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maybege · 3 months ago

Text

Bejeweled

Summary: You never wanted to get your nipples pierced until you are faced with a handsome, older tattoo artist. Now, you might actually consider it …

Pairing: tattoo artist!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 8.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, implied age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sexual intercourse, vaginal fingering, oral fixation, nipple clamps, nipple play, spanking, dirty talk, (slight) verbal degradation, technically semi-public sex, yearning

Ngl, when I asked at the start of this month which WIP I should focus on, I did not expect to actually finish anything. But here I am and here you are! Ready to dive head first into the fantasy that is tattoo artist!Boba. The story is based on this post and I am so happy I got to indulge a little more. I will upload this to AO3 a bit later because, fun fact, this is actually a scheduled post because I am seeing the Tom Hiddleston (yes, you read that right).

As always, please do let me know what you think of it in a comment or a reblog! Knowing that I get to share the stories with you makes writing so much more fun.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

It had all started innocently enough, in a way.

You had too much to drink, the semester had just started, and with it being the last semester you had to teach Introduction to Victorian Literature 101 until you could finally get to work on your passion project, you and your friends went out to celebrate.

Nothing too crazy, just some drinks at the pub around the corner. The one where neither faculty nor students went to so you could sip your cocktail in peace while Ashleigh ranted about her most recent dating escapades. But something was different tonight because the drinks just kept flowing and you did not feel the need to stop even when you passed your usual three drinks.

To be fair, most of the night was pretty blurry from then on. But you remembered pretty clearly the way Chants had slurred “Girl, you should get your nipples pierced.” As you stumbled together across the sidewalk.

You weren’t really sure why that had sounded so plausible at that moment, given the fact that you had never been interested in getting pierced beyond the earrings when you were younger. But then there was the store at the corner, the neon sign flickering against the dark and rainy night. The tattoo and piercing studio that you had passed by again and again without giving it so much as a second glance.

Not even five minutes later, you were standing in front of a man who had introduced himself as Boba Fett.

“I am interested in getting my nipples pierced,” you had declared with the conviction only a drunk person possessed while Ashleigh and Chants giggled and flipped through a book full of flash designs.

The old man, who looked so handsome your thighs clenched, lifted his eyebrow, clearly bemused.

“Very well,” he had said, “You seem old enough to make a stupid decision on your own.”

The protest that it wasn’t a stupid decision, thank you very much, died on your tongue when his hand, packed in black gloves, gently prodded your chest. His mouth was moving and you were pretty sure that he was explaining the entire process to you but all you could focus on was how sexy this man was.

And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been naked in front of anyone and, to your embarrassment, you seemed to have said that out loud, because he chuckled and shook his head.

“In order to prepare you for the needle, I will stimulate your chest. Is that okay for you?”

A mute nod (and racing heart) later, the big man was standing between your thighs, his fingers playing with your chest and you hoped to the stars he did not notice how you arched your back into him.

“Now,” he said, his fingers closed around your nipple, “Are you still sure this isn’t a stupid decision?”

You hummed, your eyes half closed, distracted by the pleasure he was giving you.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbled and what was it about his voice that sent tingles throughout your entire body? Or the feeling between your thighs when his eyes pierced yours? Or the pleased smile on his face when you quickly squeaked “I changed my mind, sorry!”

“Good girl,” he had repeated, a smirk on his lips, “Saying what you want. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Which is why, a week later, you were trying very hard to convince yourself that you wanted to get your nipples pierced. Pierced nipples were cool! Right?

As opposed to your last visit, the storefront of Fett’s Tattoo Corner looked much friendlier. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the pedestrians mingling in front of the café next door gave the store an almost harmless look. But as soon as you stepped through the bell door, you were unable to trick your body into being relaxed.

You were far from relaxed. Everything was pulled taut and you felt strangely aware of how your chest was rising and falling with each breath and maybe you should have chosen the other dress to wear what if he didn’t like this one and why were you thinking about what he liked you didn’t even know if he was here and oh stars he was here and he was coming straight towards you –

It seemed that your drunken memories couldn’t do the real man justice. Boba Fett was tall, and broad, his tan skin adorned with traditional tattoos and he looked so serious for a moment that your horny brain made the helpful suggestion to just kneel in front of him.

Because that wasn’t weird at all.

For a moment, the possibility occurred to you that he might not be happy to see you or – worse – not even remember who you were. But as you were frantically thinking about how to pretend that you were just waiting for a friend, a smile spread across his lips and you got to see that he had dimples. Dimples.

“Here for a consultation, princess?” he asked, his voice a familiar rumble, “why don’t we go talk in the private room?”

The private room in question was a little cabin, separated from the main work room by a thick velvet curtain that drowned out the buzzing noise of the tattoo guns. Several people were in the room, working and being worked, but you paid them no mind when all you could focus on was how thick the underside of his upper arm looked.

How had that never been a body part you paid any attention to? And why did his look so good?

The older men gestured for you to sit down on the little cot and you did, your feet swinging in the air.

“So, what can I do for you?” the curtain fell closed and the sounds from outside faded away. It was just the two of you now.

“I want to get my nipples pierced.”

“Feel like I've heard that before,” he teased you.

You swallowed, “I'm serious this time.”

He did not look like he believed you but you did not really care. You watched as his body moved through the room, prepping the instruments. Your chest tingled at the thought of him touching you again and you wondered, really wondered, how desperate you must be that the thought of some simple human touch made your thighs clench.

But it wasn’t simple touches you were craving.

Because as you watched his arms bulge and his shirt strain around his midsection, you remembered how his thumbs had brushed the sides of your breast and could not help but wonder what it would be like to feel his weight on top of you. To hear his voice praise you as you took his cock that you just knew was going to stretch you in the best way possible. This was a man who would tell you what to do and you just knew you’d follow his every word because, ultimately, it would lead to the pleasure you had been craving for the better part of your adult life.

“So, uh, so how long have you been doing this job?” you asked, looking at a few of the pictures on the walls. Black and white photographs of both intricate and bold designs, pierced body parts, and fierce people facing the camera lens head-on. It looked badass.

Boba chuckled, his hands busy at the workstation, “I have tattoos older than you, sweetheart, and I’ve made tattoos older than you. If that’s what you're asking.”

You squirmed again, your breath halting when his knowing eyes met yours. “Is that what you're asking?”

“I – I think so.”

He hummed, stepping over to you with a tray in his hands. “You know the drill already,” he joked, warm eyes roaming over your body, making you very aware of what you had come here for, “Off with the shirt.”

Only it wasn’t a shirt. You had been so preoccupied with looking your best, you had completely forgone any practicalities for why you were actually here. The lightweight sundress slipped off your shoulders with a whisper and suddenly, the tension in the room became very palpable.

Taking a deep breath in, you braced your shoulders and forced yourself to meet his gaze. Boba did not say anything and just as quickly as your courage had come, it disappeared like the sugar in your tea.

What if he didn’t like what he saw?

“So … Would you like me to explain the process again?”

Your gaze snatched up and this time, the heat in his eyes was undeniable as he allowed his eyes to linger on your chest. Thank the stars.

“Yes, please,” you whispered, very aware that you were sitting bare-chested in front of a man who was old enough to be your father. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were questioning which choices in life had brought you here. But did you actually care?

No, not really.

Touch me, touch me, touch me.

“Are you okay there?”

“Huh?”

Mirth played in his eyes. “Do you want me to touch you, princess?”

The Yes you breathed out was barely audible over the pounding of your heart, but it was loud enough for him to hear your eagerness. You watched as he set the black gloves aside, his bare hands reaching for your tits and you could not wait to feel his touch.

He rewarded your sharp inhale by cupping your breast in the warm palm of his hand. His skin was calloused and it felt so fucking good to have him finally touch you. Your legs spread out of their own accord and you hummed when he stepped closer, his other hand landing on your waist, right above where your dress was falling into your lap.

“Good girl,” he murmured and your heart skipped a beat, “So fucking pretty.”

The second his fingers lightly pinched your nipple, a shudder went through your entire body and settled between your legs. You were pretty sure it had been a while since you had been this wet for anyone and somehow, this man had your toes curling in a matter of minutes.

“Are you ready?”

Images flashed in your mind but instead of the steamy scenes you dreamed about starring you and him, they contained silver needles, pain, and, in the end, a disappointed look in the mirror.

“I – I changed my mind,” you whispered into the small space between your mouths, “I am not ready.”

Boba did not look the least bit surprised. There was a knowing look in his eyes as he gave your right breast a last squeeze before hooking his fingers under the straps of your dress, gently raising them back over your shoulders.

He stepped away and you followed, sliding off the leathery fabric.

“Have a good day, princess,” he opened the curtain for you, the buzz of the tattoo guns back in your ears, “You know where to find me.”

“Do you want me to explain it again?”

You shook your head.

It was a week later, and you had left your pretence that you were here for a piercing, at the doorbell. It was surprisingly freeing and exhilarating at the same time. So, what if you went to a tattoo parlour to be felt up by the handsome older man who owned it without any intention of actually getting a tattoo or piercing? Anyone who would judge you for this would understand as soon as they saw Boba Fett smile at them.

And so, you were just sitting in the private cabin, anticipation making your heart race as his hands settled on your waist.

“You just want me to touch you, huh?”

After an embarrassed pause, you nodded, teeth worrying your bottom lip.

“It's okay,” he murmured, “I can touch you, princess. I like touching you.”

The older man’s words should not make you feel so warm but they did. It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were sitting half naked in a tattoo studio, wanting to be felt up by this man you barely knew but who had already taken over all of your dreams and fantasies.

Boba wore a black shirt today and it looked so soft to the touch you were this close to hug yourself to him and smooth your cheek over the fabric. But that plan was derailed the moment the top of your flimsy sundress fell down your chest, baring you to his eyes and the warm air of the shop.

Calloused fingertips crushed the undersides of your tits and over your pebbled nipples. Your eyes fluttered, a dreamy sigh escaping your lips as you arched your back into him. Even (or maybe especially?) the feather-light touch made your core pulse and made you want to squeeze your thighs together.

“You’re so sensitive,” he marvelled, his hands cupping your tits, “Have they always been this sensitive, sweetheart?"

It took you a moment to realise he was waiting for an answer. “No, uh, I – I didn’t really know … I didn’t know it could be like that. No one … Uh, I never really …”

The man opposite you looked up from where he was sitting between your legs. The skirt of your sundress draped between your thighs, covering the wet patch that clearly could be seen on your panties. “Are you telling me no one ever played with these pretty tits?”

His question was accompanied by a roll of your nipple between his fingers. “Boba,” you gasped, arching your back into his touch.

“Don’t Boba me,” he chastised you, pulling on the flesh, “Answer the question, little one.”

“No!” you gasped out. Embarrassment made your ears hot, you weren’t used to dirty talk though it was always something you had wanted to try. But none of your previous partners had made you feel comfortable enough to … well, to talk. And here you were with basically a stranger and you felt more comfortable than you had ever been.

“No,” you confirmed quietly, “no one’s ever … played with me like that.”

The whispered confession between the two of you unlocked something different. Boba exhaled, his body curling around yours as his mouth dipped to your sternum.

“Stars, I bet you're a dream to fuck,” he murmured, his fingers squeezing your tits, “I’d have so much pleasure to give you.”

“Please,” you whispered, hardly recognising your own voice. Your eyes flew open at the realisation that you wanted this. You wanted him to fuck you.

You watched with wide eyes and baited breath as he stood up, his hands still on your chest and he bowed down until his lips met yours. He was kissing you.

The kiss started out soft and slow before his tongue swiped over the seam of your lips and you opened up form. Your entire body was tingling with the need to be closer. Closer to this solid, warm body of a man who made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

Pressing your chest against his, you smiled into the kiss as his hands left your chest and ran down your sides until they settled on your hips, pulling you to the edge of the workbench. He was so warm, it did not even feel like you were sitting topless in a small office in a public shop.

Mid-kiss it occurred to you that this was your first kiss with Boba. And oh, what a good kisser he was. A hand on the back of your head tilted your face, your noses bumping together for a second, eliciting chuckles from both of your before he tilted your head just so and then his mouth was on your and his tongue was there and you could not help but to surrender to him. Boba had everything under control and you would not have it any other way.

A knock at the door made you flinch.

Boba stepped even closer to your, shielding you with his body even when the door remained closed. “What?” he asked, loud enough to be heard outside but the hoarseness of his voice did not escape you.

You smiled into the crook of his neck, running your mouth up to his jaw and you could hear the rumble in his chest before his fingers tilted your chin up and his mouth was on you again.

“Lunch break is over, boss,” a deep voice sounded from outside, “Your three o’clock is here.”

You whined against his mouth when he slowly backed away from you.

“Fuck off, Vizsla,” Boba called, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The more time you spent with Boba, the more time you needed to get out of your lust-sick haze with him. Usually, you left the shop on a high, with a dreamy smile on your face and a pleasant thrum between your thighs. But somehow, the reminder that there were customers waiting for him, set you in a sort of panic you could not quite describe.

You wanted to hurry in getting yourself presentable again, mumbling something about “getting out of your hair” to Boba.

But Boba would not hear any of it. “There is no hair to get out of, princess,” he joked as he gently helped you to your feet, before hooking his fingers into the shoulder straps of your dress. You took a deep breath as he lifted the top of your dress in place for you, his fingers brushing over your shoulders, down your arms before entwining with your hands.

It somehow felt even more intimate than when he had played with you. Pulling on your hands, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips and you felt even more dazed. To be honest, you could fall asleep standing right there in his arms.

Boba accompanied you through the workroom, nodding in greeting to who you assumed was his next customer, until you were standing outside. He sent you off with a wink, this time, and a lingering touch on your waist. “See you next Tuesday.”

He was working on someone else.

It shouldn’t have been a shocking sight to see. He was a tattoo artist for fucks sake. Of course, he worked on other people. He must’ve worked on dozens – hundreds – of people. That is how he earned his money, how he honed his craft. You had seen the social media posts about the shop and on some of them you not only got to see the actual art piece but also the artist. And sometimes, the artist was Boba.

The time you had spent scrolling through Fett’s Tattoo Corner’s social media page was almost concerning but you categorized it as research. Research in case you ever wanted to get a tattoo or a piercing. It had nothing to do with the fact that seeing his proud smile on your screen made your heart flutter and your stomach do somersaults.

But as you watched him talk and laugh with the woman on the table, you felt an unknown sense of dread in your stomach.

Suddenly you felt silly in your outfit that you had panicked over for the last 72 hours and the nail polish you had picked to go with your sundress and the extra care you had taken with your hair and –

“Looks who's here,” he greeted you, pulling off the black gloves and the sight should not have been as sexy as it was. “Ready for our lunch break?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving yours as he threw the gloves in the bin, not missing his goal even though he was looking at someone else. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied, instantly feeling stupid again. There was no reason to be jealous. He wasn’t even yours to be jealous about. For all you knew, he wasn’t even single. Your blood froze.

For all you knew he wasn’t even single?!

Boba came closer, his scent washing over you and your body fought the urge to step away from him, to clear your head, and to step closer, to lose yourself in the sense of belonging you felt only with him.

“Do I need to spank the brattiness out of you, princess?” he rumbled. His voice was deep and serious and you gulped, feeling the dread morph into something more … hot.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze. Which also meant you did not see when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him so his hand could slide down to your ass. Your eyes widened at the touch but you welcomed it still, your entire body heating up at the attention. Being touched by him in public felt like he was laying a claim on you.

You wanted his claim on you. Just as much as you wanted your claim on him.

“I think you do,” he replied immediately, his eyes on your lips, “But I am hungry, so we are going to order food first before you tell me how I upset you and how I can make it up to you.”

Just like last time had marked your first kiss, Boba seemed on a mission to cross another first off your list.

The food was delicious, Boba had it delivered to the shop and you sat in comfortable silence while sharing some spring rolls and noodles. You had been nervous, at first, at the prospect of sharing a meal with him. What if you didn’t have anything to talk about? What if it was awkward? What if your chemistry only translated to the purely physical part?

