catsnkooks

[catsnkooks]

xreader fic is so inherently healing like

do you love yourself? no? that's okay this character you love loves you back. are you kind? that is why they love you. are you patient? that is why they love you. are you a coward are you shy are you brave are you bold are you bratty? that is why they love you. you are loved and you will not be punished for seeking love. you are loved and you will find it here in these words.

do you love yourself yet? no? that's okay this character can love you until you do. this character will point out the few traits you can relate with yourself (your smile, your laugh, you brattiness, your whimsy, your strength, your sorrow) and tell you that they love that about you until one day you can love it, if not yourself, too.

do you love yourself yet? no? but you're starting to accept that you can be loved? that there is something in you- your awkwardness, your bashfulness, your straightforward mind, you ability to heal, your ability to fight- that someone could look at and learn to adore? well done. you're right, this character does see that and adore it. you may not love yourself just now, just yet, but now you see right? That there is something to love in you?

[catsnkooks]

not sure if you're still down for writing for them but can i ask for more sub!soap? that pussy drunk one has me slightly feral, just a lil foam out the mouth, ya know?

I am always down for writing for any of the cod bois. just because my brain decided to be mean and not allow me any motivation to write for like three years doesn't mean it didn't let all the thots marinate in there like delicious jar of pickles ready to be opened at a moments notice.

ANYWAYS

here's more sub!John 'Soap' MacTavish (with a heaping dose of praise kink and pussy worship on the side)

When your phone lights up, it’s late, far later than any of your friends usually text you. That’s the only reason you even check it, so unused to the sound of a text at this time of night.

But as soon as you see the name on the screen, you’re leaping to your feet. It’s from Soap, a little smiley face and soap emoji next to his name that you’d originally put down as a joke, but that quickly changed when you saw him blush bright red the first time he saw the contact you’d made for him.

The text is short, simple. He just landed, but in the mess of going on leave, forgot his keys back on base, and if it wasn’t too much trouble, could he stay at yours?

Almost as soon as you finish reading, another text pops up, and your heart sinks. It’s another message, Soap backpedaling as he apologizes for how late it is, that he didn’t realize with the time difference, and that he’s just getting a hotel, he’s sorry to have bothered you, and he hopes you have a good night.

You’re immediately calling him, already putting on your shoes and grabbing your keys.

“Bonnie, I’m so so-”

“John MacTavish, don’t you dare apologize.” You cut him off, striding out the front door of your flat and locking the door behind you, “Are you at your flat now?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, and you actually check the phone to make sure you didn’t disconnect on accident.

“You don’t have to-”

Once more, you cut him off. “I want to. Are you at your flat?”

A sigh.

“Yeah, ‘m at my flat.”

