again, then your ear, your cheek, and finally your lips. He kissed you like a starved man, greedily nipping at your lips, tongue carving a path into your mouth, claiming you as his. He slipped his hand underneath your pants, your underwear the only barrier, deft fingers already bringing that coiling heat closer to the surface. You bucked against him, chasing his fingers, and he kept you flush with his chest with a growl.

“So my little princess wants to be hunted, hmm?” He had the audacity to lick a stripe up your neck as he circled your arching clit. “She wants to be hunted like a bounty? Like prey? That what you really want, little one? To feel helpless? Trapped with nowhere to go? Darling, I’ll show you helpless.”

You could only nod, a whimper breaking from your throat when he slowed his movements, delaying your pleasure. It nearly brought tears to your eyes. Dammit, this was supposed to be your game, not his, and yet you found yourself unraveling in his clutches yet again.

“Please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything, I’d let you do anything,” you pressed against him with a whine, meeting his waiting gaze as you made your plea. “Fuck me bound. Even if I said no. Make me yours, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I just want…wanna…”

You fell silent, embarrassment flaring your cheeks, but you should have known that he wouldn’t let you get away with silence. His free hand gripped your chin and tilted your face up to meet his, just forcefully enough to make his point.

“Say it.”

There was no room for disobedience now. Not when you were literally at his mercy. Not when his command rolled through you, making you tremble with excitement.

“I want you to hunt me.” You forced yourself to speak, even as his eyes darkened, his fingers slowly caressing you again. “Chase me down, and capture me. Use me as you see fit. That’s…that’s what I want.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing on the stone walls, as he zeroed in on your clit again, your pleasure nearly bubbling to the surface.

“So much begging, poor princess,” his voice was a mocking coo as he wrung the pleasure out of you, your vision going white, jaw slack as your orgasm hit with the force of a speeding train. “You’ll have one day, sweet thing. One day to run, and when it’s over, you’ll be begging me to come for you.”

-

You should have believed him.

Should have realized how hard he’d make this for you. But you’d been confidently foolish, going so far as to travel off world to some backwater forest planet on a neighboring system - albeit sparely populated…just to be safe.

But as the minutes had ticked to hours, and hours into the evening, there still had been no sign of your hunter. Whether this was because he was toying with you, or you’d actually given him the slip, you didn’t know - but you pressed on anyway. And as the cerulean sky faded to lilac and crimson hues, you started to worry.

You’d taken a one way trip to get here, even hired a smuggler to fly you. Anything to make it more exciting. More real.

But perhaps you’d gone too far.

You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of worry cut through your chest. Maybe you’d been overconfident, going to such lengths. What if he had lost his edge? What if he couldn’t find you? You’d be stuck alone, on a strange planet, with nothing but a short range commlink to try to call for help.

Stars, you also missed him. Missed his voice, his touch. You’d underestimated how quickly you’d tire of his absence - and as you slipped through the trees, slowing to a leisurely walk, you finally let your guard down, too lost in your whirling thoughts to keep playing the game you insisted on from the start.

The shadows had crept over the foliage, enshrouding the trees in darkness, hiding the armor that would have otherwise glinted in the sun.

You didn’t seem him until it was too late.

Strong arms suddenly wrenched yours behind your back, throwing you off balance and against a nearby tree. Your scream broke the silence, unheard in the miles of uncharted wilderness, unable to break free from the vise like grip clamping down on your wrists.

Boba’s breath flared hot like blaster fire on your cheek as he pushed you against the tree. The rough bark bit into your skin, only a minor fleeing pain, the true cause for your panic currently locking your arms behind your back in a vice like grip.

“Really thought you’d give me the slip, hmm?” His deep voice was rough and staticky with the helmet, tone absolutely deadly as he lifted his binders to your wrists. “Poor little girl.”

You clenched your legs at that - unable to stop the reaction from pushing your brain off the edge, diving into a freefall. Damn it, not yet. You couldn’t let him have his victory this easy. You had to be more of a challenge, flustered brain or not.

“Let. Me. Go!” You twisted in his grasp, tucking up your legs and lashing out with a kick to his chest.

He grunted, the force of your attack pushing him back a few centimeters - just enough space for you to work with. You broke free, heart locked in your throat, and spun around the tree to give you some distance.

You knew you couldn’t win. He was the better fighter in every way - an opponent you’d never once been able to beat, despite your own skill. But just because you knew you were going to lose didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

The trees whipped past in a blur as you carved a wild, desperate path deeper into the foliage. All was silent save for the crashing of your boots through the fallen leaves - the first warning that you were doomed. The second warning came too late.

