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yourcarnevoreuspal · 2 years

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An Imposter on Polus

Welp, ik I’m late to the party, but I like Am/ong/U/s. So I wrote vore inspired by it. Are you proud of me? This is also one of my first times writing vore, sooooo let me know how to be better. Warning: This is vore. The fatal kind. Also M/M, M/F (mentioned), unwilling prey. No Shipping (haha aside from y’know, the spaceship. I'm not apologizing.) Also I wrote this kinda serious with some explanations for stuff. I may even write a chapter 2. #Carne’sImposter will be the tag for this series if I continue it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arriving to Polus undetected was a challenge for the Red spaceman. He'd successfully infiltrated the crewmember's ranks back at headquarters and dispatched in a new team headed towards an unexplored planet. During the trip he found himself struggling to keep his appetite in check and ended up devouring the Yellow crewmate, causing suspicions to arise far earlier than intended. With the disappearance of Yellow, safety precautions were implemented right away and all crewmembers were required to travel in pairs. As far as the crewmates could tell, this method had worked and there were no other incidents. However, the Imposter knew that this was only because he was biding his time, in no hurry to eliminate each of them. After all, this was his all-you-can-eat buffet, why rush? Staring up at the falling snow, pondering just how he'll go about getting his first meal, Red is suddenly pulled out of his daydream by Cyan- his current task-partner, "hey are you gonna help me with this node or what?" "Hm…? Oh! Yeah… Sorry…" Red apologizes, sheepishly, carrying on with his friendly act. Red squats down, opening a panel at the bottom of the node and begins the setup for it to become functional. "You seem so distracted lately…" Cyan comments, beginning his own task with another part of the node. No way he's catching on, right? I haven't done anything yet… Maybe he's just still on edge from Yellow? Or I'm overthinking… "Yeah… I'm worried about what happened to Yellow… We still haven't found her." "Ah… I think everyone's still thinking about that. I know I am. I think we should give the ship another once-over, there's gotta be clues somewhere!" Cyan has been adamant about looking 'just one more time' for weeks now, and each time there's never a single clue. "Maybe we should… But now that we're on Polus we have so much to do, I don't think we'll have time for quite awhile." Of course, Red knows exactly where Yellow's gone to. Just thinking about it, it's hard not to lick the phantom taste on his lips, and shudder in delight. Cyan sighs, "you're right… I just wish we knew what happened to her…" he notices Red's shivering and squints from behind his helmet, "you good, man?" "I'm alright… It's just so cold here, even with my suit on! I might need to have it checked to make sure it's working properly… I don't want to freeze!" Red plays it off, sort of jokingly as he finishes up his task in the node and closes the panel. "Dang, you're really cold? I'm sweating in this thing. After I'm done here maybe we should head over to the Medbay to check that out and make sure you're not sick from a suit breach or anything…" Cyan trails off, beginning to rush his task so they might head over sooner. "I don't think it's that serious, but if you insist… I have a few tasks over that way anyways, so as long as we make sure to do all our tasks…" Red agrees, not worried about any medical examination uncovering his inhuman nature. Besides, this might be his chance to slip away and get a bite to eat. The node lights up, signaling Cyan's successful task. With a 'follow-me wave', Cyan begins trudging through the heavy snow, towards the Medbay doors. Red decides to linger slightly, standing from his crouched position slowly. While Cyan walks ahead a few steps, he reaches his hand into the node where Cyan was working. Under the cover of snowstorm he slices at the wires, exposing them to the climate where they might eventually cause problems. At the Medbay, Red and Cyan find themselves alone, having yet to see any of the other crew. Red removes his suit, per Cyan's demands, and hands it over to be inspected. He then heads over to the scanner, where he requests Cyan stay outside the curtains- as one has to undress for the scanner to work properly. This is where Red makes his first move. After ensuring Cyan is out of view- with him over at the table checking the suit- Red pulls a device from his pocket, something he got his hands on back at the base. It allows access into normally secure data that only captains and other higher-ups should have. If Red were to be caught with it, it would spell the end for him. Sticking it into a slot in the Scanner's computer, he quickly pulls up an old scan of his from his time on the ship and creates a copy of it onto this scanner, effectively giving him an alibi. Red sets off the Scanner, allowing it to create the copy and the noise it should be making to keep Cyan from getting suspicious, then- with a peak around the curtains to check if Cyan is looking- Red dashes from the Medbay into the hallway that creates the bathrooms and decontamination doors. Doing his best to stay silent, he darts to the far end of the bathrooms, where a vent is set to be installed, but at the moment is only a tunnel. He dives inside and the first step of his plan is in the clear. Here in the unfinished vent Red is a little freer to show his alien nature and allows his tentacles to rise from his back. They’re decently long, fairly strong and he uses them to propel himself through the tunnel quickly. Once on the other side, he pokes his head out and finds he's surrounded by snow once more. This vent has led him to the outside of the medical building, near the pit of lava. Conveniently, he also spies two crewmembers, Green and Orange. He can hear them chatting, but can't quite make out what they're saying. Red watches patiently as they walk away from the thermometer device that tracks the Lava's temperature and towards the large boulder in the center of the clearing. It seems they have a brief confusion about which side of the rock they will be walking around, they laugh and split apart, Green goes left and Orange goes right. A silly mistake, really, as this provides exactly what Red was looking for: an opportunity. Without hesitation, Red leaps from the vent and before Orange even notices him, he sends his four tentacles to wrap around Orange. He moves swiftly, knowing if Orange calls out to Green it could be over, but he also knows he shouldn't leave any trace in the snow leading this way. In one motion, he lifts Orange just off the ground, then towards him and down into the vent, which he follows. "Ah-!?" Orange cries, unheard by Green due to the muffling snowstorm. It's dark in the tunnels and while Orange can't see a thing, Red sees just fine. "Wh-WHO'S THERE?" Orange demands, backing himself further into the tunnels as he tries to get away from his assailant. "Oh, Orange… It's only me," Red speaks, crawling after his soon-to-be meal. His tentacles contract around Orange to pull him closer to his destination. "Red…? What are you doing in the. . . Vent. . ." Orange trails off, he almost relaxed at first, once hearing it was his trusted companion, Red. But Orange was smarter than that and was quick to conclude what Red really was, "it was you…? You killed Yellow, didn't you!?" Orange's anger grew with each word, "what did you do to her!?" "Well," Red yanks Orange closer a final time, now face-to-helmet with him, "you're going to find out, aren't you?" He grins madly, reaching his hands up to said helmet, pushing the buttons on either side and lifting it off of him. A hissing noise starts briefly as the cold air enters Orange's suit. "No-!" Orange gasps, then coughs as his face is hit with freezing air. He tries to back away, but Red is practically on top of him, with some sort of appendages restraining him. "Let go! How could you do this-!?" Orange cries, trying to keep Red at bay with his hands. Red, however, is just strong enough to get what he wants, "quite easily, dear Orange- I'm starving," he knows he needs to be quick about this, so he decides to simply go for it. Red leans close to Orange's face, one hand moving to the back of the Crewmate's head. The Imposter's grin widens as he opens his mouth, his smile growing jagged as his true self peaks through his disguise. "Stop-! What are you doing?" Orange demands, only able to see an outline in the darkness. But Red has decided he's done talking, so with that he shoves Orange's head into his maw and begins to greedily lap at the flavor. He knows he doesn't have time to savor, so he gets on with it, using his extra appendages to rip away more of his prey's clunky space suit, then takes the first swallow. Orange's panic rises as he desperately tries to free himself, but his adversary has overpowered him and there's nothing he can do as Red swallows again and again, getting around his shoulders, up to his chest. Orange doesn't know what sort of lifeform Red truly is, but he racks his brain trying to figure it out, hoping he might recall a weakness. With the crewmate's arms pinned in his throat, his maw wrapped around his waist, Red lifts his prey as best he can in the cramped vent before grabbing onto Orange's flailing legs and swallowing thickly. He purrs in delight from his prey's struggling, enjoying as much as he can from this quick meal. Only his prey's legs are left and he's running out of time, so he ensures Orange's shoes have been removed then gives the last few swallows, sending Orange to his fate. Red pants as his throat clears, but can't stop to rest or let his stomach settle and begins racing down the vent to return to Medbay before his absence is noticed. He could enjoy this properly later. His stomach sways as he rushes through the vent, but isn't nearly as large as one might think after his meal. This is because his anatomy is far different than that of a human's, and while his disguise does help with that, there is no hiding it after he's eaten. His stomach region starts from the top of his chest, down to his waist, leaving room for concealment so long as his prey isn't larger than himself, with only a small bump to show for it. Pulling himself out of the vent, Red places a hand on his stomach, trying to help the weight and keep his prey quiet. He eyes the decontamination doors, checking that no one is coming out, then scoots to the corner to peek at Cyan. He finds that Cyan is still messing with his suit, facing the other direction, so Red takes his chance to slip back across the hallway, behind the curtains into the scanning room. He sighs with relief and finally gives himself a chance to catch his breath. His prey has been struggling wildly the entire time, presumably trying to right himself and keep from being jostled. Red runs a hand down his stomach, enjoying the sensation for a moment. He chuckles at his prey, pushing down on him until his attention is caught by the sounds of the scanner completing. Red removes the device from the scanner and tucks it safely into his suit, then waits a few moments longer to mime the time it would take to dress if he had really scanned. He grabs the scanner's tablet to show Cyan the proof, then walks out from the curtains. "I've finished scanning, it says everything is normal," Red declares, walking up to the table where his suit lies and placing the tablet down for Cyan to see, "find any breaches?" Cyan glances over at the tablet, reading that it is indeed normal, then looks back to the suit, "that's good, we don't want you sick. I haven't found anything unusual yet, but I'm still looking…" "Ah, okay, thanks. I'm gonna do my tasks over here," Red replies, heading over to the telescope, away from Cyan, hoping he's kept his distance enough that the crewmate can't hear Orange. He brings his eye to the telescope, starting his search for anything unusual around the planet. Every few seconds Red is sure to adjust settings on the telescope as noisily as he can, really testing those squeaky knobs. After a few moments, Cyan sighs loudly and looks up, "are you doing that on purpose?" Red turns to his partner, "whatever do you mean-?" His attempt to sound innocent is interrupted by a loud alarm blaring and a voice coming from their tablets attached to the suits, "EMERGENCY MEETING," it announces loudly in a monotonous voice.

#v.ore #unwilling prey #willing pred #fatal v.ore #male v.ore #v/ore #soft v/ore #fatal v/ore #male pred #oral v/ore #Carne'sImposter

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fandomhopping · 2 years

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@skeezpyuff

Dis is for you. You asked for this.

word count: 1,515

“One of these days I’m gonna get outta here Donnie!” The red banded turtle pouted while sitting idly in the ‘time-out’ corner. Splinter put him there for saying his very first swear word, he stubbed his toe and yelled “BITCH!” When splinter heard this he immediately put the young turtle in time-out… It was laughable.

“When I do, you should come with me! We could go out in the world! Just the two of us!” Donnie chuckled,

“Sure, but only when you get out of time-out!” He teased, earning an unamused grunt from Raph.

“Y’know what! I’m gonna go by myself then! You can’t come! And-and… you’ll miss me when I’m Gone!”

“Sure… sure” the purple turtle jeered.

The twins had a bond, one that even if stretched through the thinnest wire would be indestructible. When they were kids, the pair was inseparable, constantly making promises and keeping secrets… some of which they still kept today! Life was in no sense easy, but they all made do, Raph had anger issues and Donnie was the one he would talk to. They’d talk for hours about the prettiest places, unexplored regions etc… they were ignorant to the cruelty above.

Oh how Donnie wished for those blissful times….

——-

“Awww the nature show’s gone…” Mikey cried out. He loved the pretty plants and mountain ranges! His older brother walked in. He hunched, worried they heard him… they were 15! He shouldn’t be sad about a stupid plant show! Instead his brother pulled out a book Mikey was very familiar with.

“If I read this to ya, will ya stop complainin’?” Raph held up the old slightly torn picture book. The one splinter read to the orange banded turtle when they were tots. Mike nodded happily and his brother only sighed in response.

“Y’know one of these days I’m gonna get a train ticket with the prettiest of views and hightail it outta here!” He half joked. Mikey looked at him with bewildered eyes!

“No!” The red banded teen snorted,

“Y’know it’d be pretty but… it would be prettier to you…”

“Really?”

“Mhm! The train with the prettiest of views… mountains, rivers…” the red turtle went on about all the things he’d see. His youngest brother only marveled at the thought.

“That’s amazing, Raphie! But…” the orange banded brother trailed off

“What?”

“You will be really far away… like Leo…” he sniffled, the latter snorted.

“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone?” He chortled.

“Yeah…” the turtle said while slowly succumbing to sleep… dreaming about the beautiful Appalachian mountains his brother had told him about.

Raph chuckled and bundled Mikey in blankets.

How Mikey will miss those moments…

————————

Leo was training when his younger brother walked in fiddling with something in his hands…

“Leo! You’re not gonna believe this!” Oh boy. The oldest stops his katas to give his brother his attention.

“What’s up?” He asks

“I was just looking at the most impressive volcanoes in the world! An’ I saw this one thing… I think it’s called Mount Fuji? In japan? Anyway! Did you know it stands a whole 12,388 feet!?” The blue turtle sighs at the red banded turtle’s fascination in all things worldly wonderful. 17 and still passionate, it's a trait Leonardo hopes he never loses.

