#literally vibrating on the edge of my seat

[crybaby-bkg]

I’m finally going to go see across the spider verse and baybe. PREPARE‼️TO BE SICKA ME ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[hazelfoureyes]

Hello! Not sure if you're taking requests, so do ignore this if you feel like it.

I adore your work sm!! Rewatching the Stayed Gone mv, Vox had a picture of a bootleg Alastor and pointing to his microphone were the words "dildo?"

Do you think you could write an Alastor x Reader, or just Alastor pleasuring himself with the microphone? (That sounds weird now-)

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

-🍺

Good Vibrations

the way I immediately knew what to do is proof of my depravity. I know it isn’t exactly what you meant but this is what I’m comfortable with writing. This was a quick little 30 minute write, I hope it still brings you joy 🎙️

After you make an offhand comment about doubting if his microphone actually works, Alastor finds a creative way to convince you while at dinner with the group.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, erotic but not smut?, smut is explicit, this is just horny, the microphone does in fact work, vibrator

Rarely was Alastor without his microphone. Even Vox made note of it. But, his voice sounded like it came from his mouth. Sure there was a radio affect to it, but he was a demon after all. You couldn’t figure out how it worked. Or rather, if it worked.

As you all waited to take your seats for dinner, Niffty having turned out to be a surprisingly good cook, you were caught staring.

“Is there something I can do for you?”, Alastor leaned down to meet your eyeline.

You blinked, “Oh, sorry. Just wondering if that even works.”

“If what works?”

“Your microphone.”

He knew it worked, of course. But your question felt… offensive. “Do you think I’d carry a functionless microphone around?”

Without hesitation you replied, “I do, yes.”

“Oh absolutely!” Angel pushed between you two.

“You do have a flare for the dramatic, boss.” Husk took his seat beside Angel.

Charlie nervously scratched her cheek, “I always wondered that too! But it worked in Cannibal Town, so I’m a believer now.”

“But wait-,” Vaggie looked to Charlie, “If it worked when you put it to your mouth why doesn’t he have to? It’s literally everywhere but his mouth.”

Alastor’s forced grin strained against this cheeks, black gums showing. You gave him a shrug and joined the group. He took his seat opposite you, pulling his chair in all the way.

You’d already forgotten the conversation when you felt something graze across your lap. Before you could investigate, Alastor spoke, “Why don’t we all say what we did today! I’ll go first!” Your knees shot up, knocking the table as a strong vibration lit up your crotch.

Vaggie leaned in, “You good?”

Slowly, eyes wide, you looked up to meet Alastor’s wicked smile.

“I went downtown to grab a fresh cut of venison. Niffty makes the best venison roast this side of Pentagram City.” You white knuckled the edge of the table, glancing down to see the microphone resting between your thighs. The top was nestled firmly above your mound.

“Hmmm what else? Oh! I got some deviled eggs. My, what a treat. My mother made the best deviled eggs. You know-,” as he droned on, you tried to push your chair away from the table. “Ah ah! It’s so rude to leave while someone is speaking.” He leaned back, foot reaching under the table to hook around your chair’s leg and pull you forward.

“Aww Al, you never talk so much! This is great. What else did you do today?” Charlie rested her cheek on her hand, eyes sparkling at Alastor.

“I am so glad you asked! Let me think, hmmmmm” He drew out the consonant, the sound making a rougher vibration than others. You were hunched over the table, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet. “Oh I went to— what is it called again? Ummmmm,” Your leg shot up again, the silverware clanking against your plate.

“Will you just fucking say it?!” You spit it out louder than you meant.

“Woah! That’s not very nice.” Charlie gave you a disappointed look, pulling a groan from you, “What’s gotten into you?”

Angel looked over to you, “You doin’ alright? You’re like… sweatin’.”

“What indeed, Charlie. Well, anyway! I think I’ve made my point!” You felt the weight of the microphone slide down your thighs and past your knees. You took in a deep breath, finally able to relax your body.

“You’re pretty pale…”, Husk commented, “You sick or something?”

Angel pushed your hair from your forehead, “That face looks so familiar.”

Before you could answer, Alastor opened his mouth, “I think she should lie down. Allow me to escort you to bed, my dear.”

“You are so sweet today! I love it! Fuck yeah!” Charlie punched the air. Alastor came behind you and pulled your chair back for you. “Take your time, if she’s sick maybe she shouldn’t be alone.”

“If you say so!” Alastor practically sang the words. With both hands on your shoulders, he guided you out of the room.

“He’s the best.” Charlie beamed, “Alright whose next?”

༻Masterlist༺

[ayeyolooo]

DRIFT

PLEASE READ THE WARNING BEFOFE INTERACTING WITH THE STORY!

Warning! Y/n is black!! I write for black readers if you didn’t know already. But anyone can feel free to read this! Connie and eren are Hispanic, and me not knowing how to speak Spanish like at alll unfortunately I have to use the translator💔. Please bare with with y’all😭. There will be an oc :) oh and please excuse my grammatical errors! <3

“Y/n will you be able to come to this race? Cause we don’t have a fourth.” Your friend begged you over the phone. “Kasa, you know ion race no more like that.” You said laying your edges down. Even though you were saying all of this, you were getting ready so that you could race.

“But y/n please please please please.” You just sighed. “Fine.” You said with a giggle. “Yayy omg when you come I’m going to literally kiss you everywhere.” She said as wind blew having the phone make noise on mikasa’z end. “Okay just call me when you get here y/n.” Mikasa said before handing up. You just sighed as you grabbed your purse and walked out the house. You checked and made sure that you had your cash on you cause you had to pay to enter a race.

You unlocked the door and walked up to your purple sports car. It was a little on the older side but that’s what made it unique and exciting. You dragged your hand across the door as you opened it and sat down in the car. You began to pray before you drove off and to the race site.

“Whew.” You sighed before pulling up. When you pulled up no one could see who you were due to your tents being dark. Your engine roared catching the attention of the other racers. Mikasa turned around quickly knowing that you were there because she knew the sound of your car. She and Sasha squealed and jumped up and down with eachother before walking over to your car.

“Kasa who is that?” Jean asked as mikasa opened your door. “One of my friends what will be the fourth today.” She simply said with a large smile on her face.

“Se van a avergonzar.” Connie said with a snort. You just smiled and ran your tongue across your teeth. Eren, ony, and armin all just laughed.

They’re going to embarrass themselves.

“Would you like to show them whose driving?” Mikasa said as she leaned over your car. “Nahhh.” You said shaking your head and smiling revealing your smiley piercing. “Okay we’ll good luck y/n.” Mikasa said taking the was of cash from your hands and pecking your cheek. She closed your door back and walked over to the boys to collect their money too.

“Bru he driving that girl ahh car. How they gone win?” Connie cackled. “Choke.” Mikasa said before taking his money. “When we beat them mikasa you gone have to give us our money back plus $1,000.” Mikasa shrugged. “Mmhm yeah that’s if y’all win.” She said nonchalantly. “Whatchu mean by that?” Mikasa just shrugged.

“When she beat y’all don’t come crying to me,cause y’all was doing all of that talking.” Mikasa shrugged and walked back to the little booth. “SHE!?” All of the boys asked in confusion. They all looked over to your car trying to get s glimpse of how you looked hut couldn’t due to your tents. “READY!” Your adrenaline began to pump. You forgot how good it felt when you were about to race.” You pressed your foot on the gas reviving your engine. You turned on your radio having TBH by party next door come to and end and welcome to the party, by party next door started playing.

The bass from the music blasted in your speakers having your seat vibrate and you just smiled at this exciting moment.

You smiled at the sounds of the other cars. “SET!” You rolled your windows down as you just kept your focus on the road ahead of you. You felt eyes starring at you on the right side of your face. They seen your beautiful brown skin and your red lace wig that complimented your skin.

“GO!” Everyone took off. You turned your music up loud as you smoothly drove past three cars. You were in second place, being that the one with E.Y on the back of his car was in the front. Hm..

There was a turn incoming you stepped on the break and grabbed the clutch having a smooth drift. Due to eren having a slight mess up you flew infront of him. You went around the track two more times before crossing the finish line, having eren after you, and ony after.

You just got out leaning on your car waiting for everyone to finish. Mikasa walked up to you and the both of you smiled and she squealed. “You did yo shit once and againnnnn.” Mikasa said as the both of you laughed. “Yk I had to show out for my gurl.” You said winking at her.

This was sitting in my drafts for a while 💀. Anyways Jesus loves you ml <3

[l0v3tast3]

plz write a lil something for pervy older bf! toji <3

i got halfway through writing this and then decided i didn't like it and started all over so that's why this took awhile lmao but i loved writing this ＼(≧▽≦)／ i love nasty mean but in a nice way toji he's just so. mwah he's so hot i'd let him mooch off of me

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, age gap (reader is 18/19 + toji is late 30s/early 40s), public s3x, toys, edging, size difference, size kink, toji records n takes pics of u, praise kink, degradation, toji uses ur underwear as a gag, bondage, overstimulation, lil bit of obsessive!toji

✎ word count: 1.3k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!toji who takes you out on dates just to show you off. you'll whine about how people always stare at the two of you and give you judgmental looks, but toji just shushes you and tells you to put on a pretty dress.

✧ ˖ ° he always makes sure you get a booth in the back of the restaurant and takes his phone out as soon as you're both seated. dinner always starts with him opening the app that controlled the vibrator that keeps nudging against your clit, but he only turns it on when your server comes to talk to you (unless there's a booth next to you with people in it, then he tortures you with it).

✧ ˖ ° of course toji doesn't make you cum with it, not for the entire time he drags out dinner. "so impatient to leave, do y'not wanna spend time with me, doll? we're havin' such a good time right now! hm, wha'd'ya think, should we get dessert? they have that cake you like, look!" he watches you squirm with a smile, pretending he's oblivious to your little whines and pleading eyes.

✧ ˖ ° once you're finally done he nearly shoves you into the backseat of his car, pulling you over his lap, pressing his hand flat over your back to keep you lying down. your little dress is hiked up and underwear pushed to the side. the vibrator falls onto his lap while he shoves two thick fingers into you, leaning down to speak in a hushed, condescending tone.

✧ ˖ ° "ya just can't shut up, can ya princess? poor bastard had a fuckin' hard-on the second he saw your face. heh, can't blame him, i got such a pretty baby. y'just can't cover up how you're feelin', do i gotta start trainin' you on how to be quiet? that'd be fun, wouldn't it?"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!toji who's camera roll is mostly pictures and videos taken of him fucking you, fingering you, you dressed up for him, you trying to suck his dick... any way he has ever had you, he has something to remember it with (he will literally delete apps to make more storage for you).

✧ ˖ ° he loves it when you get camera shy; he thinks it's adorable and showers you in praise while he tells you to smile around the fingers he shoves in your mouth. whenever you even look like you think the pictures and videos won't look good, he carries you over to the nearest mirror and fucks you in front of it until you admit just how gorgeous you are. it delights toji that that's your biggest problem with it, not that he had unending amounts of porn with you as the star on his phone.

✧ ˖ ° there's videos of everything. his favorites are the ones where you're absolutely brainless, covered in sweat and his cum, your pretty makeup ruined with tears and smeared on the sheets. toji always makes sure his phone picks up the obscene noises of his dick driving in and out of you while you arch your back and weakly press your hands against his abs. "so beautiful like this f'me, all for me, my little girl, y'gonna cum again? fuck- haa, c'mon princess, cum all over my cock, shit! so fuckin' tight, y'look so pretty cumming all over my cock, think this is the best one we got yet!"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!toji who occasionally shows up at your window in the middle of night, jamming himself through it while you're whisper-shouting that your parents are asleep down the hall. he's already got his hands on you, though, and it doesn't take long before he's balling up your underwear and shoving it into your mouth, already having you on the floor so he can eat you out. whenever you get too noisy he'll stop, pinching your thigh or your ass and asking you if you really wanted your parents to find a man the same age as them fucking you with his tongue.

✧ ˖ ° and he isn't nice when he finally buries himself balls deep in you, either. he'll flip you over and lift you by your neck until you're kneeling with your back pressed into his chest. one hand covers your entire lower face, making sure to muffle the whiny moans you can't help letting out, while the other goes down to your clit to rub tight circles into it.

✧ ˖ ° there's always a tiny bit of panic in the way you claw at his unyielding arms because toji always faces you straight towards your door (which, of course, doesn't lock). he finds it just so darling how you lean your head back to look up at him with a mix of worry and overwhelming pleasure. he just grins and coos down at you, patting his fingers against your cheek a little too roughly.

✧ ˖ ° "'s okay sweetie, y'just gotta be quiet f'me, can ya do that? gonna be a good little girl, right? hm, what, is rubbin' your clit too much? i don't care, sweetie, you're gonna take what i give ya. hah, really gonna cum already? pussy's already so fuckin' wet, they're gonna wake up just from me fuckin' ya, princess!"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!toji who practically has you move in with him. he just loves his pretty baby so much, he wants to be around you all the time! he'll keep you for days at a time, making you lie to your parents about being with different friends (he makes you sit in his lap and fingers you while you're on the phone with them).

✧ ˖ ° it's not kidnapping, per say, but every time you mention going home you somehow end up with your hands tied to his headboard. if he suspects you're still even thinking about leaving, he edges you for nearly an hour until you're crying, promising him you won't leave through whines and hiccups.

✧ ˖ ° he'll leave indents of his teeth in your soft skin as he comes up to you, his titan-sized body blocking you from seeing or feeling anything else but him as he starts pushing into you. the smile that spreads across his face when you nearly cum as his balls pressed into your ass is just sadistic, even more so as he watches you squirm and struggle against your bindings.

✧ ˖ ° "aw, poor baby, y'want me to untie your hands? y'wanna touch me? i don't think ya deserve to, y'were so mean, sayin' ya wanted to leave. really hurt my feelings, princess," he says, cupping your face and rubbing the tears from your cheeks. his hips are moving back and forth so slowly, just slow enough that it keeps you right on the edge, and his grin nearly hurts as he looks down at your glazed eyes and bitten lips. "think ya deserve to now, sweetie? did ya learn your lesson?"

✧ ˖ ° toji listens to you babble apologies, "'m gonna be- be good, promise toji- ah-h, promise, i promise, please!" over and over until he decides to take pity on you. he'll draw his hips back one more time being he's slamming into you, sitting up so he can grip onto your thighs as leverage to fuck into you roughly. you're cumming in seconds, body spasming as your eyes roll back and every part of you is overwhelmed by the behemoth of a man using your body as a fucktoy.

✧ ˖ ° he won't stop until you nearly pass out, stuffing load after load of thick cum into your abused pussy and berating you when it spills out. at the end of it all, when he's coming down from his last high and you're coming back to semi-consciousness, he'll kiss your forehead and murmur that he hopes you learned your lesson.

[tropicalszns]

Choso is literally 😩 I had a scenario in my head where reader treats Choso so gentle and teases him to the point where it’s even in public not in a mean way but it is slightly embarrassing and once they got home it was like a switch flipped for his personality anddddddd I’ll let you come up with the rest

WHAT A TEASE !

pairing: choso x black!fem!reader ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

꒰ SYNOPSIS

you tease choso too much in public, it’s only fair if he teased you back. (he edges u)

꒰ CONTENT CONTAINS

NSFW! edging, teasing— lots of it, sex toy (vibrator), one orgasm (f), fingering (f receiving), oral (f), spanking, nipple play, orgasm denial, ooc choso.

꒰ WORD COUNT

1,644

꒰ AUTHORS NOTE

every time i open tumblr i pray for days where choso isn’t a subby princess with a mommy kink. #savechoso, sorry for late post i literally had no motivation lowk cries

YOU DIDN’T mean to constantly tease and turn Choso on. After all, you were just teasing. You were both riding in the car to head to a dinner gathering to meet up with friends, and you decided to poke at him for a bit. His hands were on the wheel, his attention focused on the road on he felt your hand sliding onto his thigh. “Hm?” Choso hummed, he quickly glanced at you. “Something’s wrong?” He asked. You didn’t reply, rubbing his thighs a bit more sensually. You knew how sensitive he was, how much he loved your touch, and you used that to your advantage.

Choso let out whines, trying to move his hips so you could touch him where he wanted it the most, but you wouldn’t. It felt like torture, pure torture. “Baby— if you’re gonna touch me, do it, please.” He pleaded. It was like he was losing focus on the road, he had to adjust himself in his seat more than several times to drive properly. “Don’t you think you’re being too needy?” You replied, that was such an evil question.

“I’m.. I don’t think I am.” He kept his eyes on the road, taking a harsh gulp down the throat. You smiled— you smiled in his face as he had a raging boner in his pants that you couldn’t get rid of. “So then, just wait until we get home?” You insisted, but obviously Choso didn’t want to. “Baby.. I—“ he huffed, he felt somewhat annoyed but he could wait a couple hours, right? “Fine.. I guess.” You simply giggled at his answer, “Good.”

Once you both got into the restaurant, you began greeting your friends and doing the usual, catching up and chatting it up. You noticed that Choso was being extra quiet, something he usual was but— never this much. You didn’t let that bother you though, maybe it was just because he was pent up from the car ride incident, he’ll be fine. It was time to dine, you sat down next to Choso, skimming through the food items. You glanced at Choso who had his cheek in his palm, reading the menu throughly. You felt a smirk creep up on your face, your hand reaching back to his thigh.

You could automatically see the switch on his face. He looked at you with both desire and confusion. He sat up in his sit, shifting it a bit closer to you. You played into it, rubbing on his thigh and eventually working your way up to his erection. A soft whine left his mouth, luckily everyone was too engulfed into their conversations they didn’t hear anything. Choso moved his lips to your ear, “Do you wanna go to the bathroom?” He asked, but you simply shook your head. “No.” Choso raised his brow, “But— baby, you’re touching me? You don’t wanna go to the bathroom?”he asked. You moved your hand away, “We are still waiting until we get home, remember?” You gave him a smile— an oh-so innocent smile. Choso frowned, moving his chair back to its original position. You only giggled at his despair. He was so hard, it was paining him. He just wanted you to stroke, maybe even suck his dick for a little, he was begging for something. Choso took a deep sigh, he just had a few more hours to go before you guys were about to home.