But your worries were completely unfounded. Boba talked about his day, asked about yours and you realized that all the small talk at the beginning of your sessions hadn’t been small talk at all. He had been interested. He remembered things (the course you were o stressed about, the project you wanted to submit to your faculty, that half-friend’s birthday party coming up and you were still unsure if you wanted to go or not.) and in return, you remembered them too.

He did not seem to think you weird when you asked about the half finished sleeve he had been working on these past few weeks, his smile was bright when you asked him about his favourite tattoos (both on him and ones he had designed) and there was a rush of heat to your cheeks when he lifted his sleeve in response, showing off a traditional shoulder tattoo that must extend to his chest.

(You really wanted to see his chest.)

When you were finished with the food, Boba set the containers down, crowding you against the table. Your hand automatically went to your neckline, wanting to pull it down for him.

“No need,” he shook his head with a smirk, “I believe I promised you a spanking?”

You gaped at him. For one, you had been so happy with the meal, that you had already forgotten how jealous you had been at the beginning and, to be honest, you had not thought he was actually serious. But as you searched your mind for words of protest, you also had to squeeze your legs together at the wetness you could feel gathering in your panties.

So, all you did was nod, swallowing down the sound of excitement.

Boba rewarded you with his signature smirk. “Turn around for me,” he murmured, so close you could feel his breath on your face.

You did as he asked, your body brushing against his for the whole turn until your ass was pressed right against him. It should not have come as a surprise that a man who exuded so much big dick energy was also packing but somehow, the confirmation that Boba Fett was packing made you even wetter.

“If you want me to stop, say Sandwich, okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip. You were 85% convinced you wouldn’t need him to stop, the

A large hand on your upper back slowly pushed you down until you were bent over his desk. Dress you were wearing brushing your ass, highly aware of the lacy panties you had worn. (just for him). His hand palmed your ass, fingertips brushing against the hem of your panties, lifting your dress up and over.

“You just need someone to take care of that pretty ass,” he rumbled, “should apologize for neglecting it but who can blame me if I had such pretty tits to play with, hm?”

Words made you shiver in anticipation. Didn’t know what to say but felt so … wanted.

“You want to tell me why you were jealous today?”

Your denial was immediate. “I wasn’t jealous.”

A heavy hand landed on your ass in a slap and you gasped, throwing a glance over your shoulder to find a grinning Boba, his hand still squeezing the soft flesh of your behind. The angle made you think of other things he could do in this position and you felt so embarrassed of the filthy thoughts, you had to turn away.

“I know a lie when I hear one, sweetheart,” he stated, followed by another slap, “It is never too late to tell the truth.”

You got nine spanks in total.

Only a few of them stung but all of them resulted in your pussy clenching around nothing. You were convinced he could have put more behind his hands. But he didn’t. Boba used every opportunity to caress your ass and upper thighs and you almost came on the spot when he knelt behind you, his breath washing over your panties and you knew he was eye-level with the wet patch that was surely visible by now.

“Don’t ever think, I don’t want you,” he said, his mouth brushing the crease where your thighs met your behind, “I always want you, princess.”

Heat filled your cheeks and you squirmed against him. You could have cried from frustration when he stood up, gently putting your skirt back in place but when you turned around there was a look in his eyes that made your breath stutter.

Brown eyes warmly gazed at you and your heart skipped a beat. “I want you too,” you confessed, “I’m sorry I was so jealous.”

“Never be sorry,” he shook his head, kissing you softly, “It just means I didn’t do a good enough job of assuring you that I have no intention of spending my Tuesday afternoons with anyone but you.”

You wanted to ask him if he really meant it but somehow, a look at him was enough to know that, yes, he meant it.

“C’mon,” he nodded his head to the door, “I took a half-day. Let me drive you home, princess.”

Things were getting more and more heated.

Every Tuesday, like clockwork, you would show up at the shop. Oftentimes, Boba would have bought lunch for the both of you, a different cuisine every time, trying, as he put it, to find the perfect restaurant for date night.

“Who do you have to take out for date night”?” you tried to both joke and hide the panic in your voice in between bites of your burrito.

“You, princess,” he had replied with a wink, “If you’ll have me.”

It was impossible to hide the grin on your face as you slipped into his lap. Food forgotten, you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him. You could feel his stubble against your skin and his hands on your back, helping you grind against him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Boba murmured as you shimmied out of your dress. You had decided against wearing a bra today. It had felt like your naughty little secret for the entire day and the appreciative look in Boba’s eyes was more than worth it.

Big hands cupped your tits again, pulling on your pebbled nipples and you gasped into his mouth.

“I – I don’t think I want them pierced,” you confessed between kisses, eyes half-closing at the way he was playing with you.

Boba looked at you, a smirk on his face that was way too smug considering he was supposed to be but a stranger two months ago. “So, you’re just letting this old man play with you for fun?”

The question made your breath stop for a second because … he was right. You were letting him play with you for fun. Because it made you wet and fuelled your fantasies and you had never felt so wanted than when you spent lunch in his office.

A shy nod later, he rewarded you with a twist of your nipple, and you gasped, your hips rocking forward to see some friction. “Easy there,” he rumbled, “We’re gonna work your way up to taking my cock. For now, I have too much fun playing with these.”

No matter how needy you were, you did enjoy the fact that he took his time with you. You could not remember the last time you spent hours kissing and being touched by someone who did not expect anything in return. (Although you were more than willing to get on your knees for him, it seemed Boba was not ready to let you out of his grasp yet.)

“I get it, though,” he said, his whole hand cupping and squeezing your breast, “I have had enough painful piercings myself. I wouldn’t want my nipples pierced either.”

“Oh,” you breathed against his mouth, moaning into the kiss, “What – uh – what do you have pierced then?”

A pierced eyebrow shot up with his grin and he leant away. You watched in equal parts fascination and shock as his large hand went to his crotch where his jeans covered an impressive bulge. The position of his hand put the back of it right against your core and you could not help but rock against him, the friction against your clit making your toes tense.

“Got a ladder, here, sweetheart,” he revealed, “now that was painful.”

It took you a moment to realize what he meant. What did a ladder have to do with piercings? And specifically, with his crotch? The realization dropped like a penny and your eyes widened as you took in his meaning.

“You mean … on your ….?” Boba nodded his head at your unfinished question and you suddenly found yourself very interested in finally seeing him in all his glory.

“Can I see?”

“Nah, princess,” he chuckled, taking his hand away and pulling on your hip until you were settled right above him, “The only way you get to see my jewellery is if I get to see yours.”

Your shoulders sagged. You knew it had been too good to be true when he had accepted your decision not to get pierced. In a long row of selfish sexual partners, Boba suddenly found himself in line with the guy who had dropped his wish for anal sex five times on a dinner date.

“They're so pretty,” you admitted, “I just don’t know if I want something permanent.”

“That is not what I meant. It’s an easy fix, princess,” he rumbled, his thumb brushing under your right breast. “We’ll just get some clamps for these, princess.”

Tuesday was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, and everyone and their mother spent the day outside in the cafés, the park, by the riverside. It was the kind of weather you missed when the cold winter days locked you inside.

Yet you could not wait to make your way inside. The familiar sound of the buzzing tattoo guns and chattering client did not even register with you anymore because you had one goal, one destination, as you crossed the shop to the office where you could see Boba sitting through the open door.

“There you are,” Boba gifted you the widest smile, looking up from the paperwork on his desk as you walked into his office. You felt so confident that no one even questioned your presence here so you no longer questioned your presence here either.

And now you got to see him in his element, surrounded by papers, bills and half-finished tattoo designs. “Do you want me to come back later?”

“Stars no,” he laughed at your joke, sorting some papers before orderly putting them in a drawer. His desk suddenly was completely free, except for a small package. The package, you presumed.

“You nervous?” he asked.

You took a moment to mull his question over. Were you nervous? Yes, but you were nervous a lot of the time when it came to him. But every time, your time together was so nice, so fulfilling in more ways than one, you felt more …

“Excited, to be honest,” you admitted, stepping into the room and locked the door behind you. By the knowing look the staff sent you, it was clear they knew not to disturb you, but you wanted to make sure there was no Paz Vizsla storming into the office the moment you could finally feel Boba’s cock inside you.

“Me too,” he smiled and shuffled the package until it was right in the centre. One already opened package. You raised your eyebrows, unable to hide your amusement. “It arrived this morning and I could not wait,“ he admitted, “I wanted to make sure they were exactly what I imagined for you.”

No one had ever bought things of a sexual nature for you. The closest you came to something like that was a gift card to a lingerie story from one of your eyes. That had been exciting until it turned out that he didn’t like the lingerie you had bought for him. Then it had just been awkward.

But you knew it would never be awkward with Boba. Somehow, you just knew.

You watched in anticipation as he lifted his hands out of the package, revealing what he had gotten for you. “It’s beautiful,” you gasped as you took it all in for the first time.

The piece in question were two nipple clamps, connected by a thin chain. They were golden and had little pink bows on them. And from the bows seemed to be hanging …

He shook them gently, a tinkling sound filling the room. “They have bells,” you whispered reverently, approaching him with a raised hand. Boba dropped the piece in your palm and you inspected them closer. “It is beautiful,” you repeated, completely in awe.

“I am glad you like them,” he replied, “I thought they fit to you.”

“Do … can you put them on me?” you asked, the ache in your chest making you squeeze your thighs.

“Don’t you want to eat first?”

The shake of your head made him smirk, “Thought so.” He stood up and gestured to the table you were now more than familiar with, “Go ahead and sit for me. Do you feel comfortable taking the dress off all the way?”

Forgoing an answer, you simply let the dress fall down to the floor. Like last time, you had decided not to wear a bra – not when you knew what was in store for you, anyway, and so you stood in front of him in your thong and nothing else.

Boba’s eyes darkened and he surged forward, kissing you passionately. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined and you felt like you would implode at any moment if he didn’t touch you. You pressed your chest against him, trying to deepen the kiss but Boba pulled away with a grin, delivering a spank to your ass just moments later, and you whined, “Boba, please …”

The big man took a step forward, forcing you back until you bumped into the workbench and sat on it, spreading your legs for him to stand in between. “Fuck,” he cursed, palming your tits, “You are so pretty, gonna look even prettier when I am done with you.”

Your heart was racing as he played with your chest. His fingers rolled your nipples, his tongue darted out to lick over them and by the time he lifted the chain into your view, you were almost crazy with desire. You both watched in silent fascination as he put the first clamp on you.

“Fuck,” this time it was your turn to curse. The pain was uncomfortable for long a moment before it became a delicious thrum of pleasure. Quickly, Boba put the second clamp on, and it was easier now that you knew what to expect. When he was done, you could feel the cool metal of the chain against your skin, the soft fabric of the bows brushing against you and everything on your body felt like it was there to pleasure you.

“You look so pretty for me, little one,” he praised you, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You tried to ignore how his praise made your core clench and when he took a step away, it worked because you immediately missed the warmth of his body. The distance was worth it, though when he looked at you, clearly affected by the sight of you as you were affected by him.

The cool air on your chest took away the edge of pain on your nipples though it also made you highly aware of the cool metal slowly warming to your body temperature. And Boba was still just looking at you.

A few minutes in, you grew restless. “Boba?” you asked, crossing your ankles, causing your chest to move. A wave of pain and pleasure, mixed together in a heady cocktail, washed over you and you gasped. Holy shit.

“Bounce them for me.”

“Wh-What?”

“Bounce your tits for me, princess,” he repeated calmly, crossing his thick arms in front of his chest, “I want to see them bounce.”

It felt exposing and new and strange and yet it sent a thrill through you, the way he was so cool. And so, you started to shake sour chest for him. At first, you just made tiny movements. You had never really “bounced your tits” for anyone and you felt a bit silly doing it. But what you had not considered was that gravity would pull on the clamps attached to you and oh my, now that was a sensation. The stimulation of your nipples increased together with the little bells ringing every time you moved and you were pretty sure you got even wetter.

It felt so taboo and so thrilling and who would have thought two months ago that you sit in the office of this older tattoo artist, letting him order you around like you were for his pleasure only?

His pupils dilated and your eyes fell to the bulge in his jeans. “Pretty as a picture.”

“Open your mouth for me.”

You did as he said, opening your mouth for him as your eyes fell to his hand. Boba sounded amused and hoarse as he approached you. “You want my fingers?”

You were still bouncing for him, your chest aching for his touch, when you nodded. Stars, you felt filthy but in the very best way. Even better than that, to be honest, when his fingers pushed into your mouth and you got to suck on them immediately.

“You just need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he asked you, his rough fingers pushing down onto your tongue. You followed his movements, your tongue slipping out of your mouth as he smeared your drool over your lips. The sound of bells kept ringing in your ears and you were sure he had a wet patch on his desk now from where you were soaking through your panties.

“You wanted to show me,” you gasped in one of those moments when his fingers left your mouth.

“What? What did I want to show you?” he teased you, his fingers finding their way back into your mouth, “Use your words.”

“You wanted to show me your piercings,” you whispered around his thick digits, “o-on your cock.”

You mourned your empty mouth for just a second when you realised why Boba had stepped away and sat down in his office chair. The movements of his hands were hypnotizing when he took off his shirt, revealing a thick upper body littered with tattoos. Tattoos, you didn’t focus on because just a moment later he pulled down his zipper and the edge of his boxers.

His cock was massive just as you had expected, but the real star(s) of the show was the glinting metal embedded in his shaft. Didn’t that hurt?

“Oh, it did,” he chuckled, his finger grazing over the ladder, “But it was worth it, believe me.”

Sitting on the padded bench, there was nothing to cover you except for a lacy thing and the jewellery adorning your nipples. Boba was opposite you, his barrel chest on display, his cock out of his jeans and you could not take your eyes off him. How long had you waited for this moment? How nervous had you been?

None of that seemed to matter because all you could focus on was how the older man stroked his dick in front of you. How his hand twisted around his shaft, how his fingers ran over the mushroom head down his shaft to cup his heavy balls. You felt electrified and frozen with want at the same time. You wanted – needed – to feel him. In you, against you, next to you, however he saw fit.

You just needed –

“Boba, please,” you pleaded, the little jingle of the bells underlining your desperation.

“C’mere,” he curled to fingers and you basically skipped the tree steps into his lap.

“Take this off,” he ordered, his hands helping yours take off the last piece of clothing until you were standing completely bare in front of him. You had never felt both so exposed and so hot. “Now sit down.”

You sat down on the edge of his lap and Boba dragged you closer until your pussy was right against the underside of his shaft, nestled against the barbells. “Now, keep bouncing, princess,” he grinned, “I don’t remember telling you to stop.”

Your cheeks heated at his request. You knew what he was planning and were sure you had never done anything as dirty. But maybe that was exactly what appealed to you.

The first bounce, just as expected, caused you to grind against his pierced cock. It was a sensation, unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was better than anything you had ever felt before. With just a few grinds, your wetness was coating him, easing your movements as your clit bumped into the ridges again and again and again.

You panted into his mouth, your chest so sensitive that when it brushed his, you could not help but whimper and also grind down harder. You needed more of his piercings, of his touch on your hips, of everything. And you were so fucking close, you could practically see the cliff you were about to fall over.

“There we go,” he rumbled, “Make yourself come for me.” “Does that feel good?”

Unable to speak, all you could do was nod eagerly as your desire finally cumulated in the orgasm of your life. You shook on top of him, clenching around nothing as your clit continued to rub against his shaft and the metal embedded in it.

“There we fucking go,” he praised you, guiding you to lift your hips until his tip notched at your entrance, “Ready to take me?”

You nodded in a daze, anticipation making you feel both hot and cold. You sank down on him slowly, letting your body adjust to the big stretch around his tip before the first barbell entered you. You inhaled sharply, your thigh straining with the effort of remaining upright while your pussy strained with the effort of taking someone as large as him.

“How does it feel?”

“Different,” you gasped, “Big. I – stars, Boba, what if it doesn’t fit?”

A sudden panic gripped you as the second barbell entered you, your walls taking even longer to adjust to his girth. How many barbells did he have again? How were you supposed to take him completely when you already felt so full, you could feel it in your belly?