You nod decisively, even though he can’t see you. “Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He’s quiet, too quiet, and you feel a knot start to form in your stomach. “M’kay, bonnie.” He sighs softly, the tone of his voice almost… defeated. “Thank you.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for this, Johnny,” you murmur as you start up your car, pulling out of the parking garage and starting the familiar drive to his flat. “I’m on my way.”

~~~

When he gets into your car, Soap is subdued. He’s still in the rough canvas pants and scratchy shirts that are typical of base attire, and there’s scruff on his jaw, showing that it’d been some time since he’d shaved. But the most striking thing is how tired he looks. Soap has always been so energetic, even after the most grueling of missions. He’s usually a seemingly endless well of positivity, but now it appears that the well has run dry.

He greets you with a quiet voice. “Thanks, bonnie.” You can’t help the way you keep sneaking glances at him on the drive back to your flat, but he’s staring out the window at the passing streetlights, lost in thought. His hands are still on his thighs, and that makes you more concerned than anything else. Soap’s hands are never still.

The drive back seems like it takes twice as long, but eventually, you’re back inside, locking your front door as Johnny stands in your small entryway, looking somewhat lost, duffle dangling from his fingertips.

You carefully step around him, grabbing the straps of his duffle and tugging it from his weak grasp. Again, it speaks volumes about his mental state that he doesn’t protest. You press your fingers gently against his chest, urging him to look at you.

“Go shower, yeah? I’ll leave some fresh clothes out. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

A weak smile crosses his lips, and before you can pull your hand away, he’s leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wha’ would I do without ye, love?”

You smile softly back up at him. “Luckily, you’ll never have to find out. Now, go shower, Sergeant.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says softly, turning and making his way towards your bathroom. You watch him walk away before heading towards your bedroom, setting his duffle inside the closet to be unpacked later. You grab his favorite t-shirt and sweatpants from your drawers, and set them on the toilet inside the bathroom once you hear the shower running.

It doesn’t take him long, it never does. When he emerges from the bathroom, cheeks flushed pink from the heat, clean shaven, and dressed in his comfy clothes, he looks the most like himself since you picked him up at his flat.

As soon as he sees you, he’s striding across the carpet, gathering you in his arms and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You respond eagerly, albeit slowly, not wanting him to feel like he has to rush this. You’ve missed him in the months he’s been away, and you’re not afraid to admit it.

You slide your hands through his soft, damp hair, the scent of your shampoo filling the air and sending a thrill down your spine at the thought of Soap smelling like you. You tug gently at his hair, and a low groan escapes his throat, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Love, please,” he whispers against your lips, hands slowly growing more frantic as he pushes up your shirt to feel your bare skin beneath his palms, like he needs more proof that you’re here and in his arms. “I can’t-”

“Shh,” you whisper back, going up on tip toes and pressing your body more fully against his, using your grip on his hair to tilt his head just so, kissing him deeper. “Take me to bed, John.”

A soft whine is pressed against your lips before he’s gripping your thighs and picking you up, holding your body tight against his as he quickly moves towards your bedroom. He moves with purpose, a soldier’s stride, quickly and efficiently navigating your flat without taking his lips off of yours.

It makes something warm curl in your belly, that he knows your home so well, that he’s so comfortable here.

He gently lays you out on the bed, eagerly crawling on top of you, resting in the cradle of your thighs as he trails kisses down your neck. You keep running your fingers through his hair, tugging gently and making him let out all manner of delicious noises.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo at him, slowly rolling your hips against his as you feel him harden through the sweatpants. “Go on, take what you need.”

He whimpers again, his own hips rutting desperately against yours as he tries to relieve the tension that must’ve been building for weeks. It’s abundantly clear that he’s reacting on instinct alone, and you use your grip on his hair to drag him up to you, kissing him deeply. He’s sloppy, messy, dazed, and you feel a swell of affection at how quickly you’re able to get him to start relaxing.

“Good boy, Johnny,” you sigh into his mouth, hooking a leg over the back of his thigh, encouraging his frantic grinding. “Come for me, yeah? I know you need it, so bad. Do as I say, baby. Let go.”

The high pitched whine that escapes his throat sounds like it hurts, but he obeys orders and comes in his pants, twitching violently as he clutches at the sheets on either side of your body, trying to keep his head above the tidal wave of sensation wracking his body. You don’t even care that you’re barely close, all you care about is getting Soap off as soon as you can. He needs this, you can tell, and you wanna give him everything.

Immediately, you’re whispering praise, stroking fingers through his hair and down his back as you try to calm his shaky breathing as he comes down from the abrupt high. He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel as tears drip from his eyes onto your skin, tension bleeding out of his muscles as he lets the cradle of your body support him as he can finally fully relax.

For a long moment, the two of you lay there, Soap crying silently against your skin as you run your fingers over every inch of him you can reach, as though your touch can wipe away all the pain and suffering he’s been dealt over the months he’s been away from you.

