#(I’m sure he’s pleasant enough irl)

[pongo90]

.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 12

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

~

■□■□■□■□■□■□

I couldn’t have been out longer than a few seconds because none of the Omegas were in the room, and the crash surely alerted them. The broken pieces of my fan poked into my back and sides but didn’t break skin. I was lucky. I’ll probably have some impressive bruises on my upper back and already have a decent goose egg on the back of my head, but no serious injuries. No bleeding or broken bones.

The Omegas never came to investigate. The crash must not have been loud enough to cause alarm. That’s good. They didn’t need to worry. And I am fine, just clumsy.

Better yet, the new markings for the curtain rod are even. Almost done hanging the curtains. Then I’ll clean up my broken fan and take a break before trying to find nice enough clothes to pack for the tour. And, before the headache I could feel forming gets too bad.

With a groan, I got back to work, flipping the chair around so I wouldn’t fall over the back again before climbing back on it. I’m not as confident as I was before. My legs were shaking slightly, and I had no confidence.

Still, once the curtains were up, I stood back to admire them proudly. They were simple, off-white, black out curtain with tassels along the bottom. And the curtain rod was straight. I did that. All me. I rock.

I made quick work of my poor broken fan before heading to the living room. I lay on the couch, putting my head on Bins warm lap. He was now typing away on his phone but paused to let me get comfortable.

“You all done with your room? Curtains up?” He asked quietly.

I hummed. “Yeah, they are up. Room is all done. Finally.”

“You okay?”

My head had gotten steadily more painful as I finished my room. “Got a headache is all.”

Bin hummed in sympathy and felt my forehead for fever.

“Get some rest, we can’t have you sick for tour.” Chan ordered from his spot nearby.

“Gee. Thanks for the sympathy.” I deadpanned rolling my eyes.

“He means well.” Bin assured.

I just closed my eyes to rest and hope my headache faded. The warmth of Bins lap and what was radiating off him was soothing. His scent calmed my mind and body of tension. There was a slight gust of air as Bin took a blanket off the back of the couch and covered me with it. The soft blanket made goosebumps rise on my skin, where it touched.

It wasn’t long before I was in that pleasant zone between awake and asleep, headache too bad to fall asleep. The sounds of life around me blended into the back of my mind. The steady thrumming of the bump on the back of my head like the ticking of a clock; annoying and consistent. Never faltering, never lessening. Just there, attempting to chop away at my calm.

Sometime later, I was roused slightly when Felix wedged himself between myself and the back of the couch. Nuzzling his face between my shoulder blades and flinging a leg over mine. I hummed and reached back to find his hand, pulling it over me to tuck it under my chin, our fingers tangled together.

“Feeling any better?” He asked, deep voice vibrating into my spine pleasantly.

“No.” I mumbled. If anything, the pounding has gotten worse. Now syncing with flashes of light behind my closed eyes.

My hair was gently smoothed back, and I opened my eyes. “Have you drunk water today?” Lee Know asked softly worry plain on his features.

“Yeah, I drank water. I hit my head earlier, though.”

“You did. Where?” Lee Knows gently long fingers probed my scalp until they found the bump, making me flinch and hiss in pain. “Sorry. Did you take medicine?”

“I was hoping it would go away on its own.”

“It’s a nasty bump. Do you need a doctor?” He really started fretting. “How’s your memory? Who’s the best K-pop group?”

“TXT” I answered immediately.

“She’s delusional. Get the car we need a hospital.” I.N declared. I snorted.

Catching Lee Knows fretting fingers I kissed them with a small smile. “I’m fine, kitty, the headache will fade.”

“At least take some medicine to help. No need to suffer for no reason.” He suggested.

“I brought some. Here, Lovie.” Chan said, passing two pills and a glass of water over. I propped myself up slightly to take the meds. Anything to stop the thumping.

As soon as I settled back down, Felix pulled me close and kissed my shoulder, humming.

“Let us know if you need anything. Or if your head gets worse.” Lee Know tucked the blanket more firmly around me. “We are all here for you.”

They were right about the medicine. It wasn’t long before they started to kick in. Head still hurting, but not nearly as much as before. It lessened enough that I was able to really doze off.