“No I actually didn't!” He huffs teasingly. Watching as Raph’s smile brightens and he ever so slightly stims with his fingers.

They spend the next half an hour just talking about Mount Fuji! And another hour and a half talking about the wonders of the world…

Though something seemed to be bothering Raph,

“Hey… are you alright?” The box turtle snapped up from staring holes into the carpet and thought for a minute.

“Well, something has been bothering me.” He began, “it's just… I can’t help but think of the amount of times we almost died, and worry… if you guys would miss me if…” The short turtle trailed off. Leo knew what he meant instantly.

“Raphael, of course we would miss you! More than missing you! We wouldn’t be able to function without you!” Leo had a full argument ready in seconds. “Donnie wouldn’t get any sleep… Mikey would lose his spark, and I…” The oldest shuddered. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Raph looked at him, uncertainty turning to relief. He snickered.

“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.”

Leo didn’t think of those implications…

He wishes he did now…

—————-

It shouldn’t have gone this far. They shouldn’t have let it.

It was a normal day for patrol, the 17 year olds were jumping across rooftops and whooping and hollering, to the greatest displeasure of whomever was below them. The turtles heard a noise… the noise that would change their lives.

A conversation, one begging for their life, the other demanding money. Purple Dragons…

The four jumped down and the lady ran away instantly leaving only four Hamato members against a pretty large group of a gang.

Fighting broke out, and Raph was locked in combat with three gang members all wielding weapons ranging from crowbars, pipes, and even a machete! (Yikes! That would need to go first.) the red banded turtle thought to himself, dodging a barrage of attacks. He noticed it. A grenade, being thrown at his brothers! As if on instinct he threw his sai, making the explosion go off mid-air averting the crisis.

He was too late to notice…

CRACK

The red brother looked behind him, noting the gaping crack spread across his shell. Noting the sudden dizziness he felt… noting the fact his legs felt like jello… noting the ringing in his ears and what he thought was someone calling his name? It was so distorted, like he was underwater. Noting how… tired… he… was…

So…

Tired…

‘Hey that concrete is getting awfully close…’

His brothers rushed to him,

“Heh.” He laughed… “you’re… gonna… missss… me…when i'm… gone.”

—————

Mikey saw it happen in slow motion… the bomb exploding, the snarky remark that died on his lips as he watched a gang leader stab into his brother’s shell… watched as the color drained from him. And watched as Raphael… his strong big brother slowly collapsed to the ground. . .

Mikey. Saw. Red.

Two seconds passed and instantly the orange banded turtle was on the offender, growling at him like a deranged animal. Markings glowing brightly across his arms and around his body as he seethed. Reaching into the air a mystical three section staff appears in the young turtle’s hands. He wields it with an intent to send the attacker to the fiery pits of hell.

Said opposer is asking and trembling a few feet away while the rest of the gang backs him. Encroaching on the four, Mikey notices in his peripheral vision his two older brothers desperately aiding Raph… his mission is clear.

Buy them time.

He launches himself at the gang, seeming to fight endlessly! He doesn't care if the opponent dies. He cares if they’re defeated by any means necessary.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours.

Leo is dragging a still feral Michelangelo from a pile of bodies… some of which are alive. While the orange banded turtle is biting and scratching at the thing keeping him from his enemies.

“MIKEY CALM DOWN!” His oldest brother pleads. He quiets, cop sirens…

Shit!

They are in the sewer before raph could say “you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!”

Arriving at the lair Mikey is ushered out of the med bay so Donnie and Leo can work their medic magic… that leaves Mikey, and his thoughts…

He killed people today.

As if he had super powers, his rat father walked into the room sensing his distress.

“What troubles you Michelangelo?” He asked. Mikey sighed sorrowfully.

“Master splinter… I killed people today. So many people…” he choked out. It was the rat’s turn to sigh knowingly.

“Let me tell you a story, my son.” He began. “Long ago, recently after I was turned into a mutant… you and I were scavenging for food and supplies when we were discovered by the shredder's minions. They surrounded us. They were after you.” He pointed a bony finger at the turtle. “I did what I had to do… most of them… didn’t make it out alive. I dealt with that grief in the only way I knew how. Apologizing.” Mikey looked at his master, puzzled.

“Apologizing?” He questioned.

“Yes. I lit the spirit candles, and went into the spirit realm apologizing… it was up to them if they forgave me or not.” Mikey was bewildered but knew that was what he had to do.

Several days later a certain red banded turtle awoke to many family members worrying over him! And had been banned to bed rest for 5 weeks while his shell healed. Earning a very annoyed groan from. Him. During that time, Mikey went to the spirit world. He never told anyone what he saw there… but his spirit appeared to have lost a massive burden it carried.

Not entirely… but almost, eventually that feeling would leave.

Mikey… wouldn’t miss it when it was gone.

———————-

#Tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 leo #tmnt 2003 raph #tmnt 2003 mikey #tmnt 2003 donnie #tmnt 2003 splinter #very short #angsty boi #Tmnt 2003 angst #no i’m not sorry #let Mikey go feral 2023 #lmao what is my life

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implausiblyjosh · 1 year

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picking a direction and driving: part 1

(crosspost from cohost)

i've felt the urge to play a bit of Elite: Dangerous recently. So, I'm gonna pick a direction and just drive.

Well, okay. You can't really pick a direction and drive, so instead I've made my own route.

My plan is to go through the center of the galaxy, then turn around and head back home-ish. I've marked 9 points on the galaxy that I will go to, with my first location being NGC 6357 SECTOR ZU-Y C28. From my "home base", I Sola Prospect, this first leg is just over 8,000ly. With my current ship, an Asp Explorer with a 32ly jump range, this first leg takes over 250+ jumps. This is only one leg of 9+, so. uh. I'm gonna be jumping a lot.

My normal playstyle for this game is exploration, so I've already got all the essentials: extra fuel storage, a fuel scoop that can scoop from specific types of stars (KGB FOAM!), and tools to get data on the planets and stars in a system. So as I go from system to system I'll try and make some discoveries, which will mean anytime someone else goes to these stars (incredibly unlikely, the galaxy is Big) they will see my name as someone who discovered this first. It's kinda nice, and a fun way to get money when I get back home from this drive.

Well, this drive won't start itself, so let's go.

Most of these first systems I'll be going to first will be systems already discovered by other people. But as I go further and further out, we'll get to systems never seen before.

Oh, a tip for people getting into this game who also wanna discover new star systems: go "up" and "down" from the center plane of the galaxy. Sometimes I think people forget that the Milky Way exists in 3D space, so people forget you can go in all 3 directions in the galaxy map. You can find unexplored places by just going up and down! It makes the travel from unexplored systems to your "home base" station really quick, which is a nice turn-around.

One more note, here's what it looks like when someone has already mapped a planet/system:

As you can see here, SHADOWSLIP71 beat me to the punch in the SWOILZ VN-K C11-5 system. They came out to the star, surveyed the planets and mapped them out with probes, then reported back to a stellar cartography place on a base. The problem with documenting my travels before I report back is that you, dear reader, could beat me to the punch! Since I'll be out collecting data and driving, I won't be back to deliver my info for... awhile. Who knows how long. I may forget to do this! You could swoop in and beat me!

Anyways, let's keep driving.

About 35 jumps into this leg of the drive, I've found my first new system: SWOILZ LS-N A102-4. It's a pretty "regular" system, home to 6 icy bodies and one star. The cool thing to me is that there are two pairs of planets, locked into each other's orbits, that are orbiting their star. This isn't a Earth & Moon situation, it's like if Mercury was orbiting another Mercury. It's a small thing, but seeing two of these is so cool. It makes me wonder, could you have two planets locked in orbits, but also having their own moons locked into the orbit of the two planets? A moon orbiting the "mass" of the two planets orbiting each other?

I dunno, I'm no scientist, I'm just driving.

Here's another fascinating system, SWOILZ QZ-0 E6-19. There are 3 stars here, A, B, & C. B & C are locked into an orbit with each other, and that orbit is in orbit of A. B & C's orbit has 2 planet's in it's orbit, A has 6 planets in it's orbit, and this whole 3-star system has 6 planets orbiting the entirety of the system. It's bonkers! This is wild! I wonder if there are systems like this in our actual galaxy. Could we even know this?

I fuel up at the next star, AUCOKS QC-Y A3, and I've got 219 jumps left in this leg. I'm not going to be able to make all 219 jumps, but I'm going to try and get to 200 jumps left.

I hit my first newly discovered star system that doesn't just have icy bodies! Here we have AUCOKS CX-M A20-2, which has two stars, a handful of icy bodies, a couple of rocky ice worlds, and a couple of gas giants! One of the gas giants even has a ring, same with an icy body! What a fun system to have found!

With that, I'm getting hungry, so it's time to stop driving.

End of drive report Jumps done: 48 Jumps left in this leg: 212 Approximate distance from home: 1,741ly Approximate distance to the end of this leg: 6,353ly Legs of the journey left: 9 of 9

#elite dangerous #video games #josh average plays #text let's play

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translationandbetrayals · 9 months

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How Fate/ Stay Night Betrays Its Premise

Every anime fan has their own special little title that, from the moment they saw it, it turned into an instant obsession. Maybe it happened because of a character’s design, or they saw a fight scene that blew their minds, or they read the premise and went “Woah, that rules”, regardless, once it happens, there’s no turning back. From that point onward, that show, light novel or VN becomes their entire personality. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Unfortunately for me, that title happened to be Kinoko Nasu’s Fate/ Stay Night.

Fate’s premise is a simple stroke of genius. Seven mages summon seven historical figures into the modern day to fight in a no-holds-barred battle royale, with the last pair standing earning the right to have their wish granted by the almighty Holy Grail.

For those of you new to the franchise who read those lines, thought “wow, that sounds awesome” and started dreaming up all of the possibilities that could come from it, then you can imagine how I felt all those years ago. And as a life-long veteran of the franchise, I’m here to tell you that the show we got was… nowhere near as cool as I just made it out to be.

For starters, as any fan can tell you, almost every word of that pitch turns out to be dead wrong. Not just that, but a lot of the interesting ideas one could draw from it are either neutered from the outsetor go entirely unexplored, and some of the interesting concepts it adds atop it end up not mattering at all.

Take Noble Phantasms, for instance. It's a Servant’s(the in-setting word for these heroes) signature move. Medusa’s sight, Arthur’s sword or Zeus’ inability to keep it in his pants. It’s an ace-in-the-hole, but by using it, they reveal their identities, which could lead to their opponents discovering their weaknesses. If you’ve summoned Achilles, you wouldn’t want the competition finding out, because then, they’d all be gunning for his heel. It’s a neat twist on the ol’ Stand Power formula that a lot of shonen anime like to use.

Here’s the problem with Noble Phantasms:

First of all, a lot of them are just stupid. A good chunk are just made up powers that have no relation or bearing to the historical figure that uses them. Some, like Hercules’ 12 lives as a result of his labors are reasonably justified, but others are just… bizarre. Take Gilgamesh, for example, whose Noble Phantasm is… all of them. He just has every weapon in existence? Why? Because he was the oldest king Nasu could think of. Oh, and he also has a stupidly overpowered sword as well that… never appears in the original Epic.

Secondly, it turns out that in most cases(especially when you account for spin-offs), learning a Servant’s identity can give you… no advantage whatsoever. Oh, you learned that the magic-wielding Servant was the Greek witch Medea? Well, good on you for piecing that one together, shame it tells you absolutely nothing on how to beat her.

Another infuriating aspect of its premise the show fumbles is one of its first central mysteries. The main Servant we follow, Saber, keeps her identity a mystery because she doesn’t trust the protagonist’s ability to keep a secret. You see her doing all of these awesome feats and you can’t help but ask, who is this strong, cool, badass woman? First-time watchers may spend a lot of time theorizing which one of the many oft-neglected women she could b-its King Arthur. They genderbent King Arthur because the artist thought the VN would sell more than if it simply had two male leads. That’s literally the reason.

Well, its not all bad, how about all those cool ideas that come from the premise? Like all the wacky ways historical characters could learn and adapt to our modern world, commenting on it from a new pers-NOPE, before they’re summoned, all Servants have any and all relevant information about our time downloaded into their brain via convoluted lore.

There’s still other strong concepts, like seeing various different important figures meeting and talking in the flesh, comparing and contrasting their cultural values and ideals against each other? Or how about characters who met or were from similar cultures, or even the same countries? How would a Hero react to seeing their friends once more, being on opposite sides of this unfair conflict? How would a Greek hero react to seeing Hercules, consumed by the very same rage that killed his family? Well, guess what?!? None of this happens in Fate/Stay Night! There’s three characters from Ancient Greece and none of them share a single scene with each other.

WHY?!?

Uhh, how about the genres? Battle Royales are great for building up tension. By their very nature, nobody is safe, anyone could die at any moment! In some cases, even the main charact- Despite the many, many, many perilous situations the protagonist puts himself in, he is never in any real danger because he has a ridiculously powerful healing factor. This isn’t a spell he has or learns, but comes from King Arthur’s magical scabbard, which was placed inside of him before the start of the story. Oh, also, that scabbard was made up for the show, it never shows up in any Arthurian legend.