Eventually, his tears dry up, a few shaky inhales and exhales before he pushes himself up and away from your body, propping himself up with his hands. His eyes are bloodshot, but his face is less tense, the lines of stress that had been present on his brow cleared away.

“Bonnie, I-”

You press a gentle finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare. There is absolutely nothing to apologize for. You did exactly as I said.”

Even with the reassuring words, he still looks troubled. “You didn’t come,” he murmurs against your finger, silent apology clear in his tone.

You sigh, only slightly exasperated. “John, you know I don’t care.”

But he’s not to be dissuaded, not this time.

“But I do,” he says, pressing reverent kisses down your chest as he slowly makes his way down your body. “Wan’ ye ta come, love.”

“Johnny-”

But he won’t be dissuaded, and you honestly just don’t have the heart to turn him away, not as he finally seems to be coming back to himself.

It’s simple, lifting your hips so he can slide your shorts down your legs, a routine the two of you have done hundreds of times before. He still gets that same dazed look he gets every time, eyes flicking up to yours for permission.

You cradle his face with your hand, thumb brushing over a faded bruise on his cheekbone.

“Go on, baby,” you murmur, a small, sad smile playing at your lips. “Whatever you need, love.”

A broken groan escapes him, and he wastes no more time. You’re spread out so beautifully, just for him, and fuck, he needs this so bad he can’t even breathe.

His tongue slides through your folds, a deep rumble escaping him as he finally gets to taste you again. It’s been far too long since the last time, he fucking missed this.

You let your head tip back, whimpering quietly at the pleasure that surges through you as Soap seals his lips around your clit and sucks. He knows exactly how to drive you straight towards the edge of insanity, and it’s knowledge he shamelessly abuses.

He feasts on your cunt like he’s on the cusp of starvation. He hooks his strong arms under your thighs and then up over your hips, hands flat on your belly as he buries his face between your thighs. You couldn’t squirm away if you tried, as though you’d want to.

His mouth is warm and wet as he fucks you with his tongue, the sound of his feasting absolutely lewd in the quietness of your bedroom, but the only thing it does is turn you on even more. He’s entirely focused on you, and the intensity of his attention is almost stifling.

“Fuck, baby, I missed you,” you whine, fingers curling into his hair, tugging gently as you grind your hips against his face. “Missed your mouth too- oh!, yes, Johnny, just like that, please!”

As soon as you start talking, he doubles down, focusing his attention on your clit, sucking rhythmically on that senstive bundle of nerves until you’re damn near suffocating him with how tight you’re pressing his face into your needy cunt.

It’s clear he’s in heaven, though. Every time you try to loosen your grip, or pull him back, he whines, this pathetic little noise that vibrates through the very core of you, making you gasp and squirm.

“J-Johnny, fuck baby, you’re gonna make me come. Fuckin’ missed you, baby, missed how good you are to me, fu-uck!”

His pleased little hum makes a different kind of warmth spread through you, as you realize he’s finally coming out of that dark headspace he’s been in since god only knows how long. He takes your words to heart, stops teasing you and instead focuses on trying to get you to tip over that edge. He releases one of your hips, only to gently press a thick finger inside you, clearly delighting in the way you gasp and clench around the intrusion.

It doesn’t take long for him to be able to add a second finger, your slick absolutely drenching his hand, making the slide of his fingers far easier than it has any right to be considering how long it’s been. He’s quick to find that spot inside you, crooking his fingers in that come hither motion and stroking in time with your sobs.

“S-So close, baby, please!”

He lets out a moan, the vibration adding just the right amount of stimulation to make you come with a sharp cry, your legs tensing and your fingers twisting in his hair. Your back arches off the bed, but Johnny’s arm across your waist keeps you anchored to the mattress as you ride out your release against his face.

There’s a soft buzzing in your ears, and it slowly disappates as you come down from your high, and you can hear yourself babbling frantic words of praise and adoration at John.

“Good boy, fuck, good boy Johnny, thank you baby, oh shit you make me feel so good.”

He lets out a muffled sob, and begins to tentatively suck and lick at you again, careful not to cause you pain, but physically incapable of stopping yet.

Even as sparks fly up your spine, even as your body aches in protest, desperate for a break after such an explosive release, you stroke your fingers through his hair, and spread your legs even wider around his broad shoulders.

“That’s it, baby boy,” you whimper, eyes slipping closed. “Just take what you need. ‘m gonna give you everything.”

[catsnkooks]

Weekend One Shenanigans

Summary: There is only one solution to your best friend’s break-up: One weekend at a desert festival to see his favourite band. But when The Bucket Heads' bassist calls you onstage to keep the burly drummer company, you find that this weekend has much more in store for you than just securing your place at the bannister.

Pairing: rockstar!drummer!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.3k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Rockstar AU, unprotected sex (be smarter than that, folks!), love (and lust) at first sight, technically slight exhibitionism, creampies

I gotta thank @catsnkooks and @bitchin-beskar for encouraging my thots about an Instagram reel I was inspired by. I don’t think this would have been written otherwise, lol. Other than that, shout out to the long weekend which allowed me to focus on writing! I am currently really on a roll when it comes to ideas and writing and I am so excited to try my hand at so many different ideas that I hope I get to share sometime.

Please do let me know what you thought in a comment or in a reblog, I am so fucking excited that I get to scream with y’all about my favourite big blue man. 🥹