When I woke up, I still had a sizable bump and bruise, but my headache and the pounding were blissfully gone.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Chan greeted me when I sat up and yawned. Felix was no longer on the couch, and neither was Bin. I had been using Chan’s thigh to sleep on instead. How I didn’t wake up during any of that moving, I'll never know. The boys must have been very gentle and careful.

“So…we were talking while you slept.” Chan began again. His tone of voice was regretful, and it set me on edge. I was expecting bad news.

“What did I do? I’m sorry, I’m still learning.” I thought back. Was it one of my posts? I tried to be careful, but maybe I dropped the ball. I fucked up. It was only a matter of time. Or maybe it was STAY. Maybe they decided to have me take a more traditional Alpha role like STAY wanted. Keep me hidden and working at home. Oh. Oh god, I was about to lose all freedoms! They had all the power to force me to do whatever they wanted. I wouldn’t have a choice.

Sensing my rising anxiety, Han crawled into my lap and hid his face in my neck. “You’re scaring her.” He complained. I rubbed his back and tried to rein in my anxiety, shoving it away so I didn’t further upset my Omegas. Han, being so tiny right now, made me all melty.

“Its us that fucked up. We really let you down.” Chan clarified.

Confusion replaced my anxiety, making me feel a little off from the sudden emotional changes. Annoyance mixed in my chest. “How so?” They hadn’t done anything I could think of. The opposite, actually. They spent their downtime helping me with my room yesterday. It was me who was letting them down. I was struggling with this new life as idol adjacent, and it was bound to be affecting them, too. They constantly had to pick up the slack when I messed up.

“When did you hit your head?” He asked instead.

“When I hung my curtains.”

Chan sighed as did several others who were watching and listening. I.N even seemed to flinch slightly. “Y/n, you hung your curtains by yourself! You were supposed to wait for one of us to help!” Seungmin chastised.

I gestured wildly with one arm, still holding Han with the other. “You were busy enjoying your day off! I managed just fine on my own!”

“You fell!”

“I got a couple of bumps and bruises.”

“Luckily! What if you had gotten seriously hurt?”

“I didn’t!” We were shouting at each other now – my annoyance turning quickly to anger and defensiveness. My emotions felt like they were being overclocked.

Chans calm voice cut in through, making both Seungmin and I pause. “You didn’t even tell us you were hurt. We didn’t know until much later.”

“Hitting your head is dangerous. And if you had a concussion, we wouldn’t have known to help.” Hyun added.

I deflated. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to bother you on your day off. You have been working so hard! And I haven’t been helping at all.”

Chan reached over and ran his fingers through my hair before cupping my head gently. “We fucked up by brushing you aside when you asked for help. We have upended your life and dragged you along with us every day. And you are always helping us. Making sure we eat and have water. Soothing our Omega needs by reinforcing contact or praising us. We should have been there for you. But you shouldn’t have been so reckless either.”

“You do plenty for me. Always fixing my mistakes. I don’t feel neglected at all, I promise. But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I fell. I’m not used to being so cared for.” I explained truthfully. I felt horrible for worrying them so much. Yet another way I messed up.

Even with that settled, the Omegas all fussed over me the rest of the day. Lee Know kept bringing me food and drinks. Hyunjin doodled on my nails, fingers, and toes. Felix and Hannie both stuck to me like Velcro. Making sure I wasn’t cold. Wasn’t hot. Was comfortable enough. Bin kept showing me funny memes, eyes sparkling any time I laughed. Seungmin insisted I pick something to watch. Chan spent 45 minutes gently brushing my hair, careful of my bruises. I.N brought me my FoxI.Ny stuffie and kept randomly making excuses to touch me. Overall, I felt papered and loved.

My Omegas way of apologizing was much like everything else they did. They showed it through their actions as well as words. And they put everything into it.

This also served to remind me that while I was learning how to be their Alpha and be idol adjacent, they were learning how to be my Omegas. We were learning together. To do that properly, we needed to communicate – verbally or non-verbally.

“I still need help packing for the tour.” I said later in the afternoon.

“I’ve seen your wardrobe, and I have some bad news.” Hyun grimaced.

I gaped, offended. The little ball of annoyance and anger started irritating my chest immediately. “I have plenty of nice clothes, thank you very much!” I shoved at him, trying not to let my anger grow.

Hyune laughed. “Half your shirts are Stray Kids. Actually – your Stray Kids stuff was all packed away separately now that I think about it.” His brown scrunched as he thought about the carefully packed boxes full of Stray Kids merchandise.