Now all of this doesn’t make Stay Night bad, by any means. Its still a pretty good urban fantasy shonen story about survivor’s guilt, the weight of previous generations’ ideals, and the contradictions of trying to do good in a complicated world. They’re not even bad in the abstract, as shown by other shows of similar genres that explore them to much greater effect, but their prevalence in the narrative conspires against what is one of the greatest elevator pitches in Anime history.

FINAL RATING: Fate/ Stay Night(2006) - *** ½

Fate/ Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works - *** ¾

Fate/ Stay Night: Heaven’s Feel - ****

-Nicolás Izaguirre Gallardo. P.S.: Forgot to put the scores for the works featured in my last post so I'll add them here for the sake of completion.

Digimon Adventure Movie(1999) - *** ½

Digimon Adventure - ***

Digimon Adventure: Our War Game - *** ¾

Digimon: The Movie - MINUS ****

To explain, when I say a movie is MINUS X stars, it doesn't mean that its so bad its offensive to the senses. When a movie is rated on the negative star scale, it means I think its best enjoyed ironically, in a group call with friends, possibly with some substances to help with the experience. A high negative star rating means that the movie probably has little artistic merit, but is a blast to watch when trying to take the piss.

#Anime #personalstory #essay #submission

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only-defy · 2 years

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The Best affordable smartwatch for health tracking in India

These days, with new tech and gizmo gadgets coming out every single day, smartwatches are the next trendy thing. Nowadays, watches don't just tell time but also inform you how fast your heart is beating! We knew smartwatches could be smart, but who knew that they would become our own personal fitness assistants!

And, not just that! There are some cool smartwatches that diligently even push you towards achieving your fitness goal. Imagine having your own fitness instructor! Today, we will be navigating the sea of tech-savvy smartwatches and pick some of the best affordable smart watches for health tracking in the country right now!

Best health-based smartwatches available in the country in 2022

1. Defy Space Fit

When it comes to affordability without compromising on quality, Defy is your number one go-to brand! Recently, Defy has taken the market by storm with its top-of-line yet budget-friendly gizmo gadgets!

And here’s where the Defy Space Fit best affordable smartwatch steals the show! The Defy Space Fit packs a real-time Health monitoring system, including a 24-hrs body temperature and heart rate count. You can easily connect the device to your smartphone and access it anytime you want.

Do you want to know the oxygen saturation in your blood while working out?

The Defy Space Fit covers that too. For all those cardio enthusiasts, the SpO2 monitoring is quite impressive in the Space Fit. An essential feature of the Defy Space is the multiple sports mode that helps you keep a tab on any sports you play.

Overall, the Space Fit sure is perfect for the sports enthusiasts out there who don't want to spend all the extra cash while looking for a great budget smartwatch.

2. boAt Watch Wave Pro

Our next pick for the best smartwatch for health is the boAt Watch Wave Pro! We all know how crazy we get when it comes to cricket, right? Kudos to boAt for bringing out something that literally gets your blood and heart pumping as you catch the latest match scores right from your wrists! And you can even measure how pumped up you are for your home team!

With a 1.69-inch colour HD Display and live score updates, cricket has arrived to your smartwatches! For folks reluctant to compromise on style while sweating it out, the boAt Watch Wave Pro is the perfect pair up.Armed with an IP67 sweat, splash, and dust resistance rating, boAt Watch Wave Pro even lets you personalise your wrist with 100+ custom Indian watch faces to go as you bring out the Dhoni in you while sweating it out in the rain!

3. Amazfit Bip U Pro

Shout out to the adventurers who like to spend their weekend scuba diving or paragliding! With Amazfit Bip U Pro’s 5 ATM 50 metres water resistance and high precision GPS, nothing is left unexplored.

And it does a great job tracking your fitness and overall health too. It is coupled with the state of art stress monitoring system that helps regulate your breaths and the PAI Health Assessment System that compiles all your health data into a score for you to keep track,the Amazfit Bip U Pro does a great job as a personal fitness tracker!

4. Noise ColorFit Pro 3

If you are planning to buy something to add to your collection of cool smartwatches, then Noise Colorfit Pro 3 is definitely the one for you. Equipped with a crystal clear 1.55” TrueView Display and cutting edge SpO2 sensors, the Noise ColorFit Pro 3 comes in six vibrant colors and is surely a good choice for smartwatches under 5k. The Noise Colorfit Pro 3 boasts a powerful 10-day battery life and 5ATM water resistance, making sure even your longest trails and underwater adventures are covered!

Another great addition is the NoiseFit app which allows you to track your fitness on the go as you indulge in one of its 14 different dedicated sports modes.

5. Fireboltt Supreme

The last entry in our list is reserved for those who are a bit of an adrenaline junkie! Sponsored by Virat Kohli and packing a 1.79” LTPS Retina Display, the firebolt sure manages to impress. The Fireboltt Supreme is equipped with powerful SPO2 sensors to monitor your blood oxygen concentration and also gives you the options to choose from its 20 different sports modes. What makes it even better is the 3ATM water resistance and heart rate monitor, which makes it an excellent choice for swimming enthusiasts.

The Fireboltt Supreme is available in 4 colors- Black, Grey, Navy and Pink.

#best affordable smart watches #best affordable smartwatch

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ladyshandioftheendless · 5 years

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~KISS AU writings 7~

OH BOY I’D BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS FOR A WHILE. Sometimes putting ideas together can be such a bitch.. >_> Here’s hoping this is at least halfway decent!

~Shandi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~MODEL AU~

Featured Pairing: Bruce Kulick/Paul Stanley

Special Guest: Peter Criss

Summary: Bruce is passionate about making a name for himself the field of photography. Unfortunately for him one of his first big assignments is a photo shoot with Paul Stanley, the ‘impossible-to-work-with’ model. (told from Bruce’s POV)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One chance. That was all I needed.

I had already submitted my portfolio to about half a dozen galleries but none of them expressed any interest. I was getting frustrated. Feeling defeated. Looking at my camera every day and asking myself ‘what the hell was the point?’ This day and age people aren’t falling all over themselves to become photographers. They needed real jobs. To pay for things. To live. Sure, I had my music to get me by. I liked playing my guitar at local clubs and bars. Being asked to come back over and over because people loved me. Taking pictures was just a hobby and I hoped to make it into a full time career. But life has a way of making you face reality in the harshest ways. Living in L.A. was expensive after all. I can’t keep my apartment by taking pictures.

Saturday night after I come home from playing at a club I see the light on my answering machine flashing. Can’t be a business call. Nobody except my mother and occasionally my brother call me on weekends. I’m thinking of just pressing the button to erase the message but something is stopping me. Guess my curiosity is way too strong. So I press the button to play the message back instead. I actually feel my heartbeat speed up as the tape rewinds. When it finally plays I hear a voice I don’t recognize.

"First of all I’m used to talkin’ to actual people so be thankful I didn’t just hang up. You must not want a job that badly if you’re not answerin’ your phone. 323-855-1220. I’m givin’ you a day to call me before I write you off."

I was at a loss for words. I had to rewind the tape and listen to it again to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. This guy definitely didn’t beat about the bush. And that accent..unmistakably Brooklyn. I grab a notepad and a pen and write down the number. I wish I could just call right now but it was probably too late. Or was it? I had no idea what his hours were but at the very least I could let him know that I got his call. What did I have to lose? I pick up the phone and dial. I’m not really expecting an answer. Two rings later someone actually picks up!

"This is Criss. Talk to me."

His tone catches me a little off guard. “Um..this is..Bruce Kulick? You called me and left me a message?” A short silence.

"Oh yeah. Called back earlier than I expected. I like you already. I’m gonna get straight to the point. I got sent one of your portfolios. Good colors, nice angles. Looks like you know what you’re doin’. Think you can shoot people the same way?"

“You mean..a model shoot?”

"Yeah. We’ve been looking for a photographer for my best model. We’ve already had to fire four of ‘em cause he didn’t like ‘em."

Wow. Sounded like a full scale diva. “If you’re willing to take a chance with me I can do it.”

"That’s what I like to hear. Come to the Catwalk Studio Monday at 9 am. 75 Santa Monica in West Hollywood. I’ll introduce ya and we can get started."

“T-Thank you, Mr. Criss! I’ll see you Monday!”

"Ciao~"

I’m way too exhausted to jump for joy but I sure as hell want to! I can’t believe my luck! This could be my big break! I’ve got busy days ahead of me~

I spend all of Sunday cleaning my equipment and placing everything in their cases. If I’m going to shoot a model I need to look as professional as possible. I put together another portfolio just in case. I’ve taken more pictures of objects and landscapes than people but I did have quite a few really nice crowd shots that might impress. Going through my closet I set out some of my best clothes for the morning. As night falls I decide to turn in early. Setting my alarm, my mind starts racing in anticipation for the morning. I wish it would stop. I need to go to sleep!

At 7 am I’m wide awake. I guess my body couldn’t wait to get the day started, not that I can blame it. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I just want everything to go right today! I shower, get dressed, have breakfast and pack all of my cases into my car. As I start the engine I hope to God that there’s not much traffic.

The drive to West Hollywood was relatively uneventful which was a damn blessing. By the time I find the studio it was 8:45. I rush to grab my cases and get inside. The woman at the front desk looks up and smiles at me. “Good morning, sir and welcome to Catwalk Studio~ How can I help you?” I place my camera case on the desk. “Good morning~ My name is Bruce Kulick. I’m supposed to meet Mr. Criss at 9 o’clock?” She flips through her appointment calendar. “Oh yes, Mr. Kulick! Just have a seat. Mr. Criss will be out soon~” I smile at her and sit in a nearby chair, watching the clock like a hawk. At precisely 9 a door at the end of the hallway opened. Out stepped a man dressed in a pristine black suit. His long black hair was streaked with gray and he wore green tinted glasses. He was much shorter than me but..he had a presence about him that was instantly intimidating. That has to be him.

I get up from my seat when he approached the front desk. “My next appointment here, Lydia?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Criss he’s right behind you~”

He turned to me, putting on a smile that was 100% business. “Good! I prefer it when they’re early instead of on time. I’m sure you’re lookin’ forward to gettin’ started.” Of course I nod. “Yes sir! The sooner the better~” He places a hand on my back and guides me down the hall. “Then lemme introduce ya to your model. Gonna warn ya right now. Don’t let his looks turn you into putty. He’s good for business but he’s a pain in my ass. Don’t let him sass you. He’s the one doin’ the work for you, not the other way around. Get me?” I nod again. This guy really sounds like a piece of work. I just hope I can follow his advice and not blow it.

As we approached the entrance to the studio a frustrated woman was storming her way out. Mr. Criss immediately frowned. “What’s going on? You’re supposed to be doing his hair.” She huffed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Criss but he won’t let me do it! He says I’m giving him split ends and that he can do it better himself! I’m done arguing with him. I’m going on break, sir.” And off she went. Mr. Criss sighed, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I swear if he wasn’t so fuckin’ pretty I’d kick him to the curb. Look..if you wanna back out I’d understand.” He looked terribly frustrated. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “No, sir. I want to help in any way I can.” He patted my shoulder. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, Kulick. You’re gonna need it with that one.” He leads me into the studio and I set my equipment down. “Yo, Diva Star! Got your new photographer here!” I chuckle at the nickname. I’m sure it’s well earned from what I’ve already heard. The model seemed to be much too busy taming his fluffy curls with a ridiculous amount of hairspray to turn away from his mirror. “Ugh..can you please not call me that, Petey? I am not a diva!”

“Yeah..and I’m the Queen of England. Now get over here!”

He turned..and I could swear I felt my heart stop. What Mr. Criss told me about his looks was the understatement of the decade. He was gorgeous. That face..that body. He looked like he was born to walk a runway. The way his hips moved when he walked was hypnotizing. Mr. Criss’ voice was the only thing that snapped me out of my trance. “Bruce, this is Paul Stanley. Paul..do me a big fuckin’ favor and don’t drive this one off like you did all the others.” Paul just pursed his lips as he scrutinized me. “Hm. Maybe I just won’t this time. He’s kinda sexy~”

I think I’m really going to like this job~

To be Continued!!

#Shandi's drabbles #KISS AU writings #here we go with another unexplored pairing~#these are actually more fun to write~#Paul is a spoiled diva #Bruce just wants to get ahead #Peter is done with Paul's shit #but when is he not amirite? XD #set in 1987 #Supermodel StarChild~

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outercrasis · 2 years

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Bonded

Part 6

Pairing: Max Phillips x Named F!Reader/OFC (Prudence Walker)

Rating/Word Count: M (18+) / 5.1k

Warnings: more spooks, discussions of death, ghosts (please let me know if there is a tag I should add)

Summary: Everyone's favorite part of an investigation... research!

A/N: Another big thank you to @honestly-shite for beta reading most of this chapter for me, ily💕

Previous ++ Series Masterlist ++ Next

The rooms that Molly has provided you to sleep in are shockingly clean despite the state of the rest of the manor. The sheets smell a bit musty, but you aren’t afraid of any spiders or mice crawling around in the sheets with you. Max is right next door doing lord knows what until you finally wake again.

It’s hard to not wonder what he gets up to in the hours when everyone else is asleep. It’s a comfort to know that he can’t be sneaking around hurting anyone, but you’re not sure what else might preoccupy his time. From what you can tell, Max didn’t bring any sort of entertainment with him and you can’t hear noise of any kind through the relatively thin walls. Part of you wonders if you snuck into his room if you wouldn’t find him lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling into nothing.