A sharp prick bit into your shoulder, and your reflexes reacted too late - a scream stuck in your throat when a whipcord whipped around your body - throwing you to the ground. You could already feel the effects of the tranquillized taking over - vision blurring at the edges even as you still struggled in vain. Even as Boba stepped into your rapidly fading sight, armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Careful, little mouse,” his voice was cutting, sinfully victorious, as he knelt beside you. Kriffing hell, you knew he was smirking underneath that damn helmet. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt. You’re worth more alive.”

You felt the moment the binders slapped on your wrists, sealing your fate…

And then your vision went dark.

-

By the time you awoke, the Slave 1 was already well in sight.

You were slung over Boba’s shoulder like a carcass, arms and legs limply dangling, mind still buzzing from the sedative he’d given you. You tried to open your mouth to speak, but your words were a pathetic slur.

He either didn’t hear you, or was ignoring you. You could feel the strength of him, muscles coiled underneath armor - all sinew and power. He held you with one arm, but you knew you’d never escape, that large gloved hand locked around your neck. You whimpered as the ramp lowered, ushering you both inside - inside to whatever fate he had planned for you. It closed, sealing you both in, and dooming you.

You couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he unceremoniously dropped you to the ground, right outside the cells. You wondered if he’d cage you in one to make the experience more real, but Boba seemed to have other ideas. He grabbed your bound arms and drug you across the floor, ignoring your shrieks of protest when he stopped in the center of the cargo hold.

Boba was quiet - he hadn’t said a word since your capture, and part of you wondered if it was part of the act, or if it was truly upset at the lengths you’d gone to evade him. So, you tried to take matters into your own hands.

“Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. I bet of you, let me go!” Your broken voice was truthfully cracked, parched after your strenuous day. “I’ll do anything, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Boba Fett had the audacity to ignore you. In fact, he turned his back on you, lifting his gauntlet to key in a code. A mixture of indignation and embarrassment flooded your chest, prompting your next move.

“I know you can hear me under there, bucket head.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Or are you as deaf as you are dumb?”

“You know what you did.” His voice was low like thunder - cutting. A very different tone than the one he oh so often used with you.

This…this was entirely different. Excitement mixed with fear coursed down your spine as he slowly turned, that black t-visor locked on you with deadly focus.

But you wouldn’t be deterred that easily.

“What exactly did I do, huh?” You would have crossed your arms if you could. Instead, you opted to dramatically shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard to list off my crimes. That is, if big words aren’t too much for a brute like you.”

Boba lunged forward with the speed of a viper, taking you entirely by surprise when his fingers gripped your chin, absolutely wrenching your face up to meet his - albeit hidden behind that helmet. And you were starting to realize why many would find it so terrifying. Heart hammering in your chest, you whimpered when his fingers squeezed your jaw, effectively clamping your mouth shut.

“Mouthy little brat, aren’t you?” His helmet was inches away, your panting breaths fogging the visor as he lowered his hand from your jaw to your neck. “Could just put you away in a cell. Would be what you deserve. But I might have to teach you a lesson.”

Oh gods. You swallowed, hard, and couldn’t resist the urge to wriggle beneath him, breaths growing shallower by the moment.

“You? Teach me a lesson? In your dreams.” You had the audacity to roll your eyes, spitting out your tongue to goad him further. “Sorry, but I have standards. I don’t fuck trigger happy bounty hunters.”

Boba Fett had the audacity to chuckle. A deep, dark chuckle that rumbled through your chest and tingled down your spine. Oh shit…you were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Is that so?” He gave your neck a squeeze, his free hand gripping your binders with another dark snicker. “Poor little kitten’s trying to give me orders? Ironic.”

His hand left your throat, and you yelped as he single-handedly picked you up by the binders, lifting you into the air, and pinned you against the ship’s wall. He magnetized the binders with a soft buzz, then left you dangling there - your toes barely able to touch the floor.

“What the hell?” You huffed, straining to reach the ground, heartbeat hammering so loudly you could barely concentrate, even as you felt his gloved fingers caress your jawline. “Let me down! Stop this, I mean it. Let me go, you kriffing jerk!”

Boba ignored you, helmet titling slowly to the side as if tracking his own journey tracing your neck until it stopped just above your shirt.

“You asked for this, little one.” His tone was impossibly husky, dark and rich like spotchka on the back of your throat. “You have a choice, kitten. You can either fight me, or…”

His hand slipped under your shirt, burrowing beneath your bra, and caressing your nipple with deft, skilled fingers.

“Choose to enjoy it.” He pinched your nipple too hard, and you yelped, thrashing even as he slowed back to a caress. “Your choice - but you’re not getting out of this.”

“N-no, please,” you tried to shy away, but he wouldn’t have it, pinning you to the wall with one hand, the other lifting from your shirt and wandering ever so slowly lower. “I’ll…comply. I’ll do anything. Just…please don’t hurt me.”

He chuckled, hand settling just above your crotch.