His large hand swept down your back and around until his thumb grazed over your clit, the touch instantly making you clamp around him. “You’re doing so well,” he assured you, “You can take all of me, little one, I know you can.”

With a bite of your lip, you threw your head back, enjoying his fingers on your clit as you steadily opened up for him. Each time a piercing passed you, it sent a wave of goosebumps down your body.

A simultaneous tug on your nipples made you look up. Your gaze met Boba’s twinkling eyes as he gently hooked a thick finger under the chain, pulling on it. Seeing him play with you so blatantly made you whine, your walls milking him.

“I know baby, I know,” he murmured in that calm voice of his, “just a little more, princess. You can do it.”

The glide of your movements got easier, your wetness seeping down your thighs and before you knew it, your ass was settled against his thighs and your pussy filled to the brim with his cock.

“Stars,” you breathed, eyes brimming with tears of overwhelming pleasure. Had already come once but now felt a second wave coming on, with no way of stopping it.

“You’re my best girl,” Boba kissed you softly, “I told you, you could take it all and you did. So …. So fucking good for me.” His thighs shifted under you, his legs spread and you squeaked in the resulting bounce.

“You’re such a pretty mess for me” he commented, leaning back and letting his eyes lazily roam over you. His cool demeanour made you even wetter. The way he was so in control, so naturally in charge, meant that you did not feel insecure in any way. Quite the opposite: You felt free.

“Boba,” you gasped, “I am so full.”

And you were. You were, at that moment, utterly convinced that you had never experienced a fullness like this, even with that new vibrator you had gotten yourself in a feeble attempt to manage the lust this man evoked in you. It was the best thing you had ever felt, being stretched to your limit around his thick shaft.

And the piercings!

Oh, the piercings were even better, stimulating you from the inside out and with you bouncing in him, your chest rubbing against his, you were positively overstimulated. Tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes but you did not want to change a thing, no, you wanted to feel like this for as long as possible.

“It’s adorable how much of a slut you are for me,” Boba rumbled in your ear, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your jaw, “Think you can come for me again, princess? Want to feel you clench around me when I come inside you.”

It was the mention of him coming inside you – something you had never done, and never had wanted to do, with any of your previous partners but which suddenly was the only way you wanted to experience this with Boba – that made you come. Stars erupted behind your eyes and your walls clenched, your entire body erupting in pleasure.

You barely managed a “Boba!” before your moan was swallowed by his kiss.

His grip on your hips tightened as he slammed you down on him, his tip reaching even deeper than before. “Stars, yes, that’s what I'm talking about,” he praised you.

The feeling of him pulsing inside you, filling you with his come, was one you never ever wanted to forget. How could you have gone for so long without feeling this blissful? How could the world outside go on as if nothing had happened – as if you just hadn’t had the most mind-blowing sex of your life?

Your legs still twitched, your body not knowing what to do with all the adrenaline that still coursed through you. But as the sensations slowly faded away, the clamps tipped on the side of pain.

“Shhh,” Boba calmed you, his moth still against yours, “I will take them off and it will sting, okay? But I am right here with you, I’ll get you through this, okay?”

You nodded because you trusted him.

Just as he had said, the rush of blood back into your nipples was painful and unlike anything you had experienced before. A whimper slipped out of your mouth and you took a deep breath, trying to breathe through the pain.

Boba kissed you softly and his hands reached up to massage your chest. You were not sure if that helped or made it worse but when he ducked his head so his mouth could gently close around one nipple, his tongue did magical things for you. The pain lessened with each passing minute and once Boba’s mouth had left you, it had been more pleasure than pain.

As the pain steadily subsided, you could feel your chest and breathing slowing down. The overwhelming sensations ebbed away until all you felt was the serene calm that only followed a really nice orgasm.

Boba reached down to the side of the chair and with how he was still inside you, the shift made another pulse of pleasure course through you. You bit your lip, highly aware of your combined juices still inside you. You watched as he pulled his shirt off the floor and over his head. It was the soft black one, the one that you had wondered about before.

This time, you allowed your intrusive thoughts to win and leant onto his chest, tucking your face into the crook of his back.

But your enthusiasm rushed your movement and the office chair you were now both sitting on started rolling backwards. You panicked for a second, your hands clenching into fists. Shit, were you about to fall?

But of course, you weren’t. The chair stopped moving after an inch or so and you could feel both your and Boba’s bodies relax.

“Careful there, little one,” Boba chuckled, his hand gripping your elbow gently. You could not believe how shaky you still felt. Your world was reeling and he didn’t even sound out of breath.

The silence that followed felt pleasant. You listened to your own heartbeat slowly starting to return to a normal pace as Boba’s hand swept over your back. Up and down up and down up and down until you were sure you could fall asleep against him any minute despite your legs feeling like jelly and his come trickling down your thighs.

“Don’t you have an appointment soon?” your question was muffled against the soft fabric covering his chest but you did not have the strength nor the willpower to turn your face so you could speak clearly. You wanted to remain in this cocoon forever.

Boba’s movements did not cease. “Nah, I had Paz take them over,” he revealed, “I wanted to have time for you.”

The thought was so sweet, it made your chest clench and your mouth inevitably turn into a smile. “That is really thoughtful,” you whispered.

“I would never leave you like that after finally feeling you squeeze around me,” Boba grumbled, his mouth brushing against your temple, “You’re not getting rid of me now, princess.”

And you really did not want to.

You could not tell how long you remained like this in his arms and, to be honest, you also did not really care. All you wanted was to soak up every bit of warmth and affection he had to give. But, inevitably, you could tell time was passing when there was a discreet knock on the door.

“’m afraid you’re needed outside, boss,” you recognized Vizsla’s voice again before you could hear footsteps walking away.

You sighed, straightening up and starting to straighten yourself out. Boba helped you, handing you your dress and pressing a kiss to your shoulder when the fabric fell over you again.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “I would very much like to take you out sometime, princess. Properly. Dinner and dessert and everything.”

There was no hiding the smile that spread across your lips. “I’d like that very much,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck, “When can we go?”

“Tonight?” Boba suggested with a smile, “I’d lie if I said I wouldn’t want to take you out right now but I fear Paz might stop me at the door.”

He opened the door for you and you both slipped out of his office, his hand on your lower back as he led you through the busy workspace. Nobody paid attention to you but you saw a knowing look on Paz’s face that made you shuffle closer to Boba.

The air outside was crisp and you instantly wished yourself back into Boba’s arms. You came to a stop just outside the shop entrance.

“Do you think they still expect me to get my nipples pierced?” you tried to joke, wanting to prolong the moment before you had to say goodbye.

“Who are we kidding, princess,” Boba’s hand on your hip felt warm and steady as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “You don’t want piercings but you do want mine.”

#boba fett x reader #maybege writes #smut #boba fett x fem!reader #tattoo artist!boba vibes

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miniy00ng1 · 10 months ago

Text

Not Yours

Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader

wc: 1845

warnings: swearing, fighting, lmk if i missed anything!

find my masterlist here

hiii lovelies! i really enjoyed writing this, i will probably make a part two since the ending isn't really an ending, but i just wanted to get something posted! in this piece i refer to Viktor's character as Vanya since in the series at this time he did not come out yet! as always please ignore any grammar errors, give me feedback, and i hope everyone enjoys! thank you <3

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A bright blue flash appears in the foyer of The Umbrella Academy, from the flash comes the Hargreeves siblings, slowly coming to after being disoriented from time travel. The siblings surround the singular round table in the room, sitting atop the table was a newspaper.

Five Hargreeves, the youngest looking of the group, snatches the paper off the table frantically searching for a date. “Holy shit…I think we did it. It’s April 2nd, 2019, the day after the apocalypse.” Five lets out a dry chuckle, surprised he and his idiot siblings succeeded.

Klaus lets out a cheer of excitement, he rests both arms over the shoulders of his two nearest siblings, pulling them close, “Go team! I mean look at us, we’re so amazing you guys. I think we should celebrate by breaking into Dad’s very special liquor cabinet.” The siblings laugh, all relieved they survived and saved the world, yet again. As the group begins to wander towards the sitting room, Five stops in his tracks–something, no, someone was missing.

Five looks at the bunch ahead of him, he counts their heads once—only five, and then recounts afraid that he’s made an error. He whips his head behind to check for the missing person–his missing person. Five releases a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding, panic beginning to set in, “You guys…where’s Y/N?” The siblings immediately become aware to the fact that you were missing.

“Maybe she ended up in another part of the house? We should split up and look for her.” Vanya suggested. The group murmurs in agreement, designating sections of the house for each sibling to search. Before the siblings can break off, something strange catches Diego’s eye, “Hey, why is there a painting of Ben over the mantelpiece?”

The siblings immediately gather around the mantel and stare in confusion at the painting of their dead brother, which was previously a painting of their missing brother. “Shit, that can’t be good…” Five hisses, trying to figure out what was going on. The siblings attention is pulled away from Ben’s painting as a figure abruptly stands up from a nearby chair. The fireplace sheds light on the figures, it was their previously dead father—Reginald Hargreeves.

“Dad, you’re alive.” Luther says softly. The older man scoffs and speaks in his shrill voice, “Why shouldn’t I be? And I am not your father, boy.” The monocled man corrects Luther causing him to furrow his brows in confusion. “What? What’re you talking about? Yes, you are. This is the Umbrella Academy.” Allison questions. “And you would be wrong again. This is not The Umbrella Academy, this is the Sparrow Academy.” As if on cue, six figures appeared near the railing of the balcony in the room.

“Those are my children, The Sparrows. After meeting you lot in the 60s, I was so put off by you that I made it a point not to adopt you, and instead found the others. I was quite successful and adopted eight of them.” Reginald states proudly, his hands behind his back. Another familiar voice grabs the attention of the Umbrella’s, “Dad, who the hell are these assholes in my house?” Ben Hargreeves, formerly dead, but now clearly alive stands before the group. Five squints his eyes at Ben, trying to determine what was off about him. Was it the hair?

“Oh my god! Ben-er-ino is that you? You look so good alive! Well, I mean beside that haircut, but I can look past that. Come give your favorite brother a hug!” Klaus squeals in excitement, approaching Sparrow Ben with his arms wide open. Sparrow Ben meets Klaus with a solid punch to the face. Klaus stumbles back and Luther manages to catch him. “What the hell was that for Ben?” Klaus groans, holding onto his nose.

Five examines the Sparrow siblings, trying to size them up, “You said you got eight. Where is the last one?” Five questions out loud. Suddenly, a small teenage, female figure appears seemingly out of thin air next to Ben. The Umbrella siblings slightly jump at the appearance of another person in front of them before they calm down and realize it’s you. But why are you standing next to Sparrow Ben and why are you wearing a school girl outfit with a sparrow logo on it.

“Y/N?” Five calls out, you tilt your head in response to hearing your name. You squint at Five with confusion, “How the hell does the kid know my name?” You look to Reginald for answers to which he doesn’t provide any. The rest of your siblings join you and Ben in front of the strangers in your home. “I think it’s about time you guys leave.” Marcus states, puffing out his chest. “We’re not going anywhere, this is our house.” Diego replies stalking closer to Marcus. “All right, it looks like we’re going to have to settle this the old fashion way.” Both groups of siblings get into fighting stances, readying themselves to beat the shit out of each other.

You roll your eyes, your siblings have always had a flare for the dramatics and it’s just never been your style. You use your powers–manipulation of your appearance, to make yourself invisible once again. You study the way the young boy immediately looks for your presence, trying to get even the smallest hint of where you’ve gone. As your siblings start to fight with the strangers in your house you sit back to enjoy the show.

Each one of your siblings is matched up and fighting one of the Umbrella Academy siblings and with the way things are going down, you’re betting on the Sparrows. Marcus is clearly winning against Luther and you’re becoming bored watching them hit each other back and forth. You then come across Diego riding around on Christopher asking him repeatedly about “who his daddy is” this makes you giggle. You then make your way into the foyer where you observe two more pairs of siblings fighting.

Something on the table catches your eye. A sleek, black briefcase rests in the middle, you don’t recognize it, but recall that the Umbrella’s first appeared in this room. You snatch the briefcase and decide to keep it, just in case. “Y/N! Come here and look at this freak!” You hear Jayme call your name from the top of the staircase and follow her voice. Once you reach the top of the stairs you make yourself visible and see the teenage boy, who they call Five, making out with the air. “Guess who the little perv is macking on.” Jayme says wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you.

“Gross Jayme, why do you have to say it like that?” You say scrunching your nose in disgust. “Let me deal with him.” You signal Jayme to go away. The boy is still stuck in his daydream and continues to make out with the air. In order to get him out of the dream state you hit him in the side with the briefcase, knocking him off balance. Five rolls to the floor, shaking his head trying to re-enter reality. Immediately realizing his compromised position he quickly gets to his feet raising his fists but once he realizes it’s you, he drops his arms.

“I’m not going to hit you Y/N. I would never fight with you.” As Five lets his guard down, you use this to your advantage, immediately swinging your body in an attempt to roundhouse kick him in the face. He blinks away, dodging the kick, and appears on the other side of you causing you to stumble back since you missed your target. You prepare to hit him again but he blinks away for the second time, this time right behind you and pressed to your backside. Five’s arms wrap around your body, holding you in place, the briefcase still tightly clutched in your hand.

“Love, stop this. I am not going to fight with you.” Five says through gritted teeth as he holds you arms down to your side. You struggle against his grip trying to wiggle free, “I am not your love.” In that moment you swing your head back hoping to knock into his head but a flash of blue light surrounds you. You’re back in the foyer with Five and a couple of his siblings. “Someone hold onto her and make sure you don’t lose that briefcase. I’ve got to make sure Vanya’s okay and then we’ve got to get the hell out of here.” Five calls out to his siblings, Luther takes over the hold on you as Five blinks away and snatches the briefcase out of your hand. “I will kill you if you don’t let me go you fat gorilla.”

The Hargreeves siblings manage to “win” the fight against your siblings thanks to Vanya’s powers and take you as hostage without the Sparrows noticing. Luther carries you over his shoulder while the group tries to find a place to rest. Once arriving at a nearby park, the siblings sprawl out and complain about their aches and pains. Luther sets you down on a park bench laying his legs over yours to hold you down. “Get off of me you overgrown monkey! Let me go home or I’ll make you regret it!” You say trying to come off as threatening but Luther doesn’t take you seriously. “You know Y/N, you used to be a lot nicer. Now you sound like Five, and he’s an asshole. Here’s a fun idea! Why don’t you go back to being the nice Y/N we all know and love.” Luther sighs, covering his eyes with his arms and ignoring anything else you say or do.

Five sits up straight from the table he’s sitting at, “Luther quick, hand me the briefcase. Maybe I can time travel us back to the correct timeline.” Luther groans at the thought of having to move, he brings his hand to the floor in search of the briefcase to which he finds nothing. Luther lets out an awkward chuckle, “Yeah…about that…I might have dropped it when that blind one was chasing us with her scary birds.” Luther winces in preparation of Five’s wrath. The look on Five’s face turns murderous, “I ask two simple things Luther, that’s it. So simple even a monkey could do it…or maybe not. Keep my wife safe and don’t lose the briefcase. Is it that damn hard!”

You let out a laugh and tune back into the conversation at the mention of yourself, “Not your wife short stuff!” Five’s attention is now back on you, his nostrils flaring in frustration, “Yes Y/N, you have made that painstakingly clear. And you’re certainly not as sweet and loving as my Y/N and you’re annoying as hell. But until I can get my Y/N back, you’ll have to do. Not to mention, you’ll come in handy once the Sparrows realize you’re gone.” Five lets out a breath as an attempt to calm down, “We need a game plan and a place to stay seeing as we don’t have one anymore. Anybody have any ideas?”

part two, part three

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x female!reader #number five #the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves x reader

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lu-is-not-ok · 8 months ago

Note

two in one theory... i am listening very intently if you ever feel up to share it!!

Alright, so this is gonna be... as close to an Abridged explanation of the theory as I can make, because if I went off on everything about it I would end up writing a whole dissertation or five hour video essay script on this shit.