The merchandise he promised not to tease me about anymore. Yet here he was. “I have plenty of other groups too. The Rose, Enhypen, TXT. I have other interests besides Stray Kids.” For some reason, I wanted this information to hurt him, the anger getting into my bloodstream and making me mean.

“You really know how to inflict pain! You are Engene, MOA, Black Rose, and STAY! Cheater!”

I rolled my eyes, annoyed by his joking manner, and shrugged, unable to deny it. “Sorry not sorry.”

“Anyways, your other clothes are too casual.” Hyune was still insistent on my clothes not being good enough.

“You mean they aren’t name brand – high end enough.” My biggest name brand item was a Victoria Secret bra and panty set that I am pretty sure Hyune didn’t know existed. The fact that I couldn’t wear my casual comfy clothes purely because they didn’t have luxury tags made me clench my fists. It was so stupid. I shouldn’t have to buy all new clothes just to satisfy some strange notion that you weren’t good enough unless you had luxury brand clothing!

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to, Hyun! I can read between the lines!”

Hyun flung his hands out in frustration. “I was trying to be nice about it!” I vaguely realized we were steadily getting louder. My battle to not let my irrational anger get the best of me forgotten.

“I’m not like that, Hwang! I don’t wear high-end!”

“You don’t have a choice!” He burst.

The room became silent. That was it wasn’t it? I was fighting to keep being me. To stay who I was before bonding, but I couldn’t. I knew that. I always knew that I had to lose who I was. Let go of the girl hiding who she was. Who was comfortable and secure. That’s part of what I gave up – what I sacrificed – when I came back. I sacrificed me. All things that made me me. I don’t know why this kept shocking me. I kept denying it for some reason.

Suddenly, my throat tightened, and my eyes prickled. The anger strangled me. I stood abruptly and left the room, pulling away from the hands that tried to stop me and ignoring the calls of my name.

Slamming my bathroom door, I locked it and proceeded to play music as loud as I could. My sacrifices and losses kept hitting me. It’s like I was refusing to accept it. Like – no, not like. I believed I could retain my sense of self. Or at least part of it.

As I stood in the middle of my newly decorated bathroom, the burning rage boiled over inside me. I could hear a knock on the door, even over my music. Spinning, hot tears pouring down my cheeks, I hit the door. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed. Still filled with such rage and pain, I turned again, knocking everything off my counter with another scream.

I was sobbing now. Angry – enraged for my loss of self. Terrified by not knowing who I will be forced to become. Angry at myself for convincing myself over and over that I was okay. That everything was okay.

I knew now. Anger cleared my mind. I knew what this was. Why I was feeling so unstable. Why my emotions flip so quickly. I was in mourning. Going through the stages of grief for my old self. The life and person I was who was now slowly being erased – or not so slowly in some cases.

Before I could do anything else to trash the room or hurt myself like I really wanted to, arms locked around mine, keeping me from moving. I fought and thrashed against them. “Let me go! Let go!” I yelled between sobs, but the arms held firm, dragging me to the floor.

Chan shushed me gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, y/n.” he held even as I slapped and hit him.

Running out of steam, I slumped in his arms and just sobbed as he pulled me to his chest.

He sat there with me on the floor as I cried. Sobbed for my loss. He held me close and comforted me as I got it all out. All the anger and pain I hid away. All the fear I denied.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, choked up on his own emotions. Voice cracking. “I should have never let JYP go to your house. We should have left you alone.” He rocked me as my sobs quieted and turned to hiccups. As the tears dried and left stains on my cheeks

Knees entered my vision as Hyun kneeled in front of me, warm damp cloth in hand and tears of his own on his lashes. I kept still as he gently cleaned my face.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He breathed, voice thick.

Still raw with emotion and drained, I didn’t have any interest in soothing Hyuns guilt at the moment. “Let me go, Chan. I need my phone.” I sounded as empty as I felt.

Someone had turned off the music I had been playing earlier, leaving the room filled with only the breaths and sniffles of my Omegas. They were all in the room, instincts telling them to comfort me, but unable to hide their own emotions. Felix, Han, and I.N crying along with Hyun, Chan, and I.

Chan didn’t let me go, but my phone was handed to me by Seungmin. I immediately pulled up my message chain with J, knowing the entire room was reading over my shoulder.