Conversations went on, you occasionally took a peek at Choso, he still didn’t speak, not much words besides, “Oh” or, “Ok”. It was pretty odd, but you knew it was because he wanted you to touch him. He looked adorable wanting your attention so bad, not even realizing it was pending him up real bad. You smiled at Choso, giving him a few squeezes on the thigh. “How are you hanging in there?” You let a few snickers leave your mouth. Choso grumbled, “Not funny.” He pouted, he wanted relief, but you have just been teasing him all day. He was beginning to get annoyed. In his mind, Choso was wondering about how he was going to tease you back. I mean— you tease him all the time, is it not fair if he does it back?

Soft hums of your vibrator vibrating on your sweet clit, your choked out moans and tears filled the room. Your nails dug into the sheets with your toes curling in pleasure. You tried holding onto Choso’s nearby arm, but that attempt was futile. Your hips bucked up wildly, your legs about to close from the stimulation. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” Choso cooed, you nodded. “Y-yes..” you were so close to feeling the blissful moment, the wave of pleasure wash over you— only to be quickly denied as he took the vibrator away. You were confused, sitting up slightly. “Huh?” You frowned, “Choso..? Why’d you stop?”

“Because you don’t deserve to cum yet,” he says. “You like teasing, right?” He turned off the vibrator and placed it next to him. “I can tease too.” You should’ve seen your face, you felt like all the color in you was gone. You knew you shouldn’t have teased him all day, it backfired hard on you. Now, you’re left to deal with the consequences of what you started. “It’s okay, baby. I know you can take it.” You were about to protest and apologize but a finger had already slipped inside of you. You didn’t have time to speak, no time to think before another finger had filled you. Choso used his free hand to cup your cheeks, watching how your mouth was open, your eyes half-lidded as you got fingered so good.

You tried to hold onto him again, but nothing helped. Barely any sounds came out of your mouth, “F- Fuck!” You began to squirm, but that didn’t stop him. “Choso! Please!—“ you didn’t know what you were pleading for, but you kept doing it. Your stomach tied into a knot, his aggressive, rough yet deep and sensual thrust with fingers sent you on edge. So close to releasing, he pulled his fingers out of you, once again. You felt tears trickle in your eyes. “Awh,” Choso coos, “do you wanna cum?” he mocks. You nod your head like the obedient girl you were, “Too bad.” He smiles, he smiled so innocently in your face. He uses his sloppy, soaked fingers to squeeze your boobs, making you cringe. You shuddered, you clit throbbing, begging for some stimulation.

“Please, Choso.” You begged. Choso didn’t care nor respond to your request. He pulled your body a little closer before putting his lips onto your erect nipples. Your breath hitched, with your face contorting in pure pleasure. He rubbed your other nipple with his thumb, your sweet moans seeping out of your mouth so easily. Your hands didn’t know where to go, you curled your hands into a fist, your legs trying to move you away from Choso’s warm and delectable mouth. “Stop moving.” He said a bit harshly, receiving a gentle yet still firm bite on your nipple, and a twist on the next. You gasped, your eyes opening from the pain. “M’sorry..” you quietly apologized, but you knew apologizing was too late. You had plenty of opportunities to apologize but you wanted to act like a brat, so you had to face the consequences.

Choso detached his mouth from your nipples with a pop, he watched your hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so desperate and needy, all for him. “Choso.. please, I won’t do it again.” You pouted, sniffling to get pity. “Mhm, yeah. You’re sorry?” He said in a mocking tone. He watched you nod your head, blabbing yes’s to get him to fuck you without denying your orgasms. He titled his head, giving your pussy a slap, you jolted and let a puff in shock. “You weren’t sorry when you kept teasing me in that restaurant, were you?” SMACK. You gripped onto his arm, “No, you don’t deserve to touch me.” Choso pushed your hand away. “You could take it like a good girl, right? Since you wanna tease so fuckin’ much.” Choso pushed you further into the bed, watching how your juices flowed onto the sheets. “You’re so dirty, such a dirty girl.

Choso scoffed, quickly bowing his head down to attach his mouth onto your pussy. He was nose deep, eating you out and he loved every second of it. Put your hands on Choso’s hair, trying to move him away but he only went faster. The stimulation was too much for you, you could barely speak. The air in your chest felt like it was being knocked out your lungs. His tongue flatten as he licked you cleaned, slurping up anything in his way. “Ch-Choso!” You tried to call for him, wanting him to slow down but he didn’t. You kept moving— a bit too much for his liking, so he put his hand on your stomach to hold you in place. Choso slid his tongue up and down, sucking on your clit before slithering a finger back inside you. Your hips bucked up from the knot in your stomach, your hands gripping into his hair tighter than before. “Cum.. M’gonna cum, please can I cum!” You pleaded with mercy.

Although Choso was having his fun teasing you, he felt bad for denying you for so long. “Cum, yeah— you can cum f’me.” He granted, you felt your thighs clench around the sides of his face. You had your head pushing back against the pillows as you let out a throaty groan, the exhilarating sensation taking over your body. You felt your pussy pulsating from your orgasm, panting heavily, your leg practically shaking from it. Choso looked up, soft huffs came out of his lips.

“Did I overdo it?”

©tropicalszns! please do not copy, steal, translate or repost my work without permission ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[ipseitydelrey]

if u ever get the motivation u should write an elle greenaway nsfw alphabet 👀👀👀

omg yesss, what better character to start out with than elle 🫶

nsfw alphabet ☆ elle greenaway

ship elle greenaway x afab!reader

warnings smutty smut smut, oral (giving and receiving), sex toys (dildos, strap-ons, vibrators), biting, mommy kink, masturbation, rough sex, slight exhibitionism, edging, quickies

a/n fun fact: in my textbook for my ethics in psych course, there are these small fictional case studies that you have to read and i kid you not, one of the names for an unethical therapist was "dr. romeo quickie." anyways, enjoy~

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

sometimes when she's feeling a little energetic after sex, she cleans you up with a warm washcloth. but most of the time, you just fall asleep in each other's arms while she whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)

she loves her mouth. she quickly noticed that whenever she talks, your eyes tend to fall to her lips and usually she would just say "my eyes are up here, babe." she also loves how her mouth anywhere on your skin just makes you want to do anything for her.

as for you, elle loves your thighs. whenever you two are sitting beside each other, maybe at a restaurant or on the couch watching tv, she tends to gently squeeze your thigh and rub her thumb on your skin. when she goes down on you, she loves to kiss and bite the inside of your thighs.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

she wants to make you cum before she does so herself. her favourite place to cum on is your face, especially when she sits on it and has you eat her out.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

she knows how to lap dance...and she's damn good at it.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

oh no doubt about it. with both men and women too! in fact, even if you're also quite experienced, she definitely has a thing or two about sex to teach you.

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

she loves sitting on your face. although of course, she also likes to seat you on her thigh and have you pleasure yourself by grinding against her.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

she's definitely more serious; her focus is all on you and how to make you feel good. rarely she would make jokes, but during aftercare, she's definitely cracking small sarcastic jokes.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

she does shave, but she has a small patch of hair that she keeps well-trimmed.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

no rose petals, candles, etcetera, but she is tender and loving, even when she's rough. she's huge on consent, so she always makes sure you're okay with something and praises you when you say yes/no.

J= jack off (masturbation headcanon)

when she's away from you (or vice versa), she touches herself once or twice before she (or you) comes back. although sometimes she would send you videos of her masturbating. of course, if you send her nudes, she can't help it.

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

she's more of a top, but would be willing to bottom. she also loves marking you with hickies, bites, and more. she likes putting them in places only she can see and kissing them, sometimes even biting the marks to make you writhe.

L = location (favourite places to have sex)

cars. she loves how cramped they can be because it makes you two closer together. it can also get quite heated (literally) and sweaty, and she loves how you can potentially be caught.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

whenever you wear her clothes, especially dresses, she's turned on. she loves seeing you in her clothes (and she loves it even more when she takes them off of you). oh, and when you stand up to a bigot? she praises you for your confidence and absolutely rewards you for how strong you are.

N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

elle would never hit or hurt you at all. she also would never do edgeplay (i.e. guns and knives). as someone who regularly deals with unsubs, she doesn't want to put you in any danger that could remind her of anything she herself has been through.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

let's be real: elle greenaway is a pussy eating god. she eats you out like a woman starved, and damn it feels so good. and yes, while she does love receiving, she loves giving you as much pleasure as possible.

P= pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

she loves being rough and fast because it makes you loud, but when she slows down, you can bet that it's to edge and make you beg for more.

Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

although she doesn't particularly favour it, quickies are quite common on account of how much she's away with the b.a.u.. she does make the most out of it though, because she does like going fast, but she still prefers to take her time and make you cum again and again.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

knowing elle, she's all about risks. sometimes on days where you're visiting the b.a.u., she likes to tease you by small innuendoes and putting her pen near her mouth. when it's apparent you're hot and bothered, she takes you to the bathroom and eats your pussy out while you struggle to keep your moans to yourself.

S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)

oh tons and tons of naughty texts are exchanged (phone calls too, which can sometimes escalate to phone sex). pics are definitely sent. when you started sending each other provocative pics, it began with tasteful pictures (clothed or if not clothed, covered with hands; cleavage, thighs, ass, etc.), but over time they escalated to full on nudes.

T= toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

strap-ons are elle's go to for pleasuring you (aside from using her tongue). she has a couple different kinds of dildos that she loves to use on you. she also uses vibrators, both on herself and you.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

elle loves to tease and edge you. it's so attractive to her when you beg her to let you cum or touch you. of course, she doesn't want to make it torturous for you, so she has you grind against her mouth/hands/strap-on until you're close...at which point she gives you what you want and makes you orgasm.

V= volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

she moans more than she whimpers. and while she isn't particularly loud, she makes it apparent that she's having a good time by having the sweetest wanton moans.

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

as someone who loves control, elle would love it if you decide to be the one in control for a night. she wants you to feel powerful and dominating in the bedroom (she mostly just wants you to ride her face).

X= x-ray (what's going on behind those panties)

again, small patch of hair she keeps neat and trimmed. other than that, her pussy is pretty and you love eating her out.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

with you, sort of medium to slightly high, but when she's away, high as can be. she misses you dearly when she's without you, so when she comes back, be prepared to not walk tomorrow. regularly she can go two to four rounds and she can definitely last a good while.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

she always makes sure you're comfortable and asleep before going to sleep herself. she cares for your wellbeing and wants you to know how much she appreciates and cares for you so after you have sex, you tend to fall asleep to the sound of her softly whispering "good girl, you're so amazing, you did wonderful..."

[captainfern]

OMGOMGOMG!!! I’m anon who requested the ‘Nevermind’ fic WHICH I LOVED BTW 😝😝 But it got me thinkin’

Captain price who eats reader out but reader is standing up and their legs get too weak to stand so price with his big ol’ man arms holds you up while eating you out 😞😞

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Nevermind pt. 2

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Nevermind” Album by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - what the request says lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 1k • warnings - fem!reader, oral [f!receiving], strong language

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reader is implied to be chubbier but my non chubby babes can eat this up too x

porn starts straight under the cut just saying lmao

Anytime your captain ate you out, it was usually in a position that you were entirely comfortable with.

His bed, the first option. He’d strip you of your uniform while he was still fully clothed, laying you gently across his mattress and spreading your legs to reveal your aching core. His eyes would be on your cunt— your hole dripping with arousal and fluttering pathetically around nothing. Then, he’d lean down and lick a slow, heavy stripe up your folds, gently caressing your plush thighs with his large hands.

Your bed, the second option. A bit riskier being situated just a wall away from both Soap and Gaz, so you often found yourself biting into your pillow as your captain fucked your cunt with his tongue from behind. It felt lewder this way. The wet sounds making your face warm, and Price’s soft grunts making your cunt produce an embarrassing amount of arousal. His hands would knead the flesh of your arse, rubbing at your hips, fingers trailing along your stretch marks.

His office, the third option. Fun, but dangerous, considering he was your captain and anyone on the task force could knock on the door and ask to speak with him. The thrill would make your stomach flip as you sat on the edge of his desk with your legs across his shoulders, his face buried between your thighs, nose nudging your clit and tongue thrusting deeper and deeper. You’d tug at his hair, whining and moaning his name, and he’d shush you with his mouth still on your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll.

One of the armoured cars, the fourth option. As unprofessional as it sounds, it proved convenient thrice in the past. You’d simply lay back against the rear seats, head against the bulletproof window, as Price curled himself between your legs. He’d rub at the soft cellulite of your thighs as he sucked on your clit, fingers buried to the knuckle in your sopping cunt. His hips would rut into the fabric seats to ease the pressure building in his cock, the vehicle rocking gently.

A safe house on a mission, the fifth option. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but being in a safe house alone with Price almost always ended in the two of you fucking. Most recently, you’d practically dived on him, riding his face for your own adrenaline-fuelled pleasure, rocking your cunt onto his mouth and nose. You moaned as he licked through your folds and made you cum three times, lapping up every single drop.

Sometimes, none of these options presented themselves. A pity when your core was throbbing, and you could literally feel yourself dripping into your underwear. Watching Price work and train, getting all sweaty and barking orders at people, made you squeeze your thighs together, cunt pulsing with its own heartbeat.

Times like these created a sixth option.

You were so tired from training. Your legs felt like jelly, your head was on the brink of a headache, and your arms trembled as you raised your drink bottle to your lips.

But, somehow, you were horny. How the fuck?

You wanted Price. You wanted your captain. Wanted his mouth sliding between the warmth of your thighs. Wanted his tongue gliding in and out of your slick hole. Wanted his nose pressing to your swollen, sensitive clit.

But you were so, so tired.

Luckily for you, Price was strong. And he wanted to taste you just as badly as you wanted him.

So, that’s where the sixth option came from. You, legs sore from continuous training, draped uselessly over Price’s broad shoulders. Your back was flush to the shower wall, cold tiles searing the hot skin of your back. The shower water was warm against your bare skin, the hiss of the pipes, your soft whimpers and his deep grunts echoing around the empty locker room.

Price had you pinned to the wall, holding you up across his large shoulders, using his strong hands to keep your hips steady and press your pelvis towards his face. He groped your thighs, moaning loudly into your core as he dragged a warm, wet tongue across your folds. He kissed your clit, making you mewl, before he shoved his tongue harshly into you. You keened, whispering his name, a hand in his wet hair.

You were so tired that your legs didn’t let you stand for too long. But you weren’t tired enough to whisper and softly moan his name as you got nearer and nearer to your release. Your puffy clit was slick with your arousal and his saliva. His nose bumped it repeatedly— one of your favourite parts when he ate you out— and it had you squirming in his hold.

He settled you further onto his shoulders, thighs clamping around his head and making him hum, pleased, into your cunt. He was so strong and it made your cunt ache. He made you feel like the daintiest being on earth— contradicted by the way he often nipped at the fat of your thighs, suckling bruises along the pudge of your tummy, pressing his fingers to your stretch marks and leaving little red crescents. He moaned each time you wrapped your thighs around his head, or each time you wiggled your arse at him. He’d smack it if you got too close.

“Price…” You whispered softly, breathlessly. You were exhausted and he was keeping you up. But it was worth it.

You came in his mouth and he moaned, eyelids fluttering in pleasure as he tasted you. Even though he’d eaten you out on many occasions, he’d never get used to the taste of you. He was addicted.

“Mmmm—” He moaned, vibrated, into your cunt. He kissed up your folds to your clit, then carefully lowered you to the ground, your legs shaking.

He held you up, wrapping your in his arms, the shower battering his back, steam rolling around the both of you as the pipes hissed and creaked.

He kissed your forehead, then kissed your lips. You licked your lips as he pulled away. You could taste yourself.

He smiled at you. "You good?"

You hummed tiredly, resting your head against his chest. "Mhm."

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[daimyosprincess]

WORTH THE RISK

—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—WORD COUNT: 10.8k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, dad’s friend!Boba, reader has parents mentioned in the story, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), secret relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), light choking, this is straight up filth y’all I’m not even joking, if the previous things are not your cup of tea this will not be the fic for you 🥴

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll post this fic in a couple weeks! literally a month later here we are besties, the dad's friend Boba fic inspired by @maybege's post!! this fic ended up taking waaaay longer than I expected since the story took a turn I didn't plan for, but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end! big shout out to Moss for betaing and all the besties who sent me incoherent emoji scrambles for my snippets along the way 💖 enjoy y'all!

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

Setting out the last of the dessert trays on your parents’ patio table, you swipe a hand over your forehead. A delightfully cool breeze ruffles the hem of your dress, signaling the coming summer evening and carrying the pleasant mixture of laughter and music from the backyard. Satisfied with the arrangement of treats, you look out over the party of family and friends gathered on the lawn: neighbors, coworkers, and family of all sorts gathered together for your parents’ annual cookout, which your father fondly calls the “Bar-bo-polooza” (and which your mother decidedly does not). 

Scanning the crowd, you spot her bouncing their neighbor’s baby girl on her hip while your father diligently lectures her partner on proper grilling techniques over his beer. A swarm of kids darts around the party in what appears to be a high stakes game of tag, while a gaggle of your aunties and Uncle Steven are clumped together in tight conversation over the latest gossip. A smile curls up your lips—nothing bridges the generational or cultural divide quite like a juicy piece of insider knowledge.

Giving the yard a final skim, you give up on locating your boyfriend and head for your chair by the fire pit. You’re no sooner settled when you feel your phone buzz.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Better give me those panties now, princess>

Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You still can’t see him from your seat, but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides just high enough to still be considered appropriate for a family setting. Your phone vibrates again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: I’m not going to ask twice>

A heated shiver snakes down your spine, pooling in the dampness already nestled between your thighs. Your plan to tease Boba to the edge of insanity is already taking its toll. 

Logically, you know you shouldn’t be riling him up like this at a family function, but you can’t seem to stop yourself after he’s been out of town. You’ve missed his bone deep comfort, his small touches, and the safety of his arms. Hell, you’ve even missed the smell of him, breathing in that balmy spiciness that’s all his own. 