There are gonna be three main sections to this post - Hong Lu's Daiyuisms, Hong Lu's Themes of Identity and how that connects to the concept of Two in One, and the Daiyu-Baoyu theory itself.

Strap in folks.

Hong Lu's Daiyuisms

If you know anything about my theories in the earlier days of Limbus, you might know that I'm one of the very few people who was convinced Hong Lu is actually Daiyu, due to some evidence I found personally compelling. This has not changed, as we've only gotten just as much extra evidence to this as we have to him being Baoyu. So let me just speedrun through some of these points.

The Fucking Jade Eye

Ok hear me out. This is maybe the least important piece of evidence but I can never stop thinking about it. Hong Lu's jade eye? Not actually fully blue! If you look closely on most of his sprites, you can see that he actually has sectoral heterochromia, meaning his jade eye is both blue and black.

Daiyu's name, quite literally, translates to blue-black jade.

Now, you could claim that this is merely meant to be an easter egg reference to her, but... is that really Project Moon's style? After all, when people speculated on Don Quixote being Sancho or a Bloodfiend partially based on her appearance all the way back since near launch, they turned out to be right.

Hong Lu's Father

As of now, there is only one instance of Hong Lu referencing his Father in Limbus, and it's a voiceline from his Base Identity:

Now, if you know anything about DOTRC, this should already be raising some flags, because if Hong Lu was just Baoyu, he would not fucking talk like that about his Father.

In the book, Baoyu is consistently shown to be afraid of his Father, for a good reason mind you, as he's his main abuser. Baoyu would not be looking forward to introducing his friends to that man.

Even if Hong Lu was trying to downplay the abuse he's recieved, this would still not fit his pattern of behavior. When topics that genuinely bother Hong Lu come up, such as what could make him distort or how rich people would enjoy gifts made of humans, he immediately pivots and tries to avoid the topic at all cost. He would not bring up his main abuser in such a lighthearted manner, he would avoid bringing him up at all cost.

However, there is a character in DOTRC which does in fact have a more positive relationship to her Father, and would likely be the one with an opinion such as that - Daiyu. Daiyu loves her Father, and when he dies she completely disappears from the story for a bit to attend his funeral. If there was anyone who would be excited to introduce their friends to their Father, it'd be Daiyu.

Lasso Hong Lu's Corrosion

I made a whole seperate post about this, but I might as well mention it here as well for the sake of completion. The design choices made for Hong Lu which are missing for Faust are very, very Daiyu-coded.

For one, not only does Hong Lu completely turn into a flower, unlike Faust, his horse also gains a flower in its mouth. For those whose knowledge of DOTRC is zero to none, Daiyu is a reincarnation of a Flower given sentience due to being watered by the Jade. I don't think I have to be the one to connect the dots between those two pieces of info for you.

The second is how the halters become a noose for Hong Lu. This, too, is a very Daiyu thing - Rose Hunter as an Abnormality represents the inability to escape one's fate, and Daiyu's fate is to die - the Jia Family arranging a marriage between Baoyu and Baochai leads to Daiyu falling deathly ill, which in itself could be considered a part of her repaying her Debt of Tears - the debt she swore to repay to the Jade/Baoyu when she was still a Flower.

The hilarity of the fact that this E.G.O came out in the same update as Hong Lu being called Baoyu in-story is not lost on me.

Rose Sign Abnormality Log

The third Log for Rose Sign ends in a very peculiar way.

There's multiple ways one can tie Hong Lu's odd reluctance to talk about flowers and the petals. One is the obvious "he's being reminded of Daiyu because she was a Flower" connection, but there's another one.

One of the most commonly potrayed images of Daiyu relates to a scene in DOTRC where she buries fallen flower petals, weeping for and lamenting the mortality of the flowers and herself. Hong Lu's reaction here to his fellow Sinners being reduced to nothing but petals upon Rose Sign's death feels like a notable parallel to Daiyu's flower burial scene.

Like literally everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu

The title for this is a bit of an exaggeration, but at the same time. I'm serious. Kurokumo Hong Lu is perhaps the most Daiyu Identity out of all the Hong Lu Identities we have, and the way he is designed to stand out among them further makes me go insane.

Kurokumo Hong Lu's most defining trait is his attitude - he often complains about his position and how authority treats him, though he doesn't really act out against them in any major way outside of making snarky or sarcastic remarks.

This is, frankly, an extremely Daiyu thing to do. Daiyu is one of the few characters who audibly complains about her treatment in the household. For example she complains about not being given as many opportunities to show off her poetry skills as her male peers are, and she recognises how, when all the girls in the family are given flowers, she's the last one to recieve them and thus is stripped of the ability to pick, being only given the leftovers.

Then there's the whole. Everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu's visual design. Because once you realize just how Daiyu-like the Identity is, you realize just how weird he is compared to other Hong Lu Identities. I mean just look how he compares to his other Identities.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity with a blue tint to his hair in the combat sprite rather than the usual purple.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity whose hairtie is a ribbon rather than a jade ring (Liu Hong Lu technically has the ribbon in his post-uptie art, but he doesn't have it in his combat sprite so I'm not counting him).

He's the only Hong Lu Identity to not be smiling in his combat sprites.

And he's the only Hong Lu Identity (and one of only four Identities in the game) whose Idle sprite has its body facing away from the opponent rather than facing towards them.

All of those combine to make him stand out like a sore thumb in a Hong Lu Identity lineup in a way that makes it feel intentional, especially since he's also the only Hong Lu Identity with that kind of notable attitude towards authority. Other Hong Lu Identities are either obedient, don't express any opinion, or just straight up are the authority.

The Baoyu reveal is framed in a very weird way

This is, admittedly, less of a Daiyuism and more of a not-Baoyuism, but I thought it'd be important to mention nonetheless.

There are a lot of things about Canto 7's reveal of Hong Lu's name being Baoyu that are very strange, especially compared to how the Canto frames Don Quixote's own reveal of actually being Sancho.

For one, the timing itself - why is such an important piece of info being revealed so early? Again, compare to Donqui - she was revealed to be a Bloodfiend in the Intervallo right before Canto 7, and the Sancho reveal only came in the second half of the Canto.

For two, the framing - Donqui's reveals are treated as what they are, Major Reveals. The Baoyu reveal on the other hand happens in a single off-handed line, with nobody reacting to it in any way. Neither Hong Lu nor the other Sinners seem to hear it after all.

And mind you, it's not like Limbus is opposed to giving us important information in off-handed lines - far from it in fact. Project Moon loves shoving little bits of foreshadowing and reveals you don't realize are reveals until way later in these kinds of off-handed lines. But the way those lines are treated is still very different to how the Baoyu reveal is treated.

Usually, when there's foreshadowing in off-handed lines, it's usually either vague enough to be something a character could say regardless of context (see Yi Sang getting hung up on the Sedatives bit in Canto 2 or Ishmael's comment about Syndicates pretending to be Families foreshadowing her own history with the Middle via Queequeg) or something that is in the middle of a scene that distracts from what is actually being said (like Hong Lu's distortion foreshadowing being in the middle of an important infodump or most of everything in Canto 2 being surrounded by a comedic tone).

None of this is present for the Baoyu reveal. There's nothing to distract you from this information, as the scene is already focused on discussing Hong Lu, meaning you're already likely to be paying attention to what is being said about him. There's also no vagueness about it, there's no way you can brush it off since not only are Wei and Xichun newly introduced characters, but it's a whole ass clearcut namedrop.

The only way I can justify that reveal being there in the form it takes is that it in itself is the distraction. Think about it. Didn't I point it out earlier that this reveal came in the same update as the E.G.O with an extremely Daiyu-coded corrosion design? Wouldn't it make sense for that reveal to be there to lower your guard, make you think you resolved that mystery, only to later on reveal it wasn't the whole story after all?

Hong Lu's Themes of Identity

So this section is a bit more vague than the Daiyuism section, because Hong Lu is the type of guy to just Say Shit all the time. It's basically just. Anything that I find relevant to the idea of Hong Lu's Identity being more complex than him just being a random guy using a pseudonym, with some (but maybe not all) of them directly tying to the idea of Two in One.

"Which one is the real you?"

There are currently two seperate scenes where Hong Lu muses on the idea of someone's identity being in some way vague or obscured.

Is Dante the person or the clock? Is the dreamer the one in the dream or the one who wakes from it? Which you is the real you? Does it even matter if that you will flutter away in the end?

This idea of there being one true self. That even if there are two, there is only one of them that is actually you. Curious, right?

Face-changing dance

During the Canto 2 scene where everyone gives their reasons for whether or not they'd be a good pick for being the one to dance, Hong Lu says this.

Bian lian is a kind of dance literally translated as "face-changing". It involves rapid changes between various masks and make-up to represent different emotions or characters.

Now, it's no secret that Hong Lu is a great actor, as we see in Canto 4, and Canto 7 shows how the comparison to theatre and actors can be used to symbolize one's performance of identity, as it does for Sancho and her Don Quixote persona.

Mind you, this reveal comes in the same scene as Sinclair's dance invoking the image of a bonfire burning all through the night according to the Mariachis, a clear foreshadowing to Canto 3 and the Literal burning down of Sinclair's home.

Hong Lu knowing bian lian could be further foreshadowing to his own skills in deception, and how he too is a sort of actor, not unlike Don Quixote. On the other hand however, it could also be a more literal foreshadowing, that he (Baoyu) Quite Literally changed his face. We won't know until Canto 8, but it is an option you know.

The HamHamPangPang dish(es)

For those who don't know, here is a list of the Sinner-themed dishes that were available at HamHamPangPang.

EDIT: THE ABOVE LIST IS SLIGHTLY INNACURATE. Hong Lu's dish is actually pepper steak (Chinese beef stir fry) and mandarin rolls, and Rodya's dish has since changed to chicken blini.

Now, chances are, not all of them have deep meanings. I don't think there's much of a deep meaning to Heathcliff and Ishmael's dishes, I think PJM just legit don't know much about British/American cuisine so they just picked something recogniseable.

However, not all of them are meaningless picks either. Ryoshu, likely a mother, has a meal literally called "parent-and-child donburi". Don Quixote, a Bloodfiend, has a garlic-based dish. These were clearly done on purpose.

So, what does it say that Hong Lu's dish is actually made up of effectively two different dishes? What does it mean for it to be the only one to be like that? And it's clear that this is one of the dishes with intent behind them like Ryoshu's, as another name for mandarin rolls is flower buns. You know. Flower. Like Daiyu.

The Daiyu-Baoyu Theory (finally)

So. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could still be Daiyu despite being revealed as Baoyu. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could be a Two in One deal, or that at the very least there's something more complex going on with his identity. But let's discuss the theory itself, how it would recontextualize certain things, and why I think it's an extremely fitting an thematically resonant direction for Hong Lu's Canto to go in.

The Theory

Here's what I speculate is going on.

Daiyu, just like in DOTRC, is someone who was taken in into the Jia Household rather than born in it, and who strongly connected with Baoyu upon meeting him. The two would end up forming a bond strong enough that they would be willing to die for one another (or, if they're in particularly argumentative moods, to kill themselves just to force the other to have to live a long life grieving over them - this is an actual argument they have in DOTRC and I pray to god this is adapted into Limbus because it's too fucking funny).

At some point, Baoyu either dies or is brought to near death, likely through the same circumstances as in DOTRC - being beaten by his Father. To save him, his memories and consciousness would be transferred to his eye, a process not dissimilar to the one Xichun brings up in Canto 7, and implanted into Daiyu's body, causing them to become a vessel for Baoyu. This would be how Hong Lu as he is now is created.

All of the above is the main basis for this theory. Everything else that I might speculate about, such as the exact nature of the two's relationship, Daiyu's more exact background and personality, how their pre-reincarnation lives could be adapted - all of those are things that are purely speculative and ones that I don't really expect to be actually fulfilled. The only bits that I am sure are likely to be true is what I laid out above.

So... what does it all mean for the future? I'm glad you asked!

The Recontextualization

Here's a collection of just a couple of things that Hong Lu has said or is depicted as that would be heavily recontextualized if this theory ends up being true.

Hong Lu surviving despite claiming he didn't fight back when his siblings first tried to kill him: With the context that he used to be two seperate people, the answer to how he survived is made very simple. Baoyu is the one who wasn't fighting back. Daiyu, however, could have still protected him in turn.

The red ribbon on Hong Lu's weapon: There is only one other Sinner who has a similar decoration on their weapon - Ryoshu, who also has a red ribbon on her sword, which could be easily connected to Yuzuki and her death. With the context of Hong Lu being Baoyu occupying Daiyu's body and thus effectively rendering their self non-existent, the red ribbon could be a parallel symbol - a symbol of Daiyu and their 'death'.

How Hong Lu treats his weapon in his base E.G.O: The way Hong Lu holds his weapon in the illustration is more like he's cradling another person. This could be a representation of how he feels about Daiyu's situation. Likewise, in the attack animation, he's not really attacking with the weapon itself, is he? He's simply using it to direct a ribbon (which in itself is missing in the illustration), the part that is actually the attack. If the weapon in the base E.G.O represents Daiyu, this could be a parallel to how Baoyu feels like he's merely directing Daiyu's body to attack, rather than being the one actually attacking.

The duality of Hong Lu IDs: There is a notable pattern among Hong Lu IDs, and that is the focus on his attitude to violence. When he's in a situation where he's obedient towards his Family, he's either uninterested in violence, bored of it, or otherwise given no other choice but to use it as a reprieve from boredom. However, when he's in a situation where he's disconnected from his Family or otherwise questioning the status quo, he's shown to not only be much more aggressive and violent, but to outright enjoy it. With the context of Hong Lu being composed of two people, this duality could represent each of his components - the obedient and violence-averse being more Baoyu-like, while the questioning and violence-favoring being more Daiyu-like.

So, there's a bunch of stuff that would be given new meaning under the premise of this theory being true. But now, what about the future? What would this theory mean for the themes and ending of Canto 8?

The Resolution

I believe this is how the Daiyu-Baoyu theory will affect Canto 8.

At some point, whether before or during the Canto, it will be revealed that Hong Lu is both Daiyu and Baoyu. There will be an attempt to seperate the two, perhaps to implant Baoyu into a more fitting, more Jia Family-approved Vessel. Perhaps because the 'arranged marriage' from DOTRC could be adapted into something more... let's say Fear and Hunger kind of marriage rather than traditional marriage.

This will leave Hong Lu to be returned to their state as Daiyu, who will be revealed to be a very different person to what the Sinners knew Hong Lu as. There is a non-zero chance that Daiyu will be unable to hear Dante or be revived by them due to the one who signed the contract being Baoyu, and so they could end up acting as an uncontrollable ally unit not unlike Xichun in Canto 7.

The climax would then be Daiyu and Baoyu reuniting and being unwilling to part with each other again, even for the sake of returning to being the fake persona that is Hong Lu, leading to a potential duo boss fight/distortion boss fight/duo distortion boss fight.

The ending would be the two of them deciding to embrace their new identity as Hong Lu and truly becoming one, discarding their pasts and the selves that had been forced on them by the Jia Family. This ending would have a twofold meaning regarding how it connects to the DOTRC adaptation.

One - it would be a direct parallel to the ending of DOTRC where Baoyu leaves to become a monk. By becoming Hong Lu and discaring his previous identities, he'd be leaving behind the earthly attachments inherent to being Baoyu and Daiyu and become spiritually whole.

Two - it would be a reflection of the major theme of DOTRC, that being "Truth becomes fiction when the fiction's true. Real becomes not-real when the unreal's real." Hong Lu, as a person, is a 'fake' persona used by the 'real' Baoyu and Daiyu. However, by discarding those two identities and deciding to just be Hong Lu, the fiction of his existence becomes the truth, while his former real selves become not real.

Conclusion?

I could honestly just keep going with this post, but I think I'm going to stop myself here before I'm forced to find out what tumblr's character limit on posts is. Believe me, I was trying to be brief, and still this post is. This fucking long.

I hope this explains why this theory has been the subject of my brainrot for the past however long, and why I feel like it's surprisingly plausible despite being as deranged as it is.