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The best way to get over a breakup was to distract yourself. That was a universal rule and one that your friend, Chants, took very seriously. The only thing that was even more important to him was that his friends indulged in said distractions with him. The first major breakup you witnessed as his friend resulted in a week-long road trip down the West Coast. When things between him and Val had ended, he had organised a holiday home in Palm Springs, where you had proceeded to spend two weeks, drowning your sorrows.

Compared to this, a weekend trip seemed like peanuts – and was not dependent on you getting time off work. Which was how he got you to the one place in the world where you had never, ever seen yourself: An open-air festival.

The Bucket Heads were the rock band of the century, and even though you didn’t religiously listen to their music like Chants did, there was no way to not know who they were. And for today, they were the headliner everyone was waiting for.

You tried not to think about how long you had already spent in the heat, steadily working your way forward show after show until you were standing in the very front. This is what Chants had dreamed about ever since you met him and, from his excited screams and dance moves, he was not thinking about his break-up at all.

Mission successful.

Seeing your friend so happy finally allowed you to relax for the first time this weekend. Gone was the constant worry that filled you when your friend was unwell. Your heart felt tons lighter, and now, as the sun began to set and the sky darkened, you could feel the crowd’s enthusiasm rubbing off on you.

“How ‘bout we get some company to cheer Paz up, hm?” the bass player, Boba Fett, joked into the mic, “Seems like he could use someone to cheer him up. Turn that serious frown upside down and all that.”

The audience erupted and you wished you had remembered to bring your earplugs, but you did not care when everyone was cheering and so were you. Anything to keep the happiness and joy going, to convey just how excited and light you felt.

 Only you didn’t account for the fact that you were right there, at the very front, and Boba Fett seemed to be in a mood.

“You,” he said, his eyes looking straight at you, “C’mon up here, we love a volunteer.”

Wait what?

You froze, the words slowly filtering through your brain until you realised what he had said. You. You were supposed to go up on stage. In front of all these people?

“Hell yes!” Chants cheered beside you, his hands gripping your shoulders as he jumped up and down with an even bigger grin on his face, “Oh my stars, you are so lucky! Remember everything and tell me later! Maybe we can even join the afterparty? This is the kind of story you will remember for the rest of your life.”

He was right. Of course, he was. Your doubts simmered down somewhat as you realised this really was the story of a lifetime (and it would be good to have something to talk about at lunch break when the ever-dreaded “So how was your weekend?” made its rounds). But that still didn’t take away any ounce of anxiety you felt as one of the security guards helped you over the bannister and you made your way away from the audience and right to the stage.

The metal steps up the stage were a bit tricky and you kept your face down, focusing on setting one foot in front of the other, watching the ground change from dry grass to metal stairs to black planks, littered with cables taped down on them and the odd bra or thong thrown on stage.

“Everyone, give it up for our volunteer!”

Din Djarin’s voice animated the crowd more than you thought possible and the sound reverberated in your entire body as you were led to the drummer.

What had they called him again? Paz. Paz Vizsla.

In the desert heat, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his tattooed skin gleaming with sweat and there was so much body to him, you did not know what to focus on. The designs on his arm and chest? The dog tags reflecting the light around his neck? The fact that he was sitting there, legs spread, having a cocky smile on his face as your feet carried you closer and closer made your heat race and something your body clench.

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to, love,” he greeted you, his head tilting to the side, “You can enjoy the show from backstage just as well.”

Following the movement of his head, you spotted where some of the technical workers were waiting in the side wings, clearly at the ready to solve any problems as they may occur. You would have the best view if you were to join them.

But something in his dark gaze kept you right where you were. “N-No,” you shook your head just like your voice was shaking, “It’s fine. Um, how should I sit?”

With dark eyes, his hands landed on your hips, his fingertips touching the bare skin just above your waistband and dragging you between his legs. Your squeal was interrupted by your laugh as you saw his mouth turn up in a mischievous grin.

“Don’t have to face them, if you don’t want to, sweetheart,” he murmured as you settled on his lap, making sure you were face to face with him, “just look at me and have fun.”

There was this feeling in your chest, now that you were really looking at him. As if you couldn’t breathe. Similar to the beginning of a rollercoaster, where you slowly ascend with the inherent knowledge that you are about to fall. Only this time, you were looking forward to the fall because you had a feeling that Paz would catch you.

Everything was so loud, your thoughts were drowned out by the cheers, the blaring music, and the pounding of your heart. But with Paz never losing your gaze, you wouldn’t have been able to think straight anyway. Another song started and you could see his arms moving, his muscles bulging with the movements as the sticks practically flew through the air. And then he moved his feet too, his legs jostling your seat on his lap, and you saw his lips twitch.

You squeaked in shock, your hands flying to his broad shoulders as you tried to keep yourself from falling off him. Paz winked at you, adjusting his legs so that suddenly, every movement did not threaten to dislocate you from him but rather bounce you closer and closer until you were pressed right against him. There was pure joy in his eyes, and you found yourself echoing his feelings.