Of course, you’ve also missed his keen knack for making you black out with pleasure. But who could possibly blame you for that? The man is nothing short of a god when it comes to making you feel good, so it’s not your fault you rubbed him half hard in the driveway or brushed up against him in your flirty new sundress during the party set up. Besides, you’d been an absolute angel in his absence: texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drank enough water every day, and not touched where you wanted him most just like he asked.

Really, you’d been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises. Just the thought of what he said he’d do has your thighs pressing together. So, with a sly grin sneaking over your lips, you tap out a response.

<Or what? You can’t do shit with all these people around, old man>

Adrenaline pumping hot in veins, you hit send and click of your screen. You make a show of stretching so your tits press together, sure Boba’s got a laser focus on you after that message. 

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You search for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.

“My, my, my, such a dirty little mouth on such a pretty little girl.”

A hot shock of electricity shoots down your spine. Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin deceptively gentle, like a blade wrapped in dark velvet: sheathed, but no less dangerous. 

Your pulse jumps under the thin skin of your throat. You don’t need to look up to know you’re in treacherous waters. His tone alone tells you everything you need to know—your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially when you acted like you could get away with them. Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Wanna find out how dirty it can get?”

The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” His umber eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours… don’t make me add to that list.”

Something hot and dangerous spikes in your core. You can practically feel his lips on your overheated skin, the scrape of his teeth down your neck. Luckily for your rapidly evaporating self-control, however, you catch Ari waving at you and you signal at their saved seat. The reprieve gives you a moment to swallow back the well of desire pressing against your throat. You’re already playing a dangerous game with your relationship—you really shouldn’t be adding to it by tempting fate, or Boba, in your parents’ backyard.

After moving to town two years ago, Boba and your dad had become fast friends, bonding over their love of classic cars and good whiskey. Freshly cut in your former employer’s downsizing, you had come home just after they had started spending weekends drinking and working on the old Chevy in your dad’s garage. It was over for you the second you saw him: broad shoulders, tanned, and impossibly gorgeous, Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.

For a torturous year you danced around your simmering mutual attraction, months filled with “accidental” touches and excuses to see each other more than strictly necessary for a daughter and her father’s friend. He gave you rides when your poor 2003 Toyota finally met its end, helped you move in with Ari, and even let you drunkenly cry on his shoulder at last summer’s cookout when you were sure your life was a failure. You really fell for him then. Hard.

Always teasing you with winks and flirty smiles, things finally came to a head at your parents’ New Year's Eve party. Scrabbling down the stairs for the countdown, you’d crashed right into him, his arms wrapping around your waist to halt your fall. By the time the voices outside yelled “Happy New Year,” you already had your hands (and mouths) all over each other.

The instant chemistry between you has only become more explosive since. In the almost six months of your relationship, you’ve orgasmed harder, louder, and more often than you thought was possible for a human being. But more importantly, you’ve also grown and learned a lot about yourself, with Boba coaxing you to embrace your needs without shame, both sexual and not. Mentally, you’re in a much better place than you were after you were let go from your dream job; and physically, well… you’ve never been more satisfied.

Of course, you’re not nearly ready to reveal all this to your parents. 

Boba has respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, despite his desire to claim you as his own every time your mother introduced you to some nice boy from her temp agency. Her mentioning that she invited “Kevin from Jimenez Landscaping” today is partially what made you decide on wearing the particular little sundress you had on. Not for him of course, but to drive Boba wild while you humored your mom and talked to the guy. The rest of your scheme—putting your hand down Boba’s pants behind his truck and digging yourself into a very deep hole over text—had been more or less spur of the moment.

Staring up at him now, dead serious with little patience left for mercy, has your insides twisting in tight, needy knots. Boba is a man of his word and not above leaving you unfulfilled when he thought you deserved it. Maker did he know how to make you squirm.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, doing your best to tamp down the need leaking into your voice. “I swear I’ll take them off when Ari gets back.” 

You might be a brat but you’re not stupid: you know when you’ve flown too close to the sun. 

He smiles then, smug and shining, leaning down to plant what appeared to be an unoffending, fatherly kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s more like it. Not so hard to be a good girl, now is it, darling?” 

The sensual rasp of his whisper calls forth memories of love made sweet and long, making your stomach flip and tighten. Praying for the heat to leave your face, you clench your thighs together to ward them off.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Your head snaps up to see Ari’s freckled face plastered with a sardonic expression. Your confidant since childhood, your cousin is the only person who knows about your relationship—and isn’t afraid to give you shit about it.  

“Of course not,” Boba answers breezily, patting your shoulder, “we were just commenting on how perfect the weather turned out.”

Ari scoffs, dropping down next to you. “Yeah, sure. If anyone else here actually had eyes, they would see right through the two of you.”

You grin and accept the offered lemonade. “What? Can a young lady and a handsome older gentleman not talk at a party?” 

Boba’s hand squeezes your shoulder in a silent warning to behave. Still glowing with his praise of “good girl” echoing in your ears, you opt to stay so.

“Last I checked, they can,” Ari gestures back and forth between you. “It’s just the ‘fuck me’ eyes that make it totally obvious you’re screwing.”

“I myself prefer the term ‘making love’ over ‘screwing,’” Boba chuckles.

Ari immediately makes retching noises, their face screwing up in disgust. “Making love?! What are you, like a thousand years old?” They hold up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t even want to think about that more than I already have to.”

Despite your cousin’s reaction, his words bloom heat in your stomach. As good as Boba is at straight up fucking, he also loves you so tenderly and slowly some nights it nearly brings you to tears. With sweet kisses wrapped in praise and gentle touches laced with assurances that you were his and he was yours, he crafted a devotion more sincere and pure than you thought your heart could hold.

Ari elbows you, pulling you back to reality. “Now unless you got tea to add to this conversation, sir, I’m gonna need you to beat it. Me and your girlfriend have some important information to discuss. Auntie is three margaritas deep and just told me some very interesting things about her divorce.”

Boba’s fingers drift across the nape of your neck in a subtle reminder of delicious possession. He makes a show of sighing in exaggerated defeat and comes around your chair. Sticking out his hand, he nods. “Ari.”

“Fett.” They shake and Boba heads over to where your dad is flipping burgers on the grill. Somehow even his walk made you thrum with electricity.

When he’s out of earshot, Ari whispers behind their drink. “Finally. Now, she said that she was the one who instigated the divorce…”

It’s not until you head inside to pee that you remember your promise to Boba.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Clock’s ticking, princess. Panties. Now.> Received 6 minutes ago

Shit. You groan and throw your head back on your shoulders. Why is there always a line when you want to use the bathroom? Especially when you need to get your panties off before your boyfriend reaches up your dress and rips them off for you?

When the door finally opens, you rush in. Clicking the lock, you immediately yank off your underwear, taking the briefest moment to admire them. Pink, cute, and soaked in the middle, you feel deliciously dirty holding up the scrap of fabric in the mirror to snap a pic.

<All yours 😘> 1 image attached

The urge to run and take another picture in his truck is extremely tempting, but a knock on the door has you rushing to finish up. 

Boba’s waiting for you when you step outside, looking handsome as sin as he leans against the deck railing. As casually as you can with a naked cunt and a pair of panties balled in your fist, you slip next to him and press them into his large hand. Maker, the sight of him stuffing the illicit garment into his pocket should absolutely not be as fucking hot as it is.

Seeing the scrunched look on your face, he chuffs a quiet laugh. “I can smell how wet you are, babygirl. Something’s got you all worked up, huh?” His tone is molasses, thick with self-satisfaction. “Brats do always love it when the consequences of their actions catch up to them.”

In an attempt to diffuse his pride, you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you said I was your good girl.” 

He flashes you that jaw-dropping smile of his. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

Before you can get any more hot and bothered, you see your mother approaching with a gangly young man in tow. You curse under your breath; you’d forgotten about Kevin-from-Jimenez-Lanscaping. 

Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”

Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re going to have to make polite small talk with your mother and a stranger with your panties stuffed in your secret-boyfriend-who-makes-you-scream-with-pleasure’s pocket. 

You’re also aware that it turns you on an embarrassing amount. Fortunately (or not), you don’t have much time to contemplate the extent of that particular depravity before Kevin and your mom stop in front of you. 

“There you are!” she exclaims happily. “Kevin, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.” The young man smiles and shakes your hand politely and your mom turns to the older man. “And this is Boba Fett, our neighbor and family friend.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “Now he’s very protective of her, so be careful. Even worse than her father.”

Boba bares his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile, gripping the younger man’s offered hand harder than necessary for the brief shake. The act of possessiveness has your blood boiling even hotter as the poor boy’s eyes widen in surprise. After a couple minutes of tedious conversation that’s mainly Boba glaring over your shoulder, Kevin excuses himself, thanking your mother for inviting him and apologizing for having to leave so soon. 

Watching him dart for his car, she levels a scolding tone at your boyfriend. “How is my daughter supposed to find someone when you stare murder at every single person I bring over?”

Unrepentant, he shrugs and smiles. Your shared secret dances on his lips. “I just want what’s best for her. Surely you can’t blame me for that.” Seeing your mother still unconvinced, he throws an arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek. 

He sneaks a wink at you and you make a show of rolling your eyes even as your insides warm at his attention. Morally, you’re sure it’s wrong to enjoy this deception so thoroughly, but in this moment you don’t care; it lights some infernal fire inside you that burns hotter than any desire you’ve ever had.

“I hate to say it, but Boba’s right,” you play along. She still looks skeptical and he looks entirely too smug, so you elaborate. “I mean, what good is a guy that’s too chicken to even have a conversation with this grandpa?”

She bursts into a round of laughter that wipes away the previous exasperation from her face. “Oh, be nice to Boba,” she admonishes, lightly smacking your shoulder. “He’s no older than your father.”

A grin splits your face. “Gosh, you’re right, Mom! Boba’s only what, twice my age? I should really have more respect for my elders.” The words barely leave your mouth before Boba turns out his solo cup of ice water out over your head. Shocked with the sudden cold pouring down your face and neck, you instantly resort to tattling and finger pointing.

“No, ma’am, don’t come crying to me!” she manages through a peal of laughter. “You earned that one fair and square!”

Boba is positively dripping with his own self-satisfaction. “Sure did,” he brandishes a double-edged smile, paternally crossing his arms over his chest, “And I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”

Your skin burns so hot you can feel the rivulets of water trickling down your neck heat up. Memories of your tits pushed up against the chilled hood of Boba’s truck flash across the backs of your eyes—you had complained you were cold after a skinny-dip in the lake and he wasted no time in warming you back up.

“Careful, princess,” he panted damply against your neck. “You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”

It’s a miracle that you don’t immediately buckle when you catch his hand digging into his pocket to fist your panties. Keeping your eyes decidedly off him, you rush through an excuse to go up to your room to change. Before you can scurry off, however, he catches your elbow. 

“Here, take this.” Boba pulls off his overshirt and wraps it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catching a cold, now can we?” Your mom nods approvingly before she’s pulled away by another guest. Once she’s out of earshot, he drops his voice low. “Go inside and meet me in the garage. I’m going around front.”

Even as you repress an excited shiver, your heart warms in your chest at Boba’s caution. He never made you feel bad for wanting to keep things private and always structured your affairs so you were never seen going or leaving together. And although you look forward to the day you’ll be ready to hold his hand and steal kisses in front of the world, sneaking around in the meantime did add an extra layer of excitement to your sex. 

Sandals slapping wet against the tiled floor, you race across the kitchen to yank open the door to the garage. Thick, sun-warmed air hits your face with a pleasant staleness, smelling of cardboard and motor oil. The quietness of the space clashes with the clamor of excitement pumping through your veins. Sweeping your eyes from one side to the other, a frown weighs on your lips when Boba is nowhere to be seen. 

No sooner does the displeasure darken your expression than you’re scooped up into a pair of strong arms and whirled around. 

Familiar lips and a suede voice swiftly gentle your startled yelp. “Quiet now, darling,” Boba purrs, practically preening with the pleasure of your surprise, “you don’t want to get us caught now do you?”

Your gleeful giggles of realization are smothered by his barrage of kisses, each one an intoxicating mix of passion and urgency. Boba hooks your legs around his waist, not caring about the water soaking into him as he walks you deeper into the garage.

The intense press of need pushing against your chest melts under his touch, releasing your lungs and draining to pool in your thrumming core. It’s been so long, too long, without him, your body surviving on the mere scraps memory could provide you—nothing in comparison to the sustenance of the man himself. Having him back in your arms, his marred skin beneath your fingertips, his thick torso filling the empty space between your legs… it unhooks the final thorns of discontent left from his absence. 

A wave of relief washes away the tenseness of separation, leaving you pliable and radiant once more; the release has Boba’s lips parting in a gratified groan at the satisfaction of being your sanctuary. You take the greedy opportunity to lick your way into his mouth to savor the way his taste fills yours. Lost to the sensation of your tongue sliding along his, a hiss escapes your lips when the back of your thighs hit the freezer’s lid. 

The chill dissipates quickly in the glow of Boba’s urgent heat. “Fuck I missed you, babygirl,” he pants against your pulse, “Even if you’ve been a karking terror all afternoon.”

“S’not my fault,” you slur, dragging your teeth across the tan skin of his throat, “missed you too much.” His salt seeps into the warmth of your mouth, spurring memories of late nights pressed together under a quivering lake water moon. Seeking that passionate warmth, your heels dig into Boba’s thighs to press him deeper into your eager desire.

Unyielding and unrushed as ever, he pulls back, refusing to let you usurp his control. Bereft, a whine flies from your throat and you keel towards him in a desperate arch. 

Boba catches your cheek in his palm and sharply angles your face to his. Pure dominance radiates off him in the unwavering set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eye, their darkness glinting like two sable jewels in the dim light. His raw power, sanctified by his restraint and your willing submission, shimmers in the air between your bodies—the ephemeral calm before his storm’s consequences. 

He knows that disquieting stillness of his never failed to draw your desire. Without a word, his free hand disappears into his pocket to free your panties.

“Mmm, is that the problem?” His strong fingers dig into your cheeks and he turns your head towards the dangling bit of bows and lace. You can feel how the visual evidence of your arousal affects him. He presses the damp fabric against his nose, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your needy little cunt making you act out?”

Your answer comes out more as a whoosh of air than a word, your insides twisting with the searing heat in his tone. “Noooo…” 

“So you’re just a naughty brat then?” 

You want to protest that you’re nothing but innocent but your throat is too tight with the thrill of his wrath. He balls the frilly underwear into his fist. “Shame. I was thinking about taking mercy on you for your good behavior while I was gone.” He cuts his eyes back to you, smirking. “Too bad brats don’t get that privilege.”

You jolt, panic locking your ankles at the small of his back in an attempt to keep him close. “No! No! That’s not what I meant!” you cry, your voice taunt with distress.   

A dangerous chuckle sounds in his throat. You’d shown your desperation, giving him the easy advantage. “Better start explaining then, princess. Or else I’m just gonna come all over these pink panties and you’ll get nothing.”

You blink up at him with pitiful eyes and a swollen-lipped pout. “It’s because I missed you,” you simper, tracing a finger down his chest. “Seven days is a long time. Too long.” 

Even through the haze of your shared arousal, Boba resists temptation. “Too long? Babygirl, we talked on the phone every night.”

He lets you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and your fingers begin to loop into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…”

“No thigh to get off on?”

You squeak when he pinches your ass, the subconscious roll of your hips halting.

“As cute and sincere as you may be, my darling girl, you still have a debt to settle for your behavior today.”

That’s fair, reasonable even. You had pushed him further than you yourself would have been able to stand. You slip your fingers under his shirt hem to graze your nails over the dark hair trailing into his jeans. “What if I gave you a little apology?” you offer with a fluttering of lashes. “Show you how sorry I am?” 

Boba’s breath hitches but he turns up his chin like he’s uninclined to accept your offer. “You really think a handy is gonna cut it after everything this afternoon?” 

The fevered dream from his absence flares white-hot in your mind. Grabbing his belt buckle, you haul your hips forward to press your slick folds against his bulge. “Not even if that apology is you fucking me into the mattress in my childhood bedroom?” 

Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.

“Not even if it’s you ruining me in the room where I learned to touch myself? Where I’d cry out into the pillow thinking about what it would feel like to have a real man fuck me instead of stupid, silly boys? Not even then?”

“Princess-”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while, you know… what it would be like to bury my face in those cute flower sheets while you fuck my tight little cunt till I’m sore. Had to take a cold shower while you were gone just to keep my hands off myself.”

In a burst of strength, he forces you flat back against the freezer. “Enough,” he hisses through locked teeth. “For Maker’s sake, enough.”

Despite his protests, he’s rutting his twitching cock into the slick mess at your apex. You grin into his kiss—you’ve got him right where you want him. 

“Awww, pleeeease?” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. “Pretty please… Daddy?”

The sound that scrapes up from him is so utterly depraved that for a second, you think he might’ve come in his pants.

“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”

“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”

Boba pushes his hand over your mouth. “You… you have ten seconds to get in your room before I’m fucking you where you stand. And I don’t give a karking shit who sees. Do you understand me?”

“So, apology accepted?”

“One.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Two.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!”

“Three.”

You’re flat out running for the kitchen door, wrenching it open without checking if someone is behind it. Luckily, your path is clear as you fly up the stairs up to your room. The lavender paint and neat rows of school awards are nothing but a pastel blur when you fling yourself onto the twin bed. Quickly positioning yourself, you hike your dress up around your hips so you’re completely on display. 

At this point, you don’t even care about the danger; you drop your hand between your legs and delve two fingers between your wet folds. The friction burns delightfully after days without so much as a finger to your clit. The relief is so sweet you have to bite down on your neckline to halt the sounds of delight from spilling out. Imagining just how much better it’ll be when Boba gets his hands on you has you bucking under your fingers.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you, little brat?”

It’s no use snatching back your hand—he’s seen your transgression and is all too ready to add it to your growing list. Grabbing your wrist, he wrenches you up off the bed and whirls you around so your back digs into the door. 

“Oh, babygirl,” he husks in a low, cruel voice. “You’re so fucked.”

He’s pressed so far into you the damp fabric of your dress burns, absorbing his overwhelming heat. Pure, wanton desire floods your brain, drowning any hope of sanity until all that remains is him.