“Still giving orders, hmm? That’s not how this works.” He deftly unzipped your pants and slipped his hand into your waiting heat, a dry hiss emitting from his vocoder when he found the evidence of your arousal. “Dirty, dirty girl. Getting off on this? My, my.”

He circled your aching clit, and you cried out, trying to arch against him, breaths coming in near choked gasps as he quickly worked you towards oblivion. Damn, his patience must have flown out of the window. Perhaps he…

Just when you were on the precipice, Boba pulled his hand away. You cried out on frustration, heart pounding like a drum when he dropped his hands to his own pants, pulling his weeping cock free from its confines.

“Little kitten looks like she wants milk.” His voice was a sinister coo as he ran his thick shaft through your slick. “Poor baby.”

You whined - you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your chest when his fingers once again found your clit, wringing your pleasure back to the surface. But yet again, when you were on so close, he pulled away.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” He raised his hand to your mouth, and you begrudgingly licked your arousal off his gloves. “You’ll come only when I tell you too. Can you be a good girl and do that?”

“Boba…I…” you writhed, pleading, but he promptly removed his hand from your clit with a growl.

“Didn’t give you permission to say my name,” his voice was all thunder and hellfire even as he seated himself in you with one brutal thrust. “It’s Sir to you.”

Your eyes widened, moans bouncing off the durasteel walls as he pounded into you, somehow feeling even bigger than normal. Your hands clattered uselessly against the wall, pleasure arcing up your spine as a steady heat grew in the pit of your stomach.

You cried out when he changed the angle, his cock hitting that deep spot that made you see stars. You writhed against him, legs wrapping around his back, trying to force him deeper. He growled, not slowing his pace in the slightest, and you whimpered when a hand reached up and tweaked a nipple.

“Bo-Sir…I…I’m,” you hated how pathetic you sounded, begging like some weak willed thing. But you felt it, your orgasm approaching like a speeding train, and there would be little you could do to stop it. “I’m…so close. Can I, can I…”

“I don’t know, not sure you deserve it,” he slowed his pace to a torturous crawl, slowly sliding through you, the wet sounds painfully loud in your ears even as you cried out in frustration. “Got your manners yet, little one? Have you learned your lesson?”

Oh Maker, he was torturing you. This was not how you had expected this to go - this was calculated, focused, intentional.

“I’m…I’m sorry. So sorry. P-please…” tears pricked your eyes, and you swore he was driving you absolutely mad, edging you with a calculated skill he hadn’t done before. “I take it all back. I’ll be good…I’ll behave. Just please, please…”

He pulled nearly out of you, helmet pressed against your shoulder, rasping voice directly in your ear.

“Please…what?” He stopped moving entirely until the only sound that could be heard was your desperate panting.

“Please, please let me come.” A tear slipped down your cheek, more from the building denial than anything else. “I’ll…I’ll be a good girl. Your girl.”

Boba grunted, pounding back into you with renewed vigor, one hand finding your neck, the other, your clit. He fucked you relentlessly - your back slamming into the wall as the edges of your vision dimmed.

When you finally came, your vision went completely white - all sound reduced to a ringing as burning hot pleasure seared you to your core. You screamed, writhing against him even as he continued driving into you, less focused and more reckless, chasing his own high.

“There you go, kitten.” His voice was dark with lust, armor flashing in the dim lighting. “Not so hard, hmm?”

When he came, it was with a deep groan that reverberated into your chest. He had you pressed against the wall, helmet against your neck, breaths rasping as he finally slowed to a stop.

For a moment, all was silent save both of your panting breaths. Boba was completely still, and for a moment, you worried he was genuinely angry. Had you gone too far? Had you done something wrong? Had you-

His hands reached up and unlocked your binders, catching you before you could fall to the floor. You couldn’t help but cling to him as he carried you to the cockpit, gently laying you in the small cot.

“You okay, my love?” His voice had regained some of its warmth, but still carried a dark edge. “Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded, meeting the visor with a small smile. “You weren’t. I’m honestly impressed you found me so quickly.”

He grunted, sitting beside you, gloved hand slowly caressing your hair.

“Didn’t expect you to leave Tatooine.” The helmet tilted in your direction. “You had me worried, little one.”

Oh stars. Had you gone too overboard? It hasn’t crossed your mind that Boba Fett would be afraid.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” you curled into his chest, holding him close. “I’d only wanted to make it realistic. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “Only startled me initially. Gotta admit it was fun, watching you trying to give me the slip. It was cute.”

Wait a second.

You narrowed your eyes as he removed his helmet, mirth shining in his own.

“Exactly how soon had you found me?” You tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, little princess,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. “You never left my sight.”

Taglist: @daimyosprincess @hideflen @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @marierg @deewithani @rain-on-kamino @rexxdjarin @ceapa-mica @bobathirstaccount @dukeoftheblackstar