Godspeed and godbless, I have classes tomorrow and I'm spending my time on this.

#ask #anon #lu speaketh #limbus company #hong lu #hong lu lcb #jia baoyu lcb #lin daiyu lcb #lcb analysis #lcb speculation #lcb theory #canto 7 spoilers

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wondernus · 1 year ago

Text

— WHY HIM?

SYNOPSIS: armed and ready at 4am, you approach your locked front door to confront the group of loud strangers trying to break into your apartment

PAIRING: fiancé!lsm x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor

TAGS: food mention, inebriated characters, post-bachelor party, brother!hvc

WC: 1.75k

MESSAGE FROM NU: hii long time no see :3 posting a dk oneshot to let you know i'm procrastinating on my final paper draft by drafting a hefty dk soulmate au i've been thinking about writing for a while. also dedicating this fic to @wongyuseokie the la to my ma

A perfectly peaceful Friday night goes to waste when you shoot up from your bed in a panicked state. It’s not the usual cat wanting to leave your room at five in the morning kind of scratching sound that lures you to open your bedroom door in a half-awake state. Instead, shuffling sounds out front and an insistent metal-to-metal sound, which you can only infer as someone trying to break into your apartment, cause you to become extremely vigilant.

Seokmin isn’t picking up his phone, but you keep his line ringing just in case he does. Doubtful that a pair of scissors can do as much damage to the head as a giant wok can, you head into the kitchen to pick up that giant carbon steel wok that you can never seem to fit into any of your kitchen drawers as a form of physical backup before you quietly approach your front door.

However, the fear that once overwhelms your body soon turns into a sigh of exasperation before you can even position yourself to look through the tiny peephole. You can clearly hear the familiar voices on the other side of the door and match each voice to its respective owner. Feeling relieved, you drop the wok on the cubby by the door and hang up the phone.

“Look, I opened it,” the man who was trying to open your door slurs with a dopey smile on his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s talking to anybody in particular. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Almost immediately after that statement, he falls forward and faceplants a couple centimeters away from your indoor slippers. Slumped to the side of his face is his hand that holds a small metal keychain between the thumb and index fingers. It’s a souvenir nameplate keychain from a family trip to another country a few years back whose design reads “Vernon” in all caps. You realize that the man near your feet didn’t even try opening the door with the key.

The actual owner of the set of keys lies on his left side while his entire body is propped against the bushes in front of your place. His legs are still surprisingly in a crisscross position, but you think it’s because his jeans restrict him from being able to unravel from the position. And when you see earbuds plugged up your brother’s nose while his mouth acts as some sort of impromptu speaker for whatever song he has playing through his earbuds, you consider the option of leaving him outside for the rest of the night. What’s even worse is that Joshua, although a little out of it, sits next to his younger friend and bobs his head to the music while lethargically reaching into his brown paper bag on his lap to grab some greasy fries. You think your brother is asleep, but you don’t know if him becoming a speaker happened pre-knocking out or post-knocking out.

“Do I want to ask why you guys are trying to break into my place at 4 a.m. in the morning or should I be concerned that only half of you guys are here?”

“Actually.” the man underneath you groans while he slowly gathers enough strength to sit upright. There is a nasty red mark on the side of his face that he doesn’t seem to know of and mind. “Saying ‘4 a.m. in the morning’ is redundant.” He points at nobody in particular with the same hand holding your brother’s set of keys and stares past your calves.

“Since you’re sober enough to be smart with me, I need your help dragging Vern and Shua into my place before the neighbors wake up and call neighborhood watch,” you gruff before stepping out of your house slippers into the sandals you keep near the door.

It turns out that there are more people scattered about the front of your place.

There is a car parallel parked against the sidewalk with what looks like two people in the car. Someone picks themself off the small grassy lawn on the other side of the bushes and trudges towards the car while pinching their temple.

Wonwoo nods at you when he passes by looking completely sober. Yet, for somebody who usually looks well-put-together, his hair is a mess while the top few buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned…no, missing. What remains are the threads that once attached the buttons to the dress shirt. You notice that he grips three different neckties in his hand but still his loose around his neck. Nevertheless, Wonwoo kicks off his dress shoes, steps over Jeonghan, enters your front door without saying a word, and knocks out on your sofa before his legs can make it onto the cushions.

You turn back to your brother. Joshua wipes his fingers on his pants before he squats on the other side of Vernon to help him up.

“Up,” you tell the both of them.

“I can’t breathe,” Vernon whines while allowing the both of you to help him stand. “My nose isn’t working.”

You sigh and yank the wired earbuds by their cords and out of his nostrils and let them drop before the older man helps his friend into your place. Bending down to grab the bag of fries that Joshua forgot, you see a disturbing amount of hair poking through the crevices of the leafy bush. Someone was dumb enough to black out in the bushes and you can’t tell who it is even after peering over the bush to look at the other half of the body.

“Jeonghan,” you hiss at the man who is trying to discreetly walk back to the car.

He looks back at you and mouths “what” while shrugging his shoulders.

You point at the head in the bush.

“It's Jihoon,” he snorts. He takes the paper bag from your hand and walks back to drop it in the wok that you put to the side before walking back to you. “I think he was supposed to give Vernon his keys but tripped and never got back up. Come to the car with me.”

“Why are you guys here?” you whispered. “I thought that you guys had the entire night planned out.”

“We had the entire night planned out. But then DK started crying and we had to end it early because he wouldn’t stop crying. And then all of us sobered up to try to help him but then it just worsened, so we drove here to get you to get him to stop crying. Some of us couldn’t deal with not being able to solve his problem and just started drinking again.”

“Is that why Jihoon is in the bushes?”

“Well, he never was the patient type,” he hums.

A quick look into the car immediately gets you to understand why someone like Jihoon would end up so drunk that he would dive headfirst into some bushes.

There are dozens of used tissues balled up and overflowing in the tiny hanging trashcan attached to the back of the passenger seat in Wonwoo’s car. There are a few in the laps of the two men sobbing next to each other in the backseats, and you make a mental note to help Wonwoo sanitize the inside of his car before he drives away in the afternoon. Seungcheol releases Seokmin’s seatbelt and looks at you with an apologetic smile on his face.

In all of the years you’ve come to know Seokmin, you have never seen his eyes this puffy.

“Sorry for showing up at your place unannounced. That must have scared you. There was a lot going on,” Seungcheol murmurs to you while giving you a quick hug. “We were making toasts to his future during the party until Vernon made a comment.”

“What did he say?” you asked him, shocked that your brother could even make a comment that would bring your fiancé to such a state.

“It wasn’t bad.” Seungcheol stepped aside from the open car door to let you squat next to your lover. “He just congratulated you on getting married but this dumbass took it the wrong way because he didn't mention Donkey Kong over here in the sentence and thinks you’re getting married to someone else.”

“Someone else!” Seokmin chokes out in a sob while slumped over on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Why him? Why not me?”

You grab a tissue from the tissue box on the center console and dab at your future husband’s face. The traces of his tears wet the thin paper, and you can feel the heat of his skin through the tissue. With the same hand, you push the bangs stuck to his forehead and his eyelids to the side. You don’t mind that he doesn’t seem to know that you’re there taking care of him.

“Aww baby,” you coo. “I’ll get married to you, don’t worry.”

The familiarity of your comfort seems to lure your fiancé to sleep. A little further from you, Soonyoung continues to sniffle while his eyes are closed. You turn to Seungcheol and Jeonghan with your mouth open and eyebrows scrunched together.

“He’s a drunk crier…” Jeonghan’s words doesn’t leave you guessing anything. “And also Minghao opened his mouth during the bachelor party.” He scratches the back of his head as a sign of stress and embarrassment before looking at Seungcheol and cocking his head at the two knocked out in the car.

Jeonghan has the easier job of coaxing Soonyoung awake to walk him into your place. Seungcheol, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to swing the entire weight of your limp boyfriend like a large sack of rice over his shoulder.

“Do you need me to help with anything?” you ask him.

You don’t know what time it is anymore. The sky is getting brighter, and the temperature is warming up. Your partner looks finally peaceful in his sleep.

“Nah.” Seungcheol softly brushes your request aside. “We’ve already caused enough trouble for you.”

“I feel like I should be the one apologizing,” you joke while trailing behind Seungcheol just in case he needed any help readjusting the body.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.” His words are sincere. “He loves you, you know. He cried his heart out just because he loves you. There’s nothing to apologize for. To be loved is to be cared for. Go back to bed, we’ll probably wake up around dinner time.”

“Do you think anybody grabbed Jihoon?”

#seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seokmin imagines #seokmin fluff #svthub #seokmin x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #dk imagines #dk fluff #dk x reader #wondernus imagines

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lost-my-hed · 9 days ago

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Chapter One

John Price is not only a captain of an elite task force, but an omega. In fact, every member of the 141 is an omega. They formed a pack with one another after years of being in the tight knit group, however, they are missing a vital part. An alpha. While Price and the rest of the task force disagree that they don’t need an Alpha, others (Laswell) disagrees. The pack is flighty, irritable, and irrational and it is becoming increasingly obvious that they are struggling. Above all, these internal issues have begun to bleed out into their work. Lucky for them, Laswell has found them an alpha whether they accept them or not.

This was inspired by one of @archive-doll’s posts and i just had to write something about it!

Introductions

⋆✩⁺₊✩☽⋆

Captain Price had just gotten off the phone with Kate Laswell; the 141 was getting an alpha. Three months ago, she warned him that this was becoming a bigger and bigger possibility, that he should get his men quote-unquote "familiar with the idea." John tried to ignore the problem away, but he knew better than that. He also knew that the others didn't want an alpha. Shit, he didn't want an alpha, but truthfully he knows that they aren't doing well. Every day, they struggle against the bond that ties them together, and even John knows this is one thing he can't fix.

In the beginning, their relationship was amazing. John acted as the pack omega not only because of his captain status but because he was the most suited for the responsibility. He would offer emotional support to his men when and where he could, catering to each of their personal needs. For Kyle, he was always so sleepy after missions. The adrenaline rush he got in the field always left him exhausted by the end of everything. Because of this, the man refuses to take off his clothes in favor of getting some shut-eye. Price had taken to undressing the man and getting him ready for bed or at least a refreshing snooze. He always began the same—unlacing his boots, tugging off the left, then the right, undoing his belt, and untucking his shirt. He would continue the ritual until his lover was in nothing but his boxers, finishing it with a small kiss on his forehead. An unspoken "I love you."

Moments like these would continue over the following days, weeks, and months. It was beautiful to love and be loved in a way that felt not only rewarding but easy. That is until the hairline fracture within their bond began to widen, like the jaws of a lion around its prey. Every minute the four spent without an alpha, without the missing piece, their relationship grew weaker.

Price tried to be what his boys needed; he tried to play both roles—a guiding hand or a stern command. It wasn't that the Captain couldn't handle being a dominating figure, not at all. In the field, he couldn't care less about designation. He would bark orders at any alpha and expect them to fall in line. Because he had to because his boys' survival depended on it. Back on base, away from the commotion and terrors of war and secret ops, it felt wrong. Every time, he pulled one of his mates to the side and whispered in their ear, "Meet me in my office in five. Don't be late." He felt the weight of the facade he'd created slip over him—molding like a second skin. He would sit in the worn leather chair, legs spread, waiting for the omega to knock on the door. John would grant them permission to enter the room, voice deep and toasty from the lit cigar in his hand. And before he knew it, they would be kneeling in front of him, cheek pressed against the meat of his thigh, head bowed, showing off their pretty mating gland. They would patiently wait for John to place his hand on top of the sensitive skin and squeeze gently, finally allowing their bodies to sag against his sturdy figure.

Throughout, John did his best to portray himself as a firm and strong leader. Still, his insides twisted with a feeling of sorrow and an overwhelming guilt he could barely comprehend. Realistically, he knew his men were smart enough to tell when his head wasn't straight; they also knew better than to try and pry it out of him. This made their strained relationship even more frayed. His men were torn between wanting to help and knowing it would just cause a fight…watching a piece of you hurt themselves for you is a different kind of torture.

Simon started to retreat to his room; the walls that had been broken down slowly but surely began to rebuild themselves. Johnny worked with the rookies, drilling them so hard that they forgot why they tried to befriend him. Kyle tackled the many stacks of paperwork that had been set aside with no hope of being completed. And for John, well, he shoved his feelings down until he could only feel a dull ache.

This is all to say that they were far from okay way before their new alpha arrived.

⋆✩⁺₊✩☽⋆

It was right before their first rut when they were sent to the designation center. They had just turned twelve. Their mother warned them the day before they left, whispering in their ear before she turned out the light, "Answer the questions like I would," was all she had said. At the time, Y/N didn't know what that meant, and they were too scared to take the time to understand it.

Your first task upon arrival (besides being divided into two groups based on designation) is to complete a questionnaire to determine your place within your new home. Are you more animal than man? Were your instincts at the forefront of your mind? Would you snarl if someone tried to steal french fry off your plate, willing to defend your meal? Would you bite if someone told you to—unhinge your jaw and snap it closed if someone got too close? If yes, you were taught through a more tactile approach; hand-to-hand combat and mixed martial arts training were standard procedures. While an alpha's natural power and discipline are desirable, their skills must be honed. Most importantly, kept on a tight leash. A weapon is no good if it doesn't listen.

If, however, your score reflected more man than animal, you would be given more traditional teachings. Their education would be based on leadership and how a good alpha can provide for their pack. These students receive an abundance of information—how to make your omega purr, what it means when a pack mate doesn't spend time in the pack nest, how to make your omega cum, how to healthily manage a multi-alpha pack—the list goes on and on. At the end of the day, though, they too were more than just a person, a military pawn. These "specimens" were now ready to act as emotional support alphas or omegas.

It was a few years later that Y/N realized what their mom had meant that night. They wish they would've been smart enough to heed her warning. They quickly gave up, dreaming of getting a chance to switch roles and start anew; that was no longer a possibility. It never had been. Eventually, their life became nothing more than routine—expected and mundane. By 0700, Y/N had completed a full workout, stopped at the shooting range, and was freshly showered. Like clockwork, they achieved their daily goals and tasks without hesitation or preamble. It's familiar, second nature, and what they've called home for the past decade. Though they contained the urge to form a pack, they still had fleeting images of their mates piled into a nest or warm skin pressed against their back while they made breakfast. It was harder to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling that would swell in their belly that would occur afterward. How right it felt to provide.

"Mute," a voice calls out, stopping their train of thought, "Captain wants to see you in his office. ASAP." Y/N turns their heads, locking eyes with one of their peers—Elliot "Idiot" Park. He smelled like a charcoal grill and gun oil. Harsh and direct, full-bodied. One of the first lessons you learn at the Center is not to scent your fellow peers or, especially, those with a higher rank. It was tacky and rude; Y/N can remember their instructor, "You're like a pup. No manners. Sniffing the air around me like mutt." They vowed to never scent someone publicly again, however, they quickly learned that some people were like diffusers, their scents floating off of them in small waves. Like Idiot, for example. Trying not to smell him was pointless

"He say why?" They ask.

"Not a word," Idiot has this look on his face, one that is full of knowing and humor. A look that almost seems to whisper, "Good luck."

"He in one of his moods?" They ask, lazily folding their arms over their chest, head slightly cocked to the side in question, "Overheard he was P.O'd after dealing with some of the newest recruits. Someone thought he was going to blow an artery."

The young man says with an amused smirk, "Didn't get the chance to see him. A greenie walked out sobbing before I could get to the door. Wasn't long after that, that he was yelling at me to find you."

"Fuck me."

"Would love to, buddy, but I gotta run. Was supposed to meet Alex twenty minutes ago at the range." With that, Idiot clapped Y/N on the shoulder as he headed back in the direction he came from.

That, at the very least, made them crack a smile before shaking their head, "Raincheck?" And though Y/N beings walking the opposite way, they can hear him blow a kiss in their direction.

⋆✩⁺₊✩☽⋆

They were seated in one of the two leather chairs in front of their Captain's desk. He was on the phone with someone talking extremely animatedly—eyes rolling, sighing, cursing, hands flailing about. Y/N barely knocked twice before the man bellowed, "Enter!"