Boba yanks down the ruffled sleeve covering your shoulder and sinks in his teeth, groaning when you buck against him. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? You like it when I put you in your place, when I treat you rough.” His large hand snakes up your chest to grab your throat.  

“Yes-yes, Daddy!” you gasp, writhing with prickling pleasure when he greedily palms your breast. 

He grunts, his hips thrusting into you. “You think calling me that will get you out of trouble?”

“I mean being in my old room… seems kinda fitting, doesn’t it-oh!”

Boba shoves his hand over your mouth. “Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”

Fuck that should not make your clit throb like it does. Just when your knees start to tremble from the sweet friction he’s smoothing over your nipples, he tears himself away. Your cry of displeasure is choked off by a squeeze of his hand. With big, shining eyes, you blink pitifully up at him in a bid for more.

“Don’t bother with the kitten eyes, darling. It won’t save you… and neither will anything else you say.” He rubs his thumb gently over your pulse point, a jarring contrast to the pressure on your throat. “After your little attitude this afternoon, you’re going to have to earn the right to speak.”

Boba just tuts when you pout, a wicked flush of darkness shadowing his expression. “Brats don’t get what they want, especially not such disrespectful ones.” Licking his lips, his voice sinks even deeper. “Still think I can’t do shit with all these people around?”

When you don’t answer, he releases his grip on your neck to run his fingers up your skull and jerk your head back. Taking his time, he kisses you, devouring you until you’re fighting for air. “Little princess, I can do whatever I want to you no matter who’s around, do you understand that? Do you?” 

Your answer is nothing more than a pitiful waver but he takes it all the same. “Good. Now take the dress off before I tear it off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat until I’m satisfied you’ve learned some respect.”

You’re out of the offending garment before he even has time to unfasten his belt. Despite the heat in your veins, goosebumps blossom across your skin, heightened by the moisture from your dress. When Boba sees you rubbing away the chill, he smirks and snaps you to his chest. “Looks like you need some warming up…” 

Sliding his hands over your ass, he hikes you up into his arms with a puff, chuckling at your small sound of surprise. When he lowers you gently onto your bed, you wriggle into the position you know he wants: laid out on your back with your head hanging off the edge, ready for atonement. 

It feels almost like relief. This was the reason you tested Boba’s patience with your antics and attitude; you crave the way he gives you no choice but to comply, the thrill of a fantastical danger shaping you into something vulnerable and eager to please.

The fire in his eyes dampens some as he caresses a hand over your cheek. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into the soft gesture. “Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts gently. When your eyes drift up to his, a smile warms his face. “I know you like it rough and I’m going to give it to you, but I need you to promise to mind your body, okay? Let me feel your three taps to stop.”

As you’d practiced many times, you reach up and slap your palm against his thick thigh. His white smile gets even bigger and he bends to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. You glow with his affection. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you grab a towel for me to lay on? I’m going to soak a spot on the sheets if you keep talking like that.” 

A devil’s grin stretches across his bronze features. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he instructs, his voice already husked smoke, “or I will make you only watch while I jack off with those panties.” 

If he’d waited a second before darting to the adjoining bathroom, he would’ve seen the way your slicked entrance clenched at his threat.

For a fleeting moment you consider sneaking a hand to your peaked nipples, but the threat of him making you watch and not touch is far too distressing to test. Before you can get too tempted otherwise, Boba strides back into the bedroom with a towel in hand. Without a word spoken between you, he bends and you hook your arms around his neck so he can lift you and lay the towel down.

Boba hums in appreciation when you stretch back out before him, biting back your longing under his gaze. He lets his belt loose and his pants slide down his thighs, finally revealing the gorgeous image of his thick cock. Flushed rosy with want and beautifully slicked with desire, it bobs against his belly full and ready for your touch. 

He steps back so you’re forced to crane your neck to see him. The baneful fire has returned to his dark eyes. He pumps his length once and your mouth waters in anticipation. “Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you just because you finally decided to behave.”

You shake your head. 

“No talking and no hands, understood?” 

Now you shake your up and down. You know far better of him than to disobey.

“Good. Now we don’t have much time before someone comes looking for you, little princess, so open up that mouth and make Daddy proud.”

Thank the Maker for that towel.

Tilting your head back to make your throat one smooth channel, you stick out your tongue wide and ready. Just seeing the way his expression darkens with desire at your obedience has fresh slick wetting your thighs. Hell, your obedience turns you on. Not just any man could make you want to give yourself over to him and you’re sure there are next to none who could possibly deserve it. 

Boba steps forward, cupping your cheek in his rough palm and dragging the slippery head of his length over your lips, coating them in his arousal. You stay still, enjoying his taste and gentle attention; he would tell you when he wanted more.

When he rocks forward to let your tongue slide down the vein that runs the underside of his cock, you claw your fingers into the floral sheets beneath you. Your heart pounds against your ribs and your lungs bellow more air into your chest. He’s so close yet so far from where you want him. Spit begins to dribble from the corners of your mouth and your jaw twinges from its wide angle, heightening your need for him even more.

Boba continues his leisurely pace across your tongue, rumbling a few low, pleasured sounds. He notices your frustration—he always notices everything—and chooses to ignore it. It’s a lenient punishment in light of your behavior but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier or your cunt any less desperate.

The whine that escapes from you when he lets his head graze your front teeth is so small it’s almost silent, but he hears it all the same. “Mmm, is there a problem, darling? Something the matter?” The slow drag of him doesn’t stop. 

You flick your tongue over his frenulum in a wordless response. Although you can’t see him, you know his pretty brown eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

“Aaah hah hah,” he chuckles through a groan, “is this not enough for my princess? Is getting her tongue used while she’s naked on her pretty pink bed not enough for her?”

Again, since he hasn’t given you permission to speak yet, you stretch your head up to capture the head of his cock between your coated lips, lightly suckling his sensitive tip. When he doesn’t stop you, you let your tongue snake up to lick the pearled drop from his slit. 

A faint tremor runs through him, making his length thrum in your mouth. Boba curses and stoops to lay a hand on your throat. No pressure or grip to it, just his hand resting over the exposed column of your neck. 

“Swallow.”

His simple command races through you like a spark up a gunpowder trail, igniting the tinder of aching pleasure between your thighs. Reflexively your body snaps to follow his order, your jaw closing and your muscles pushing him deeper into the wet heat of your mouth. 

“Fffff- that’s it, babygirl. Juuuust like that… let me feel how good you take me.” 

The jagged sound of his enjoyment shoots bright seams of glittering ecstasy into your veins. Conscious of the lack of permission to touch him, you dig your heels into the mattress to push further up his shaft, sucking in a final deep breath before letting his girth slide down your waiting throat. 

The next seconds dissolve into a filmy timelessness where every single one of your senses are his—your every sensation and fiber belonging to Boba. Your breath, your sense of smell and taste, sense of direction, everything is all in his control, all his to direct and decide. Even as the need for air burns through your ribs, you feel impossibly free, weightless and perfect within his care.

Retreating into that protected soft space of submission, your mind goes blissfully blank, your sole happiness being Boba’s grunts of pleasure as he pumps his cock down your throat. Sweat slicks your skin and hungry breath claws at your lungs but they’re none of your concern, all you have to worry about is keeping your jaw open. Though it had taken some time to learn to get there, now you rejoice in finding this quiet place within his storm, relishing the way you fall out of time and into his world. Even with the strain and weight of him pressing down onto you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

After some wonderful, unknown period of time, air hisses through Boba’s teeth as he retracts from your warmth. Still blinded by submission, you gasp in big bubbles of air, blinking against the tears of exertion pricking your eyes.

You feel the muted thump of him dropping to his knees near your head. His thumbs are brushing away the salty trails as he cradles your head like a fragile flower against the wind, a smile blooming radiant on your damp face.  “Baby… my darling girl,” he pants through seeded kisses, “you did so good for me, took it all… can you believe it? Almost couldn’t stop myself from coming down that perfect throat.”

You’re still hazy, drifting through the fog of your accomplishment, but you manage to pull apart your wet lashes to see his beaming smile. Its luminance turns up your own lips. “I… I did?”

Before now, you’d never managed to get the last thick inch of his cock down your throat—though not for the lack of trying. As oxygen flushes through your system, your head clears. “See,” you croak, buoyed by your success, “doing it in my old bedroom was a good idea.” 

Genuine mirth crinkle up his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.” Boba turns and scoops you into arms, pressing you close to take in your scent. “I still gotta make you scream into the sheets, remember?” he murmurs against your temple.

You happily slide against him, relishing the way he fits perfectly against you. “Pretty sure I said ‘screamed into my pillow.’”

He snorts, caressing his hand along your jaw. “How about I make you do both?”

Taking your wild giggle as confirmation, he flips you onto your back to hover over you. You bite your bottom lip against your laughter as he trails tickling kisses down your neck and over your sternum, your breath hitching when he latches onto a pert nipple.

“Tell me…” he rasps through his mouth’s divine suction, “tell me how you would touch yourself.”

The great, crested wave of fire that crashes through ignites your limbs, making you jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. You never felt ashamed with Boba, he has always been your safety, your refuge; he’d wiped more tears than you’d let anyone else ever see and you’d twisted fantasies into his ear that would make the devil blush. But telling him how you rutted into your hand, sweating and barely keeping in your breathy sounds as you tried desperately to understand why boys your age never turned you on suddenly felt absurdly embarrassing.

He must have felt you stiffen under him because he prompts you again. 

“I, um… I mean…” Why was this so embarrassing? It’s not like he didn’t know you were into the more seasoned male age range. Sucking in a steadying breath, you realize he’s stopped his ministrations to observe you with a keen eye.

It only makes your unforeseen shame bruise darker. You force a chuckle from your gut. “Sheesh, you know how to get a girl to blush, don’t you?” Your words are too high and paper thin—your façade not remotely convincing, not even to yourself.

Boba’s eyes flick over your strained expression, his lips pressing into a thin line before he bows his head to place a small kiss on your stomach. “We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later,” is all he says. It’s all he has to.

You blow out a weighted breath. His way of making you confront life while still giving you a degree of choice could be as infuriating as it was liberating. If you talk about it now you likely won’t have time for the down and dirty you’ve been craving all week (and, at this point, might shrivel up and die without), but the thought of soldiering on in this cold shadow of shame is utterly unappealing. 

Maker, you’re a buzzkill. 

Boba slaps a smack against your hip and you yip at the sharp sensation. “No apologizing,” he warns. “Just answer the question, princess. Don’t worry about anything else.” His palm opens to rub away the lingering sting.

Feeling your anxiety swarm like wasps, you try to sink back into your warm mental refuge where things were easier. Try as you might, however, your brain refuses to release itself from its nervous confines to slip into that softer shape.

It had been so terribly confusing back then. Watching your friends swoon over boys in your grade or just above, you tried to see what they saw in them: the supposedly hot guys on the basketball team with their burgeoning height or the apparently dreamy, mysterious poet laureate of your high school. You never understood what they saw in these lanky, acne covered boys or why they would cry so profusely over them. A real partner wouldn’t make you cry, you’d thought, he would take care of you, show you the love you were told you deserve.

But oh how you had wanted to understand, to have a believable answer when the subject of crushes came up at the lunch table or someone’s sleepover. Everyone else did. 

You only made the mistake of saying the school’s head coach was hot once—the grossed out looks and “old enough to be our dad” comments made sure of that. Eventually you settled on the safe choice of the football team captain for your obligatory answer whenever the subject came up. Even though it wasn’t true, the pressure was off then.

When you went to college, things didn’t change, no matter how much you hoped they would. You thought maybe it was just the boys at your school you weren’t attracted to, that maybe you were normal after all. 

Tears lodge in your throat at the memory of the guys you’d fucked trying to fix what was surely broken inside you, the nights you spent wishing it wasn’t the kind eyes and visible signs of life experience that drew you to the men you desired. Trying to pursue the older guys at bars and social events never ended well for you either; their kindness always dried up when you didn’t want to go back to their place immediately, followed by cutting comments about “daddy issues” and all the mean things that came with them.

Finding Boba, finding acceptance had been a taste of heaven. A golden slice of peace, the vindication that you weren’t some freak or wrong to want a partner who cherished and cared for you. Your stomach drops at the thought of that pure, devoted love. He gave you all of that, asking for nothing in return but your happiness, and you can’t even bring yourself to claim your relationship in public.

Shame curls in on you like leaden weights. He deserves so much better than you. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world they love him and proudly walks at his side—not some scared girl who can’t even bring herself to face her own parents. The wound you thought had long healed rips open inside you, spilling its tainted blood into your heart and a scalding brine down your cheeks. 

Before the first sob can sound from your chest, you’re pressed tightly into Boba’s front, held fast by thick, warm arms that stall your rising grief. A watery stream of words tumble out of you all at once. “Back then, it was-I thought-and I couldn’t, I mean I tried-”

“Shhh, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, everything’s alright… yeah, just like that, princess, that’s my good girl.”

His gentle touch and storm soothed voice has your sobs ebbing under his care. “I-is there something wrong with me?” you whisper in a fragile voice. 

Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman. 

Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. 

Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.

You’re vaguely aware of being pulled under covers and tucked in tight to his side. Despite the furnace warmth of him and the blanket, you can’t seem to stop shivering against some inner cold. Piece by patient piece, Boba pulls out your discontent, wiping away new tears and kissing the old ones from your lashes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the darkening sky outside your window but he assures you Ari’s got your absence covered.

Tracing his roughened fingertips up and down your spine, he tilts up your chin to kiss your forehead. “Darling girl, why did you never say anything? That’s all too heavy to have to deal with by yourself. Especially when I’m here to help.”

Why did you? You’d shared so much of your other burdens—your disillusion after losing your dream job, your struggle coping with your life not following your set mental timeline—why had you kept all this to yourself?

“I don’t know…” you whisper, letting your pointer finger trace along the collarbone of his newly revealed chest. “I guess I felt like… like even though what I like isn’t normal, that being with you would make those bad feelings go away… and you make me so happy I thought maybe they would disappear if I never looked for them.” Hearing these half-baked assumptions out loud makes you hide your face in his shoulder. You feel like an idiot. No, worse. An idiot who’s wasted all her sneak-away time crying instead of getting railed by her boyfriend.

Boba makes a sympathetic sound, squeezing you closer to him. “I want you to listen to me, princess. Really listen. Number one, no keeping things from me that hurt you or make you upset. If you need to cry the whole thing out or scream about it until you’re hoarse, that’s fine as long as you tell me. Understood?”

You make a noise of agreement and borrow deeper into his hold. He allows you his comfort for a few more moments before gently unfurling you to run his thumb across your cheek.

“Number two. There’s no such thing as normal. Not a fucking thing. You like what you like just like everyone else likes what they like. Being attracted to handsome men like myself is not anything different than having a preference for blondes or brunettes, yeah?” He kisses you on the tip of your nose and you can’t help but smile up at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t find anything wrong with me being attracted to special princesses who have dirty little mouths and dirtier minds, would you?�� 

Heat rises to your cheeks. “As long as I’m the special princess,” you mumble into his palm, suddenly self-conscious under his attention even as you revel in it. Maker, how do you still want him to pound you into the mattress after an emotional breakdown? All his patient love seems to only make you hornier now that your tears have been shed and your fears have been voiced.

“Always.” Boba chuckles and chucks up your chin for a kiss. When you slip your tongue into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to murmur, “Still needy, darling?”

How could you not be? Your need for him feels different now, though. Not so much more or less intense but an entirely different kind altogether, like a fire that burns just as hot but with a different fuel than its predecessor. Treading carefully around this new flame, you hold a tentative hand out to test its heat. “We don’t… if the mood isn’t right, we don’t have to… and we’ve been gone for too long already-”

Boba drags his hot mouth over your jaw, positioning you beneath him. “Then a couple more minutes isn’t going to change that, now is it, babygirl?”

You frown even as your hips seek his. “But the whole ‘sexy fantasy’ thing is kinda ruined.”

Taking your hand in his large one, he draws it down his chest and over his stomach until you feel the hardness of his arousal filling your palm. “Does it feel ruined to you?”

Rock hard and fire hot, he leaks into your fingers. Your stomach clenches. Not too distant memories burn bright and vivid behind your eyes: recollections of impossible fullness, banished thoughts, and the generous stretch to accommodate him. 

“Tell me,” he commands, knowing his firm tone always had you melting like silvery mercury in his palm. “Does it feel like I don’t want to be buried in your sweet cunt? Ruining your ‘innocence’ all over again like you want me to so badly?”

His roughness, the obvious tint of desire in licking up his neck and cheeks all have their intended effect: you succumbing to your desires within the paradise of his control. “N-no, it feels like-fuck-it feels like I want you inside me,” you pant, desperate and breathy. You arch up in offering and he bows his head to enjoy the fruits of your desire.

Sliding a hand down your waist, his fingers trail torturously close to your wet heat only to skim over it with the barest of touch. “How did you imagine it back then?” The crackling weight in his voice sinks through your skin to light in your core. “Soft and sweet? Gentle nothings whispered in your ear as you came apart?” 

Without warning, he slaps at the wet flesh between your thighs and covers it with his broad hand, claiming it for himself. Perfect nettles of pain flash across your mind and you jerk against his hold. “Or did you want something a little rougher? Want a man who knew how to treat this pussy like it was all his?”

You can’t help it now. The fire he coached is burning you from the inside out, blossoming from you with slips of petaled flame. “A-all yours,” you manage thickly, twisting against him for more. “Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”

“Yeah, I know, baby, they didn’t know how to touch you, did they?” Two of his thick fingers push past your lower lips to slide through the slick seam there. Trailing over your slit for a languorous second, the pad of his middle finger circles your swollen hood. “They didn’t know how to rub that cute little clit so you screamed, huh?”

“Not at all,” you sob, your voice quivering as you shake from the electric sensation of his fingers. “Never knew, never knew-”

Boba smothers the rest of your pathetic sounds in a kiss that pushes deep into your pillows. “Awww, my poor princess,” he croons. “So achy and needy with no one to help. No wonder you were all over me that first time, whining and riding my dick like you would die without it.”