You do your best to dismiss him from your thoughts, not wanting Max to be the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help thinking about how your visitor tonight first spoke after Max reached out. You have no idea if it means anything, but it could be something to keep in mind. Being a vampire could give him some previously unexplored edge with the paranormal.

The next morning finds you relatively well rested. The bed is quite old, not exactly comfortable, but you stayed warm enough and didn’t have a truly fitful sleep. Max has already left his room. You sincerely hope he hasn’t done anything in that time to make Molly send you away, eager to play back everything you captured on the DV camera and audio recorder and get her some answers.

You find them in the kitchen together, sitting at the table and casually chatting. You note that while Max has changed into another henley a size too small, Molly appears to be wearing the same clothes as yesterday. You’re not judging her, but more so you’re surprised given the way she generally carries herself. You suppose it must be hard to do laundry consistently while working on a project such as this one though and let the thought lie.

You nearly ask what’s for breakfast when you realize the kitchen is in a state of disrepair equal to the rest of the home. Since Molly is living here you expected the kitchen to at least be repaired for basic functionality, but that is very obviously not the case. You imagine she must be living off of fast food and simple items that require no actual cooking. Again, you aren’t judging her, simply surprised and a bit sympathetic. She must not have been here long before her crews bailed on her.

“Good morning, Prudence,” Molly greets cheerfully. “Max was just telling me how the two of you met.”

You stand next to Max, confused as to what he could possibly be telling her. The truth isn't exactly an option. “Was he now?”

“It’s so cute that you met at a conference. And Max giving you tips for your website, that’s precious.”

“He really was too generous,” you reply, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder, disguising it as a friendly touch while you dig your blunt fingernails into him. If it actually hurts him he gives nothing away, but it’s satisfying all the same. Molly squares you with one of those knowing looks, as though she understands that there is more going on between the two of you than what’s being said. If it weren’t considered impolite and a risk to your own life, you’d stake the bastard right now for giving her that impression.

“Has Max told you anything about our investigation last night?” you ask, eager to move the conversation anywhere else.

“No, he didn’t. Did you find anything?”

“We’re not quite sure who it was yet, but we did make contact with someone. I’ll be reviewing my tapes and doing some more research today to see what I can find out.”

Molly looks a bit surprised to know that you made contact with a spirit. It’s not an uncommon reaction. Most of the time when you’re called out somewhere people are hoping that you will prove them crazy for ever believing it could be something supernatural. Money happily spent for peace of mind. You don’t mind all that much either – of course you would rather find something, but the money makes up for the disappointment.

You're thankful Max keeps his mouth shut about the age of your mysterious spirit. The topic of children ghosts are touchy at the best of times – Molly's reaction from yesterday making you all the more hesitant to say anything before you have something concrete to share.

"Do you need anything from me?" Molly asks.

You shake your head politely. "I don't think so. If I do, I'll have Max come find you."

"I'll keep an ear out then."

You grab onto Max's arm, pulling him from his seat. "Come on, we're burning daylight."

Max is less than thrilled to be dragged along to review tapes. There are hours of footage to shift through. After your conversation with the spirit you had left the digital recorder and DV camera running in other areas that you thought would have activity, hoping to pick something else up.

You've taken the equipment into a sunroom off the back of the manor, surprisingly warm despite the cool weather. There's a large tarp covering up one corner, providing enough shade for Max to sit in undisturbed by the irritation of the sun.

"Remind me why I couldn't stay and talk with Molly?" Max asks, his head propped lazily on his hand, only half looking at the small screen of the DV camera.

You pop an earbud out, pausing the audio recording you’re part way through. "Because I didn't need you telling her anymore lies about us. And you wanted to join me on this, remember? Going through recordings is part of the job."

"It's boring," Max whines. "There's nothing on this camera except for the light flickering on and off which we saw for ourselves. Seems like a waste of time, babe."

“Yeah well you can do this or you can go sit in the car. Take your pick.” You put your earbud back in before Max can make another smartass comment. There’s another hour and a half of recorded audio for you to get through, saving yours and Max’s conversation with the ghost until the end. You’ve always liked saving the most exciting parts for last, a reward for getting through the often boring slog of nothing on them.

It’s all too easy for your mind to wander while listening to the white noise on the recording. The sunroom, like the rest of the manor, is gorgeous despite its state of disrepair. You can see it becoming the perfect place for a nice brunch or lazing about in an afternoon, relaxing and taking in the view of the expansive lands around the building. You imagine it looks breathtaking in summer and the peak of autumn. Unfortunately now with the mostly brown landscape outdoors there isn’t much to see.

Your journal is laid out before you, the well worn pages comfortable in your hands. It’s a welcome diversion while you listen to what seems like an endless amount of white noise and do your best not to stare at your unwanted partner. However, since you’re unable to actually read it while you listen for fear of missing something in the audio, it’s not that great a distraction.

Despite his proclaimed boredom, Max has zoned into the small DV camera screen. You could have uploaded the video to your laptop and given him a larger screen to watch on – which probably benefit you in the long run – but pettiness won out to give you the free entertainment of watching him struggle. His brow is furrowed, two small lines forming between them. His hair has grown out slightly from when you first met – an errant strand that's just starting to curl falling on his forehead. Your fingers itch to push it back into place.

You force your focus back towards the journal. The page it’s open to is filled with lists of herbs – their properties, uses, meanings alongside basic sketches of each. They don’t hold your attention for long.

Max reaches his arm back, scratching mindlessly at his shoulder blade, lean muscles flexing with every movement. You’re screaming at whatever part of your brain is betraying you right now to remember the asshole vampire part of him before you start drooling.

The sharp line of his jaw, dotted with the start of stubble, starts to catch your attention when you hear something on the tape. It’s finally rolled into your conversation with the spirit last night, Max’s voice and yours occasionally breaking up the white noise now. That isn’t what makes you pause. You hear Max ask his first question, the unanswerable what do you want that you’re quick to chastise him for. Your voices aren’t the only two on the tape though.

You pause the recording, taking your earbuds out. “Max, can you listen to this?”

He pops his head up from the screen to look at you, eyes glazed from watching too much nothing. “I don’t know, is that something I’m allowed to do or should I go sit in the car?” he asks dryly. You immediately regret any thought you had about him in the past few minutes that was approaching kind.

“Stop being a baby and listen.” You offer an earbud to Max, moving your chair closer to him so that the cord will reach between the two of you. It’s impossible for you both to listen without your shoulders brushing. Neither of you say anything about it.

You rewind the recording and press play, watching his face for any reaction. It’s more than a bit disappointing when he doesn’t react at all. “Did you hear anything strange?” you ask.

“I don’t know, play it again.” Max looks disgruntled, like he thinks he heard something but can’t figure it out. It gives you a small inkling of hope. Audio recordings can be strange at times and it’s affirming to know your brain isn’t manufacturing things out of nothing. You play the audio back again.

“What do you want?” you hear Max on the tape ask. Then, right underneath your own voice reminding him that it’s yes or no questions only, a third voice. It’s faint and small, but there. Max’s rounded eyes only serve to confirm it for you.

I want my mom.

You still don’t know who the spirit is, but the matter of them being a child feels well settled. Your heart aches. Young, lost, and alone, looking for one of the world’s simplest and most powerful forms of comfort. Their mom.

“We have to tell Molly,” Max asserts, all but ripping his earbud out. You have no idea what is possessing him to think that could possibly be the next best course of action.

“No,” you tell him.

“No? What do you mean no? I think she has a right to know about the child ghost she has lingering around, Prudence.”

“We don’t tell her until we have all the facts,” you try to reason. “We don’t have any idea who they are, what they want, or if they have any connection to Molly. We can’t give her half the facts, that’s not what we’re being paid for.”

“So you tell her nothing in the meantime?”

“If she asks, I tell her I have something promising I’m looking into. That’s it.” It’s clear that if asked, that is also what Max should be saying to her. You’re not about to have him start undermining you at every turn. This is still your job. Not his.

Max is shaking his head at you, but he doesn’t say anything more. You ignore him completely, not wanting to take ethics lessons from a vampire that was plotting to kill mere weeks ago. You readjust your earbud and offer the other to him again. “Come on. There might be something more.”

He takes the earbud back with more force than necessary and you wind the recording back. You don’t want to miss a second of it now. The rest of it continues as you remember. Silence other than your own voices on the tape until suddenly it’s there again. This time unencumbered by your voice speaking over top of it, the message loud and clear.

Help us.

Moments later you ask if they’re still there with you. There’s no response on the audio recording, just as you remember there being no response through the flashlight. You grab the DV recorder away from Max, scrubbing through the footage until you get to the same spot. The voice matches up with the flashlight flickering on and off before becoming still and steady for the rest of the night.

The good-bye message hadn’t been simple at all. The spirit wasn’t offering a friendly farewell, they were asking for help. Help us. Not me, us. Who else needs your help in the manor? Is there more than one spirit trapped? There’s been nothing else caught on the recordings, but that doesn’t mean someone else couldn’t be around. Some spirits are known to be more shy than others.

Your mind is racing. There are more pieces to put together here than you thought. It’s no wonder Molly couldn’t keep her construction crew and contractors around with all of this going on, because now you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve only been scratching at the surface. Opening your journal to a blank enough page, you begin to scribble notes, completely engrossed in your work and completely forgetting about Max until he clears his throat beside you.

He’s shockingly quiet for once, words actually failing him. It hadn’t been hard to tell that interacting with a honest-to-god ghost last night had thrown him off slightly, but this development seems to have actually unnerved him into silence. You know it’s unfair of you, remembering your own rabbit quick heartbeat and sweaty palms the first time you came into contact with a spirit on your own, but the reaction does seem a bit absurd for a member of the living dead to have.

“What’s up?” you ask him, eager to get back to your frantic notes and figuring out your next steps.

“That’s a kid asking for help,” he states, repeating the shared revelation you both made. He doesn’t add anything more to it.

“Mhmm,” you prompt, trying to get him to continue. You aren’t sure where he’s going with this.

“That’s a kid.”

“Yes, it is and we’re going to help them like they asked.”

“By not telling Molly.”

You set your pen down, rubbing at your temples. What he isn’t grasping about this situation you don’t understand. “We don’t know who this child is, Max. It seems like they have a connection to Molly but we don’t know that for certain and I don’t know about you, but bringing up the death of children isn’t the most pleasant topic for people.”

Your words seem to break through. For once he doesn’t fight you, nodding and picking the DV camera back up. It’s strange, Max being so quiet, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. You scrub through the audio recording a few more times, thinking over every small detail you can remember. The next step for you is clear. You need to know more about this manor and the people who lived in it.

“I’m going to the library,” you announce, snapping your journal shut and standing up. Max looks like there is nothing he would like to do less than join you. He doesn’t even need to speak, a simple dramatic arch of his eyebrow and you know he’s not coming with. Not that you mind all that much, he probably wouldn’t even help if you dragged him along.

“I’ll be back. Don’t tell Molly anything while I’m gone,” you warn.

“Yeah, whatever you say peach.”

The library is quaint, an older building with the history of the town built right into its bricks. You’ve always preferred libraries like these to the more modern ones. It feels like the exterior matches all the years of knowledge they hold inside. Hopefully this one holds the knowledge you’re looking for.

There’s a librarian at the front desk and rather than waste time searching for the information you need on your own, you go right up to them.

“Hi, I'm doing a research project on the Westlake Manor. I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction?"

You learned a while ago it's easier to call your work a research project and get on with it. Technically it isn't even a lie. The librarian is kind enough to direct you to the relevant local records and microfilm for your research, quickly leaving you to it.

As you get the first roll of microfilm set up in the machine, a random local teenager catches sight of one of your open books and stops. Peering over he says, "You're looking into that old place? You'll want to look at the late 90's, that's when the crazy stuff happened there."

"What do you mean?" you ask, interest very much peaked.

He chuckles, nodding towards the machine in front of you. "See for yourself. Shit's wild."

You can't help but crack a smile, amused by their blunt yet vague explanation. Despite their comment you decide to start your research back a few decades earlier, curious about when the home was last occupied. You never know if your child ghost might belong to them.

The last owners and true occupants of Westlake Manor were the Augustine's, owning the home from 1952 to 1979. Mr Augustine ran into financial trouble, forcing the family to sell the home in order to pay off debts that had been acquired. The information doesn't get much more specific than that, but it's enough to paint a picture.

The next owners of the home didn't actually live in it. They were never named and seem to have purchased it more so to acquire the manor as a financial asset rather than use it. It's clear that during that time is when it fell into a state of disrepair. With no staff kept on, the place was left to rot until you locate a bill of sale dated November 28th, 1996.

The home was sold to Molly Allen for nearly one million dollars, a name that stops you dead in your tracks. That can't be. Given your guess of Molly's age, she couldn't have been older than her early teens in 1996.

Frantically, you search for some plausible answer in the microfilm. Maybe Molly came from a wealthy family who purchased the home in her name and she's only now set her sights upon it. Perhaps in some crazy coincidence of names, one Molly Allen sold the home to another. You'd think Molly would have mentioned something interesting like that though.

You continue to sift through, looking for anything that will prove the chilling feeling running down your spine incorrect. Finally, you find an article from the local paper dated April 1997 and your blood runs cold.

It can't be, and yet the truth of the matter is staring you directly in the face. On the screen in large bold letters reads Tragedy at Westlake Manor. Directly beneath is a photo of Molly, the Molly you know and have been speaking with, smiling brightly on the front steps of the manor. Her one arm is wrapped around the shoulders of a little boy that looks very much like her.