His reply pulled a soft smile from me.

“We can help you find clothes.” Chan said nuzzling my shoulder.

“I know, but its best if I do it this way for now. While I learn who I am now.”

“You do not need to change.”

“Yes, I do. To survive, I need to adapt.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have pushed. You are so good at all this. I forget you’re new. I forget how hard it is for you.” Hyunjin gripped my hand. “You make it look so easy.”

“I convinced myself it was easy.”

Seungmin busied himself by cleaning up the mess I made with my temper tantrum. He spent extra time making sure everything was set up just right and facing front. Fiddling and moving bottles and jars that were already perfectly placed.

I sighed and squeezed Hyuns hand in mind. “I am okay now. I’m sorry for my outburst. I’m not sure where that came from.”

“Don’t apologize. It's us who did this to you.” Chan argued. “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.

Turning back, I shook my head and kissed his jawline. “No, I chose to be here. And I don’t regret coming back. It was only a moment of weakness. I promise.” I assured them. And I wasn’t lying. Even though I was losing me, I had hope I would become someone better. And I gained 8 amazing Omegas who were going to take me to see the world. To experience things I never would have dreamed of before. I just had to mourn my old life and allow myself to move on.

■□■□■□■□■□■□

A/N: Not gunna lie it kinda hate this chapter. I feel like the breakdown y/n had was out of nowhere. There was not enough build-up, and I don't like the way the breakdown actually turned out in the end. Sorry 😞 I let everyone, including myself, down on this one. I will do better on future chapters, I promise!

□■□■□■□■□■□■□

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie

General Taglist @stellasays45

[daimyosprincess]

WORTH THE RISK

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

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—WORD COUNT: 10.8k

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

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

Please let me know if I missed anything!

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

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<All yours 😘> 1 image attached

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thigh to get off on?”

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

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

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

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

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

Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.

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

“Princess-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”

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

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

“So, apology accepted?”

“One.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Two.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!”

“Three.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head. 

“No talking and no hands, understood?” 

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

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

Thank the Maker for that towel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swallow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maker, you’re a buzzkill. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess, it’s okay, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s worth the risk.  

[scarlet97531]

((⬆️Drawing ink(/sys) made of himself back in December that never got posted here))

((Personal vent/rant about comparing myself to headmates and masking⬇️))

⭕️❗️ink hasn’t really been around front lately so his clothes have mostly just been rotting in the back of our closet cause his style is pretty different to the rest of us, but like. Sometimes I wear his stuff anyway cuz it’s actually really comfy, but whenever I do I always get compliments about how nice I look from people irl. And like, compliments are nice I guess, but. I never get compliments when I’m wearing the clothes that I like. So it kind of feels like the people we know irl like ink more than me without them even knowing there’s a difference in the first place. I mean, I know they’d like ink better if they knew us too, cuz obviously I’m not exactly. Like. Well I feel like our names say enough about that. Ink is artistic and cheerful and friendly, and I’m weird and traumatized and queer in ways the people in our life don’t seem to want to deal with. Ink is a lot closer to what irl ppl think we are like, he’s more similar to our mask I guess.

It makes me feel like it’s better for me to just mask more, to try to make myself more pleasant for other people instead of being myself. And I’m like 90% sure that’s our family’s fault for being unwelcoming to my attempts at being more genuine, and I know it’s possible that I could find people that actually like me, but with the people we have to be around right now it feels like it’s my fault.

And like I know this is relatively a very minor problem to have, I know even we have bigger problems that I should probably be more concerned about, but it’s just always the little social things that really bother me.

Being compared to another version of yourself is a strange problem to have.

-Killer Sans the skeleton I guess

[owltypical]

super long dump post about various irl things

a coworker of mine passed away at the beginning of the week. he’d actually left the company back in september, so i hadn’t seen him in several months, and i wouldn’t say we were super close, but. he was on my team, and we saw each other and talked and interacted and spent time together at work hangouts pretty much constantly over several years.

he was only 29. not sure how it happened, just that we heard from his family that it had, and his memorial page and viewing/funeral times were shared with us. it was definitely a great shock to us, i hid myself in the bathroom for a bit and cried. hadn’t cried properly in a long time due to my brain meds, so i had a sadness headache for a couple days.