Never mind that he had been equally out of his mind, pounding into you that night like a man possessed with adoration. 

He notches a finger at your fluttering opening, ringing it around your flushed entrance just to see you squirm to get him deeper. “Remember how you begged me to fuck you, princess? How you didn’t even want to wait for me to stretch out your tight cunt?” Sinking in an effortless finger, he dips to lap up the beads of sweat from the hollow of your throat.

By the time he’s pressing in the blunt head of his cock, you’re face down and ass up, shimmying your hips back onto his length through a babble of pleas. “Please, Boba, please I want it deep, so fuckin’ deep I cry.”

Huffing out a breath that curls over the dampness of your spine, Boba grips the back of your neck to snap that first delicious thrust into you. Your broken sob is muffled by the rucked bedding, matching the slap of skin in a salacious accompaniment. Never one to do things in half measures, he digs a hand into your hip, anchoring your body to drive into you harder. He hits that divine spot that you didn’t even know existed before him.

The air whooshes from both your lungs in a blurred haze of ecstasy. “Shit, baby,” Boba squeezes your nape, “I’ll always give it to you… always, darling girl. Anything you want, I’m always yours, forever.”

You know it with every breath in your body and hair on your head—Boba loves you with every fiber of his being and he never hid that fact from you. From the way he looks after your safety to the care he takes just to see you flash a simple smile, you never had to wonder if he loved you the way you love him, not even for a second. 

The realization happens suddenly then, tipping your axes so you could center on the one truth that had orbited just out of your consciousness: Boba is worth the risk. He always has been. No matter what you might lose or gain by sharing your relationship, he would always be worth the risk.

You swirl with dazzling vibrancy, this epiphany developing in full splendor within you. “Yes-yes-yes!” you repeat mindlessly, flinging an arm back to search for his tethering touch. His hand disappears from your hip to intertwine with yours. Face crushed into the rose covered sheets of your old bed, breath tearing into your lungs as soon as it’s knocked out again, you smile. It had all led to this: all those years wondering if you were somehow broken, all those loves lost trying to fix what didn’t need repair, that one New Year’s night when you stopped denying what you truly wanted—all of it, everything, had been worth the risk.

Boba pulls on your hand, forcing you to arc farther back so that last sweet, solid inch of him is finally able to press into you. “Ffffffff-that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re better than heaven, babygirl, you know that? Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You want to tell him the same but your head is filled with hot, sparkling clouds of stardust and your throat is tight with cresting pleasure. “Yes, Daddy, yes!”

“Shit, you calling me… say it again. Say it again and don’t fucking stop.”

You’re chanting now, watching how the room around you shrinks to a pinpoint as you draw higher and higher with him. The prick of light and the chorus of your glass-thin cries shake with impending explosion when he drags his blunt nails down your back, swelling over your hip to find your throbbing center. “Is it as good as you imagined?” he husks, his own voice leaden with delicious strain. “Getting fucked into the mattress you dreamed on?”  

Each snap of his hips sends your clit skating over his calloused fingertips. “Better, so much better!” Crushing your eyes closed, you surrender to the scorching wave waiting to take you. “Please, Daddy! Please fill me up so everyone knows I’m yours!”

Boba jerks forward, breaking the pattern of his thrusts to fold over your back. His sweat dampened skin melds to yours and fuses you into one splendid being. His hand travels from your shoulder to clasp around your throat. “You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”

Your answer doesn’t waver, solidified by your new-found conviction. “As long as they know you’re mine, too.” 

Muscles rippling to lock at your affirmation, Boba’s head drops to your shoulder. The groan that heaves from his chest rattles through your bones like a welcome spirit charged with animating the last gasps of your union. “C-come for me then,” he chuffs in your ear with his last dregs of restraint. “Come for me so they know what you fucking do to me.”

Would he ever truly know how easy, how intrinsic to your being coming apart for him is? How your world had only ever been ordered by his particular equation, even before your eyes first met? Unraveling to be respun with his thread is your very nature, and you would always yearn to be in his weave, stitched and re-stitched by his expert hand. His fingers press tight against the glowing center of pleasure at your core and you burst into a glorious, unbound tapestry of light. Undulant patterns of pleasure flow through your every inch, anointing your entire body in golden thread from the crown of your head down to each individual toe.

Feeling the hot claim he spills inside you is the final beautiful detail in your joint creation. These final fleeting moments where it feels like your very souls mesh together are always your favorite; Boba’s guard comes down and you rise to catch him, your usual roles reversing as he burrows into your warmth. “Always, baby. Always yours,” he promises, his voice thick and sweet as honey.

Echoing his sentiment in utter bliss, you tighten your grip on his hand, joy taking flight when he does the same. Content and at peace, the pair of you roll so you’re pressed flush together, still joined in the middle when your limbs re-tangle. Boba pushes your hair back from where it had stuck your forehead and plants a kiss in your hair. 

You’re happy to smooth your palms over the scarred bronze of his chest to rest them lazily around his neck, his heartbeat jumping under your touch. How could you not realize this, that he, is worth more to you than any fallout from revealing your relationship? Was this not what you shed all those tears for, what you wished for every single time you tried to fit into another man’s mold? 

A resplendent joy feathers out in your chest, floating down your arms, then your legs with soft announcement. “Boba?”

His finger traces up your spine. “Yes, my princess?” His voice is dense as goose down and packed with comfort. 

You swirl your own shape into his skin. “I meant it, you know. I want… I want everyone to know we’re together. I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”

He goes silent, his only sound the movement of air in and out of his lungs. Even as you know he always takes time to consider his next move, your pulse still ticks up with a spate of nerves. The lines on your spine continue and you do your best to temper your unease as the long moments inch by. 

Eventually, a rumble reverberates in his chest. Your ears prick up.

“You don’t have to do that, babygirl, not before you’re ready. Just because it slipped out in the heat of the moment doesn’t mean it has to be set in stone.” Boba shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer. “I know there are more risks for you than me in our relationship.”

You hate the far off note of despair in his voice. You hate the way he sounds like he’s resigned himself to a truth that isn’t at all what it has to be. “No,” you sit up on your elbow to cup his cheek, “there’s not. Not in any way that matters to me. You’re-”

“Princess, it’s okay, I-”

You silence him with a kiss, suddenly feeling like you have to get the next words out of your body before they explode. “You’re worth the risk, Boba. You always will be. Every single day since I met you, you have done nothing but prove that to me.” Your pace picks up as your truth spreads its wings. “I was afraid before, not of being with you but of what others would think about my preferences. I didn’t want them to judge me and think I was only with you because I have “daddy issues” or whatever, not because I love you more than I thought people could. And I know my parents will be shocked but all they want is what’s best for me, and you’re what’s best for me. I know this now—and I’m not ashamed of it.”

As quickly as you started, you run out of steam. No longer inflated with the sense of frantic urgency you had before, you sag back down onto his chest. A quiet second flicks by, then Boba’s grabbing you, hauling you up into his arms to kiss you like a man desperate to live. He says nothing, his lips working against yours in fervent passion but you can feel the sentiment he doesn’t speak. Each pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth communicate more than any words could: his joy in your self-realization, the excitement of proclaiming your love to the world at long last. Your only wish is that you could have given him this sooner.

When he finally lets you break for air, his handsome face is lit up with a smile more radiant than any sun. Whispering your name with a reverence of only the truly devoted, he brushes his nose over yours. “Babygirl, I… I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me.”  He sweeps his lips over yours again. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

Besides his love, Boba’s greatest gift is his forthrightness. You never have to guess with him and now, no one else will have to either. They’ll know where his loyalties lay. 

“That’s a good thing,” you tease into a quick kiss. “Because all my aunties, and uncle Stephen, are going to be very jealous that you’re off the market.”

Boba chuckles in that bone-deep way that always makes you warm all over. “I didn’t realize I was in such high demand.”

You push yourself up on his chest. “Oh, don’t lie to me, Boba Fett. I’ve seen the way you flirt and wink at them. They eat it up and you know it!” 

Sitting up with you, he grins. “Just being polite, princess. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Maker, how could you ever be jealous of anyone after the sex you’d just had?

“Oh, not at all. Because at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.” You smirk up at him. “Speaking of which, we better get back out there before those same aunties start tearing the house up looking for you.”

“Only if you promise not to clean up and put these panties back on for me, darling girl,” he counters with a devilish smirk of his own.

Giggling, you bite your lip. “Anything for you, Daddy.”

He’s worth the risk.  

[froggibus]

Valentine's Day HCs - Baptiste, Cassidy, Genji, Hanzo, Junkrat, Lucio, Zenyatta

Includes: Baptiste, Cassidy, Genji, Hanzo, Junkrat, Lucio and Zenyatta

Summary: what they would do for you on Valentine's day

CW: gn! reader, our boys being dorky, some allusion to the lore, pure fluff!!

happy valentine's day guys! i decided i wanted to do something fun and write HCS for ALL of my fandoms which is actually taking forever (and im not even halfway done at like 12:33am) but im having fun with it and i hope you guys enjoy! <3

OW Women Ver. + Valentine's 2023 Masterlist

————

Baptiste:

with his life of being on the run, it’s rare that the two of you ever go on dates in public

but for your first Valentine’s Day together, he really wants to make it special 

he takes extra caution planning everything out—casing places, making sure they’re secure 

decides on taking you to a movie in the park and packs you guys a picnic 

has all your favourite snacks and drinks too!!

picks you up (also random but he totally drives a Vespa/electric scooter) mostly on time 

definitely seats you at a more secure place in the park where there’s not a lot of people

unpacks the picnic basket and spreads out a blanket and some pillows and a delicious spread of food 

tries to be all cute and feed you food but he’s so nervous he accidentally smashes it in your face 

he’s smooth with it tho and he’ll wipe your face off and kiss the spot better 

“are you cold? come closer.”

cuddles you while you watch the movie to keep you warm 

also off topic but he smells amazing 

you guys stay in the park long after the movie ends just stargazing 

he knows his constellations and points them out to you 

“i like to look at the stars when I’m on the road,” he says. “because they remind me that no matter how far away you are, i still get the pleasure of living in the same world you are.”

Cassidy:

he probably didn’t realize Valentine’s was coming up until like two days before 

but this man goes all out

you’re just so special to him, he has to show you how much he loves you (even tho he literally treats you like royalty every day of the year)

plans a lowkey night for the two of you

also makes it a surprise (mostly because he forgot lmfao)

picks you up on his motorbike and takes you to his favorite diner 

he’s always wanted to take you there and have you try their apple pie 

all of the staff there know him and they’re in awe of the two of you together 

they definitely give you guys food in the shape of a heart and turn on some romantic music 

he’s weirdly nervous considering it’s him 

“so uh, after this I was thinkin we could go have a drink or two?”

he’s so flustered it’s adorable 

and obviously you agree, and he takes you to his favourite bar 

even if it is a lowkey night, you’re still happy you get to spend time with him

plus, he’s a private man, and him showing you his favorite places is his way of showing you his heart

“yknow something, darlin? I think we ought to turn this into a tradition.”

Genji:

as a proud supporter of Fuck Boy Genji™️, he definitely didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day in his youth

doesn’t know exactly how to celebrate with you, just knows he wants to do something 

asks everyone for advice, but everyone is telling him something different and it just makes him all confused

he decides to trust his instincts on what to do

picks you up in a button down and cute jeans, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers 

he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, but he’s so excited he’s practically vibrating the whole way

you actually have to squeeze his hand to calm him down a little bit

he takes you to this unassuming, kind of dark building on the edge of town

knocks on the door and someone opens a little slot, he says a random word and suddenly the door swings open to reveal a little staircase 

takes you down and into a totally chill speakeasy

it’s warm inside and there’s jazz music filling the air 

Genji looks absolutely stunning in the amber lighting too

you guys get a table with a great view of the stage and order yummy food and drinks

“Do you like it? I thought big crowds might be overwhelming and—“

Shut him up by kissing his cheek and telling him you love it

“I’ve never really…had a Valentine before, but I’m really glad you’re my first, y/n.”

Hanzo:  

unlike his brother, he probably had had a Valentine before, but he’s never been one to share his life with others 

however, he really wants to show you a good time and treat you to a good night

big crowds and people are not really his thing, so he sets out to make a special night at home for the two of you

invites you over for food and movies

cooks you one of his signature meals, and the two of you eat together at the table under candlelight 

definitely has warm saké ready for the both of you to drink too

has one of his favorite movies and one of your favorite movies ready to go on his tv 

cuddles up to you on the couch under a super soft throw blanket 

honestly one of the only times he really allows himself to be super clingy and attached to you 

always has his hands on you, probably kissing your neck and shoulders and head

makes sure to pay special attention to your favorite movie because he knows it means a lot to you 

“I know this isn’t much but…I really wanted to share something special with you away from prying eyes.”

you guys end up falling asleep on the couch together, and even though Hanzo wakes up at some point, he doesn’t move 

he’s just content to be with you

Junkrat:

the concept of a Valentine is kinda lost to him since he didn’t really have time for that growing up in Junkertown 

but he notices a bunch of heart shaped decorations when him and Roadhog are robbing a bank

which of course prompts him to ask his partner what they’re for 

the way Hog explains it is a little…different, but Junkrat literally has heart eyes the whole time 

he decides he wants to celebrate it with you so he spends hours making you a Valentine

makes you this cute little card (and he swears up and down that it won’t blow up when you open it)

and tried to make you cookies but ends up burning them :((

so he recruits Roadhog’s help and together they bake and decorate cute little sugar cookies for you

he gives them to you on Valentine’s and he’s super nervous the whole time

you honestly tear up a little at how cute it is 

the two of you end up eating them together and hanging out for the rest of the night 

“I think I like Valentine’s Day!” He announces. “Do you think…do you think we’ll spend the next one together, too?”

Lucio:

between being a wanted criminal for stealing from Vishkar and being a world renowned DJ, going out on Valentine’s Day is not the best idea

but that’s not going to stop him

he spreads out flower petals and lights candles across the apartment and waits for you to come home

settles in on the couch with his guitar, practising quietly in case you’re outside 

when you come home, you’re greeted by the smell of gourmet candles and flowers leading you down the hallway

you can hear the soft sounds of a guitar strumming and you follow the sounds 

you make it to your living room to see Lucio strumming his guitar, and when he sees you, his eyes light up

he starts singing a song he wrote for you, looking at you with his little heart eyes the whole time

you’re left on the verge of tears the whole time and when he’s done playing, you pull him in for a kiss 

“so, did you like it?”

you’re speechless tbh 

like he loves you enough to write an entire song just for you 

and that’s not the end, either, because he surprises you with a dinner reservation to your favorite restaurant 

and to make sure you’re not being swarmed by fans, he’s bought out the entire restaurant 

the two of you get to eat in peace and have a great Valentine’s Day 

“so I, uh, I wanted to know if you’d be okay with me putting that song on my album? I just—I love you so much, I want the whole world to know.”

Zenyatta:

partly because he’s a monk but also because he’s an omnic, I don’t think he’d really celebrate Valentine’s 

however if it’s important to you, he’ll definitely put the effort in to make you happy

plus he’s so lowkey, he’s open to trying anything 

when he hears you talking about Valentine’s Day to one of your friends, it gives him the idea to surprise you and celebrate it

he spends days coming up with ideas and pays extra close attention to your likes/dislikes 

would probably ask Genji for some advice before giving up when he realizes the boy is clueless 

settles on getting you a very personal, intimate gift and letting you decide where to take it from there

he gets you a new pair of headphones and makes you a mixtape/playlist to listen to to calm you down 

since he knows sometimes you get stressed out or anxious 

it’s so unexpected that you cry and the poor omnic is stuck figuring out if they’re tears of joy or not

“y/n…are you sad?”

you explain how touched you are

“you’re my partner, y/n. I would do anything to make you happy.”

[petvampire]

For my galaxy brain @dryadgurrl 💖

HORNY CURIOUS POLYCULE PROMPT AS I TRY TO MAKE THE MUSE WORK AGAIN

Monty’s chronic impatience vs cockwarming and incessant teasing with toys. NSFW.

~

Monty’s going to lose his mind.

He’s pretty sure he thinks that at least once a week these days, and it’s usually in a very pleasant context, but right now he’s just… actually going to go insane. His partners can be downright fucking diabolical at times, and he both loves and hates it.

Patience has never been the crow’s strong suit. He’s impulsive and eager, quick to act on his instincts and desires. Yeah, he can tease when he wants to, but he rarely manages it for long, seeking sensation and pleasure with a sense of immediacy he hasn’t quite shaken off, even after over a year of being human. Some part of him is well aware he’s still trying to stuff as much experience into his life as possible, just in case. He’s working on that, but in the meantime, it means he has a hard time taking things slow.

Which, of course, his lovers have decided he also needs to work on. Patience is a virtue, and all that.

It’s how they’ve decided to train him in patience that’s driving him out of his mind.

Edwin is seated on the edge of the Cat King’s throne, a smug little smirk on his lips as one hand strokes absently through Monty’s hair. The crow is on his knees in front of him, lips stretched around the other’s cock, the weight of him just settled against his tongue, unmoving. Every time he tries to shift, tries to suck the other properly, that hand tightens, forcing him to stillness. He whines low around the flesh filling his mouth, but the ghost appears utterly unmoved. Edwin has patience down to an art form; he could literally sit there like this for hours.

This isn’t the only torment Monty is subject to at the moment. Because of course just making him stay there, warming Edwin’s cock, wouldn’t be enough. No, his lovers are goddamn evil, and the Cat King always tends to push things up another notch.

Which is why the only sound in the room other than Monty’s half-muffled whines and whimpers is a low, muted buzz. The plug the shapeshifter slipped into him would have been distraction enough, but the damn thing vibrates. Not at any consistent speed or rhythm he can get used to, either. No, it’s controlled by a remote currently dangling from the Cat King’s hand, and he’s merciless. Monty can’t ever get used to the stimulation, because the second he does, it changes.

The feline is draped over the arm of the throne, nuzzling into Edwin’s neck, playing at ignoring the crow’s presence. They’re both paying very close attention, though, drinking in every desperate little noise, every shift Monty makes. It’s walking a fine line, ignoring and dismissing him even as they torment him further. It’s going to drive him insane, reduce him to a begging, needy mess.