You dive into the article, a pit gathering in your stomach. The article provides background on the manor, a brief overview of the manor’s history up to Molly taking ownership in 1996. The article is not a happy one. Not a piece on the restoration of a local landmark, but rather the report of a terrible construction accident that resulted in the death of Molly Allen and her eleven year old son, Christopher.

There had been some kind of major equipment failure, completely outside of the control of anyone on the site, bringing the machinery down on the Allens and an unnamed worker. The worker managed to walk away with his life despite some time spent in critical condition at the nearby hospital – Molly and Christopher were not nearly as lucky. Both were declared dead at the scene, bringing a swift end to the hope of the Westlake Manor restoration and transformation into a popular tourist location.

The mystery of who the spirit is becomes incredibly clear. Christopher. Molly’s confusion over and failure to mention any children makes sense. She’s stuck in a kind of loop, the traumatic accident leaving her unaware of her fate or the fate of her child. Your heart shatters at the thought. You wouldn’t wish this upon anyone, not even your worst enemies. It’s no wonder both of them are stuck and tethered to the manor. Molly doesn’t even know she’s dead and Christopher won’t leave without her.

Curious, you continue your research into the Westlake Manor. There’s a nagging feeling you can’t ignore, as though there’s still a piece of this puzzle that you’re missing. You sift through newspapers and records, eventually pulling out your laptop to do further research online, until you make a striking realization alongside two new discoveries.

Years after the passing of the Allen’s, someone tried to sell the property. There was a hope that whoever bought it would continue the dream Molly once had and that her spirit now clings to. The renewed hope didn’t last for long. Only two weeks into showing the property and trying to drum up interest in investors there was a freak accident – the realtor falling through some rotten wood, the rough fall to the cellar below enough to kill her. No one has tried to sell or purchase the property since.

However, that doesn’t mean people have left the old place alone. From your understanding it’s still a landmark for the local area, a litany of ghost stories sticking to the manor. Enough ghost stories to draw out paranormal investigators amateur and professional alike, the results of each investigation hit and miss. One in particular grabs your attention though from only three years ago.

The post itself is covered in warnings to stay away from the manor, not going into any specific details, but enough for you to know two things – whoever this was, they had spoken with Molly and there had been another death at the manor. You start connecting the dots and make the most important discovery of all. You and Max need to get the fuck out of there.

You don't feel all that bad leaving the mess of microfilm and records behind. If you had the time you would have taken the proper care to put it away, thanking the librarian for their help, and gone on your merry way. You don't have that luxury at the moment.

You hastily throw on your jacket, grabbing your things and shoving them into your bag without regard. Running through a library is something that is also likely frowned upon, but you do it anyway, frantic to get back to your car.

As soon as you're on the main road, you search for your phone. It's at the bottom of the bag, your pencil poking your hand along the way. You hiss at the slight prick, shaking your hand out before renewing your frantic search. You know this is ridiculously stupid. Speeding, attention half on your phone, adrenaline pumping. Thankfully Max's name is easy to find.

The phone rings through. "Hello-"

You quickly interrupt. "Max, we need to go now." you say, only for his voice to cut through.

"-you've reached Max Phillips. Leave a message at the beep."

Fucking voicemail. You hang up and call again. He still doesn't answer. You're going to kill him. His phone is always nearby him and he chooses now of all times to be away from it? Or even worse, he's actually ignoring you, in which case you'll kill him twice.

"Fuck, pick up you stupid parasite!" you shout, pounding the steering wheel. The phone continues to ring, going to voicemail and forcing you to dial again.

It takes another three rings before Max finally picks up. "Hey babe, where’s the fire?"

"Max. Listen to me very carefully. Are you around Molly right now?" You're praying he says no. The less interaction you and Max can manage to have with her from here on out the better.

"No." Small miracles do happen.

"Good. Whatever you do, avoid her. I need you to go to our rooms, pack up all our things, and meet me outside. I'll be there in ten."

"What? Why?"

You don't have time for this. You need to get to the manor, get your things, and get the fuck out. Explanations can come later.

"Would you just trust me?" you ask. There's a beat, a moment where you're completely unsure if Max will say yes or no. Your heart is pounding, waiting with bated breath for his answer.

"Yeah, fine. I'll trust you Prudence. But I want an explanation."

"You'll get one."

Max is standing outside the manor when you tear up the drive, looking equal parts annoyed and alarmed with your behavior. You’ve barely put the Suburban in park before you’re running out of it, door left wide open, grabbing your bag from Max and loading it into the car.

“Do you have everything?” you ask Max, peeking inside your duffle to do a quick visual check. Everything seems to be in order.

“Yeah, what-”

“You’re sure? You left nothing behind?” you reaffirm, climbing back into the Suburban.

“Yes, psycho. Now would you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

You glance back at the manor in your rearview, slowly fading from view. There’s a pit in your stomach, a terrible feeling for leaving so quickly but you know it’s for the best. You aren’t planning on abandoning Molly or Christopher either, a simple but effective plan already forming in your mind. You could never truly leave them behind and be able to live with yourself – Christopher’s voice on the audio recording still fresh in your mind. Help us.

Max has settled into the passenger seat, arms firmly crossed over his chest. “Explanation?” he presses.

The manor officially slips from view and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself from the panic before laying it all out for him. "Molly Allen is dead."

Max stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What are you talking about?"

You keep your eyes firmly on the road ahead, hands tight on the wheel. Trees lining the road whip past you, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. "Her and her son Christopher died in a construction accident in 1997."

"Are you saying-?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"That's fucking crazy."

You finally caution a glance over at Max. His emotions are splattered across his face, disbelief and confusion knotting his eyebrows. Before he can start rambling about his confusion you try to explain things.

"She's caught in a loop. The trauma of the accident has caused her to forget dying, forget Christopher dying, everything. She still thinks it's 1997 and her construction crews abandoned her due to a ghost story."

Max takes a beat to process everything you just threw at him. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him doing the mental math, adding it all up.

"Why did we have to leave so quickly? I'm surprised you didn't want to stay and help or wake her up or whatever."

You think that's a compliment. It's hard to tell with his tone of voice, but you'll take it as one.

"I think when Molly is broken from her loop and realizes what's happened she kills whoever broke her out of it," you explain.

"Molly?" Max laughs. "You did meet her, angel? She couldn't kill anyone, dead or alive."

"I met a spirit so traumatized by her and her son's death that she doesn't realize she died and has blocked out her son's existence to handle the pain. Her killing people for breaking that delusion wouldn't surprise me."

The reality of the situation with Molly sobers Max up quickly. "So now we're leaving the kid to fend for himself with a crazy ghost mom?"

Now that is just insulting. You might not be able to handle it yourself but you would never leave the two of them behind and stuck in pain. "No. I got the two of us out because the risk of breaking Molly out of the loop and having her kill one of us would kill both of us. Once we stop somewhere I'll call Nana and have her reach out to her contacts. With my information and the power of a few mediums and psychics they'll be able to put Molly and Christopher to rest."

"How do you know Molly won't kill them?" Max asks.

Emotionally charged from your discovery and coming down from the panic of getting away from the manor, his question grates on you. "Because they're experienced and know how to handle a spirit like hers. Do you think we're all just running around not knowing what we're doing or something? I know you don't give a shit but some of us care about this and care about enough to do it properly. We can’t help her but there are others who can.”

Max throws his hands up, leaning back against the window. “Yeesh, no need to bite my head off, hellcat. I was only asking.”

You ignore Max in favor of figuring out where it is you’re actually headed. Taking off from the manor you didn’t pay much attention and the fuel gauge is starting to get low. You need gas, a safe place to call Nana, and somewhere you can actually think for all of five minutes. You turn on the radio to fill the silence of the car, letting it scan through the channels.

You finally find a gas station after twenty minutes of driving pass by. Pulling up to the pump, Max opens his door to step out and hesitates. He turns back, his brown eyes looking soft for just a moment. "How did Molly get in contact with you?" he asks gently.

You turn the car off, one hand still gripping the wheel tightly and tell him the truth. “I have no idea.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Everything tags: @radiowallet @sergeantbannerbarnes @pilothusband @max--phillips @starlightmornings @moonlight-prose @practicalghost @sharkbait77 @honestly-shite @shadesofnerdlygrace @salome-c @artsymaddie @niki-xie @doin-stuff @magikfanatic @astoryisaloveaffair @tintinn16 @mswarriorbabe80 @phandoz @amneris21 @tenderwhat @asta-lily @chaoticgeminate @snarwor @stardust-galaxies @readsalot73 @xoxabs88xox @harriedandharassed

#max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips x original female character #max phillips fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards fanfiction #max phillips x prudence walker #bonded #crasis writes

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witchyweasley · 4 years

Text

Show Me How - George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!Hufflepuff reader

Summary: George shows his girlfriend how to make herself feel good.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, 18+ themes, innocence kink, fingering

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Study dates with boyfriends never really turn into just studying. The fact that George and I were on his bed in his empty dorm room probably didn’t help matters either. It started out fine, he would ask me questions about herbology and I would ask him questions about potions. Soon it turned into a game, if you got the question right, you got a kiss.

“What can stop devil’s snare?” I asked after a well earned kiss from George.

“Water.” He answered quickly, leaning in for a kiss.

“Nope,” I said, pressing a finger to his lips to stop his movements.

“Too much dirt,” he said again, leaning in again.

“Try again,” I laughed at his eagerness.

“Simply asking no,” he guessed.

“No silly,” I giggled, dodging yet another attempt to steal a kiss.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just kiss me,” he huffed, placing one hand on my cheek and pulling me into a desperate kiss.

This kiss was different from the ones before. It wasn’t just a simple peck. Our lips melted together as George held my face in his hands, one moving back to tangle itself in my hair at the nape of my neck. Mine snaked around his neck, pulling him unbelievably close to me.

George moved his hand down from my cheek and onto my shoulder, lightly pushing me down onto his bed. His arms now on either side of me, holding himself up. His soft lips traveled from my own and began kissing down my neck, territory he had not yet been to. A quiet moan escaped my lips as he sucked lightly at a spot right below my ear.

His hips grinded into mine, his erection becoming more and more prominent.

“Do me a favor darling,” he breathed out, “Show me how you like to be touched.”

I laughed uncomfortably, not really sure what to do.

“Um, I don’t really know,” I admittedly quietly.

“What do you mean?” he asked genuinely, leaning on one elbow so that he was now laying beside me. His other hand rested on my hip, tracing small circles on the fabric of my skirt.

“I don’t know how I like to be touched,” I mumbled.

“Well what do you do when you’re alone?” he asked.

“Sleep, usually,” I said.

“Do you not touch yourself?” he asked, his fingers now grazing my thigh.

“I...um...well...no,” I admitted, burying my face in his chest so that he wouldn’t see how red I was turning.

“Oh come on, there’s no way anyone’s that innocent,” he laughed, kissing the top of my head.v

“I’m not lying, George,” I said, my voice muffled against his chest.

“Well then, do you want me to help you figure it out?” He asked, pushing my hair away from my blushing face.

“Um, s-sure,” I stuttered.

“I’m going to need a yes or no answer. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We can go back to studying,” he said softly.

“Yes,” I said after thinking it over for a second.

“Yes, what?” He asked.

“Yes, I want you to help me...figure it out,” I said shyly.

He smiled and gently pressed his lips against mine in a sweet kiss before pressing his forehead against mine.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, playing with the hem of my skirt. I nodded and bit my lip anxiously.

He stood up from the bed and then grabbed my hand to bring me up too. He pulled me into a passionate kiss, his tongue slowly making an appearance as his hands worked the buttons of my skirt. Soon the fabric pooled around my feet, leaving me in my blouse and cotton underwear.

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” he breathed out, kissing me again as his hands ghosted over my bare thighs. My hands traveled down to his pants, fumbling with the button. With my face flushed, I looked up at him in a silent plea for help.

“Whoa whoa whoa, we’re focusing on you,” he laughed, pushing my hands away.

“I know, but I feel weird being the only one who’s semi naked now,” I said, flustered at the idea. He nodded and unbuttoned his pants with ease, but didn’t push them down. When he saw my confused face, he took my hands and placed them at his hips. When I still did nothing, he laughed and used my hands to pull his pants off.

Right as I was going to make a flustered comment, George quickly took his shirt off and sat on the bed. His back leaning against the headboard, he lightly patted the space he made between his legs. I crawled over to him, unsure of what to do. He grabbed my hips and turned me around so that his chest was pressed against my back. His arms wrapped around my waist tightly, pulling my body into a hug.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, resting his head in the crook of my neck.

“Yes,” I said, feeling my heart beating fast.

“Can I touch you?” He whispered, kissing my neck softly.

“You already are, darling,” I breathed out, resting my neck on his shoulder so he had better access.

“Can I touch your pussy?” He specified, rubbing his hands down my thighs and massaging them lightly.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered.

Slowly, George slowly dragged his fingers up my thighs, all the way up to my waist before continuing into unexplored territory. His left hand went down my thigh again, while his right one slowly traveled to my cotton underwear. His middle and ring finger lightly rubbed against me over the fabric.

“Already so wet and we haven’t even done anything,” George whispered. My breathing deepened as he repeated his movement. My legs automatically tried to close as he hit a spot that made me feel good.