Their hands were clasped together, resting in their lap as they watched their superior colorfully express himself. Finally, the Captain removed the square piece of metal and glass away from his ear to address Y/N.

"What we are about to discuss is not to be repeated, nor should it leave this room. You see, this is a…delicate matter, one that requires a certain amount of discretion and care," the Captain sighs.

"Kate Laswell is a contact of The Center's; she's facilitated pack introductions and task force contracts with former pupils. She reached out asking for somewhat of a favor." The man starts, his fingers tapping against the edge of his large wooden desk. "You see, Task Force 141 is going through a bit of a rough patch—they're uncoordinated, irritable, flighty. She was able to ignore it for a while, passing it off as a way the men "express their power and dominance" to those above her. No one actually bought that bullshit. Still, the team is too big of an asset to cut them loose, especially for something so fatuous. Behavioral issues are the least of the military's worries. When it comes to their prize winning dogs, if they can fight, well, the rest doesn't really matter."

Y/N understood all of this. While it wasn't explicitly taught, the Center had to maintain a good reputation; however, all the students knew that your performance in the field was what mattered. What happens outside of missions, besides paperwork, is fair game and easily dismissible. What they don't understand is why they are being told this.

"I understand, but respectfully, sir, I still don't understand why I'm here." They say, choosing their words carefully. While no one liked getting called into their Captain's office, this felt different—the tension was thick and enveloping, like an unwanted embrace.

"Task Force 141 is a pack." His Captain says, lacing his fingers together, "They are all omegas." Y/N's eyes widened. While it wasn't unheard of for omegas to mate and form packs of their own, it was common for them to eventually find an alpha. It was even rarer in the military due to the high-stress environments. Naturally, an all omega pack can seem unbalanced; their instincts begin to try and fill in the gaps where an alpha would go, only exacerbating their issues and highlighting their weakest points.

"Laswell has been attempting to get John Price, the Captain of the 141, to at least hire a temp, but he refused. She didn't press the matter nor felt the need to until they started slacking in the field. Making stupid mistakes, getting injured on simple recon missions, the list goes on. She doesn't have a choice but to force an alpha upon them. As a long-time supporter of the Center, she asked if any of our combat alphas would be a good fit."

This was unheard of. Combat alphas don't get to have packs. We are weapons of war and have been programmed to shoot first and ask questions later. If they had ever known how to be nurturing, it was a long time ago.

"We looked at our top performing students and found that not only are you one of them, but you had the highest scores on the pack-care portion of the questionnaire while still maintaining a combat alpha final result."

"What are you saying?" Y/N asks after a beat of silence.

"This is your chance to lead a pack of your own, sergeant. But understand that when I say this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I mean it. You say no, you'll never be asked again. And if you say yes, you won't ever return to this base. Ever. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

"I expect to have an answer by 1300 tomorrow." The man states.

"Understood Captain."

⋆✩⁺₊✩☽⋆

Seven Months Later

"It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the name." A gentle woman with dirty blonde hair and kind eyes smiles while extending a hand out to Y/N. They have to strain to hear over the loud whop-whop-whop of the helicopter's blades slicing through the air. Their drab-colored boots hit the tarmac as they hop out of the aircraft and clasp her hand in theirs, "Kate Laswell."

"Mute." They reply with a simple smile and a firm grip.

"I know you just arrived, but things don't tend to move slowly around here. I'll show you the barracks first. You can drop off your things, and then we will head to the Captain's office. You won't be meeting the whole pack at once, just Price for now." This is one of the places that the military can't override—pack introductions. Each pack will designate a single member to be the first point of contact with meeting with a potential alpha or omega. This responsibility was not one required of the head of the pack, but it often fell to them out of respect. Afterward, if the meeting went accordingly, the other pack members would gradually begin to interact with the omega or alpha in pairs or as a pack.

The other members would not start to interact individually until they felt certain that each member felt comfortable with their prospective partner. During this entire phase, the alpha or omega in question would begin to sink into their instincts and allow their training to come to the forefront. Alpha's, for example, would start to court their future pack mates—leaving them gifts, offering scented clothing items, bringing snacks, etc. After the pack felt as though the alpha had proven their ability to provide, they would be welcomed into the pack permanently. This process was lengthy at best and typically lasted four to seven weeks but could take as long as eleven weeks. Legally, there was nothing the military could do to make the time pass quicker.

Y/N nodded their head in understanding and followed Laswell quietly to their new living arrangement. She stopped at the end of a hallway with five doors total and pointed to the second one from the end, "This one belongs to you." She says, while swinging open the door and stepping back to allow them to enter, "I'll be back to collect you at 1700 hours." With that, she began to retrace her steps out of the building.

With one glance at their watch, Y/N was able to see that they had exactly thirteen minutes before Laswell would be back to grab them for the introduction. That was enough to unpack and brush their teeth if they were strategic about it. Being selected to be an alpha for a highly trained, top-secret, special ops task force had its perks. The dorm was larger than all the other dorms they had been privy to. They certainly didn't have private bathrooms, and though most civilians would simply see a toilet and a small sink with a mirror, Y/N saw luxury. It doesn't take long for their duffle bag and backpack to lie empty on the ground, tucked under their bed. They're staring at a foamy-mouthed reflection of themselves when they hear a knock on their door. They spit in the sink and dry off their damp chin with a towel, "Coming," they holler.

As promised, Kate is standing at the door, ready to lead Y/N to their final destination. They know that it shouldn't feel like the beginning to an end, but it does. There's an undeniable twinge of dread that soaks their psyche; maybe this was a foolish plan scrapped together by desperate officials attempting to save their own asses.

"Times up." She smiles with a knowing gleam in her eyes. If it was a positive or negative knowing, Y/N couldn't tell. Though, they should have guessed Kate Laswell wouldn't be easy to read. She leads him to the end of the hallway, where they make a left—the office being the first on the right. The dark wood door looked unassuming on the outside—no proof of Captain Price, the man (and omega) that wanted nothing to do with Y/N.

"I can go in and help introduce you, but after that, I have to leave. If you need me, though, I will be in the hallway." Laswell explained before raising her hand to knock on the door announcing our arrival. After a beat of silence, a deep, low voice commands, "Come in." The door swung inward, revealing a cozy office— an old hand-me-down couch was pushed against the left-hand wall, his desk was placed in the Center of the room, and a large leather chair held his figure. Various certificates and awards littered the walls and shelves within his office. When you are in the military for as long as John, well, you start to accumulate them. The walls were various shades of beige and brown, though they were richer than the ones in their uniforms.

The door shut with an audible click, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

⋆✩⁺₊✩☽⋆

"I'm sure you've been made aware—you will have your own quarters as well as a private bathroom. No one will enter your space without direct and explicit permission. That respect will also be expected of you. I would hope that the Center informed you about the importance of an omega's privacy…" Price trails off, his hands lazily laced together, resting on the desk.

"Yes, Sir," Y/N replies almost instantly. While some extremists may still view John Price as only an Omega, at the end of the day, he was a decorated Captain in one of the most deadly task forces created. They would never question his authority, especially on home soil.

"Good." He says, his voice clipped and stern, "I want to be very clear, I made a promise to my men, and I intend to keep that promise. Myself and the rest of the pack will only do what is absolutely necessary. The Center requires mandatory reporting and biweekly check-ins for the first six months of a new pack relationship…a trial period." Y/N nods without speaking. This was not the time to butt in and let the angry man know that this was something they had already been briefed on. It was a thin line that they toed—being a natural authoritative figure gave them special privileges and power; here, in front of the Captain, where ranks outweigh designation, it no longer mattered.

"We will not participate in scent marking, kneeling, or knotting, not that you will be allowed to get that cose, but I need to cover all my bases," he begins again, taking their silence for acceptance. "Above everything, we are soldiers, and our duties will always come before you. We may have an obligation to fulfill in twenty-six weeks, but no one can make us fake nice."

Y/N clears their throat before offering a hopefully kind smile, "With all due respect, Sir, I don't need you to 'fake nice.' I have been sent here to complete a job, one that I was specifically sought out for. I have been made aware of your…hesitations, Captain Price. I know you don't want me here, but I have no intention of leaving. I am a skilled alpha, one who doesn't like failing. I'm sure you can relate to that, Sir."

While Y/N has no issue with Price's current authoritative role, nor do they care about his attitude problem. They won't, however, allow him to get in the way. At the end of the day, Y/N was raised as a combat alpha, and the Center doesn't tolerate quitters.

Price's gaze is like a sharp blade; it cuts through bullshit and stings. Y/N knows he's waiting for them to yield; glance at the wall behind him or the floor. But they stare straight back, meeting his deep blue eyes. If it wasn't clear before, it is crystal clear now—Jonathan Price has power, and he knows how to wield it. The bearded man is the first to break eye contact; he looks down at the watch on his wrist before starting back at Y/N.

"Someone will stop by your room tomorrow at 0400 hours. See to it that you are ready." John pauses, allowing a quiet to settle over the room, "Dismissed."

⋆✩⁺₊✩☽⋆

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed xx

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holylulusworld · 8 months ago

Text

Their Bride (Snippet 1) - Kinktober 28

Summary: You always dreamed of letting your dirtiest fantasies become reality. Your men made your dream come reality.

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: mentions past consensual non-con/dub-con roleplay, kidnapping, multiple partners, mentions of sex tape, mentions of callboys/prostitution

Trope: Post-coitus moment

A/N: A short follow up to: Best bridesmaid ever

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Just relax, lean back, and enjoy how we dismantle your ex.”

Lean back and relax, Ari said, while you tried to wrap your head around the situation. Not moments before they revealed their true identities, you believed your bridesmaid and best friend hired the most handsome and best callboys walking on earth.

The fulfillment of your secret desires still lingered in the back of your mind. Memories flashed up, bringing back every moment of desire and lust.

Did their true identity change your desire for them after all of them gave you what your body and mind were craving? You pondered when Ari stepped back inside the room to hand you a cup of your favorite tea.

“I can see the wheels in your head spinning,” he said, sitting opposite you in an old armchair, while you watched him with curiosity. This man did unspeakable things to you and your body but looked almost shy when you stared at him. “We never said that we are callboys, sweetness. You gave in to our demands so easily; we just went with the flow. At first, we only wanted to scare you a little and fuck with your finance’s mind.”

“What?” You gaped at Ari. Did he just make it sound like they didn’t lie to you? “You made me believe you’re the callboys my friend hired.”

“Baby cakes, do you honestly believe guys like us offered their dicks for money?” Lloyd chuckles as you try to not throw the cup of tea at him. “My meat is a filet mignon, not a cheap burger.”

“Hansen, you’re not helpful. Not at all,” Ari grunted. “We should explain our plan to her. Y/N is not a pretty doll you can use and put in a corner.”

“Oh, Levinson,” Lloyd plopped down on the couch next to you. “I won’t ever put my muffin into a corner. I’ll make her scream my name any time of the day.” His hand crept up the nightgown they offered you this morning, one of many designer clothes they got for you. “Right, sunshine. You loved it when I got down on you to tickle your clit with my mustache.”

“Lloyd!” Steve snapped at the man next to you. “We wanted to talk, not bend her over the couch too. Let’s finish her ex-fiancé off before we get to her naughty cunt again.”

“Doll, are we having a party?” Bucky strolled into the room, Nick hot on his heels. They sipped at their coffee while undressing you with their eyes. Similar eyes, turning you into a puddle of goo whenever they look at you. “What do you want me to do to you today?”

“Get your shit together. No sex this morning. If we want to hit Walker hard and fast, we must do it now. Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine. I want him to suffer through every scream and moan we forced out of his lovely fiancé.”

You watched Ari take over the lead. He wildly gestured while talking, making you whimper more than once. You barely listened to what he had to say. These five men fulfilled your darkest desires and offered a new life to you within the same heartbeat.

How could you ever go back to a normal life? What would you tell anyone? That you let these five men, members of the mob on top of all, do unspeakable things to you?

You’re ruined in more than one way.

“How about you enjoy the show, cupcake?” Lloyd said, and wrapped one arm around your shoulders. “Later, you can enjoy more of me. Let’s sneak out and do it outside like the animals.”

“Lloyd!” Steve snapped his fingers in Lloyd’s face. He was done with Lloyd’s endless appetite for you and the noises you made for the mustache-wearing bastard. “Stop thinking with your dick for once, will ya.”

“Let us have our fun. We already fucked Walker over by fucking his lovely bride. He still thinks she’s going to marry him. How about you stab him in the back and twist the knife?”

“I prepared everything,” a new face stepped into the room. A cocky guy with glasses and spiky dark blonde hair. He was wearing a pink shirt with an imprint saying go petunias.

You would’ve giggled at his outfit, but he switched a large monitor on and talked about hacking into John’s system and other things you don’t understand.

“Alright,” he said. “A livestream would’ve been much funnier, but this will do too.” He dipped his head to look your way. His cheeks turned red, and he gasped loudly. “Oh, she’s here.”

“Stop staring at our girl,” Nick warned before pointing his index finger at him. “Get the job done. We don’t have all day.”

“Name’s Jake,” he said, instead of doing his job. He flashed you a smile, making you giggle. You could imagine turning him into your sweet puppy. A stark contrast to the roughness your other men provide.

“Jensen, do your job!” Ari barked at Jake. “I want results, and I want them now!”

“Here we go,” Jake said. He typed away on the keyboard, starting a countdown. You watched John on the monitor. His phone rang, and he got a message to switch his laptop on.

John sat down on his expensive leather chair and switched the laptop on. Jake immediately took control of the laptop, easily hacking into the computer.

Moments later, you could hear the scene you remembered so well unfold once again. Your moans and the men barking orders at you filled your ears as John grabbed his laptop to smash it against the wall.

“Hah, as if this would stop me!” Jake snickered. “Let’s drive him insane.”

Next: Playing with their bride

Tags in reblog.

#ari levinson #bucky barnes #nick fowler #steve rogers #lloyd hansen #kinktober vs flufftober 2024 #Their Bride (Snippet 1) - Kinktober 28 #jake jensen #polyamory #x reader

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factual-fantasy · 2 months ago

Text

26 asks! Thank you!🐕‍🦺

I believe that AI generated """art"""/images are extremely harmful to real artists. Its just a weapon that steals mountains of peoples hard work and is causing real people to lose their jobs.

Its a rotten thing that should be obliterated from the internet. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat waiting expectantly for its downfall.👎👎👎

@axolotlcookie0

If you're talking about making fanart of my designs/character/AUs, please do not. I'm really not comfortable with it :( If you're just trying to show your support then just leave a comment on my artwork or stop by my ko-fi. Those will go a long way for me <:))

I had no idea there was one! <:0 I haven't been keeping up with Welcome Home since Matpat took a step back...

References. Just drown yourself in references. I'm in a discord server that has a bunch of refs for the bots and also am taking dozens of screenshots as I rewatch the show. Just gathering reference after reference and using them religiously as I draw. :00

You mean the factual fam? :0 I thought about adding another character once I hit 30k followers. But when the time came I didn't really have any ideas that I liked.. So for now it'll just be the 5 of us :)

Also thank you so much! :)))

(Referencing this post)

XDDD Average day in the Autobot base!

(Link in ask)

I have not, but they have a neat artstyle! :000

@cherrycreamfairy

Nothing in particular, it been same old same old. 😔

Don't worry! I don't think you're asking to many questions! <:00

Also, I love LOVE LOVE!! The bond between Ratchet and Raf 😭😭💞💞💞

Lastly, I love that character! :DD It looks really neat :)))

(Link in ask)

Man, that's just disgusting. I'll do whatever I can to get it taken down. Thanks for letting me know 👍

I've never heard of it <:00

XDD You're welcome! Use that power wisely now, don't do anything Optimus wouldn't do!☝️

@misscherrypie (Referencing this post)

JHABDJHEHF XDD

(Link in ask)

Thank you so much! :DD I have a fanfic side blog but have since privated all the posts out of embarrassment- so currently I don't write/have any fanfics to share 😅😅--And other than sounding like a hyper five year old when I made that post😅 my opinions remain somewhat unchanged.