Even on this stage, with this stranger, you suddenly felt completely free.

Your arms raised of their own accord, playing with your hair, waving to the beat of the music as you could hear the crowd sing along to Din’s words. You knew this song, it was one of Chants’ favourites, he had played it at least five times on the drive to the campsite. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to mouth the words to the song, but you couldn’t sing. Yes, your mouth opened, but suddenly you were panting, heat radiating off your body as you ground against the sexiest man you had ever seen and who did not even take his eyes off you for one second.

“Drinks on me if you can make me forget my set,” he winked at you, and your smile turned to a full-fledged grin. The air between you was electric and you found yourself bouncing even more, feeling your body react to him in a way it hadn’t for a long time. For anyone.

You wanted to touch him, you wanted him to touch you. You wanted this whole concert to be over and be alone with him in a room, so you could be close to him exactly like this. Stars, you wanted to trace your tongue over the tattoos on his arms, suck a hickey into his neck and bury your teeth into the cords of muscles in his neck as he plunged into you.

If you closed your eyes, threw your head back and arched your back just like this, you could feel him against you. A bulge that could only let you guess at the sheer size of him and made you even wetter than before.

There was a low sound that made your eyes peek open, glancing to the side to see if someone had moved a large instrument or something similar. It took you a second and a shift from Paz’s hips to realise that it had been him. He had groaned. For you. Because of you.

Your movement grew hasty, needier, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that Paz shifted now and then, making sure his cock was pressed right against where you needed him most. Over the blaring of the music, no words were exchanged but his heated look said enough. He needed this just as much as you did.

Completely drowned in the haze of your pleasure, you hadn’t really considered what all of your movements would do to your risky outfit choice. You were wearing shorts, sure, but your top was the kind that tied both around your neck and your waist. You had made sure that the tie was good on your neck, but in all the morning rush to secure your places, Chants had tied it for you at the back. As you wondered if your top felt looser than before, you suddenly noticed two strings swinging with your movements.

Before you could stop moving, the back had come apart and now you were sitting Paz’s lap, a stretch of fabric hanging loosely between your tits. Bare tits that you were now basically shoving in the face of an incredibly attractive but nonetheless strange man who hadn’t necessarily asked for this kind of proximity.

And you were in front of thousands of people.

Oh fuck. Did you just accidentally flash this man? In front of thousands of people? In public? On a concert that was surely being recorded or streamed and that would find its way on the internet and –

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Paz instructed, “Do it now.”

You didn’t even think before you did as he asked, effectively pressing your bare chest against his. Tears of shame threatened to spill over your cheeks as the exhilaration in your body was overwhelmed by feeling incredibly silly. Who were you to think that this had been a good idea? Who were you to think you could have a meaningless hot one-night stand with a man so talented and so famous and so fucking handsome he was way out of your league?

“I got you,” Paz assured you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “It's dark here and no one saw. No one will see, if I can help it, okay?”

You nodded, taking one deep breath after another, “Okay.”

The urge to hide from the world got stronger when you made the (very normal) observation that the crook of his neck looked really comfortable. Before you could stop yourself, you buried your face right there, breathing him in, closing your eyes and trying to forget about the world for just a moment.

It was easy to do that when his aftershave, mixed with his sweat, acted like an aphrodisiac and the heat of his body got you to relax against him. You bet your month’s salary that taking a nap against him would be heaven on earth.

You stay like this, tucked against him, for one full song before the lights dimmed for a water break. You leaned back, allowing him to reach for the water bottle somewhere next to him.

“What? No bra you can throw on stage for me? Little one, I’m almost insulted,” he joked as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and you smiled, your nipples pebbling against his chest. There was no way he did not notice that, but you found that you did not mind. You liked his teasing and you liked him knowing the effect he had on you.

“Who says I’d throw my bra for you?” you whispered in his ear, feeling particularly sure of yourself. What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was his hand sneaking between the two of you. Thick, rough fingers with tattoos on his knuckles that looked harsh against you as his fingertips closed around your nipple, pinching.

Your mouth opened in indignation, your chest arching against him at the pleasurable pain. Had he really just –

Another song started and Paz’s hand disappeared but his dark gaze did not move from you as he played the drums like he hadn’t just rolled your nipple between his fingers. Why was that so hot?

“You having fun, though, sweetheart?” he asked you gruffly in the next moment between songs, “You feel comfortable?”

“Yes,” you whispered back, once again leaning back a little so you could look into his eyes. The movement made your lips brush against his cheek and you could feel him stiffen against you. “I’m having so much fun.”

The way your nipples brushed against his chest made you gasp and you could feel your core pulse with the need to feel him. More than you did already.