“Open up for me, darling. I just want to make you feel good,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I timidly opened my legs again, slightly embarrassed at the effect he has on me.

“Good girl,” he breathed out, returning his hand to rub my now visibly damp underwear. His fingers now doing slow circles in the spot that made me feel good, causing me to lightly move my hips to grind against his hand.

“Does this feel good?” He asked softly. Not trusting my mouth, I just nodded in response. “Use your words.”

“Ah-yes, yes it feels good!” I said quickly, my chest tightening as I held back an embarrassing moan.

“Have you ever felt like this before?” He asked, now kissing my neck as he continued rubbing circles on my bundle of nerves.

“N-no,” I said quickly. He stopped his movements, causing me to let out a sigh. His hand moved to the top of my waistband, snapping it against my skin.

“Can I touch you here?” he asked breathlessly.

“Y-yes,” I said, nervous about the barrier being removed. I gasped as his hand slid beneath my underwear, cupping my heat before running his finger through it slowly.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he breathed out, his fingers rubbing up and down the length of my slit. When they began circling around the bundle of nerves again, I had to bite my lip to suppress the moan that wanted to escape. When he sped his pace a small moan escaped, but I quickly quieted myself.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love. I want to hear you. I want to know how good I’m making you feel,” George said, kissing me before speeding up his pace once more. When I let out a soft moan he bit my shoulder and groaned, I could feel him twitch in his boxers against my back. My hands were gripping his thighs as I slowly tried to grind against his hand.

“Do you want more?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I breathed out. His fingers moved down from the bundle of nerves, now playing in the wetness a bit before he slowly inserted one finger into me. It was a bit uncomfortable, as most new sensations are, but it felt better when he started pumping into me.

“Have you ever done this to yourself?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t know I could,” I breathed out. As he slowly pumped into me, his other hand returned to the bundle of nerves. My moans became louder as each new sensation was added. I felt my abdomen tightening up, building up to something. When he noticed this, he sped up his pace with his fingers, making me see stars.

“Good girl, cum for me, baby,” he breathed out as I came undone.

“I-what, what was that?” I breathed out.

“You had an orgasm, darling,” George said, sucking his fingers into his mouth. The action seemed so strange but so hot.

“Oh,” I said.

He kissed me softly before grabbing a towel and lightly pressing it to my core.

“When you go back to your dorm tonight, and you think of me, try doing what I just did. Let me know the results,” George winked. I blushed heavily before sliding on my underwear and skirt.

“What about you?” I asked, gesturing to the tent in his boxers.

“We can worry about me tomorrow, darling. Tonight was about you,” he smirked.

#smut #harry potter smut #george weasley smut #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader smut #harry potter requests #weasley smut #weasley twin #george weasley request #hp smut #george weasley one shot #george weasley blurb

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

New Normal

Pairing: Yandere!Tubbo x Reader (with some Ranboo)

Request: we need more yandere tubbo i absolutely love the way you wrote him shdhhfjd........ maybe a short fic or some headcanons elaborating on "waking up in the mansion one day"? maybe the reader gets more afraid than going along with it .. I'd love to see ranboos aspect regarding tubbos behavior as well 👀

Word count: 2.3 k

Warning: yandere, kidnapping, drugging

A/n: This is all platonic. Nothing romantic. Also this was meant to be short not this long oh lord.

The night had been unforgiving to you as of late. Every night you felt like you were being watched over. It was so weird. It didn’t matter if the windows were open or not. Or even if they had blinds over them. Your paranoia was being fed by every noise emanating from the darkness. Now you weren’t afraid of the dark, never had been. But now, oh god the dark was terrifying. The unknown of the dark scared you. Anything could be hiding in there. And with this new “admirer” of yours, your newfound fear of the shadows was being fed a damn feast. The last straw for you was when you came home one night and saw your window broken and front door open. It spooked you too much; what if they were still inside? You couldn’t risk that.

That’s how you found yourself in Tubbo’s house, on his couch, hunched over and shaking over a cup of tea. You don’t remember why you came here, in all honesty. There were so many other people you could have chosen that were more than capable of protecting you. There was Sam, Bad, Sapnap, even Technoblade. Yet you still went to Tubbo. He was a comforting presence for you. And you just really wanted some comfort for this new fear of yours. Is this what I child felt when they were scared of the dark and needed a flashlight? God now you feel so bad for making fun of little kids for needing those.

“Hey are you okay,” a hand just fucking attacks your shoulder and you wip around. Oh god what if the guy got you now- wait it’s just Tubbo. Wow you overreacted there. Your swift actions shocked Tubbo, making him take a few steps away from you. He held his hands up in the air; an attempt to show he meant no harm to you. But you were just relieved at the sight of Tubbo.

“I don’t know,” a lump was forming in your throat. The tea isn't helping at all. You were so upset that you couldn’t even tell what flavor it was. Nor did you ask Tubbo, but that didn’t matter. Only distractions mattered now; a way to get your mind off of the paranoid thoughts. “I think I am”. Your grip on the cup tightened. Some of that was you trying to ground yourself, but another part of it was just tension. It was becoming harder to breathe and you had no idea why. There wasn’t a reason. Start breathing normally again- uh what was that breathing exercise?

Tubbo came around the couch and sat by your side. “Hey, can you look at me really quick?” He grabbed your hands and you looked at him. Somehow looking into his eyes made it harder to breathe. “Okay now repeat after me- wait not repeat. Uh, do what I do. Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to reply before he started. “Okay take a deep breath with me. In through the mouth for five and out the nose for four. In for five, out for four.” A small pattern formed from the mantra. Something about the exercise was extremely comforting, but you were never sure on what it was. Well you knew it had to do with slowing your breathing and helping you focus, but you felt like there was something else to it. There had to be something else to it. Why else would it be able to calm you so well right now?

It took a while, but you finally calmed down. Well, “calmed down” being a relative term. You were tired and numb inside. Your attention was completely focused on the flames in the hearth. They were mesmerizing. Happily dancing away, illuminating the room.

You hadn’t realized what was happening. All you remember is looking at Tubbo and then everything just became blurry. The sting of tears stung your eyes. Oh, you were about to cry again. That’s so annoying, stupid. You had just calmed down and yet you’re still crying. Craving human contact must be a symptom of sadness or some shit because you looked at Tubbo for comfort. And he gave you exactly that; opening his arms to give you a hug. Without a second thought, you essentially flew into his arms. He accepted you immediately and held you close. The tears that had once been contained by a damn once again ran free. Slowly you grew tired. Oh how you despised the act of crying and how it drained you so. A little nap wouldn’t hurt.

__________________________________ The sunbeams were attacking you and it hurt so much. So bright, demanding. You didn’t want to get up. Sleepiness still held you captive, flowed through your body like the very blood you had. Yet the light was relentless, attacking your closed eyes through it’s armor. A valiant effort was made to stay asleep and keep the sunlight out of your eyes. But it was futile. Rolling over did nothing but illicit noise and made you mildly uncomfortable. When you finally gave in, you just stared blankly at the wall.

For a wall, it was pretty. Kinda. It was plain but a stylish kind of plain. A timeless look. It took ages to finally muster the energy to even sit up, but you still did. The view changed yet it didn’t at the same time. It was pretty empty in the room. Three doorways, two next to each other on your right and one on your left, a bed, some curtains, a small nightstand, and a bookshelf. Other than that, there was a ton of open space.

Once you regained some more consciousness, you slipped out of bed. There was a jingle, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. You definitely heard it, you just thought something fell on the floor. Whatever it was could wait. The unexplored room was just waiting for exploration, though you could have easily explored it from your bed because of how empty it was. When you got to one of the doors, you slowly opened it to reveal a closet. It was absolutely filled with clothes you liked. Or some you were missing. Didn’t you own that shirt at home? And that one too? Huh, what a coincidence. Pretty cool.

Not even two steps away from the closet was another door, which you also slowly opened. Didn’t want to hit anyone. Through that door was a bathroom. It was pretty big and pretty. Very shiny and clean. There were some care products in there, some shampoo and conditioner. But you stopped yourself from looking too much. You didn’t want to snoop. It was rather rude to do.

Grogley you turn toward the last mystery door. It was all the way on the other side of the room. Man you weren’t awake enough for this. Yawning, you start your way to the other doorway. That must be the way back to the rest of the mansion. Sadly you didn’t get far. Not even halfway there before you were stopped. More accurately tripped. Something made your foot slip from underneath, making you fall onto your stomach. Everything ached, but your ankle felt weird. It was a different pain. When you tried to pull it closer to examine it, something stopped it and the sound of metal hitting itself rang across the room. You nearly give yourself whiplash from how quickly you turn your head.

A metal cuff clung onto your ankle which in turn was connected to a tense chain. At the other end of the chain was one of the bedposts. Specifically the one closest to the closet and bathroom. That’s odd. Okay now what’s going on here? Oh did Tubbo do this to make you feel more secure? Well it was and wasn’t working all at the same time. Because who puts an ankle chain on somebody?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. From your spot on the floor, you whipped your head back around to the last mystery door. You stayed quiet, wondering if you were just imagining noises. But another knock soon came. It was undeniable, very pronounced and purposeful. Whoever was out there- what could they be here for. Panic started to overtake you again, but the sound of Tubbo’s voice coming from the other side of the door caught your attention.

“Can I come in,” Tubbo announces his presence again with another round of knocks. With the amount of noise you made, you were pretty sure he knew you were awake. But you still replied to him.

“Yeah you can.”

Not even a second after you reply, the door slowly opens and Tubbo peaks his head in. He seemed to have woken up with some bedhead, which made him look boyish. A little careless for physical appearances, which can be an endearing feature. Tubbo gave the room a sweeping look, checking for something. What exactly, you couldn’t tell. But apparently he was satisfied because he opened the doorway entirely. You swiftly stood up, getting as close to the door as you could.

On the other side of the door was Tubbo in some pajamas. He looked a little sleepy, but his happiness shone through it. You smiled at the sight of him, happy that someone came to get you out.

“Good morning, Tubbo!” You gave a toothy grin and spread your arms to emphasize your joy. “Sleep well?”

“Good morning!.” He gave you a toothy smile in return, but it looked odd. Like it was forced, nervous even. But you must’ve just been looking too far into it. “I slept pretty good. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept like a fucking rock,” you reply with a little laughter. “Honestly? Best sleep of the month, man. Really needed it. Thanks for letting me bunk at your place last night.”

“Not a problem at all,” his smile soon became more natural, much bigger. “I really enjoyed having you over”. It seemed like he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The nervous look reappeared on his face, and you gave the most reassuring look you could. “So about you moving in-”

“Oh yeah that,” your smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “I can’t just do that Tubbo. I just can’t.” Tubbo seemed saddened by your response. “It’s not like I don’t want to live with you,” you explained. “I’d love to live with you and Ranboo, but I have other responsibilities. Things that have to be done very far from the mansion. Seriously, I’d love to stay.”

“Then stay.” It was a simple statement on his part. You thought it was a little banter.

“I’d stay if I could Tubbo. But I gotta go.”

“You can’t go.”

“Yes I can, Tubbo. Now can you please unchain me, I gotta go.” You lift your ankle and shake it along with the chain for emphasis.

But Tubbo doesn’t even give it a look before answering. “You can’t leave.”

His actions are words are a bit worrying now, huh. This is just a silly prank. Any second now he’ll say it’s a joke and release you. Yeah, any moment now.

That moment never comes though.

“Come on now,” Tubbo starts to lead you back to the bed. “Get back in bed. You still look tired.”

“I’m not tired Tubbo,” your voice hardens to emphasise the fact that you really don’t need this shit right now. “Look I’m completely fine and I have to go. This joke isn’t funny anymore. Just unlock the fucking cuff and I’ll be on my way.”

You two stop at the bed and he gently ushers you in. Climbing on the bed to give you a hug. Struggling against him does no good. If anything, it just makes things worse. He just tightens his grip like a damn python. Wtf why is this kid so strong and clingy? This definitely isn’t a good combo.

“Look you aren’t fine. See?” He emphasizes his point by hugging you tighter. Which you don’t like and groan in protest. “You need to rest. It’s fine. You’re home.”

Internally you start to panic. Yo, hold up, what the hell is he talking about? You know damn well you ain’t home or agreed to stay here. So what does he think he’s doing?

There’s a cough from the doorway, and both you and Tubbo’s attention is diverted to the newcomer. At the threshold of the room is Ranboo. A platter loaded with food held between his hands. He looks awkward standing there. And you don’t blame him because you felt awkward just being in the hug. You couldn’t even imagine the embarrassment you’d get from walking in on this shit. When your eyes meet, he gives you a small, unsure smile.

Movement behind Ranboo catches your attention. You look behind Ranboo’s legs to see Micheal clinging onto Ranboo’s pants. He looked so happy. Well, happy being debatable and interpretive. He looked normal but he was making his little happy noises. Micheal bounded over to you, stretching his arms out while making the most adorable little oink noises. You look between Tubbo and Ranboo for any sign. Literally anything for them. But Tubbo just encourages you. So you pick up Micheal and hold him close to your chest.

Tubbo gives a cheer of joy while Ranboo joins in, though a little less enthusiastic. Still the fact he sounded genuinely happy about this situation was worrying. Especially since he knew what was going on. Knew how wrong it all was. Micheal had no idea. Happily oinking way in your lap and messing with your hands. Suddenly two sets of arms entangle themselves around you; pulling themselves toward you for a hug.