Soundwave is still my favorite Decepticon for the same reasons. The silent type that is a beast in combat, and is fiercely loyal to Megatron will always be cool to me. As for the other Decepticons, the way I would describe them has changed just a bit.

Megatron: I hate him in the way you are supposed to hate a villain. I think he's a really cool character and I enjoy seeing him on screen and seeing what evil deed he'll craft next.👀

Starscream: I used to really hate Starscream. But now his pathetic, sniveling, and cowardly behavior is more funny to me than anything. And its always funny/satisfying to watch him backstab Megatron and throw a wrench in his plans over and over XDD

Knock out: Knockouts incredibly vain and Egocentric personality is really getting on my nerves this second time around. He annoys me whenever he's on screen and keeps making me think that Breakdown was more deserving of life and a redemption arc than K.O. As I close in on the episode where he becomes an Autobot, I highly doubt there will be any satisfying character development that makes his switch from Con to Bot believable. I will surly post a rant about him sometime soon and maybe completely overhaul his character for my AU. 🙄

Shockwave: I've only seen a few episodes with him so far. But I really like him. A hulking scientist that can absolutely flatten you on the battle field. Cold, alien, calculated, unfeeling, shows no mercy or fear.. he's pretty cool to me XDD

Airachnid: I hate her but not in a fun way like Megatron. She's just an annoying villain with an annoying personality that keeps getting away when she really shouldn't have. 🙄

Predaking: Only seen this guy for a few episodes too. And I haven't gotten to the ones where he talks yet. But I don't like him much already. The stakes already felt high and realistic enough. But then you add a reincarnated overpowered cybertronian dragon thing into the mix? Just made it feel more fantastical and like there's too much going on at once. Not really a fan of him so far. <:/

Dreadwing and Skyquake: The ending these two had made me very sad. Skyquake dying in his debut episode and then having his death/body striped of all its honor by being resurrected and used as a weapon.. Only for him to mindlessly wander the shadow realm for eternity.. I can only hope he became one with the allspark and has no connection to his body..

Then Dreadwing.. The pain he must have felt when he learned of what Starscream did to Skyquake.. and he didn't even get the chance to avenge his brother.. I really hope they're both at peace together with the allspark.

I really liked the two of them, and think they were very well written and interesting characters. I will definitely be writing them into my AU and give them a happy ending where they can be reunited.💚💙

Breakdown: I really, really liked him and think it was horrible writing to kill him off after his encounter with Silas and Bulkhead. Like seriously, what happened in the writing room for this character? They couldn't have hammered it into our heads any harder that Breakdown was setting up to switch to Autobot. I went back through that episode (Season 1, Episode 16) and took some dialogue just to showcase what I mean.

First of all, we have what Megatron said after he is notified that Breakdown was captured by Silas. "If Breakdown allowed himself to be captured by those smaller than him, weaker than him. He deserves whatever fate awaits him."

This shows the viewer that Megatron sees Breakdown as weak for being captured by humans, and thus deems him useless.

Then we hear what Breakdown says when Silas comments about Breakdown being too valuable to let go. "Haha! Megatron will never pay a ransom!" His laughter and this comment shows the viewer that Breakdown believes Megatron will not negotiate with the humans and will simply eradicate the humans in order to rescue him.

These two things showed the viewer that Breakdown thinks Megatron values him and will rescue him, when in reality Megatron absolutely does not value him and has no intentions to rescue him.

Then later on with the bots we get these lines:

Bulkhead: "Mech can melt him down for all I care, let the cons rescue their own!"

Optimus: "It is unlikely that Megatron would bother with an arrand of mercy."

Arcee: "Okay, but this is breakdown we're talking about"

Optimus: "Sometimes we must rise above ourselves for the greater good."

Bulkhead: "Oh what's that supposed to mean!? Breakdowns gonna go all soft and join the cause??"

Optimus: "While it is unlikely any Decepticon will choose the path of good, even they posses the potential for change."

THIS, implies/hammers it SO HARD into the viewers brain that not only is it likely that a Decepticon WILL change, because Optimus believes they all have the ability to do so. But that BREAKDOWN SPECIFICALLY might change after they save him.

After this, we have this interaction between Silas and Breakdown after the Autobots were supposedly blown up.

Silas: "Enjoying the view? Ironically your would be rescuers may be in more pieces than you right now."

Breakdown: "Decepticons don't break that easy!!"

Silas: "Who said they were decepticons?"

Breakdown: "That doesn't make sense. Autobots wouldn't come to rescue me."

This shows the viewer two things. That Breakdown really believes the cons will rescue him, and he doesn't believe the bots would save him for any reason.. But then Bulkhead shows up.

Bulkhead: "It must be your lucky day"

Breakdown: "w...what are you doing..?"

Bulkhead: "Getting you outa here. Yeah, I don't believe it either."

Bulkhead: "Can you walk."

Breakdown: "I.. I think so"

(Alarm starts blaring)

Bulkhead: "Can you run?"

Breakdown transforms his hand into a hammer: "Never run when you can fight"

Bulkhead: "Just keep that thing pointed away from me, alright?"

Breakdown then pauses and kind'a looks at his hammer as Bulkhead moves forward. Eventually following after him.

Later in the fight against Silas, Bulkhead was weakened and fell. Breakdown rushed in to push him out of the way of the helicopter firing the laser. They look at each other, both kind'a surprised by what Breakdown just did.

Later, we then we get this interaction with Starscream.

Starscream: "Consulting with the enemy, Breakdown?"

Breakdown: "Bulkhead got me out of there!"

Starscream: "Many sparkfelt thanks, Autobot. Now destroy him."

Breakdown and Bulkhead look at each other. Both look shocked and hesitate to do anything.

Breakdown: "But y-"

Starscream: "Do you plan on joining their ranks anytime soon? No?? Then be done with it already!"

Breakdown hesitates for several more seconds. "Tough break Bulkhead, maybe in the next life." And then attacks him.

This, once again, was hammering home that Breakdown very likely was going to become an Autobot. He fought alongside Bulkhead and protected him when he didn't have to. And when he was told to destroy Bulkhead, he seriously hesitated and tried to argue with Starscream about it. Before giving in..

Then finally, he have the most damning evidence of all. After Breakdown and Sarscream escape the scene and meet up later on down the road. They have this interaction.

Starscream: "One day you will repay your debt to me Breakdown, the day it comes time to choose sides."

Breakdown: "Uh.. between bots and cons?"

Starscream: "Between myself, and Megatron!"

Breakdown: "...."

Starscream: "Incidentally I suggest that Megatron never know of this rescue. You do want him to think you overcame the puny humans on your own.. don't you."

THIS, interaction is the cherry on top. Starscream implied that if Breakdown wants to go back to the cons, he better make himself look useful and say he got free of the humans himself. This shows Breakdown that Megatron didn't actually send anyone to rescue him. Megatron does not care. So his view of Megatron and the deceptions as a whole was changed with this interaction.

THEN you have the fact that Bulkhead saved him. He doesn't understand why, but no doubt this changed his view of the Autobots and Bulkhead entirely. With their limited resources, they still went out of their way to try and rescue a Decepticon. No doubt the Bots are looking much more merciful and kind than he may have originally thought..

And lastly, us as the viewer get what Breakdown said. "Uh.. between bots and cons?" LITERALLY. This question makes the VIEWER AND BREAKDOWN consider that choice! Why else would they have Breakdown AUDIBLY QUESTION which side he should be on if it wasn't implying that he would later change???

I think it was just garbage writing to kill off Breakdown the way they did. They made an entire episode that basically spelt in big bold letters "Decepticons have the ability to change, and Breakdown is going to choose to become and Autobot." They could not have made that message to the viewers and to BREAKDOWN any more clear if they TRIED.

So basically. I really liked Breakdown and the direction his character was going. And I absolutely hate what the show did to him.

@narrator-girlart (Referencing this post)

Ah sorry, that was just a paid drawing request. I'm not actually apart of the fandom <:/

But I mean hey, I plan to reopen requests soon, maybe you could place an order for me to draw more XDD

@fancymussmuss

Aww that sounds really sweet! :) Any opportunity for Ratchet to bond with the kids and learn more about human culture is a win for me! :DD

@ilobewallmark

Thank you! :DD And I plan to! :))) And after I finish watching the show and make simpler redesigns for the bots, I imagine I'll draw them even more! :))))

@sussyhahag

(I wont show the artwork because it is not mine to share, but the text next to Miku said: "I KNOW THINGS ARE HARD RIGHT NOW, BUT IM SO PROUD OF YOU FOR MAKING IT THIS FAR! LETS KEEP DOING OUR BEST, OK?💙")

Aw <:))) Thank you! Does this mean Miku will bring me ibuprofen and cold water? 🥺

@beryl-shade

From the picture, it looks to be a beautiful lake! :00 I'm sure my OCs would think its beautiful too! :))

@knifecatss

SCREAMSSS THANLYUUU!!! :DDDD 💞💞💞💞

Oooo I might have to look into that :00 tho I don't think I'll make my holoforms bleed <XD I cant find a way to make that make sense..

..Well, maybe if the bots main body is injured, that injury will be shown on their holoform as a glitch or tear in their bodies. But idk if you can injure the holoform itself 😅

Woof. Thank you so much for the information! This really helped me make up my mind.

Its sounds like Rescue bots is a show I'd be willing to give a shot someday. Just for its lightheartedness alone tbh. At first I thought I wouldn't like a kiddie transformers show, but as I transition into season 3 of TFP I find myself missing season 1 and the lower stakes/day-in-the-life-of vibe it used to have. But I would be sure to just 100% disconnect it from TFP.

As for Robots in disguise, I think I'm bagging that show entirely. Bumblebee and the others acting way out of character, stupid/non threatening Decepticons, the main cast never learning or developing their character, it just sounds like it would be SO frustrating for me to watch. I can imagine I'd be ranting the whole time and rolling my eyes at Bee. So I won't be trying that show anytime soon.😔

@beryl-shade

I can imagine they'd be be in awe of the car factory. Maybe slightly disturbed..? Maybe it'd feel uncanny to see cars be assembled like that..

As for the DMV, half of the cars wouldn't pass inspection XDDD

@littlelightfish

He's probably chowing down on some good food and listening to the bigger cookies tell stories! :)))

@heaventhehedgi3

I actually don't remember him <:(( I don't think I've ever seen that movie before.. 😔

I've actually drawn Sherlock Gnomes and Watson before! :0 It was a long time ago tho 😅

#my response #transformers prime #transformer ocs #They did Breakdown so unnecessarily dirty and I'm still SO bitter about it.👎👎

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shadesofmauve · 4 months ago

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Alliance Normandy SR-2 redesign: Deck 5

We've finally arrived at the bottom: deck 5, home of the hangar, the Kodiak shuttles, and now, Marine Land!

There are some oddities with this deck, because I was guessing at how fast the hull tapers towards the bottom at the back (I'm working off references that show front and rear elevations, but that only shows you the broadest points). I messed up something with my core chamber measurements and had to make the entire rear end (heh) slightly bigger here before posting, but the deck design errs on the side of narrower.

Hangar

When I wrote A Star To Steer Her By I ignored the silly shipbuilding because I was focused on a relationship (and because it wasn't supposed to be a door-stopper novel. Oops), but as I went on things like "this hangar should be regularly exposed to vacuum, how can you leave gym equipment in here" bothered me more and more. By the time of Sunset and Evening Star I couldn't let that state of affairs stand. So: this hangar is regularly exposed to vacuum. No fancy force fields that keep in the air but let out shuttles. You don't leave anything in here that isn't protected from vacuum and strapped down.

The hangar is the limiting factor in the size of the entire ship; it has to fit between the central elevator and the hangar door, and it must fit two Kodiaks. To reach this size I had to make the Kodiaks boxier; my drawings are taller for their length than the game models. They still seat twelve, and there's room for one to do a 180 on it's axis while the other is in its cradle. The hangar floor slopes down slightly towards the door in the middle, and the Kodiaks are 'shelved' to the sides.

Cortez runs the flight deck from the exact same place he is in game, but now he has bulkheads and windows between himself and the cold death of space. Airlocks on either side give access to the flight deck. There are also giant doors straight into the deck 4 cargo bays, but those won't open unless the hangar is pressurized.

Marine Land

Jack's Sulking Pit is now a gym, with weights, treadmill, stationary bike, heavy bags, and mats for sparing (and occasionally making pillow forts for evacuee toddlers). Mats are usually stored stowed against the wall, and other equipment can be moved as needed.

To port are the marine berths. The usual compliment of marines is a dozen, including their unit leader, but there are twelve bunks as well as the officer's tiny cabin (because there's no point wasting the space, and you never know). Other than their semi-privacy, the marine racks are no different from the enlisted racks on the two decks above.*

*"Except for the smell." — the rest of the crew, probably.

Berthing the marines on deck 5 is all about quick access to their arms, armor, and transport. Directly across from the marine berths is the entrance to the locker room and armory. After armoring up they grab their weapons and can get to the shuttle through an airlock entrance in the armory. On the way back, they reverse the process; stow weapons, strip off armor — often dropping damaged plating into the recycler chute as they go by — strip down, and shower.

The Alliance military is gender neutral, and nowhere is this as obvious as the marine lockers. The marine unit regularly strips down in front of each other; it's just part of getting ready for work. You can't be body-shy and be an Alliance Marine.

(I like to think the separate bathrooms on the crew deck were the Illusive Man's weird traditionalist decision. Sometimes the gendered-bathroom thing starts to grate on Bo Huan, the third-watch pilot, so they come down to deck five to use the locker room showers, leading Joker to quip "Ah, the third gender: marine!")

More engineering, and the answers to a few questions

Ladders from deck 4 lead down to another engineering area on the hangar level. It's not connected to the main areas of the deck by conventional corridors, but it is accessible through the warren of service passages that run throughout the ship. More of those access-ways lead aft of the eezo core chamber to the fusion plant (not shown). Because the core chamber narrows faster than the ship, it's easier to get around it here than it is on the engineering deck, where the core chamber is at it's widest but the hull has started to narrow. These access tunnels are rarely comfortable to get through, though they often open out into areas that are easier to work in, or into surprising pockets of unused space. They may require crawling or climbing, or clambering over obstacles.

All the maintenance accesses are kept pressurized and aired up, but the habitable area shown on these posts is wrapped in an inner hull, and the doors for maintenance access are all pressure doors: if a hit damages the tunnel you use to access the ship's innards, it won't kill all the crew in the room next to it.**

**It will obliterate the illicit still and the not-actually-a-secret-make-out-nest, as well as anyone stupid enough to be distilling and***/or fucking in those locations, which is why we don't lollygag between the hulls in combat, private!

***AND?****

****Some people are remarkably talented.

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

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blackkatdraws2 · 1 year ago

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1st Batch: the Inhabitants

[Blank Scripts AU (non-canonical)]

Multiple footsteps reverberated within the claustrophobic stairways of the Parable.

One strikingly beautiful old man elegantly struts up the stairs with a scowl on his face, having a heated one-sided discussion (lecture) with a poor stuttering businessman on his phone call.

The rest simply follow him, a group of special individuals who have come and now reside in this strange building for their own peculiar reasons. They don't quite understand many things about the workings of this place, but one thing is for certain.

Wherever the Narrator tells them to go, whatever he tells them to do, they comply.

BATCH LIST:

- [1st Batch: The Inhabitants] - [2nd Batch: The Janitors] - [3rd Batch: The Citizens] - [4th Batch: The Guardians]

↓ [Chatter and Credits below] ↓

-----------⟡

The first illustration is posted! [Yay!] There will be more coming soon!

I've decided to pair these characters together due to a single uniting trait they all shared. Being residents of the Parable! [Either as an NPC or as something else.]

I admit that I went in with a lot of confidence, thinking I would finish this illustration in just a day or two, and I got HUMBLED. Starting June 16th [the day after everyone's characters got submitted] I spent five days just drawing this one illustration alone. [I draw fast, I usually only spend a few hours on one drawing before moving on, so this was a challenging experience.]