But it’s slow going. Because of course, he needs to learn to be patient.

[lightlycareless]

Heyy !!

I just wanted to request if you could write something about Naoya punishing us🤭😭 you can choose why he’s punishing us cuz I don’t have any ideas ;)

And like I was rereading some chapters of your fic with Naoya and omg like , your writing is really good I literally felt in a romance book , the way you wrote each character is amazing too and I just really appreciate your work I hope you will keep writing it 😭

Heya anon!!

Of course!!! I actually had to think a bit as to how he'd punish us... or more like how I would write it, since these are two things I'm not really that experienced with yet (Naoya is always rough, I mean, when does it become a punishment? or so that's my perception lol)

But I eventually settled with something I wanted to try :) I feel like Naoya would really love doing something like this when he's not that involved with you (He's busy lmao)

Anyways, here are the warnings: slight exhibitionism? One of Naoya's brother's got very unlucky. Use of vibrators, plugs, or so. kind of dub-con if you think about it, Naoya is also a manipulator, you're an enabler. Minors DNI!!!

Now, without further a do, happy reading!

“Y/N, are you…  alright?” After much debate, a member of your staff member, Mariya, says after silently observing the rising fluster of your cheeks or the slightest hesitation in your usually nimble hands.

“Ye—yeah.” You murmur, taking breath and exhaling. “I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Oh, are you sure you don’t want to take a break?” she suggests, which you deny almost immediately by shaking your head.

“No, I just—I’ll be fine.” You insist, and Mariya begrudgingly lets you continue, attempting her best to move past her concern and focus on her duties.

But when she sees you struggle on the simplest of tasks yet again, she’s quickly reminded that more than helping you complete your duties, she’s there to ensure your well-being; so, after relegating part of your responsibilities to nearby staff, and essentially forcing you to accept this change, Mariya leads you onto your bedroom, intending to let you rest and recover—

Until bumping onto Naoya on the way there, who after taking a quick glance at your dismayed appearance, immediately relieves Mariya of her obligations and takes you to the bedroom himself.

A gesture she takes with great elation, glad that your husband had always been attentive to you—no doubt in her mind that you’re in much better hands now…

If only he weren’t the reason behind your ailment.

“So much for holding decorum, my love…” he says upon firmly closing the door behind him. A tone so threatening, you quickly turn around to face him and spew out your defense.

“Naoya—I wasn’t—Mariya didn’t—” you gasp.

“No, I get it.” He says. “She’s your friend, your loyal companion, someone that gives you security. Were you intending to gang up on me with her, perhaps? Use her to avoid the inevitable?”

“What? N—no…!” you fretted, he closes the distance between the two. “Nao—ya—”

“On the futon—now.”

You obey immediately, making your way over to the futon and taking a seat just by the edge, fingers fidgeting amongst with other before mustering enough courage to glance up to him, flinching when seeing the smirk on his face, the indication his following acts would be nothing but etched with dark intentions—

Something you were nothing but fearful, and unprepared to face.

“You know what you ought to be doing, princess” Naoya says as he walks over to you. You try your best to move away from him, far and safe from his retribution…

But too deep into your own terror, all you could do instead is whimper as you remained there, anxiously taking in the scrutinizing way his eyes scan your body.

If he noticed the result of such struggle, he did not say. Yet, it wouldn’t take much to guess that your reaction, far from offending him, would only excite him.

“Don’t act all innocent now, it’s unbefitting of a whore like you.” He frowns. “Do not make me repeat myself.’

Pushing through the fear and embarrassment your following actions were to provide, your hands carefully grip the edges of your kimono skirt and lift it, effectively revealing the culprit behind your shaky morning, a sight that makes Naoya’s satisfaction grow, kneeling to your level so he could get a better look at the situation you’ve gotten yourself in—

All because you were a needy princess for attention.

Filling your cunt, was a vibrator that had been diligently working the moment Naoya placed it within you early in the morning—faithfully keeping you company throughout your various duties while he cruelly played with its settings from afar.

He’d either give you a false sense of comfort by lowering the vibrations, almost undetectable, enough to allow your mind to dwell onto other matters… before reminding you of your naivety by rising it to the maximum and forcing you onto disconcerting consequences.

There was no way Naoya knew where you were, or whom you were with when alternating between settings, but you wouldn’t put it beneath him to have found a way to do so—specially with what happened earlier: to the moment you were pushed dangerously close to the edge, a simple matter of enduring few more seconds of stimulation before coming undone—

And right before one of his brothers, the most innocent of all: Naofumi.

At that, you couldn’t help but suspect Naoya knew what you were doing all along, carefully planning the moment where Naofumi would naturally worry if you were ok, if you’ve perhaps been struck with an unprecedented sickness, and if there was something he could do to help you…

Before finally placing the pieces together the longer your heavy breathing went on, as the color in your cheeks deepened.

Once evident, Naofumi quickly excused himself and sprinted past the door, into the hallways and away from the scaring image of his sister-in-law having an orgasm right before him.

Oh, Naoya would’ve undoubtedly killed to see something like that.

But for now, he supposes he’ll do with what he has now.

“Fits you quite well, doesn’t it?” he says, fingers teasingly sliding across the edge of your lips, giving them a light pull and getting a better view of its lovely pink color, before licking his lips at the way your bud twitches, eventually refocusing on the other equally cruel part of this intricate arrangement:

A nicely fitting plug placed in your ass, capable of stimulating your greedy rim through various vibrations, yet decorated with a beautiful shiny pink jewel—because a desperate princess like you still deserved only the nicest.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to satisfy your needy holes, but of course, my beautiful wife can never disappoint.”

Unless, of course, when you did.

“Naoya—” you whine, invertedly pushing your hips into his touch, crying when he pulls away. “Naoya please—”

“Are you serious?” He laughs, as if he couldn’t find your behavior any more amusing. “Didn’t you have enough today? You still want more?”

“I want—I want you—” you breathe, trying to rub your legs together, his hands stop you.

“Of course you do, slut.” Naoya spats. “Can’t get enough of that can you? It’s how you got into this situation, after all—because like the desperate whore you are, you always have to be looking for someone to fuck you.”

“No— No Naoya.” You frantically shake your head, before trying your best to reach for him—Naoya pushes you back. “I only want you!”

“That’s not what it looked like that day.” He growls, releasing his grasp over you, soon hearing his pants unfastening—the sight and sound sends a jolt of heat towards your cunt, making you clench in eagerness. “Don’t lie to me!”

“I would never—ah!” Naoya shuts you by landing his hand against your cunt, a loud slap and a stinging aftermath leaving you to ponder on your supposed lies. “I could never—I could never do that! —I love—”

But your words weren’t ones he could consider truthful anymore, not when he’d seen the evidence with his own two eyes:

The infuriating image of you gleefully laughing alongside his brother, the most insufferable of all, Naoaki, when he’s told you countless times to keep the fuck away from him.

Sure, he could admit knowing you were only being amicable for his sake, upkeeping your reputation as respectable lady of the house and honoring all that Naoya has worked for—but it still angered him, in such way many wouldn’t be able to comprehend, not even in the slightest, because just as he knew you, he also knew his brothers.

Saw right through their envious intentions, their jealous, lustful motivations.

Which only fueled him to let everyone know you were his.

That he’s the one you married, the one he’s claiming every single night, filling with his seed, chanting his name like it was some kind of prayer, and soon—carrying his child.

Seems a reminder is long overdue. And what better way to do so than continuously putting you through a state his foolish brothers could only dream of achieving…

But to Naoya, all he had to do was ask.

“I love you” you whimper when he pulls out the vibrator from your cunt, swiftly and without warning, leaving you empty, yet eager, for you wholeheartedly expected this agonizing void to be replaced by his intoxicating warmth…

You’d get it, of course, but not the way you anticipated, nor wanted—for Naoya would tell you that in order to obtain what you desired, you’d have to convince him you’re worthy of his cock, the pleasure you’ve been agonizingly longing for, even when overstimulated—

And like the ever-dutiful wife, you’d oblige, taking his member into your mouth and eagerly bobbing your head up and down his shaft, doing your best to show just how much you loved the entirety of him—from the tip of his head, to the prominent vein on the underside… there’s nothing more blissful than to be filled to the brim with his hardness and seed.

When feeling him close to his release, through the familiar sound of his shaky voice, tightly shut eyes as his head is thrown to the back, while heavily grunting just how good you’re making him feel, you tried to pull away from him, make him reconsider finishing inside your cunt instead.

But once more, you weren’t to receive such blessings—not when you had yet to comply with the cruel requirements of said punishment—so instead, Naoya simply pulls you back to his cock, nose against his pelvis as he does one, two, three more thrusts before emptying his seed into your mouth.

You moan at the warm strings flooding your throat, hands tightly clenching at his legs as you do your best to fight against the choking sensation his intruding member forced onto you—but as difficult this task was, your mind could only focus on the fire underneath, and the desolation you were dying to ease—

“N—No, Naoya…!” you’d cry when realizing that the only time he’d touch your cunt was to fill you with his seed but void of the pleasure he’d always given you when doing so. Instead, relegated solely to preserve his future heirs, safely guarded deep into tight walls and sealed with the same vibrator as before, to ensure nothing goes to waste. “It’s not—It’s not fair!”

A cry that makes him smirk, before his face turns sour at seeing your hands reach for your bud, undoubtedly seeking release through your own merits, him quickly peeling it away.

“If you touch yourself one more time—I’ll have you walk naked around the estate!”

There’s sincerity behind his tone, all the intentions of keeping his words if you fail once more, clear in his eyes.

And thus, without putting up a fight, you sorrowfully accept his condition, tears in your eyes as you’re bound to face another hour yet again without coming undone through the care and warmth of your husband.

Though Naoya would remind you that his actions aren’t of a cruel man, but rather, of fair one, by pressing a kiss on your cheeks, lips wiping away your tears as he sweetly reassures you…

“Just don’t do it next time, ok?” Naoya coos as he places a soft peck onto your lips, you continue quietly sobbing. “You know how I feel when you talk to my brothers… do you really want it to be like this, always?”

You shake your head.

No, of course not. You’d rather die than make your husband upset.

“Then be a good girl and do as I say.” Naoya carefully grabs your face, making you turn to him—watery eyes looking up to his surprisingly soft, promising ones. “Can you do that? Can the future mother of my children obey me?”

At the promise of becoming the mother to his heirs, your heart flutters, a soft smile appearing on your lips before eagerly revealing your response.

“Yes.”

A guarantee that would briefly provide a glimpse of your undying loyalty towards him, willing to do not only that, but more—from keeping your hands away from your burning cunt, eyes stray of all men but him, to eagerly taking his seed and only his seed, preparing for the day you’d announce you were with child…

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for Naoya. Happy to accept your punishments for actions you weren’t even aware of…

As long as you had his love.

I was actually upset that I didn't write y/n wearing a vibrator/plug on this oneshot over here, like, commit to it, you know?! That would've sent Naoya over the edge waaay earlier.

Also, thank you so much for your lovely words!! I'm so glad you're liking my fic so far :') It's always such an honor... and I've long promised myself that even if it took me a while, I will finish it!! I have to... I owe it to myself and y'all....

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! :> I hope it was worth the wait! I got to write something I wanted to try out... hehe. Totally worth it.

Now, take care and hope to see you soon ❤️

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 11!!

Okay so I had Life being Life, then a bit of Writer's Block (sort of), then a bit of a hangover, BUT I GOT IT DONE. So here we go.

Beginning || Previous || Next

************

When you wake up the next morning, you once again find Anathema sitting at the large dining table surrounded by her books and tools. This time, though, Aziraphale and Crowley are with her. Aziraphale has his tiny glasses on and is flipping through a book, a cup of tea next to him, no doubt cold. Crowley is on his phone, and you can hear the sound effects of Candy Crush from here. He has a mug in front of him too, but it’s steaming and smells of coffee.

“Good morning,” Anathema says to you.

“Morning!” You respond, heading into the kitchen. Here, you can see that someone has bought a box of bagels, and you help yourself to one and make a coffee before returning to the dining room and having a seat across from Anathema.

“So,” You say, taking a bite out of your bagel (dear Reader, I personally am imagining just eating it like a donut because I can), “How are the readings coming?”

“Well,” Anathema starts, “I got some vague vibrations yesterday and I have a theory.”

“Oh?”

“The vibrations were very faint, mind you, but I think they were coming from the southwest. So I’m going to try going to that edge of the city today and try again. With any luck I’ll have a better idea of where we’re traveling to by tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” You reply

“Thanks! Aziraphale is going to go with me.”

“And I am not,” Crowley says definitively. You smirk behind your coffee mug.

“Still sulking over yesterday, are we?” You ask him, trying your best to imitate his eyebrow.

“No. It just sounds boring.”

“Well we could hang out today,” You suggest brightly. Crowley makes a noise that is non-committal and mono-syllabic. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Aziraphale offers in place of Crowley, “Perhaps you can find us a car to rent. I have a feeling that we will be leaving the city soon, and we won’t want to be walking will we?” He chuckles to himself, and you nod in agreement.

“Perfect,” You say with a smile as you finish off your breakfast.

----------------

“So!” You start casually as the pair of you wander down the street, “What mischief are we going to get up to? Are we gluing coins to the sidewalk? Are we going to find someplace busy and just walk REALLY slowly? Take up both sides of the escalator? Oh! We could ride the bus and request every stop without ever getting off!”

Crowley stops walking and looks at you. His eyebrow has practically merged with his hairline.

“Is that what you lot think I do?”

“Well, uh...basically yes,” You reply uncertainly. Just as you’re starting to wonder if you should be re-evaluating everything you know about how Crowley operates, he smirks with a satisfied hum.

“Good. Glad to know my finer talents are appreciated somewhere.”

Oh he has no idea. You decide not to inflate his ego too far. Yet.

“So what do you want to do?”

Crowley produces a bag of frozen peas from nowhere. A light bulb goes off in your brain.

“Oh! Ducks!”

“Ducks.”

And so you head for Central Park.

--------------

Finding the ducks doesn’t take too long. Neither does emptying the bag of frozen peas. In the end, you both find a bench and have a seat. It feels strangely like you’re filling in for Aziraphale.

“So what happened yesterday with Anathema?” You ask after a while.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he replies, shifting around on the bench. Alright, enough of this. You turn to stare at him.

“What do I mean, okay. I mean that you spent two days running around like an unsupervised kid, spend one afternoon with Anathema, and suddenly when I literally give you permission to be a mischievous shit, all you want to do is feed the ducks.”

It almost looks like he’s chewing on something. Words maybe, you figure. Maybe he feels that if he chews them enough, they’ll come out easier. He must realize it doesn’t work like that because after a few seconds he answers your question.

“She may have mentioned that my having too much fun might bring the Metatron back around. Back to Aziraphale. Especially since he didn’t seem to have much trouble finding you in Heathrow. He probably knows where we are.”

Oh. That’s actually a fair point. You take a minute and think about it.

“Yeah, he probably does, but I don’t think he’s going to try anything just yet. I mean, his tactics are straight out of the Fairytale Villain Playbook. So he’s probably going to hold back for a bit to see if I start to crack and then go back to him.”

“Book Girl still has a point, though. Don’t wanna bring him out before we have to.”

“Okay,” You pause for a minute, considering the obvious compromise that Crowley doesn’t seem to have touched on yet. But then again, sometimes you just need someone to give you permission – even if it’s something you already know. “So how about we don’t have too much fun, but we have just a little bit of fun. Like we go souvenir shopping and buy a t shirt with small change. Keep stuff in moderation, yeah?”

“Hm,” Crowley leans back farther if that’s even possible, considering your proposition. “I do somewhat fancy one of those I Heart NY shirts.”

“Same actually. Did you create those by any chance? Just curious.”

His smile is toothy and smug. Instead of answering, he lifts himself off the bench.

“Come on then, Reader,” he says, “Let’s buy some souvenirs.”

“Reader?” You answer, getting up and following him.

“Well what else am I gonna call you? You keep talking about how much you read and I already have Book Girl. Need to keep all you straight somehow don’t I?”

----------------

Not very long afterwards, you find yourself wandering around the city again, this time sporting I Heart NY merch and cheap star-shaped sunglasses. Crowley has swapped out his normal shades for a pair of shutter shades. A couple of times now you’ve had to grab his arm to keep him from walking into poles. And once, he nearly sauntered his way down a flight of stairs that he was certain had come out of nowhere. He still hasn’t switched back to his normal sunglasses.

“Okay what about Monopoly?” You ask him.

“Nope. That was an American who made that I think. No idea who it even was.”

“Mario Kart?”

Crowley snorts. “No.”

“What about fake pockets?”

“If anyone asks, yes. But otherwise, actually, no.”

“What about...multi-level marketing schemes?”

“I…what? No. But I definitely told Hell that I did.”

“Okay well then what did you actually invent?”

Crowley stops and looks at you through those ridiculous shutter shades. He smirks like the Cheshire Cat as he answers.

“As little as physically possible.”

“So you did basically nothing, and just took credit for everything?”

“YuP.” He pops the plosive at the end with a self-satisfied head-waggle.

“Brilliant.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” You turn and give him a hug. Sometimes, you just need to hug your demon.

“Ngk. What’s this?” He’s clearly uncomfortable, so you let go. He doesn’t say anything else about the hug, but he buys you an ice cream.

And he pays with pennies.

----------

The hotel room is quiet when you both return. After a quick search, you find that Aziraphale and Anathema aren’t back yet. That’s not...a great sign. But you’re determined not to panic.

“I’ll order some room service. You want anything?”

“Nah, I’ll wait.”

So he’s worried too. Alright. You place your order and turn on the tv. You try to care about the Big Bang Theory reruns, but you can’t relax just yet. Both of you sit in quiet tension until the door finally opens to Anathema and Aziraphale. Their moods are joyful, and you feel the dark cloud just lift away.

“Hey guys,” You say, “I just ordered some room service. I wasn’t sure when you two were coming back.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale practically sings, “I’ll get the menus. I’m certain they won’t mind adding on to the order.” He leaves the room. Anathema’s face is bright.