Looking down at Micheal, you now question if the backstory you were told about him was true. Was he actually found wandering around? Or was he kidnapped, just like you?

#c: tubbo #c: ranboo #tw: yandere #yandere #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp!tubbo #dsmp!ranboo #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #yandere tubbo #yandere ranboo #yandere tubbo x reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: drugging #dsmp!ranboo x reader #dsmp!tubbo x reader

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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Anything at All (boba fett x fem!reader) (part one) (part two)

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: smut, even mORE thrONE fucking, oral sex (f receiving), boba’s a biter, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap thAT wiLLY), vaginal fingering, explicit language, boba is a grouchy dom kwjhgjh

a/n: anyway I think yall forget im a writer and not just a Certified Clown, but anywAy here we be. HAPPY NEW YEARS ya FILTHY anIMALS im so thankful for all yall and im glad I can provide you with some entertainment kaejhejhr

You haven’t seen Boba Fett in days.

Called away on business you’ll never be included in or know the fine details about. It’s not kept away from you because he doesn’t trust you, or thinks you’re a mindless idiot—no—he’d rather keep his princess occupied with prettier things. No need to concern yourself with the the underbelly of what he now rules.

You’re not upset about it—you’re not really a fan of watching petty squabbles that’ll result in someone’s chest being imploded by a blaster. You’ve seen enough of it in the cantina, and while you were never the one tasked with clearing the bodies out—it was still mildly traumatizing. Eh—no need to dwell.

You’ve got other shit to do anyway.

There’s a seemingly endless zigzag of secret hallways and dusty rooms within the palace, teeming with strange knickknacks and ancient artifacts that are more than likely cursed. Definitely haunted—but it doesn’t stop you from exploring or sorting through the useless junk. Besides—Fennec stayed behind, acting as your glorified babysitter for the past few cycles—ensuring your safety from both whoever dared step foot into the palace and the ghosts. What a lovely woman.

Speaking of which—you hear her sigh and shuffle, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she leans back against a dusty crate. She picks at the dirt beneath her fingernails, lazily glancing up every now and then to check that you haven’t eviscerated yourself on a piece of scrap metal or something. Lucky for her, all you found today was an abandoned crate of old datapacs shoved in the back corner from what you assumed to be some sort of office. Yesterday you found a sword that was promptly confiscated.

“I’d be careful snooping around in those,” Fennec warns as your fingers find the on switch. “You never know what sorta data the Hutts were keeping here.”

You shrug and wave away her concern, reading over the information that flickers across the screen. “I think I’ll be ok…See?” You pointedly wave the datapac in her direction. “This one is about the finances. Spooky.”

Fennec rolls her eyes followed by an amused smirk that ghosts over her lips. You toss it aside and root around some more, pulling out another datapac. The blue hologram flickers to life and as you decipher the little lines of text your face falls. Each line is a name, previous and recently bought or traded people that crossed the threshold of the palace. Fennec was right. This isn’t fun anymore.

“These are…slaves.” Your lips curls in disgust. “How is this still not outlawed? It’s barbaric.”

“You’re not from Tatooine, are you?” Fennec asks as she meanders over and wrestles the datapac out of your hands. She switches it off and tosses it back into the dusty crate. You huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“No,” you agree. “Im from Arkanis. But even there we don’t have slaves.”

Fennec squats beside you, her elbows resting over her bent knees. She playfully taps your shoulder with the back of her hand and quirks a brow. “What’d I tell you—snooping doesn’t do anyone any good.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, a frown still etched on your lips. Fennec sighs, rubs her chin and then reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. A flush blooms up your cheeks at the gentle touch.

“You have a sensitive soul, Kitten,” she chuckles, poking at your cheek that you’re certain she can feel the heat emirate from. “You said you were from Arkanis—tell me about it. Why come to Tatooine?”

Your lips quirk in a tiny smile as you bat away her pointer finger, saving your cheek from another poke. “Hey—not everyone likes rain ok?” You huff. “Besides, Tatooine wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

She nods. Unsure what exactly to tell her--a silence ensues. It’s not terribly awkward but it’s enough that makes you jumpy and itching to move on from this room now stained with information you weren’t prepared on finding. You stand suddenly, brush yourself off and mutter under your breath about finding something less…heartbreaking.

Fennec jumps up as well and when you leave the room her hand clamps over your shoulder. She spins you around and levels her gaze onto you. “You’re free to leave whenever you like. You know that right?”

Your brows furrow. “I know—don’t worry, I want to stay.”

Her head bobs with a satisfied nod. “We’d miss you if you left. You’re nice to have around.”

You blush again and mumble out a thank you, shooting off into another unexplored location to escape Fennec’s knowing smirk. Maker—you’re embarrassing.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Boba returns later that afternoon—the shadow of his familiar figure stretches around the curved stairway, the purposeful stomps of his boots against the carved steps following with it. Your heart flutters within your chest, like a distressed creature with wings as you jump from your makeshift seat.

You come face to face with Boba. Or, helmet rather—whatever.

The smell of hot metal and dry air sticks to him as he paces closer, closing the small gap that separates him from you. You’re frozen beneath the heavy weight of his stare behind the void like black of his visor as he plants himself firmly before you, close enough that his cuirass could brush your chest if he puffed out his own chest.

“Hi…” You smile, a fragile vale of uncertainty blanketing the pair of you—still attempting to feel out his mood, sort through the general gruffness of his personality and gage wether or not you could reach out and touch him. The helmet is a tricky thing to read and his body language gives nothing away. You swallow your nerves take a leaping risk.

“Let me see your face.” You murmur. You move your hands up to the edges of his helmet at a snail’s pace, giving him ample time to slip through your fingers—wedge a sharp thorn between whatever it is that you’ve built and name it for what it is.

He doesn’t choose that option.

With a low hum, Boba dips his helmet closer to your outstretched fingertips instead. The metal is cool under your palms as they fold over the sides of the helmet and pull up. The metal whispers against his skin like wind through tall grass as the point of his chin peeks out, followed by his lips, his nose, and finally those golden brown eyes. They glitter with amusement as you release a shaky breath, the helmet the only thing acting as a barrier as you clutch it near your sternum. His mouth quirks when you blush and glance away—focusing on the little silvery nicks the green paint refused to cover. You rub your thumb over the blaster pockmark that dents the metal—you frown. You hope that wasn’t recent.

Boba gently pries the helmet out of your hands and sets it onto the armrest of his throne. He purrs your name and pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, leading your attention back to him. Your eyes flit up his scars—your breath catching in your throat as he smiles.

“Hello, princess,” he says—the grit and timbre of this new nickname jumpstarting your heart to skip and choke on its own tireless beat.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Boba, I’m not—“

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence—

Boba spreads his fingers over your jaw, tilts your head and swoops down to meet your lips in a dizzying kiss. Hard, hungry, victorious, breathless—like he’s spent years fighting and only now takes a moment to slow down—drown in the softness of your lips and skin. His hands claw at your arms, your clothes, your hair—like you’re the spoils of battle and he fears losing you to the shadows of his past and some hidden horror that nips at his heels. He kisses like a man terrified that this will be brief, intangible and something that’ll abandon him.

He trails after your lips when you break away—your lungs heaving for precious air. He doesn’t let you go far, ensuring your positioning by tangling his fist into your hair at the nape of your neck and scraping his lips up your cheek, enticing you into another kiss. You tilt you chin to meet him with equal fervor, whining as his warm tongue curls sweetly into your mouth. His existence fills your veins with liquid silver—evokes the bloom of crackling star fire beneath the cavity of your ribcage. Every thought starts with him and ends with your heart aching to burst into a million tiny shards.

The next time you part, Boba is the first one to pull away. He cups your cheeks between his weathered hands and plants a tender kiss just below your hairline. You swear you can feel the skin buzz from the touch—like every atom in your being was solely created for him to command and conquer. You sigh and lean into his palm.

“I missed you.” You admit with a small smile.

Boba leans closer and presses another kiss to your forehead. “And I you, little one.”

“I got worried, y’know,” you continue, your fingers tapping a trail up the front of his chest plate. You trace the repainted insignia with your fingernail and flash him a coy smirk. “You never called—thought maybe you found a new pretty thing.”

He grunts, shakes his head and sweeps a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Hilarious—my hands are full enough with you hounding me every five minutes.”

You puff out your bottom lip and feign offense, mumbling some lame whine like a petulant brat. Boba snorts and crowds closer. He presses his gloved thumb between your furrowed brows, smoothing out the wrinkles and then cups your cheeks between both palms. You freeze as he carefully knocks the crown of his forehead onto yours—it’s sweet.

An excited smile splits when he moves his head to your right, the syllables of each word rolling off his tongue sweeter than spiced honey. “I’ll make it up to you, pretty thing,” he whispers by your ear, his warm breath disturbing the fine hairs there. “How does that sound, hm?”

That’s not even a question you would ever dream of denying—you quickly nod. “I’d like that.”

Boba drops his hands from your face and peels himself away. His eyes trickle down your figure—calculative and analytic—planning out each move to pick apart the entirety of your being. “Take everything off.”

You comply without a second thought—slipping free from the breezy cotton and scratchy poncho you stole from a storage room. The fabric pools at your feet in an unceremonious pile—leaving you bare for him. Despite the sickening dry heat that pollutes the air and causes beads of sweat to gather at your hairline—goosebumps rush up your arms under Boba’s piercing stare.

Boba’s eyes flicker to the throne. A feral grin tugs at his lips. “Sit.”

This time you hesitate. Did he…? No—you must’ve heard wrong—

He quirks a brow and gestures to the throne. “Well? Are you going to listen?”

Your tongue slides over your chapped lips. “O-ok..I just—never mind…”

Scrounging up some courage, you gingerly seat yourself onto Boba Fett’s throne. Chills race along the entirety of your body as the freezing metal seeps into your warm flesh. You squirm and beat away the urge to wrap your arms around yourself—he wouldn’t like that—probably would take it as some sort of insult anyway—

All your current discomforts melt away in a fraction of a breath as Boba Fett lowers himself to one knee, and then the other. A king kneeling before his very own throne for someone like you. Someone who’ll be lost to the pages of history and the endless swirl of galaxies and supernovas—you’re nobody to the world, but to him you’re everything. You inhale a shaky breath as a strange stroke of pride alights through your body as he peels off his gloves and maneuvers himself flush against the edge of the throne and between your thighs.

Boba bows forward and slips his calloused hands around your ribcage to tug you closer. His lips land over your collar bone, slides his tongue over the protrusion then sinks his teeth into you there. You gasp as he slides lower, leading a trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake. Boba moves his palms, up and in to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples. A whimper escapes past your lips as he catches the pebbled bud between his lips, the hard enamel of his teeth scraping over it—meant to tease. Your nails dig into the fabric bunched around his neck as he moves on to suck your other nipple, the cooling saliva sending a chill down your spine as it dries.

You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core. You’re already wet—worked up and impatient. You roll your head back onto your shoulders and bite your lip. If you complain and tell him to hurry up you’re scared he’ll leave you like this—deny you that pleasure you’ve been craving for days.

It feels like ages before he moves on from your breasts, now smattered with bruises and his saliva, and carves out a blinding path down your sternum, your belly, then your navel with his tongue. Boba circles your bellybutton—you force down the ticklish nerves and stay still for him.

You don't mean to jump as his rough hands drop over your knees. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip up your bare thighs, curl around the swell of your ass and yank. You squeak as the edge of the throne bites into your tailbone, the majority of your lower half forced to lean on Boba’s shoulders and his greedy hands. He kisses the inside of your knee—you jolt with an airy gasp.

Boba picks up his head and smirks. “Look at me when I taste you, little one.”

Mouth suddenly drier than dust, you nod dumbly.

He hums, satisfied with your weak response and continues on.

Boba’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver. They sweep up towards the apex of your thighs, settling close enough to reach your aching center. You know he’s there—it’s impossible to ignore him—but you curse anyway when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They steadily work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch.

“Patience, princess,” he rumbles, shifting his weight to better reach your cunt. “Maker—you’re dripping already.”

There's a moment just before Boba commits, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, hot breath, anticipation gripping your chest. And then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your swollen clit.

His mouth Is searing, his tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his head. He grunts against you as you drag him closer—greedy for everything he deems you worthy of. Boba’s mouth pinpoints around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter—it’s a struggle not to shut them completely. He asked you to watch after all…

He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your entrance, skips over it completely to lick at the wetness dripping lower that threatens to pool onto the throne or the floor. He opens his mouth wide and hums in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life.

“Fuck—Boba,” you cry, canting your hips into his mouth.

It's perfect. So fucking good.

The tips of his thick fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the fluttering ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The two digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness, glinting in the low light. With a smirk, Boba thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that he refuses to stray from. It leaves you just hovering along the sharp edge of oblivion, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture. Stars—he’s going to be the death of you—

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thin air. It almost hurts.

“I told you to be patient,” Boba chuckles, massaging a warm palm along the outside of your thigh. “You’re behaving like a brat.”

“I’m—I—I’m sorry—“ You wheeze, trying to rope in some self control that fled a long time ago. Your wits are scrapped thin as you throw your hand against the back of the throne. You don’t care that he’s rendered you to a begging mess, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge—so near to those plush lips and weathered hands that’ll surely become your salvation. "Please! P-please—I need..."