he was a very pleasant, polite, and nice young dude. politics rarely come up at work though i knew he came from a religious catholic conservative background, but he was pretty socially conscious and angry/disillusioned about a lot of the shit he saw going on; i saw him grow from those roots over that time and i wonder how he’d turn out in the end if he’d been given proper time to finish growing. one of the kindest, most patient phone voices i ever heard.

it sucks so extra hard when somebody suddenly dies young like that. technically he was already out of my life when it happened, but that’s the closest to someone’s death i’ve been in ages, possibly ever, other than i suppose my cousin who passed away a few years ago. i’ve never been to a funeral, the few deaths i’ve encountered have been very distant and slightly unreal, even with family. but this was someone i knew and saw irl and who was part of my everyday life for quite a while; now he’s just suddenly gone, he’s ceased to exist. just memories and pictures.

literally the next morning after that another of our team members had some sort of medical episode at work; paramedics came and took her away in an ambulance. not sure what happened, she seems to be fine now thank god, but it was very scary at the time. that one-two punch in less than 24 hours made for a very mentally and emotionally strained week for us; so far 2023 for me has been kind of muted and spent grieving.

speaking of brain meds: started a new mixed dosage of stuff just today. the previous prescription was helping, but not enough, and had side effects that i felt were hampering my progress elsewhere. hopefully this new combo works out! i want more energy during the day, i want to sleep better at night, i want to have this dumb brain in a more orderly shape. i want to feel artistic and draw again.

not sure what i’ll do if i start feeling better about art again, though. i keep fretting that i just don’t have it in me to do big detailed print-ready longform comic stories, and never really have, despite how many times i’ve tried over the years. maybe i really do just need a partner to work with, i don’t know. i’m also second-guesing myself about the overall setting of outliers. i was always very tickled by weird/background stuff in comic book superhero settings since my youth, but the last few years i’ve completely soured on exactly that; the absolute glut of comic book movies and tv series have been overwhelming and tiring and obnoxious, it’s made me very jaded about the whole thing. and i don’t want to be seen as part of riding on that particular bandwagon either.

kind of trying to figure out what the hell to do in general. i make enough to survive just fine, but not enough to actually grow or go anywhere or make any real changes. affordable housing is nonexistent these days, absolutely everywhere, not just the places i would actually be interested in moving to. wages suck, everything costs way more now, good luck getting where you’d like to go without selling a few organs and cramming into some hole with three other equally desperate roommates. i’d donate plasma but apparently one of my arms has bad invisible veins so i got told to go away.

it’s real existential crisis times over here, i guess. i’m less than two years away from 40 now; i thought i had more time to figure some things out but an injury and good ol’ covid stole a large chunk of my prime 30s away from me. i want to move and improve my station in life, but how? i want a partner, but dating’s hard, especially the older you get and especially when you’re ace. i want to draw, but i worry that i don’t truly have the stamina and time to do everything i want to do, and that i’m running out of time in general. it’s stupid, i know it’s just youth-oriented culture and the world’s aggressive ageism messing with me, but it’s hard to feel like the countdown to 40 isn’t some sort of doomsday clock terror. too late for love, too late for family, too late for careers and making something of myself artistically. brains are stupid.

well. here’s to the brain in question getting better via updated meds, and here’s to 2023 having something good happen during it, i suppose. i hope.

[clowninblackandwhite]

Rules /About

1- Don’t be a jerk, I don’t mean that your muse can’t be a jerk but you, the mun, don’t be a jerk or you will be blocked.

2- No Godmodding, I move my muse, you move yours. (remember, if you try to move L.j without my consent, L.j will NOT react well)

3- No smut (or even interact in general) if you are under 18, I will block and report if I find out you are doing it and nothing will change my mind.

4- There will be quite some triggers regarding death, depression and more… don't follow me if this bothers you too much, stay safe please.

5- If you have some kind of problem with our Roleplay, please let me know and we’ll talk about it, I want both of us to enjoy RPing.

6- I prefer to ship if there’s chemistry but I don’t mind plotting. (after all I’m multi-ship.)

7- Please read the About prt of this, because this Laughing Jack can be pretty much different from the “canon”.

8- I'm selective, meaning I might not start a thread with anyone, it has nothing to do with you, I just prefer this way, I'm sorry. please respect that. You can still send asks for L.J but don't expect to have an answer for sure (or that said answer will turn into a thread).