But the concert went on and all you could do was hold on to Paz’s shoulders and swallow a whimper every time your tits brushed against his chest. Was it possible to die from need? Because if so, you were sure to pass away from something similar to heatstroke.

Paz’s legs kept on bouncing, and you kept on gasping, your hips moving in these minuscule thrusts that you hoped he would not notice. Of course, he noticed.

“Bounce those pretty tits for me, baby,” he rumbled after a particularly fast song, his breath raising goose bumps all over your skin, “Here I was thinking about how I could ask you to get a drink with me later but it seems you’re much needier than that, hm? What’s next, love, your little skirt rides up and you’re begging for my cock?”

With your teeth buried in your bottom lip, it was hard to answer, and to be honest, you wouldn’t have had an answer at the ready anyway. You were horny and embarrassed and exhilarated and scared and so incredibly out of your depth, you did not know what to do. But you knew what you wanted.

You wanted to feel more of this, more of him. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted to hear more of his filthy praise whispered in your ear and remember it for when you’d lie alone in your bed at night. You wanted –

The lights went out and you flinched in surprise. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see people rushing on the stage, switching out instruments and water bottles. Two fingers under your chin made you blink before you felt a mouth on yours. Not just a mouth, his mouth.

Paz’s kiss started out gentle until you relaxed against him. Only then did he coax your mouth open, his tongue tangling with yours as his other hand landed on your ass, pulling you right into his crotch.

“Fuck,” he cursed as his bulge pressed right against the seam of you, “I bet you'd let me put my mouth on these pretty tits in front of all these people, wouldn't you?”

His words made you wetter than you wanted to admit. The thought of being claimed by him like this – in front of everyone – evoked images in your head that made heat rise to your ears. Why did that sound so appealing all of a sudden? Why did the thought of letting this man take you wherever and however he wanted make you squirm?

“Fuck this concert, sweetheart, I’d love to get my hands on you,” he continued before nipping your bottom lip, “Your nipples are just pleading for someone to play with them.”

You opened your mouth to plead with him to please play with your nipples, now only hard pebbles against his chest, when the light went on and the music started up again. The disappointment must have been plain on your face because Paz tucked you closer to him.

“One more set,” he growled in your ear, his leg moving for the deep drum “One more set and then there’s nothing stopping me from playing with you until all you can do is gasp my name.”

Emboldened by his words, you leaned closer, planting a kiss on his jaw, “I can’t wait.”

The next three songs felt like bliss and torture. Bliss because you were basically grinding against the hardness in his pants with every beat, gasping into his ear and enjoying the way your tits pressed against him. Torture because all this made your lust spike even higher and there was nothing you could do about it until you were somewhere more private than a concert stage.

“Thank you for having us,” Din’s voice sounded through the speakers, followed by the screaming of the frenzied crowd, “You were the best! Good night!”

“Take it off,” Paz tugged at the strap around your neck, “I’ll give you my shirt.”

You were about to ask him what shirt when he reached to the side and presented you with a very soft-looking black button-down. That seemed more preferable than your sweaty top that hung between your bare tits.

With a quick tug, the top fell into your lap and before you could try and cover yourself, Paz had already thrown his shirt around your shoulders, helping your arms through the sleeves.

“There,” he murmured, settling the soft fabric around your shoulders, “That’s better.” You smiled in thanks, feeling awfully shy now that the music was done but Paz did not seem to waste any time. His fingers found your nipples again, gently rolling them between his fingers and tugging on them. Your gasp was accompanied by your rocking hips against the bulge in his pants.

“A little taste of what’s to come,” he teased you and leant forward, his mouth landing on yours in a possessive kiss and he cupped your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh in his rough hands. “Stay with me, yes?”

All you could do was nod as he helped you stand, his fingers quickly doing up the buttons until you were sufficiently covered. Your top wandered into the pocket of his pants.

He took your hand and went to the front of the stage and you hesitated. Did he really want you there? In front of everyone?

Paz turned around, dark curls falling into his face and a smile so genuine on his face that your heart skipped a beat. “C’mon, love,” he smiled, his hand squeezing yours, “You deserve your big moment.”

And so, you followed him right to the front of the stage, shyly waving to dozens and hundreds of faces you did not know. But you weren’t nervous because Paz had tucked you right into his side, his big hand settling on your waist and making sure you always felt him on you.

“They know you?”

You followed Paz’s pointed hand and grinned when you spotted Chants, excitedly cheering for you. “Yes, they are my friends.”

“They should join us for the afterparty,” Paz suggested, “If you want to join us, that is.”

*

You did, in fact, join the afterparty, squealing with your friends for about three minutes how exciting everything was and witnessing the moment Chants lost all words when Din Djarin introduced himself to him.

But just as quickly as you had joined the party, you left it too, giggling as Paz’s bulk cleared your space through the crowd. You were still dressed in his shirt, the fabric doing little to hide the outline of your pebbled nipples. Especially not when you were pressed against him in a heated kiss.

“Stars, I’ve waited too long for this,” he muttered against your lips, his mouth trailing down your jaw until you tilted your head for him and he focused on your neck. His hands were hot when they bunched up his shirt and you shivered when his bare hands finally met your skin.