“I found out where we need to go. Did you find us a car?”

Oh. Whoops.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[luescris]

Okay. *inhales and claps hands together* I just got done finally catching up on things. Spoilers under the cut. :)

my thoughts. Are ALL over the place right now. I have words do describe how absolutely gobsmacked I am, but don't have a planned way to put everything so bare with me. So with that said.

*jumping up and down on my chair* dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons

So many things about dragons holy shit you guys holy shit. Can I say how absolutely GORGEOUS the two teacher dragon designs are like on god?? I forget their names but the purple one is so freaking gorgeous and the black one. Is so complicated.

Like in general everything about this season just absolutely screams to me anime like. dude??? When they showed the Five in their prison thing??? That was some freaking anime shit right there. Literally had like flashbacks to that one dangerous group in Naruto that had nine people in it but this was five but s t i l l

There were so many shots where I wanted to take screenshots because oh my god they were so pretty but Netflix doesn't allow that (fuck Netflix for that personally) but dude the Fighting too?? The animation and lighting and lore and story building and ho ug h/pos

Also holy shit I'm so glad that Jay isn't being portrayed as hiding from the others so he doesn't have to do his job like I feared he genuinely forgot and that's so sad because Nya misses the love of her life (SHE ACTIVELY CALLS HIM THAT TOO AAAAA) and the fact that Lloyd got panic attacks??? And those visions??? And holy shit Kai???????

The amount of dragon lore we are FINALLY getting is so much and so sudden it's hurting my brain but I am not at all complaining right now this was the level of story telling that I absolutely adore it's so full of stuff and it's a goddamned lego show. Is it just me or did they seriously up the anti after Monkie Kid cuz you guys I can't I just can't/pos

Never expected Bonzel to be important but I'm not complaining. Cole has a boyfriend finally. The fucking. Council of the Source Dragons or whatever hovering over Lloyd like that oh man oh boy

And the reveal that Roz (Rahz??) and his "master" is only doing this just for some kinda tournament they keep loosing against the Source Dragons?? Talk about a whole new level of petty what the hell dawg that's. Kind of a little hilarious even ngl

Dude I can't wait for more I literally can't wait I'm vibrating so hard right now and still have endless questions this could go anywhere

I was legit glued to the screen the entire time I was watching like on the edge of my seat the whole time, I thought things would get worse or something but it was just all so intense

And also where the hell is Wu is he actually dead this time??? Is that his ghost????? And where in the world is Pixal??? Zane misses his gf :(((

[sequinsmile-x]

Glissade

(glis·​sade) Noun. A gliding step in ballet

She was grateful that her mother showed up for the kids, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. That she didn’t feel jealous that Elizabeth could do for her grandchildren what she’d never been able to do for her. It made her ache. Made her feel like the little girl she’d once been, standing in a room a little too similar to this one, waiting for her mother to arrive. 

-x-

Hi friends,

This was literally inspired by a tiktok I saw of a little girl smiling when she saw her mum in the crowd at a recital. Of course, it couldn't just be straight up fluff...so the mommy issues got involved.

I feel like everyone should know that @cloudlessly-light massively encouraged this as she sat on my couch this weekend haha

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

April 1976

She peeks through the curtain separating the stage from the audience. She presses her lips together as she desperately looks for a familiar face in the sea of parents sitting and chatting as they wait for the dance recital to start. The sick feeling deep in her stomach she’d been feeling all afternoon gets worse as she doesn’t see her mom - an empty seat where she should be standing out in the crowd. 

“Emily, sweetie,” Mrs Stockton says, her hand on Emily’s back as she crouches next to her. Emily turns to look at her, her eyebrows furrowing as her tummy ache worsens, “We need to get started.”

Emily swallows thickly, her eyes burning as her vision goes blurry, tears she knew her mom would be mad at her for gathering at her lashline, “But my Mommy isn’t here yet.” 

She said she’d come. Emily had asked her every day for the last week if she would be here and she’d said yes, she’d promised that she’d come. 

“Your Mommy called,” Mrs Stockton says, her smile kind as she tucks some of Emily’s hair behind her ear, a stray strand having escaped the tight bun she’d put it in for her when she arrived, “She got caught up with work. She said Mr Wright, your driver, will pick you up when we’re done.” 

It takes a second for her teacher's words to sink in, and her chest feels tight, the rolling in her stomach all morning rushing upwards and for a moment she thinks she’s going to be sick. She swallows it back down, not wanting to throw up in front of her classmates, their whispers to each other as they watch Mrs Stockton talk to her loud despite how she tries to ignore them. 

“But…she promised.” 

Mrs Stockton sighs sympathetically, “I know she did sweetie,” she says, “I’m sorry.” 

Emily nods and wipes a tear from her cheek as it falls, knowing what her mom would say if she was here. She’d tell her she shouldn’t cry, that Prentiss’s were strong - whatever that meant. She’d only ever seen her mom cry once, although she was sure she hadn’t seen her. It was just after Emily had seen her dad for the last time a few months ago. She’d had a nightmare and tried to find her mom and eventually sought her out in her office. She’d stopped when she was in the doorway, her fist still lifted to knock, because she always had to knock, when she heard crying. 

She’d walked back to her room, her favourite stuffed animal still hanging from her hand, and decided to look after herself. Something that she thinks she’ll have to start doing a lot more of. 

“Okay,” Emily says, forcing a smile, one she’d always been told looked exactly like her mother’s, “I’m ready.” 

___

“We’re late.” 

Aaron has to stop himself from sighing, well aware that his wife was on edge and that anything was liable to push her over it. Ever since they’d woken up that morning she’d been anxious, a tension in her shoulders visible from the second she’d climbed out of bed. It was something only their children could bring out in her, a constant fear that she was letting them down forever lingering under her skin. She would practically vibrate with it, doubt in her abilities as a mother never far away. He hated that she doubted herself, that she couldn’t see what he could. That she was the centre of their children’s worlds. That Jack, Violet and Benjamin all sought her out at any given opportunity, never tiring of the unrelenting love she has for them.

He briefly looks at her hands, at the way she twists her rings around her finger - a nervous habit that had long since replaced picking at her cuticles, and he feels his heart ache for her. He swallows the sigh, covering it by clearing his throat, and he reaches over the centre console to squeeze Emily’s thigh, smiling when she immediately places her hand over his, linking their fingers together as she tries to draw comfort from him. 

“We’re not late, sweetheart,” he assures her, raising their joint hands to kiss her knuckles before he lets go of her hand to place it back on the steering wheel, “We’ll be there before it starts.” 

She hums absentmindedly and looks over her shoulder to the back of the car, her anxiety slipping away for a moment as she watches Benjamin in his car seat. His tiny hands and one of his feet visible from where he’s facing the back of the car - the 10-month-old’s love of taking his shoes off at any given opportunity well known. She reaches back and touches his hand, smiling when he starts to babble and wraps his fist around one of her fingers. 

“You excited to watch your sister dance, sweet boy?” She asks, her smile getting wider when his babbling gets louder, “Me too,” she says before she turns back to face the front of the car, her hand back in her lap. She feels her stomach twist when she checks her watch again, the minutes slipping by far too quickly for her liking, “She has to know we’re there, Aaron. It’s her first dance recital.” 

Violet had been excited about it for weeks. She’d talked non-stop about the recital, practising at any given opportunity, her brows furrowed together as she tried to remember the routine her dance teacher had taught her. She’d reminded them that morning before they left for work and they’d promised they’d be there, that she’d be able to see them in the crowd, and she’d smiled so widely just the memory of it made Emily ache. 

“We’re almost there, Em,” he says, briefly looking at her before he’s focusing on the road again, “Just another couple of minutes.” 

She huffs out a breath and rests her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes for a second as she tries to centre herself, “I know you probably think I’m being ridiculous-”

“Never,” he replies sincerely, forcing a smile to pass across her face as she shakes her head at him, looking at him through the side of her eyes before she carries on.

“But my mom never came to this kind of thing. And…I just want to do better,” she smiles sadly at him, avoiding his eye contact by looking in the back of the car again, her eyes fixed on Benjamin as he works to take off his other shoe, “I never want them to know how it feels to not have us in the room with them, you know?” 

Not for the first time, and he knows not for the last, irritation aimed at his mother-in-law licks through him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. He knew most, if not all, of Emily’s insecurity about being a mother, came from what her relationship with Elizabeth looked like. She’d told him once, shortly after they found out Violet was a girl, that she was worried she wouldn’t be any good at raising a daughter. She’d stared at her lap, tears burning in her eyes as she quietly admitted to him she was convinced that something was missing in her, that her own mother’s lack of a maternal nature was genetic. A cycle she was sure she’d never be able to escape. 

He wished he could have shown her then where she was now, how she was their 4-year-old’s favourite person in the entire world. How Violet would beam the second she’d see Emily, her smile wide as she’d run over to her and fling herself into her arms. 

“I know,” he replies reaching for her hand and squeezing it again, “We are doing better,” he assures her, “Did your mom ever confirm if she was coming today?” 

Emily laughs humourlessly and shakes her head, relief washing over her as they finally pull into the school’s parking lot, “No. I didn’t tell Vi that I invited her, that way she can’t be disappointed if she doesn’t show up,” she says, barely waiting for him to turn off the car’s engine before she’s out of it, rounding the car to get Benjamin. She smiles widely at him as she opens the door and unbuckles him, “There’s my sweet barefoot boy.” 

She presses several kisses on his cheek as she lifts him into her arms, the giggle he releases one of her favourite sounds in the world. She kisses him one more time before she hands him over to Aaron, her smile impossibly wider at the sight of them together.

“Mom!” 

She turns just in time to see Jack running towards her, his arms out-stretched as he hugs her, “Hi honey,” she replies, smiling at Jessica as she walks towards them, “Have you been here long?” 

“We just got here,” Jessica says, “You guys made good time.”

Aaron chokes on a laugh, the sound breaking free from his chest before he can stop it, and Emily turns to look at him, her eyes narrowed as she points at him.

“Not a word.” 

Aaron smiles and nods, exchanging an amused look with Jessica before he nods towards the school, “We should go in. Find some seats.” 

Emily hums and wraps her arm around Jack’s shoulders, squeezing him closer as they walk in tandem. He’s telling her about his day, enthusiastically filling her in about what he’d learned at school and the fun he and his friends had at recess, when she spots a familiar face in the school hall, leaving her frozen in place. 

“Mother?” 

Elizabeth smiles and stands up from her seat in the front row, waving them over to the empty seats next to her, “Emily, Aaron - I saved you all some seats.” 

Emily falters a little bit, rooted to the spot until she feels the warmth of Aaron’s chest against her back and Benjamin’s tiny fingers tangling in her hair. She clears her throat and walks over to her mother, casting a glance over her shoulder at her husband, grateful for the assurance she felt whenever he was near.

“Mother, hi,” she says, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her mother’s cheek as she hugs her, “I didn’t realise you were coming.” 

She scoffs as she briefly hugs Emily before she pulls Jack into a hug, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she says, as if it’s obvious, as if she doesn’t have a track record of missing this exact kind of thing, “I got here early so we could sit in the front row.” 

Emily nods, her lips pressed tightly together as she clears her throat, pushing the hurt and repressed anger she’d been hiding for years down into her gut, “Well, I know Vi will appreciate it.” 

“Will everyone please take their seats, we are about to begin.” 

The teacher’s voice cuts across any other conversation, and after a rushed greeting between Elizabeth, Jessica and Aaron they all take their seats. Emily sits with Jack on one side of her and Aaron on the other, Benjamin pressed between the two of them, his fingers tangled in her shirt even though he’s still in Aaron’s arms. She can feel her mother’s gaze burning into her side. The sensation was achingly familiar and she does her best to ignore it. 

She was grateful that her mother showed up for the kids, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. That she didn’t feel jealous that Elizabeth could do for her grandchildren what she’d never been able to do for her. It made her ache. Made her feel like the little girl she’d once been, standing in a room a little too similar to this one, waiting for her mother to arrive. 

Everyone applauds when the kids walk out on stage, all nervous and some of them slightly unsteady on their feet. Emily immediately spots Violet and she can see just how anxious her little girl is, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looks at the crowd clearly seeking her out. It’s obvious the moment Violet spots her. Her face lights up, her shoulders loosen as she immediately relaxes, her smile wide as she waves at Emily. 

Emily waves back, pride and love overwhelming her as she blows out a shaky breath, tears she doesn’t entirely understand making her vision blur. She jumps slightly when Aaron places his hand on her leg and she looks up at him, her smile soft as their eyes meet and she sees the same proud tears shining right back at her.

___

“Okay, sweet girl,” Emily says, tucking Violet’s bedding around her, “It’s time to go to sleep.”

Violet smiles sleepily at her, her usual attempts at fighting bedtime nowhere to be found, “Today was fun.”

Emily hums and runs her fingers through Violet’s hair, “It was nice, huh?” She says, “You did so good baby.” 

“Thanks, Mommy.” 

She stands up and kisses Violet’s forehead, “You’re welcome,” she kisses her forehead again, “You get some sleep, okay? You know where Daddy and I are if you need us.” 

She nods and wraps her arms around her favourite toy, “Love you, Mama.”

“Love you too, Vi,” she replies, taking a moment to watch her from the doorway before she switches out the light and steps out into the hallway. She jumps when she almost immediately walks into Elizabeth, her hand over her heart as she gasps, “Jesus, Mother. What are you doing up here?” 

“Jack asked me to put him to bed,” she replies, her arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t get a chance to do it often so I said I would. Where’s Aaron?” 

“He’s on Benny duty tonight,” Emily says as she starts to walk towards the stairs, “He doesn’t like to fall asleep alone so Aaron will be there for a while,” she smiles when her mother laughs politely, “Thank you for coming today - and for staying for dinner. I know it meant a lot to Vi.” 

“Of course I came,” Elizabeth nods as they head into the kitchen and Emily goes to the fridge to get out some wine, “She’s my granddaughter.” 

Emily scoffs, unable to stop herself, her nerves shot after a long day. She was so happy for Violet that she had so many people in her life, that they’d filled half a row and been sat right there as she danced slightly out of beat with the music, but she was also jealous. Jealous that she’d never had anyone - not even one person sitting there to cheer her along. It felt wrong and made her feel like the worst mother in the world, but she couldn’t help it. It felt like a rock low and heavy in her belly, forcing her to say something she’d usually keep to herself.

“Well, I’m your daughter,” she says, shaking her head as she pours wine into two glasses, “And it never stopped you from missing my recitals.” 

Elizabeth gasps, a brief moment where her usual mask of never being affected by anything slips, “Emily.” 

She sighs, her eyes closed as she presses her palms against the kitchen counter, the cool marble of it resetting her brain, somehow making her feel worse. Her mother had never been what she’d needed, what she’d wanted, but she knew she loved her. That sometimes made it worse, made the indifference she occasionally felt from the person who should love her the most hurt even more, but she knew Elizabeth had done her best. Even though it had never been enough.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

“No, Emily. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth says, her smile tight as she cuts over her. Emily frowns, her eyebrows knitting together as she stumbles over her words for a second, the apology from Elizabeth the last thing she’d expected. 

“Wh…what?” 

“I saw the look on Violet’s face when she spotted you in the crowd,” Elizabeth says, her arms crossed over her chest, “She lit up,” her smile turns sad, “We’ve never had that and I know thats my fault. I should have…” she clears her throat, “If I could go back I’d make some different choices. It’s why I’m doing my best to make different ones now.” 

Emily stares at her, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly as she tries to figure out how to respond. It didn’t fix or change anything. It didn’t undo the years of hurt and resentment, how they had led her to make so many choices she couldn’t unmake, but it was something. An acknowledgement she hadn’t realised she’d needed, and one she certainly never thought she’d get. 

“Thank you,” she says, not sure what else she could say, “That’s…thank you.” 

The moment ends as quickly as it began when Aaron walks into the room, “He finally fell asleep.” 

“Good,” Emily says, turning to look at him, “I’m glad.” 

“I’m going to go sit down,” Elizabeth says, smiling softly at Emily as she picks up her glass of wine, and if she didn’t know any better, if it wasn’t entirely out of character for her mother, Emily would be sure she was purposefully giving her a moment with her husband, “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Emily nods and watches her go, her throat tight as she stands frozen in place. She only moves when Aaron places a hand on her shoulder, his eyebrows pulled together in concern when she looks up at him.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She blows out a breath and shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

He wraps his arms around her and tugs her into a hug. She presses herself against him, her face against his neck as she settles into him, into the comfort he always provided. 

“Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet.” 

“Okay,” he replies, kissing the top of her head and rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. He changes the subject, well aware that whatever he’d walked in on was something she’d need to process herself before she spoke to him about it, “Vi did so good today.” 

She smiles so widely he can feel it against his neck and she nods, “Yeah,” she replies, leaning back to look up at him, “She’s amazing.” 

He stamps a kiss against her lips and cups the back of her head, holding her in place so he can rest his forehead against hers, “Just like her mom.” 

-x-

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[rivet77]

Meditation used to be a practice that always confounded me, if I'm being honest. I would set a timer, close my eyes, focus on breathing fully & naturally through my nose, and it would feel like I'm attempting to stop a speeding train. My body would *fight* me, going "you can't stop, you have shit to do, you have things to worry about, how long as it been, surely the timer is getting close to being done, maybe you should check." Practically vibrating in my seat. My eyes would twitch. My body would itch. I'd literally be able to feel my heart squirming uncomfortably in my chest on every inhale. Every cell in my body would want me to stop, and prior to the last few months, I absolutely would have stopped!

Instead, I pushed through it. Insisted on holding the brakes down until I fully stopped, no matter how much the train wanted to keep going. I'd ask myself "why am I so uncomfortable" and start "scanning" my body, going through each part and intentionally relaxing it.

As this process goes on, eventually the breathing pattern stops feeling forced. The air begins to feel much like a drink of water when I'm thirsty, nourishing me, and it feels *good.* My thoughts happen, but I'm only observing them. I watch the lights & patterns on the back of my eyelids, no longer feeling my heart pounding against my chest, and I begin to feel an odd, almost... serene sensation above my eyes. As if a heavenly room opened up in my brain; where observations, ideas, and more come to me without much effort at all. It feels almost as if you're on the very edge of sleeping, without falling asleep. Before I knew it, the timer was going off. That's when it clicked. That's the meditative state I've been looking for.