9- no hate of any kind, again, your muse can be an asshole but you, the mun, no. I'll block anyone who spreads hate.

10- don't involve me in IRL drama, just don't.

11- don't force ships on me and don't push me for replies, I could go from soft-blocking to hardlocking.

12- I can be really slooooooow, like…a lot, so please keep that in mind.

13- I'm not my muse, I shouldn't have to say this but it seems that it's needed.

14- you may know L.J for his creepypasta or you could know another version of him from another universe. But, NO, your muse doesn't know my L.J unless we have plotted this.

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

Name: Laughing Jack (once it was Rainbow Jack)

Age: He was “imagined” in 1800, so I guess he is pretty old.

Age Appearance: It’s hard to tell.

Height: 10 feet (tall boy)

Voice: pretty much similar to Beetlejuice from the musical. Just so you can have a generic idea.

Power: He has “imaginary” powers, similar to a cartoon character…a deadly one.

He usually uses all kinds of candies that he can create and shapes them as insects or similar.

He can summon puppets to fight for him and they are made by him after each victim he kills. And of course, L.J is Immortal.

Personality: He can be grumpy and strangely serious with someone he doesn’t know too well, but he can also be surprisingly funny once you know him a little. (still creepy).

Can be manipulative.

He hates children, it is something really difficult for a child to make friends with him after what happened with Isaac.

He will offer you a candy when you meet him if you accept the first candy he offers you, this means that he is “authorized” to kill you or at least try to make your life a nightmare, it is not something that always happens but I would not play with fate. If you say NO to his first candy, you’ll be fine … hopefully.

L.J loves prank (they can be as silly as dangerous) and if you are brave enough to prank him and clever enough to make him fall for your prank, there is a possibility that he will see you in a more pleasant way. (but depends on the prank you are trying to make)

Behind his creepy mask there is a deeply depressed clown..he still

suffers from his past trauma about being trapped inside his box for 13 years and forgotten by Isaac.

When he feels strong emotion (usually anger or sadness) around his eyes there will be shades similar to black makeup smeared by tears.

There are more headcanons and things to know about him, but feel free to discover them in our threads.

[whltlock]

So… Jason Todd reaction when the girl he is in love with but hasn’t confessed, hugs him and is affectionate to him

Ps: she also has a crush on Jason but didn’t confessed it either cause she knows he has issues being Hood and the way he dies, also the abandon issues… so she is afraid that he says he loves her too only to not lose her, so that’s the reason she doesn’t confess her feelings for him.

A/N: this is kind of tragic lol. i hope you're not suffering like this irl anon. life is too short to not love freely and fully. if someone leaves, that's on them, not you ♥

The apartment reeks of your lunch, but it’s pleasant, homely; endearingly so as you watch Jason ladle noodles into bowls. He twirls and tops them with herbs and cheese like he’s a Michelin-star chef. His unfailing fealty to the act makes your heart ache with love.

Everyday you hope, desperately, for that devotion to extend to you. You know he loves you in some capacity—he wouldn’t keep you around otherwise—but you’re not sure it’s enough.

You’re still lost in your thoughts when Jason totes the bowls into the living room. He bumps into you with an inviting smile and then climbs onto the fire escape. You grab a blanket before you follow.

You look out at the lively city that’s experiencing the warmth of the sun for the first time in weeks, take in the aromas of the home-cooked food, and along with the divine company, you can’t help but say, “This is perfect.”

Jason pauses. He swallows, then looks your way. “Yeah.” He licks his lips. “Yeah, it is.”

You try to restrain yourself—to not read between the lines—but you fail almost immediately. That disgusting, feral, plaguesome dash of hope returns. You want him to love you as you love him, well and truly, without the confines of fear.

You poke at your food as thoughts tumble around in your brain. You test what you want to say in the back of your throat, although it all sounds horribly mangled.

And then, instead, you blurt out: “Can I tell you something?”

Jason glances up. “Yeah?”

You exhale. “You have to promise it won’t change anything.”

His brow raises warily, otherwise wordless.

Your hand lands on his thigh. “I… I love you. As more than a friend.” You look down nervously. “And—and I’m afraid you’ll pretend to love me because of it.”

He’s quiet for a handful of moments. Slowly, his fingers brush over yours. Your eyes flick upwards as he says, “I don’t need to pretend.”

You search his face desperately, unsure whether he’s really telling the truth.