“You think I haven’t?” you teased him as he led you through a dark hallway of makeshift rooms. The sound from the afterparty followed you even to the little curtain that Paz opened, a little placard declaring it as “Stage Room (Paz Vizsla)”.

“Well, you were the one who said she wouldn’t throw her bra for me,” he joked right back. The curtain fell closed behind you and now all you could hear were the faint bass notes in the distance. You were finally alone.

“That’s before I knew how you could make me feel,” you shrugged off, feeling a little shy, “Today was … exciting.”

The smile on his face would have melted the panties right off you if they weren’t already drenched in your juices. “Exciting is certainly one word for it,” he agreed and sat down on a little couch in the corner.

Never having been in a backstage room before, you were not sure what you should have expected but as you looked around the (some half-)empty water bottles, papers full of notes and scribbles and a few different shirts, you found that this room was somehow exactly how you had envisioned it. Kind of chaotic, kind of cosy and a little bit forbidden.

“Tell me what you want,” he asked you, pulling you right into his lap, “Tell me what you don’t want. Tell me everything.”

“I want everything,” you whispered, your fingers playing with the buttons of your shirt, “I want you to kiss me. I want you to touch me,” the first few buttons undone, you watched as his eyes roamed over the skin you slowly revealed, “I want … I want you to play with me like you promised.”

“I’ve been thinking about all the ways I want to touch you,” he admitted slowly, his face leaning forward until he hovered over your chest, his eyes on you, “I’m afraid I will never get enough of you.” 

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t a bad thing, that you were pretty sure he had somehow taken up space in your heart that would never be returned to you because it was his. It was always his.

Instead, you kissed him. With your hands on his face, you kissed him, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips, his teeth on your lips and his beating heart against yours; you kissed him like your life depended on it. And Paz kissed you back.

“There it is,” he muttered in awe and his hands ghosted over your shoulder right to your chest, cupping your tits and massaging them like he had before. Only now, you both had the freedom of time. “Fucking gorgeous, sweetheart."

“Paz, please,” you whimpered, grinding against him. You had been so close to coming before and now you were right back there at the edge, threatening to tumble over the cliff into a sea of pleasure, but only if he would finally – “Please touch me.”

Two fingers trailed down your chest, your belly, until they landed at the waistband of your shorts. In a matter of seconds, they were open and he found his way between your thighs, spreading the slickness right to your clit.

“Look at that,” he marvelled, his thick fingers crooking inside you, “Look at that little pussy clenching around my fingers. Baby, you’ll be a dream to fuck.”

He stood up, taking you with him, and you moaned, his fingers still nestled inside you. “Shorts off,” he muttered between kissed, his thumb circling your clit, “shorts off so I can fuck you, sweetheart.”

You had never stumbled out of your clothes this fast, and soon enough, you were back on the couch, watching as Paz ripped off his belt and stepped out of his pants. Just as you had suspected, he was big all over and your pussy clenched in anticipation.

With a dark smile that made you tingle all over, he climbed over you. “You look so good beneath me,” he observed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “If I do anything you don’t like, anything at all, let me know, all right?”

You nodded shyly, your eyes still settled on his rather impressive cock.

“I know, it’s so much, isn’t it?” he rumbled, finding his place between your thighs. His shaft bumped against you, flesh against flesh, and you gasped, your hips twitching in an effort to create more friction. “But you’ll be good and take it, won’t you?”

Stars, yes, you wanted to feel it all.

“Paz, please,” you whimpered, your hands reaching up until you could bury them in the soft hairs at the back of his neck, “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

“Believe me,” he chuckled, “I plan on it.”

One arm caged you in, allowing Paz to lean his weight over you, covering you from head to toe without burying you under his weight, while the other disappeared between the two of you. Moments later, you felt the tips of him, broad and wet, slowly push into you.

Paz never lost your gaze, neither of you speaking, as he fed his cock into you. The size of him made you clench and you breathed through it, forcing yourself to relax and enjoy the sensation of this man breaching you in a way no one had ever quite achieved.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured with the first inch settled inside you, “You okay, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, “Uh-huh. Just … I just need a moment.”

“Of course, baby, anything you need.”

There was something so intimate about this moment. About how his nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingling, your eyes locked together, as you took your time to get used to him. Your walls slowly unclenching around him.

“There we go,” he praised you, “Good fucking girl.”

He shifted, ever so slightly, and with it another inch sank into you.

“Oh my!” you gasped, your arms locking around his neck, “Paz, you’re … fuck, you’re big.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased you and you giggled, angling your leg so you could slowly lift it around his hip. The movement opened you up even more and after another nod from you, Paz proceeded to slowly thrust, his shaft soon coated in your wetness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his fingers gently circling your clit, “Who’s my good girl? That’s right, you’re my good girl.”

It was funny that he had mentioned flattery when really, all he had to do was praise you and you felt your juices coating him even more. It was like your body craved him, craved him in you, on you, next to you, whatever he was willing to give. And now that he was willing to give you everything, you did not know what to do with all the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Nah,” he chuckled in your ear, “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Just let it happen.”