Ever since I've been practicing it more and more. It's never anything long; I started with ten minutes, then fifteen, and I did twenty for awhile. It doesn't sound like a lot, but when you're sitting with your eyes closed, doing nothing, it can feel like forever (before you hit that meditative state, that is). Fifteen minutes is my sweet spot now, and by simply remembering the feeling of that meditative state, I'm able to reach it pretty quickly in those fifteen minutes. Before, i would spend most of the time trying to get there, but it's gotten much easier, and I almost always feel so much more clear and calm afterwards.

So yeah. If meditation has ever been a problem for you, just know that if you haven't practiced it, you're going to be stopping a moving train when you try. You need to keep holding down the brakes until it stops, or it will just keep accelerating. It'll be uncomfortable, and you'll need to learn to sit with the discomfort, feel it, and let it pass. What I found beyond that is 100% worth it

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 11)

Rating: V for violent?

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Mentions of blood, Canon-level violence, Dark themes, Foul language, (small emetophobia warning because I get it)

A/N: Yikes, sorry guys. This one is a bit painful, both in terms of writing calibur and plot points. I've been dragging my heels because I just can't seem to get it right but what the hell. Enjoy this slice of angst. In honour of Shadow and Bone S2, see if you can spot the six of crows reference. As usual, reblogs get a kiss (muah). Comment on this post or the masterlist to get added to the taglist! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the continued support. Love ya.

You had your elbows propped on the back of his chair, on either side of the helmet, staring over its reflective surface at the nav computer in front of you.

“There’s nothing there.” Not a planet, not an asteroid field, not even a hint of scrap metal within radius of the destination. The coordinates supplied by Karga were leading you all the way to the Outer Rim, to quite literally the middle of nowhere.

Din sighed, a tired action, his body heaving with the effort. “It could be a small moon maybe… something that hasn’t been mapped?”

“The galaxy’s been mapped, Din. All of it.”

“Sometimes planets will get deleted from records, especially if there’s something worth hiding.”

The sarcasm was laughably evident in your retort. “Fantastic! I am so excited.”

He chuckled and twisted in the pilot’s seat, relying on your loss of balance to pull you across the arm and into his lap. You didn’t even try to pretend that it was against your will. There had been more of this recently… overt touches, advances… flirting. And he was relentless with it. You were getting the feeling that he understood now, extremely well, just how much of an effect he had. And he was starting to take advantage of it.

“We’ll be fine.” The low vibration of his voice seemed to travel up your spine. And oh so easily… just like that, you believed him.

His hand played with the hem of your shirt, before dipping underneath it and up— cradling your spine with a broad palm. He was warm and calloused despite the gloves, a perfect reflection of his dichotomy. Violent and unforgiving with his enemies, soft and affectionate with his family.

“I miss Grogu.” 

Caught up in the drama and the intensity of the past couple days, you had started to crave that lighthearted, bubbly energy. It was a much-needed part of your dynamic. 

“Everything goes well… we’ll be back with him in a few hours.” You smiled inwardly at the thought. He’d coo and babble at the two of you; you might even be able to sense his displeasure at being left behind for such a long time. But—

“What happens to…” You motioned between you and him. “…this?”

The helmet cocked to the side. “This?”

“Yeah, this. Us.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting in his hold. “We have to be careful with him around, right?” He was poking at the edge of your bandage, a sign of bashfulness perhaps.

“How much does he know?” Din asked, as if he expected you to have an answer.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes he looks at me with these eyes, like he sees it all. Like he understands it.”

“It?” You could see all of hyperspace reflected in his visor.

“You should ask him.”

“That’s not really how it works.” His hand was tracing circles over your back. He hummed, a desire for clarification. “I can get emotions from him, and he gets them from me. Especially stronger ones. We can’t actually… talk.”

He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. 

“So, if I were to…” The hand under your knees then crept around your thigh, up and towards the inside, so dangerously close to where you were still aching for him.

You clamped down on his hand, pushing it back. “Okay, so we really have to be careful.”

Din’s hold tightened around you, and you could practically feel the grin on his features. “You going to sneak around with me, cyare?”

Oh, you would. Kriff yes, you would. 

Hours later, the hyperspace exit was abrupt. You were both strapped into your respective seats, Din manning the controls. You noted the hand he kept firmly on the front cannon triggers, and the tension he held between his shoulder blades.

But it was quiet ahead. An expanse of brilliant stars only interrupted by a small figure in the distance. Asymmetrical. Not a planet. You fidgeted uncomfortably in your seat. In a few minutes you had gained on the stationary object.

“…It’s a ship.” Slight damage, no thrusters, no movement, not even any light visible from the exterior. Almost as if it had been abandoned.

“EF76.” Din turned his head to you. “Nebulon-B Frigate.” Your tongue was caught between your teeth. “I don’t like this.” The thing probably had long range sensors. Whoever was on board, if there even was anyone on board, already knew you were here. It was much too late to turn back now. 

“But those were old rebel cruisers, right?” Din queried.

You were stiff as a board beside him. “The rebels used them in the war… but they were originally built for the Imperial Navy.” Leaning forward a touch and surveying the several levels of the vessel, you whispered: “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one.”

The Razor Crest did a wide circle around the craft, once, Din then advancing to survey the long bridge.

“I can’t see a thing. Scanners are picking up life forms though.”

You leaned forward. “How many?”

“Not sure, I can’t get any readings on the lower sections. All I see are seven.” He turned his helmet a fraction of an inch. “What do you think?”

Again. There was that insistent desire to turn and run. Self-preservation. A habit that had stuck over the decades. But it was silly, wasn’t it?

“It’s a job.” Din nodded once in agreement. “So let’s finish it.”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment before guiding the ship forward once more, in search of a docking port. But you weren’t looking out into space anymore. You were looking at him.

You could see flashbacks in the reflection of his helmet. Rain on Sorgan, drenching the huts, soaking your clothes, running in tiny rivers down your face as you jogged to him.

“Wait!”

He’s loading the cart with weapons— knives, pistols, rifle— but he stops in his tracks. His back remains to you, but you can tell you have his attention. The child floats in his pram, eyes open, ears perked, head tilted curiously. He is adorable.

Perhaps your silence has stretched too long because the Mandalorian turns to you. The rain makes a soft pinging sound against his armour. You have to blink it out of your eyelashes.

“Yes?” It’s monotone, almost cold. Almost.

The fabric of your shirt is sticking to your skin. You are shy, hesitant even, when you speak.

“I can help you.” 

He just stands there. Unmoving. You can’t tell where he’s looking… what he’s thinking. It’s unusual. You shrink under his scrutiny. Perhaps he thinks you’re silly, small, pathetic, useless—

“Yes.” He shifts his weight. “I could use someone with your… talents.”

You try not to let the relief show in your posture. You had expected him to deny you outright.

“…But a life here is peaceful… safe. With me, it won’t be.” 

“I know.” You blurt, before considering your words. He cocks his head to one side. “I mean, I understand.” One step closer. “I want to help.”

Some time later, when you arrive on the ship, and the engines ignite in a purr, he asks you—

“Are you sure?”

The haze broke, and you were staring once again at the looming ship, an open loading dock.

“Yes.” The word was unconvincing on your lips. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ship creaked, a hollow banging echoing through the hull as she docked. You were sweating.

Din relinquished the controls, and you straightened as he stood, turned, and stopped before you.

“Hey,” He had tilted your chin up with a finger. “You can stay. I won’t be long.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Your bones protested as you rose from the jump seat. You felt weary. “Like hell I’m letting you go in there alone.”

He looked at you like he was about to insist… then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he slid his hands over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You stay behind me, got it.” You nodded, throat suddenly heavy with something. “And if I tell you to run, you kriffing do it.” 

You wouldn’t be running. Not unless he was alongside you. “We’ll be fine.” It was the only response you gave, a mirror of his own words. You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince.

It was dark. There had been no greeting party as the two of you had scaled the ladder into the Frigate, so you were left to wander down the dimly lit halls, lined only along the edges of the floor with cold white light.

Din kept you behind him, as promised. The blaster had left his hip holster before you had even disembarked from the Crest. The passageway was a labyrinth, and after several minutes of walking, you briefly voiced your concern to Din.

“Will we be able to find our way back to the ship?”

He faced forward as he answered. “My footprints leave residue; I can track them back.” Both of your voices were hushed, and you weren’t entirely sure why.

You passed another four-way intersection, and Din scanned each branch before letting you continue. But something stopped you dead centre, a feeling, a nostalgia. A familiar presence. Your head snapped to the left. Din was still walking forward, unaware of your halt.

Curiosity, purpose, and perhaps even fear led you down the new path. You were only alerted to Din’s proximity when he called your name.

“What is it?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the beat everywhere. “I don’t know, just…”

When a cantina band plays, often their music will crescendo at its climax, a rumbling, near deafening hum that seems to permeate both eardrums and settle somewhere in the middle of the brain. You felt that then, though no song was audible.

You crept forward, slowly now, into another intersection… past it. Din guarded you from behind, three possible angles of attack. He scanned them all, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, his back squarely to you. He hadn’t noticed how much distance had opened between the two of you.

A blast door sealed with a deafening bang, followed by a low hydraulic hiss. 

You both turned, neither of you in time. A small square window was set in the middle of the door, and you pounded on it with your fist. You yelled. Could he hear you? Was he saying something? You couldn’t hear him.

But he spun away sharply, and you looked past him, over his shoulder, to the line of soldiers that had appeared at the end of the hall. They knelt, blasters raised. Stormtroopers.

A mistake. It was a mistake.

“Din!” You threw your body against the glass… once… twice. More appeared from each side. He was surrounded. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t even remember that you shouldn’t be yelling his name.

Each of the troopers held Imperial standard-issue blasters… 13 red sights pointed at the chest of the person you loved most in the galaxy. 

You ran. Sprinted. Taking three rights in an effort to double back on yourself, to ambush the troopers from behind. You were met only with another closed door. Panic. 

Anguish, despair, desperation, hopelessness, confusion, frustration. Again… fear.

Because all of sudden, Din wasn’t the only one in trouble.

“You’ve grown.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You knew that voice. You heard it often enough in your nightmares— laughing, taunting.

You wouldn’t turn, perhaps out of a desire to hold onto ignorance, to not be able to confirm with your eyes what you already knew to be true.

“Look at me.” The words were mockingly soft, sweet. “I want to see your face.”

Your body seemed to obey on its own.

He stood a few paces down the hall, in an immaculately tailored Imperial uniform, hands clasped behind his back, flanked by troopers. He sighed, as if in contentment.

You could have dispatched him in any number of ways. Force choke, snapped neck, vibroblade to the gut. But that was the funny thing about trauma.

An assault of memories came flooding back, fresh as ever. Torture, blood, cruelty, promises. A crashing ship, a brutal kill. Palpatine’s loyalists.

Impossible.

“You died.” You were shaking. “I killed you.”

He smiled, as if it were all a practical joke. “I’m afraid you simply didn’t cut deep enough, my dear.”

Your brain didn’t have enough time to catch up. By the time you had processed that he was alive, by the time you decided you would just have to try again, just have to kill him better this time, troopers had already seized you by the shoulders, slapping a thick pair of cuffs on your wrists.

No. No. Not this. Not again. You might have been screaming, thrashing like a wild animal, as the Stormtroopers dragged you down the hall, further away from Din. 

Din, who might already be dead.

When you reached the control room, you were strung up in a forcefield of glowing blue magnets, an extra set of cuffs fastened around your ankles. Soldiers lined the room, and he stood at the front, directly ahead of you.

“Let the Mandalorian go.” It came out breathless, desperate, despite your efforts to project some sense of authority.

He took a step toward you, reaching out to cradle your face. You couldn’t even rear back, the magnets having rendered you entirely immobile. “He’ll be alright. I give you my word.”

You spat. “Why would I ever trust anything you say?”

He circled you predatorily, the pale pink scar across his throat stark in the ship’s cool light. You had done that.

“Because… he brought us our bounty.” His smile was lecherous. “The Mandalorian will be well rewarded.”

Our bounty.

No.

It was never about the crystal.

It was about you. You were spinning. And still, he was talking as if it were a conversation between old friends.

“You’ll forgive me if I monologue a touch? It’s been quite a while since we caught up.”

“You haven’t given me much of a choice.” The containment field was making you feel scrambled, the room going in and out of focus. You could feel your eyelids drooping, muscles going limp.

A sharp electric jolt seared through your wrists, eliciting a gasp from you. 

“Painful, isn’t it?” He was smiling. “A Geonosian invention actually… and quite effective, especially on force wielders.” You were still trying to recover. “Forgive me, the extra shocks aren’t necessary, but I want you awake for this.”

“So, the crystal.” He motioned with his hands, almost exuberantly. “The Emperor had sourced it for you prior to his… disappearance.” The wording was careful, deliberate. “He knew it would call to you. It was almost too easy.”

Din.

Where was Din?

“All I had to do was plant it. Put some rumors out about its value… the whereabouts. I knew it would cause quite an upheaval. And I suspected you would find it in the process.” His grin was pure malice. “Or rather… It would find you.”

He paused, a curious look in his eyes. “It does call to you, doesn’t it?” He found his answer in your silence, a nod and wistful smile before he continued.

“The Mandalorian was an interesting addition to the equation. I never expected you would have kept such peculiar company.”

You were fading out again, his voice getting farther and farther away. Another jolt pulled a hoarse scream from you.

“Sorry, dear. As I was saying… Can you believe we came so close only a few years back? When Moff Gideon ran into your… travel companion.” Again, another particular choice of words. “Yes, I was close by. Gideon and I were well acquainted. I couldn’t believe you were alive. That you had survived the crash.” There was happiness in his voice, excitement even. It made you nauseous.

You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want to know how you’d been played… walked Din right into a trap because you couldn’t see it coming. Too blinded by—

“I wondered if it might cause issues for us. I had heard about the… many talents of Din Djarin.”

He knew his name.

“But I never expected him to be so reasonable! Triple the value of the crystal… that’s what he wrestled out of me, but it was worth it. You are worth it.” His smile was so broad it might have ripped a hole through his cheeks. “You will be. How many times have I told you. You’re the future.”

Triple the value.

He had bought you.

Din had sold you.

It felt as if the blood had stopped flowing to your brain. Like your lungs could no longer draw breath. As if your heart had been unceremoniously gutted from your chest. It couldn’t be true. 

“You don’t believe me.” His voice sounded almost sympathetic. “You will. It may take some time… but you’ll understand. When he doesn’t come for you, you’ll understand. We are all you have. I am all you have.”

You couldn’t yell. Couldn’t let a tear fall in his presence. You wouldn’t. Instead, you let the magnetic field pull you under… further and further… until you could no longer feel the zaps of electricity that he sent to revive you. Until you could no longer feel anything at all.

You knew this game. Knew how to numb yourself just enough, physically and mentally, to be less aware of the pain you knew he was so capable of inflicting. Perhaps that had been your problem all along. You had softened, thawed… let someone in. And look what good had come of it.

You were right back where you started. 

Din stood still in a hall of bodies. 

Thirteen men he had killed, and then he had thrown himself against the blast doors, again and again, the thick thudding sound of his body against metal seeming almost like a mockery. He had then tried the darksaber, igniting it and attempting to melt his way through. But they were solid, airtight, probably a few inches longer than the blade itself, meant to withstand the outside pressure of space.

It had been a trap, of course it had been a kriffing trap, and he had lost you.

Lost you.

He had lost you.

He might be panicking. Hyperventilating. He needed to pull himself together. And he needed a plan.

If whoever was in charge could spare that many men just to deal with him, there must be many more aboard the vessel. A hidden crew. They had known he would try to read heat signatures. Stormtroopers. Empire. Fuck. He had been so stupid to lead you here, put you in harm’s way. He should have thrown the bounty back in Karga’s face, told him to find someone else, flown you and the kid to Naboo.

He should’ve…

He couldn’t take them all himself. He couldn’t even get through this damned door. And he was no good to you dead. He needed backup. Fast. Someone he could trust. More than someone. He turned.

The Mandalorian had to wrestle with every fibre of his being, every protective instinct, every thought commanding him to go back as he scaled the ladder of the loading dock, and re-entered the Razor Crest, alone. He fought with himself as he engaged the thrusters and disconnected from the frigate. He cursed each choice he had made, setting events slowly in motion, as he steered the old ship away and typed in the hyperspace calculations. 

By the time he made the jump, and tore the helmet off, tears were tracking over his cheekbones, dripping off the edge of his chin. He stood and spun, punching a dent into the cockpit doors. 

Din screamed, and the hoarse sound echoed through the empty ship.

Sorgan’s natural sounds are like a strange sort of melody. Almost a lullaby.

You are lying on a grassy knoll, staring up at the stars, folded into a warm body that you know the feel of. Intimately.

Grogu’s cry of delight comes floating on a phantom wind and all of a sudden you can see him, cradled in Din’s arms, fixing you with a confused stare. Like he doesn’t recognize you at all.

“I told you I would do anything to protect him.” The Mandalorian’s words are matter of fact. Barely apologetic. “He is my family.”

There is warmth on your hands. Then pain… searing pain. Blood everywhere. Thick magnetic cuffs around your wrists. And your ankles. You don’t have the energy to put up a fight. 

“I thought I was too.”

He doesn’t reply. Just fixes you with that unreadable stare of his.

You awoke and vomited over the polished floor of your holding cell.

The suns were casting a sickeningly warm glow across the table, laid with fat fruits, cured meats, goblets of rich liquid.

He stood at the head, fists curled at his side, trying to calm the deafening silence in his head enough to speak stably.

“You owe me.” He was shaking. “I’m here to call in that favour.”

Fennec Shand stood slowly from her seat, dinner long forgotten.

“Djarin.” Her voice had an uncertain timbre to it. “Where is your girl?”

Boba Fett had pushed back from the table as soon as Din had entered the room. The Daimyo was already reaching for his weapons. 

A promise of blood to be spilled.

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