There were many factors contributing to why it took me so long. Such as drawing blindly [not preparing before trying to render and failing at it], not using references, lack of experience drawing buildings from scratch, etc. [Okay, now I just sound like I'm making excuses but wow that was really hard HAHAHA I almost got art-block as a result!]

My grievances aside, I'm happy with the result!

Mell by @katkit-drops-alt

Her dress and concept are absolutely lovely!! I like how, despite how terrifying she may come off, she's ultimately still a girl with her own normal life to live [or whatever it is that's normal to her anyway.] Her silly farm boyfriend is cute too!

[unnamed character] by @rick-ety

Ahh this girl!! I'm interested in her! [I love character designs that look 'ghostly' or dead.] Her pretty long hair reminds me a lot of Sadako [that one ghost girl with long black hair covering her face...] Her poor limbs missing and the twist of her not dying simply because she's already dead ahhh!!! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

Helena by @neat-o-things

A silly girl who died in the Parable as she was about to make it out then ended up getting reincarnated as an NPC, making maps for the Parable, not knowing why she's doing it or where she even is!!! Only that she feels like she should :). I hold her dearly.

Anika by @hyydrochloricacidd

Uwwaahh we have sisters!! Anika is so unnervingly tall and creepy, I love that seemingly doll-like look on her face. It feels very uncanny! I can't wait to draw her sister Anala soon.

Root by @therootthatquestiond

AHH a drawing in Roblox!! (p≧w≦q) I love Roblox, you did a really great job!! We appreciate our quiet guy Root. Praise Root.

#tsp blank scripts au #blank scripts oc #blank scripts self insert #tsp au #tsp oc #the stanley parable #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tsp #tspud #tsp narrator #narrator tsp #tsp mariella #mariella tsp #tsp artists appreciation #my drawing museum

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http-tokki · 2 years ago

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need to know

~ choso kamo x fem!reader (tattoo artist choso au) ~tags/cw: tattoo artist choso, fem reader, tattoo artist au, tattoos, needles, satosugu is canon, modern au, choso has a scar over his nose instead of his markings, strangers to friend to lovers (strangers rn) tiny lil man verbal bashing cause men are weak lil babies when getting tattoos, reader is a lil chubby, choso is on antidepressants, smoking/vaping, drinking ~ wc: 2.9k ~ "Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?"

You: Wednesday 8:45pm Hi, I was just wondering if your books were still open? It says they are in your bio but in case I've missed it and they're closed, please ignore this message, sorry! :)

Kamo: Wednesday 9:23pm Hey. No, they are still open. When were you looking to book? Do you have a specific design? Or are you looking for a flash?

You: Thursday 11:36am Oh, hi, awesome! Thank you for getting back to me so quickly! I was looking to book next month, towards the end. On a weekend if that would be possible (I don't mind the time), and for the design, just a flash (design 3A) on your latest post on my upper arm, around 15-20cm. :)

You: Thursday 11:52pm Unless you think it should be smaller or somewhere else, I'm not picky! I really want something of yours tattooed on me :)

Kamo: Thursday 12:15pm Sure, no problem! I have the 24th free at 12pm. Does that work for you? The spot and size are fine, but I'll make up smaller and bigger stencils on the day in case you change your mind. The total would be $600 for the piece. However, I require a $100 deposit to secure your spot. I can send you the payment details once you confirm your interest. Please read through my FAQs on cancellation policies and further information.

You: Thursday 12:20pm 24th at 12pm is perfect! Thank you!! I'll send a deposit through now! Ahh, so excited! :)

Kamo: Thursday 1:07pm You're welcome. Here is the link x. Please send a screenshot of your payment as proof. For the rest of the amount, I accept cash only. If you have any other questions, feel free to message me. See you on the 24th.

You: Thursday 3:30pm Sending it now! Yay! Thank you so much! Super excited, see you! :)

Kamo: Thursday 4:35 pm Seen

"I sound like an idiot, don't I?" you grumble as your friend reads over your chat with a tattoo artist.

You watch your friend tilt their glasses down, squinting at the screen as their mouth curls into a grimace. They try to hide it with a sniffle, disguising their obvious disgust over your intense enthusiasm.

"Not an idiot," they hand the phone back to you, a frown set in the crooked way it always did when they were uncomfortable. "Just really, really eager, which can be cute if you like that."

Choso is growing tired.

At what? There are too many contributing factors to the headache that had begun blooming his eyes five minutes after stepping into the studio to pinpoint the main culprit of his budding exhaustion. Maybe it was the late night/early morning combo, or perhaps it was the horrific lack of water and food he hadn't consumed in the last twenty-four hours. When was the last time he had taken his medication? Choso begins to run through the previous days in an attempt to remember when he had even glanced at the Zoloft sheet sitting in the bottom drawer of his trolley, but his attention is diverted from his lack of self-care to the man sitting in his tattoo chair.

It is coming up on the two-hour mark since his client walked in. With a brazen attitude that could rival a Greek god, the man had outlined what had to be the simplest fucking tattoo known to man. Choso had rolled his eyes at the frankly impressive and thorough drawing done by the twenty-something gym bro before shifting the paper off to his younger brother.

"Come on, it's easy! An hour tops, and then you've got like two fifty in your hand! You technically owe me an observation session, and this can be it." Yuji had gripped his brother's sleeve, tugging on it the way he used to when they were kids.

Taking in his younger half-brother as his apprentice was a good idea in theory. The two lived and worked together, so there was ample time for obvs and practice, but today was already busy, and Choso was feeling like complete and utter shit.

"Yuji, I don't want to do this. I have a client coming in at twelve for a full session, and I've got this headache and-"

"It's easy money, come on! Please." it technically was easy money. The design was a small band wrapped around the bicep, with no adornments or script, just a flat black line; it was the client himself that made Choso apprehensive.

"Fine." Choso sighed, and Yuji almost jumped into the air in excitement. "You prep and clean him; I'm not doing anything but the actual tattoo."

Yuji nodded eagerly and just about ran into the front room to confirm the walk-in appointment.

That was almost two hours ago, and Choso is still here, finishing up the outlines of the band on a guy twice his size but carrying on like a toddler. Each touch of the needle on skin had the man flinching and hissing through his teeth, and there is only so much Choso could take.

Choso eyes the clock nervously, his next appointment slot ticking closer but the second. There isn't going to be enough time to get out and grab a coffee or snack from the corner store. After another quick glance at the amount of work before him, Choso calls it fifteen minutes to twelve and clicks off the tattoo gun with a disappointed sigh.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but we might have to split this into two sessions."

He looks back over at this current client, who is sweating profusely. It takes everything in him to scowl in disgust at the once brazen man before him, but not the look on his client's face; Choso knows some form of repugnance had slipped through his composure.

"Yeah, sure, man, no sweat," the client replies, relief blatant in his sigh. "Sorry for taking so many breaks. I've got a weak pain tolerance."

That makes Choso feel a little bad.

"You're fine. I've just got a pre-booked client coming in like ten and need to set up." A little lie to hurry the man up.

Hope is so close. So attainable that Choso can almost feel the sun on his face, but the shop bells slice through any dream of a break.

"Hi, I'm here for my twelve with Kamo?"

Choso slouches, attention now on the conversation happening in the front room. It's not even twelve yet! Why would she be here so early?

"Yep! We've got you down for twelve, but Choso's still with someone, so if you wanna wait here, that's okay!" Yuji giggles in response.

"Ohh, I'm just here to ask if umm…Choso wanted a coffee or anything?" his name is a question on her tongue. "I'm going to go get one and wanted to ask if anyone wanted anything so you don't have to wait in line."

That's nice. Choso thinks and leans back on his chair, attempting to glimpse his new client, who has Yuji giggling at every word.

"I was just about to step out to get coffee so I can come with you, but I can get Cho's; you don't need to pay for him." Another giggle. God, his younger brother is shameless.

"That's okay! I can get them; just write your orders down so I don't forget!" the girl insists.

"Ohh, but-"disappointment fills Yuji's voice.

"Yuji, can you come here please!" Choso shouts down the hall, pulling his brother away from his new crush.

Yuji groans, then the shop bells ring again, and then the sound of footsteps shuffles down the hall.

"Yes?"

"Can you wrap him up and finish the payment? I need a smoke." Choso rolled back from the bed, handing over the second skin he has yet to unwrap.

Choso's brother sighs but offers the male client a friendly smile, sits down in the now vacant rollaway stool, and begins to prep the skin for wrap-up.

"I'll be back in five; if anyone needs me, tell them to wait." Choso grumbles the last part and offers a stiff wave to his current client before disappearing into the hall.

The knots in Choso's shoulder have been building for days now, and no amount of rolling or stretching seems to relieve the tension in his muscles, but it is nice to stretch and feel the blood move around him again. Heavy boots echo through the small shop as he stalks to the front desk, floorboards creaking under the weight of thick rubber soles. His fingers slip into his back pocket to reach for the small pack of menthols hastily shoved down after the abrupt end of his morning break.

Stepping out into the world, Choso is blinded by the sun. Having forgotten about the passage of time while being stuck indoors all day, he now stands stunned in the small alcove of the shop's entrance. The sun nears the centre of the sky, beating down the world in a heat never seen before. It wasn't even the beginning of summer, and the sweltering days were breaking temperature records. Choso shields his eyes with a hand, and even then, his vision is blurred as his retinas adjust.

The street is quiet; an abnormal silence had fallen over the usually busy road, but with the rising blistering temps, he suspects people aren't willing to brave the heat to shop or eat. Choso finds the familiar recess in the wall, a door had been there years ago but has long since been boarded up and now acts as refuge for him and his brother. Through any weather, time of day or season, the small alcove is a sanctuary for tired and burnt-out artists needing a second away from the constant buzz of tattoo guns.

Choso scans the few open cafes and bars for his mystery client. Mainly office workers on lunch break and mothers with strollers waiting for the afternoon pick up; he can't see anyone that fits the image he had concocted in his mind on the short walk over until he spots a girl standing in line across the way. The tattoos that adorn her legs are what Choso notices first. Patchwork pieces from different artists in black and white with pops of colour here and there, but for the most part are monochromatic, all spaced far enough to be their own pieces but not so much that they seem gap-y. He is impressed at the choice, knowing that when getting patchwork pieces, they are usually slapped in any available location, but from what he can see, every piece flowed into each other and told a story against her skin. Her arms are equally as covered, though with more room, and he is eager to see the works up close. A flash of pink catches his attention, and he narrows his attention on the pink My Melody backpack that she swings at her side, pink wallet clutched in her free hand as she shifts her weight from her toes to her heels. Choso smirks at the bag and finds himself willing her to turn so he can see the face of the girl who we had been staring at for the past five minutes.

He is staring and he needs to stop before he gets caught. Shifting his attention from the random woman, he fishes out his phone and focuses on the seemingly endless DMs and texts stacked on the lock screen. Sometimes, he wonders if he really should have gone into a career where his livelihood relied on communicating with strangers. With expert precision and one hand, he pulls a cigarette from the crumpled packet and slips the filter between his teeth. Biting down the filter, the taste of menthol fills his mouth, and relief floods his veins before settling in the deep groves of his brain. The cigarette isn't even lit yet, but his nervous system knows that the taste of mint will soon be followed by nicotine, and all will be well for a few minutes. Breaking the habit of smoking has been on Choso's New Year's resolution lists for the past three years, but he only ever lasts a few weeks before turning back to the comfort of those overpriced joints. Maybe next year will be the year. Choso digs through his pockets, fingers grasping for the lighter he keeps in his right pant pocket, but there is nothing. Maybe the other side? Still nothing. Third pocket? Fourth pocket? Nada. Zilch. Zero. Fuck.

There isn't enough time to go back inside to search for matches, and he had already popped the filter and doesn't want to waste the smoke, but it would get gross sitting in the packet- his headache grew.

"Choso?" a soft voice asks from above.

Choso looks up from his lap and is greeted by the most stunning woman he has ever seen. Breathing is no longer automatic as he stares at you, and when his lungs start to contract almost painfully, he realises and takes in an all too obvious breath.

It wasn't fair to look like that. With the sun illuminating your silhouette, cradling you in an angelic aura that has Choso debating on whether he should get on his knees and pray to you, but too much time has passed since you spoke and he acknowledged you that he has to say something, but all he can manage is a muffled yeah?

"I'm your twelve, but you look like you need a light?" you hold out a bright pink light between pretty pink manicured fingers.

Choso offers a tight-lipped smile to prevent the cigarette from falling from his mouth and takes the lighter, flicking it to life. "Thanks, I owe ya."

He holds the flame to the tobacco, and only when it glows bright does he pull the disposable away.

"It didn't cost me anything, so nothing to owe."

There is a beat of silence as you throw the light back into your bag before bending down to pick up the coffee you had set at your feet. "Also, a coffee." another offer towards him.

"The guy at the desk gave me your order, and I always buy my artists something before a session. I'm not hitting on you."

Your admission of this not being a move stirs something in him. Choso accepts the cold cup with a soft thank you, angling his hand away from yours, careful not to burn you with the lit smoke.

"I'll meet you inside. Give you a moment to yourself." you nod towards the door of the studio, feet already turning to start walking towards the entrance.

He watches you walk away, a smile creeping on his face despite not knowing why. You're as cute from the front as you are from the back, and he's glad the girl he had seen in the coffee shop is you. Soft curves make up your figure, dipping at your waist before filling out again over your bust. Choso feels his stomach twist in that familiar feeling, but he can't think of you like that; you're a client and nothing more. There is a mesmerising way in which you walk that has Choso unable to look away, and even when you've stepped into the studio, his gaze lingers on the empty space you once stood in until the rancid taste of burnt filter fills his mouth. Never in his life has he been as thankful for coffee as he is in that moment when burnt paper fills his senses. Taking a big gulp of the sweet but still bitter drink, it takes everything in him not to spit in the street, but he was raised better than that and will wait until he is in the small bathroom to spit up the gross contents.

When Choso returns, you are sitting on the small couch in the waiting room, filling out consent forms. Head down as you read the number of your ID and scribe it down in the open line; he walks past you, suddenly horrified by his heavy choice of shoe. The thick thud of the rubber soles on the hardwood has you lifting your head and smiling at your artist. Choso feels his stomach flip.

"So," Choso starts, but the smoke still in his throat chokes the word. He clears his throat and restarts his sentence. "So, do you smoke, or do you just carry the lighter?"

"My best friend smokes, so I just carry it 'cause you never know when you're gonna need a light." Your laugh is contained, almost forced, as if the interaction you are having is uncomfortable for you. Had he done something wrong?

"Ohh." Is his only reply as you return to the balanced folder on your lap.

Another moment of silence before Choso steps towards the hall. "I'll let Yuji check you in, and then just come in when you're ready." Had he already made you that uncomfortable in the two minutes you had spoken outside? Choso takes a deep breath as he steps into his space and suddenly wishes the whiney baby was the one getting tattooed.

You: Saturday 12:05pm Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:06pm suck his dick? ik guys like that :P

You: Saturday 12:06pm Idk what I expected from you. I need actual advice, please Saturo. U owe me!

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:07pm ooh first name, you're kinda scary. Okay, here is what you do. You act like a normal human and then flirt a lil and suss out if he's into it and then ask him out to drinks?

You: Saturday 12:08pm That works if I KNEW HOW TO FLIRT. Ugh im screwed, he's so fine fuck

Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:09pm eww, you're getting ur jizz all over the screen. just breathe and be normal okay, pretend he's me.

You: Saturday 12:10pm Ignoring the first comment. Im gonna sneak a pic and show u BRO YOU NEED TO SEE HIM

Number ONE best friend: 12:10pm creepy but okeeeeyyy. Sugu also says to breathe and be normal but to ignore anything you think I would do

You: Saturday 12:11pm Thanks, Suguru, please kill him for me, ill talk to u guys in a bit

Number ONE best friend: good luck bestie 8======D

a/n: okay so there is going to be a part two but I'm not sure when, please give me feedback if you want it or want me to stop, put the laptop down and go outside lmao lil texting format, lemme know how y'all feel about that

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