You whined, your back arched off the soft cushions of the couch and you were sure you had to clamp him so tight it must have hurt. The pleasure just seemed to climb and climb until you lost all control of your limbs.

“Poor sweetheart,” he teased you, his forearm resting right next to your face as he leaned above you, “Can’t do anything about it, can you? But here’s a secret,” he nipped at your bottom lip and ground into you, his cock reaching even deeper than before, “You don’t need to do anything. You just need to lie here and let me please you, hm? You can do that for me, can’t you, baby? Can you be good for me?”

You nodded, desperately clutching at his shoulders, “Paz, I’m so close ...!”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, not stopping his thrusts but seemingly landing on the exact spot that made you see stars. “Come for me, sweetheart. Milk me dry, I know you can.”

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes and all you could do was gasp as your body went taut, like electricity was coursing through every limb. You faintly noted that your leg was shaking, and your hands, too, but you could not really care when Paz’s finger was still rubbing your clit just so and you clenched around the biggest cock you had ever taken.

“Coming so hard for me,” he kissed you, his bot body pressing fully against yours as his hips did those slow but deep thrusts that kept you from coming down, “Keep coming, baby, look so pretty when you come apart for me.”

A whine was all you could respond with as you turned your face into the crook of his neck, hiding from the light and anything that wasn’t him. You wanted this moment to last forever. It was not even over and you knew your body would need a long time to recover.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Paz murmured, his hips continuing to work you, “You were such a good girl for me. Coming so beautifully around my cock.”

“You gotta come too,” you whispered against his jaw, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, “Please, Paz, want to feel you come inside me. Fill me up, I – I want to feel you tomorrow, too.”

“Stars, the things you say,” he rumbled, his hips snapping against yours, “Needy little thing like you and you beg me to fill you up? Mark you as mine, huh? There’s no going back, sweetheart, might be stuck with me for a while.”

“Yes, please,” you gasped, wrapping your legs tighter around him, “Paz, please.”

Just like yours, Paz’s orgasm seemed to take everything out of him. His groans were like heaven in your ears as his body landed on yours, his hips pressing hard against you as if he wanted to bury himself as deeply as possible. You had only once allowed an ex-partner to come inside you and you remembered it being messy and slightly awkward.

But there was nothing awkward about the way Paz buried himself in you, how his cock pulsed inside you and you could feel him spill into. It was messy, yes, but as you felt him soften and the come trickling down between you, it felt more arousing than anything.

“How long will you stay?” Paz asked, carefully lifting himself off you. For a second, you were scared that he would leave you already, but as soon as he sat up, he pulled you with him, your naked body pressed against his.

“We’re leaving this weekend,” you answered, your chest resting against his chest. A strong breeze from outside ran through the makeshift walls, making you shiver.

Paz reached down, covering you with his shirt like a blanket, his hands resting on your back. “You have any plans next weekend?”

“No, why?”

“Well, we will be here again,” he murmured, “And I think I play better with a beautiful woman on my lap. You wouldn’t want to deprive the audience of my best music, would you?”

You smiled, lifting your face so you could look into his eyes. They were full of warmth and as his fingers brushed over your cheek, you found yourself thinking that this could be the start of something phenomenal.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you confirmed, “Maybe I could arrange to be back here next weekend?”

The smile lit up his whole face. “Good,” he kissed you softly, “I will arrange some tickets for you. And maybe you can take the week to think about whether you would be interested in going to dinner with me sometime?”

You smiled. This really was the beginning of something phenomenal.

[catsnkooks]

In fifth grade a boy tried to impress me by swallowing a whole tadpole live and I punched him so hard that he puked and the tadpole was fine.

[catsnkooks]

happy neil banging out the tunes day to everyone who celebrates

[catsnkooks]

Part 1 and 2 of my iii and iv doodles

They kissed 🫣

[catsnkooks]

they call it "self insert" because im inserting myself inside of him

[catsnkooks]

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.”

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Here we are, y'all. This is the first gif I have made in 10 years! Wow, it feels good to flex that muscle after a loooong rest. Maybe it's a bit choppy, but eh it's fine with me as long as I get to watch my meow meow Thanatos tonguing his Zagreus, heh

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I think they’d compete for most irritating subordinate

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(they haven't got the time)

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Codywan anyone? Drew this as a request from a friend. I wanted to try and be more free/sloppy with my art style, and I really like the results.

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rein it in.

full comic on patreon

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he would be a battle mercy main i think

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really enjoying all the videos Muslims have been posting of their cats looking like this

when the humans are up at 4 am for suhoor

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I don’t have to make everything gay but I want to and I fucking will 

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Gaz does not care for slow burn romances…