You're babbling as he drags his fingertips over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your opposite thigh. "Boba. Fuck. I pro-promise to be better—I can do it. Please—“

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined plasma bolts. His mouth dips down and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight.

You're flying off you’re high, faster than a fucking speeder with tampered gears. You cum onto his tongue with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Boba keeps licking you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Stars implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jetfuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Boba, and feel the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.

Your brain swims in hazy bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. He takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a blade against flesh. Your thighs quiver around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves that wrenches a cry from you. Your orgasm floods through you veins, bursting and rupturing every cell in your being. This one is blistering—charrs all the way to the fucking bone. Your core pulses around Boba’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease into a dull throb. You whimper and push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick.

Boba leaves absolutely no time to completely float down from your high—you squeak as his hands shoot up to grab at your hips, wrenching you off the throne and all but throwing you onto the same floor he kneels on. You flash him a dopey grin, letting your legs fall open for his enjoyment—

“Such a filthy princess,” he chuckles, extending a hand to cover your knee, bending it further out to expose more of your flushed cunt. “You taste sweeter than star cherries.”

You preen at his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It earns you an amused huff. Boba scrapes the hand resting on your knee to the apex of your legs, thumb and forefinger gently parting your delicate, slick folds. You bite back a keening whine, utterly exposed to him as he slips the hood back from the throbbing knot of nerves at the top of your slit. Too raw. Your pussy clenches involuntarily, causing everything from your toes to your hips stiffen. Boba hums in delight at his handiwork.

“Stars, Boba—please…” You beg, voice breathy and soft like whips of spider silk. Boba makes a sound that oozes with smug pleasure, teasing your sore clit with unadulterated glee. “Please,” you hear yourself whimper over your pounding pulse, shifting in his grasp and praying he’ll put an end to this sickly sweet torture.

“Pretty little thing, begging for my cock…” He rasps, darkly threaded sin and the husky scrape of the gray sea licking up jagged, black rock. You’re certain he could talk you into unraveling at the seams, untouched and putty in his hands for him to mold and shape. Boba’s other hand sweeps up your sternum, his fingertips dancing along the mythosaur pendant coiled around your neck. He then curls his thick fingers around the base of your throat and ever so lightly squeezes. “Poor baby—all worked up after a few days…I’ll fix that for you.”

Before you can fully process, he grabs the swell of your hip and flips you onto your belly. The air from your lungs is knocked out of your chest, the abrasive sandstone bitting into the points of your elbows and patches of your skin and no doubt leaving behind irritated scrapes. You hear the shuffle of fabric and then Boba suddenly seizes your hips and arches them into his crotch, grinding the deliciously hard length of his cock through your wet folds. Throbbing and just as desperate as you are, Boba refrains from flinging you into another bout of teasing. He slicks himself up with your arousal and drags the tip of himself to your clenching center and sinks that first, glorious inch inside of you.

With a low groan, Boba pushes in deeper, watching your tight hold flutter and accommodate his thick length. It’s the same as before during that night in the cantina—dreadfully full and all but bursting at the seems. The gentle rocks of his hips and gravelly praise eventually allow him to finally bottom out, his sharp hipbones resting against the swell of your ass as you shudder and groan. Fuck—

You can feel him in your fucking guts.

Boba grants you a brief moment to settle and then—it’s catastrophic.

Your jaw drops in a silent scream when he pulls back, all the way to the tip and slams back into your tight heat. Boba’s hand tangles into your hair at the nape of your neck and and pulls, forcing your back into a sharp arch. The action leaves more of you open, somehow pressing in even further. He hits so deeply within you—stars it feels like he’s splitting you open and laying you bare.

His dark chuckle resonates above you—a bit breathy as he tames his own frazzled nerves. “Shit—that feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

Your incoherent babble makes him laugh as he gives your hair a playful tug, all the while he never stops thrusting in and out of you. You wiggle your hips, the slight shift makes it ache, and the sharp downward thrusts put delirious pressure on that patch of nerves that renders you dizzy. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s a tightly spooled cable, fraying and an inch away from snapping. Your gasping breaths pitch into airy squeaks as the fist twisted in your hair tightens, tugging your head back just a bit more.

Boba lurches foreword, the nip of beskar a frigid shock to the bare skin of your back when he lays over you, his elbows caging you in close. His head drops onto your shoulder blade, pressing sloppy kisses over the arch of your throat and slope of your shoulder—without warning he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck. Maker save you—

The feral drag of Boba’s teeth digging into your sensitive flesh skin makes you squeeze around his cock—Boba answers with a soft growl that vibrates against the skin of your shoulder. Somehow he fucks into you harder, his pace becoming brutal. Your nails scrabble against the floor, searching for some sort of anchor as you wail under him.

It’s too much—fuck, you’re gonna implode. Pinned between the rough sandstone and the hand in in your hair, mixed with the sharp pain of his teeth marring your skin—you loose it. Sensing your peaking orgasm, Boba’s fingers wedge between your legs to toy with your clit. He rubs quick circles with two fingers as he purrs words of filth into your ear—how good his pretty thing is for him, how well you came for him, how tight you are.

“There you go, little one,” Boba says, his words like a tendril of dark smoke. “Cum for your king.”

His efforts are quickly rewarded as you shudder and lock up harder than durasteel beneath him. A blinding surge of vicious heat, knocks you clean off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs as your nails dig into the sandstone—trembling and grappling blindly for a foothold in your own head. The cold chest plate is a much needed anchor for the overwhelming intensity that threatens to drown you and bury you six fix under.

He bites down again when he cums, his hips digging into you with short, rough jabs. “Fuck—you take me so well.” You squirm, feeling his cock throb and spill into you, making the mess between your legs smear over your thighs. His thrusts stutter to a stop as he sighs deeply and pulls out, a mixture of his cum and your arousal spilling onto the floor. Boba huffs above you, drags a finger through your swollen folds and pushes it back inside of you. “Good girl.”

You shiver—reduced to a useless puddle with no intent from moving off the floor as Boba’s weight moves away. You could sleep here—that’s something completely plausible you think. Nice, warm dirt—

Boba purrs your name—the sound piquing your interest enough that you overcome the heaviness that’s settled in your body and move your head. He’s returned to his throne, cheeks a bit flushed and his chest rising and falling to recover precious air. You watch as Boba peels off his cuirass with practiced ease, and lays it with care onto the floor. He murmurs your name a second time and pats his lap, coaxing you off the floor.

You happily slither onto his thighs, exhausted and all too eager to be swept up into the warmth of his arms. He grunts as you tuck your head under his chin and cuddle into his chest, relishing the rough scrape of his palms folding over your shoulder and the outside of your thigh. His soft breaths tickle the top of your head paired with the quiet, but steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your fingertips and ear pressed onto his sternum. Your eyes flutter shut and though a hushed silence falls over the room, there’s nothing to be said.

Boba tucks his nose into your hair and you smile, the slow speak of your heart unraveling into a lush garden of something new and brittle—like flakes of frost in the early morning sun. He’s more bruise than bleed nowadays—a wound closed then reopened and he promises nothing of a future beyond what you have in these moments. And yet—

You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

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#here we Go HERE we GO #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #the mandalorian #the mandalorian s2 #fennec shand #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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hyunjilicious · 4 years

Text

size [henry cavill]

A/n: this is reuploaded from one of my side blogs which I will no longer use. I’m posting it again over here because I really like it and I think it would be a shame to let it get lost in the void.

Summary: there isn’t too much plot. just 1.2k of mostly size kink (+ some daddy kink bc I’m a hoe)

“...of molecules. And even then, if we zoom in, we’ll see that a molecule is made out of atoms. But it doesn’t stop there either, an atom, which is mostly empty space, is made up out of electrons, which in turn…”

“Y/n!” Henry’s slightly amused tone reached your ears, making your head snap in his direction, abandoning the TV screen.

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean, ‘yeah’?” he laughed out loud.

Only then did you register the full picture. Legs bare above the fluffy socks you bought for him, Henry stood before you, a black mug in tow. He was wearing an old pair of worn out sweatpants and a T-shirt which was probably big enough to fit the both of you. The epitome of cuteness.

“Sorry” you shook your head, and pointed to the TV, “I didn’t hear what you said”

Taking a deep breath, Henry closed his eyes in defeat, before using his left foot to nudge you against your thigh, “Move”

“Why?”

“Been wanting to watch this for hours!”

“Then sit on the couch” you taunted, pointing to the side as you cuddled deeper into the armchair - his armchair. The one you just claimed for the day.

“Are you serious?” he asked, head falling to the side, already anticipating the answer you were going to give him.

“Yes!”

“Fine, then”

With a determined shake of his head, Henry placed his mug on the coffee table, and turned to you, the look in his eyes signaling it was your last chance. Determined to stand your ground you shrugged, and averted your gaze, returning to the documentary.

“...energy in the form of strings…”

“If you wanna be like that-” Henry puffed, shamelessly lodging his arms under your frame.

“What are you-”

As if feather light in his hold, he picked you up, and crawled behind you, slumping down into his favorite chair, with you now in his lap. With his arms still around you, you allowed yourself to sink into his chest, his broad shoulders towering above you.

“In my defense-” you laughed, “I thought you were going to make me sit on the couch”

“Unlike you, my love” Henry taunted, speaking lewdly into your ear, “I actually like cuddling you”

“Oh, shut up” you scoffed, making yourself more comfortable.

He gently parted his legs, his massive thighs framing yours perfectly. It seemed as though you were both finally paying attention to the documentary, but when Henry placed his right hand in your lap, your eyes snapped downwards. Completely dismissing the intricate explanation of the newest discovery regarding string theory, you intertwined your fingers with his.

A deep grumble erupted from Henry’s chest, as his chuckle shook your whole frame. He turned his hand upside down, your palm now laying on top of his’.

“I fucking love how tiny your hands can be” he laughed, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Giggling as his stubble tickled your skin, you turned to look at him over your shoulder, “Why?”

“Makes my cock look bigger” he joked, kissing the spot behind your ear that made all the hairs on your body stand up.

“As if you need anything to make it look bigger”

“You love daddy’s massive cock, don’t you, baby girl?” Henry grinned, tilting your chin so his eyes could meet yours.

“Maybe”

“Oh” he exclaimed, “Maybe, she said”

With your cheeks burning from the inside, you gathered your legs in front of your chest, hiding your face against your knees. Not that you weren’t fully on board with the topic of conversation, but even after all this time, he still managed to bring alive the butterflies in your stomach. You were weak for him no matter what he did, but when he was completely wrapped around you, grinning down at you as you sank into his hold, your mind fully betrayed you.

“The way you fit perfectly into my lap drives my wild, baby girl”

“I fit into everyone’s lap” you laughed, referencing all the times Henry made fun of just how small you were compared to him.

“Fuck everyone else” he shook his head, “It’s only daddy’s lap for you”

Mid-giggle, you pushed yourself up and cupped his cheek, kissing his lips over your shoulder.

You knew just what it did to him. Now you were in a mood.

Just when he was about to get things to go further, the teasing side of you awoke, and you placed your hand on his cheek, turning his head back to the TV. “We’re missing the best part”

“Best part!?” Henry exclaimed, playfully enraged, “I don’t even know what we’re watching!”

“Educate yourself” you joked, slapping his thigh as you stood up.

“Where are you going?” he whined, his arms flying after you.

“Just getting my phone”

“No” Henry said sternly, “Get back here, kitten”

For a second, you actually thought about it, “Nope”

“Kitten…” he said in such a menacing tone, you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

You watched his frown, and when he tilted his head to the side, his gaze begging the question, you sent him the sweetest smile you could muster, before bolting.

As you rushed out of the living room, you heard the arm chair creak, and Henry’s heavy footsteps, hot on your trail. You barely got a chance to pass the threshold of your bedroom before he reached up to you, his frame colliding against yours.

It threw you off balance, but he managed to secure an arm around your waist and keep you from falling, despite being literally inches away from the bed.

“Oh, how I love it when you ask for it, angel” his grin said everything.

With your breath cut short, you looked up at him, his hungry stare fueling the pain between your legs. Without another word, Henry wrapped his arm around your hips, and threw you on the bed, before climbing on top of you.

Forcing some of his weight on top of you, Henry had you pinned into the mattress, with no way of escaping. His satisfaction was readable on his lips, and your heart ached for the way he was looking down at you.

“What are you gonna do now, hm?” he taunted, his tone reflecting the pride he felt when he had you completely vulnerable in front of him, “cause I’m not letting you go”

Gathering your lips between your teeth, you nodded your head no, unable to hide the excitement you had running through your veins.

If he suspected it until now, this was as good of a confirmation as any. “You like it, don’t you, baby girl?” Henry smirked, moving to tease an answer out of you by kissing down your neck, “Having no power?”

Following his question, he gently grabbed your chin and tilted your head to the side, further moving on to kiss across unexplored skin.

“When I’m in control?”

You nodded a shy yes, hooking your arms around his shoulders. He hovered above you, his immense thighs forcing your legs open and blocking any way for you to try and release some of the pressure that was torturing your core.

Arching your back from the pure pleasure his lips inflicted upon you, you tried to sneak one of your hands between your bodies, but he was quick to object.

“No, kitten” Henry grunted, pinning your arms above your head, “You do as I say. Don’t try anything, you know you have no choice. Be a good little girl for daddy, ok. Now you’re mine to do as I please”

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