“I’ve been scared shitless that you’ll leave me because of it.”

There’s a shine to his eyes as his hand curls around yours, pulling it to his heart. You feel the faint thumps.

“I love you,” he says, soft and earnest. “Because you’re you.” The hapless smile that tugs at your mouth drops as he says, “But this should change things.”

You panic. “Jason—”

Abandoning his food, he shushes you with a clumsily placed, chaste kiss. You stare at him as he leans back, stunned.

“See?” he murmurs. “Things have to change so we can do that.”

A disbelieving laugh escapes you. “Don’t do that, you asshole.”

[har-rison-s]

i'd fight hell to hold you

eddie munson x reader with she/her pronouns

a/n: hi. another eddie piece. the obsession has begun. my god... idk if i’m ready for friday. it’s going to be absolutely insane. my irl st bestie will come over & we’ll watch together while eating pizza... i am so not ready. my head is empty rn because i’ve speculated on who’s gonna die and what’s gonna happen so much but i just can’t bring myself to do that anymore. i need to stop thinking about it, and i want to just watch what happens yk. idk... anyways. here we are. this one-shot is inspired by kiss’ song “i’d fight hell to hold you” which is 1) in my eddie playlist 2) a listening recommendation for reading this fic :) i think this one’s gonna be longer than my previous eddie one-shots, but ofc i shall see. i just have a premise that i need to write, something in the script i have to modify for this certain scenario and yeah. all in all, i hope you guys will like it :) oh also! i’m graduating my art high school on saturday :))))) i can’t believe i’ve come this far. insane. anyways. happy reading babies!

masterlist

stranger things masterlist

word count: 6.8k

song rec: i'd fight hell to hold you by kiss

tags: mentions of nausea, throwing up, the upside down

(a/n: my babies :( if anything happens to either or both of them in vol2, you will pay, duffers, and greatly ) gif credit goes to owner!

“nancy, no!” robin had managed to scream out a mere second before nancy, deemed the leader of the group, delved into the deep, dark water. clearly not following out on robin’s unspoken advice to not go where steve was just forcefully pulled into. eddie doesn’t know what to say, because his warning to nancy didn’t work, so why would words work? he looks to y/n slowly, wondering what’s on her mind as their next move. before he and robin can take the next shaky breath, though, y/n delves head-first into the dark water, right after nancy and steve. “y/n!”

“y/n! noo!” eddie can only muster in complete shock and hopelessness at what’s just happened. he can’t believe his eyes. he can’t believe his ears. he knows y/n well enough to know she would do anything for her friends, but this is putting her life in danger. and more than that, if there’s such a thing. eddie knows there’s only one thing he can do. to save her, to protect her, to guard her, to make sure she’ll be okay. his fighting abilities are pretty decent, but he doesn’t know what he’ll be facing. to hell with that. he’ll protect her no matter what they’re up against. so eddie looks at robin, gripping the boat’s side, takes a deep breath and jumps in after y/n, not caring what awaits him down in the depths of lover’s lake.

what awaits him is a glowing red portal that isn’t very inviting. but he sees just y/n’s converse-clad feet pulling through the portal to the other side, and he has no choice but to follow. it’s not like he would have sat in that boat with robin and waited until steve, nancy and y/n returned. it’s not like he wouldn’t go into another dimension, to the ends of the world, right into a monster’s arms, to save her. just to make sure she makes it out alive. screw everyone else, screw eddie himself, he won’t let anything happen to her.

the crawl through the gate isn’t pleasant—eddie could use many experiences of his own to describe how squeezing through that really felt—and what’s on the other side isn’t pleasant, either. a dark world. no sun, no moon, no wind. disgusting vines that resemble poisonous snakes crawling everywhere. and eddie’s best friend and new friends in peril. nancy and y/n taking on—flying bats?—together, with each their own skills and found weapons. it seems steve has a handful of them to fight himself, now that the girls have got a portion of the bats off him. he looks badly wounded.

and y/n looks as attractive as ever. yes, they’re in another dimension, yes, she’s wet and slimy and killing bats—but perhaps that’s the exact reason. she’s fighting for her friends, fighting for herself, fighting for who eddie is pretty sure is the unrequited love of her life. and she’s doing great. eddie even makes a mesmerized smile at the sight of her in his stupor, his eyes forming into hearts in the midst of this battle, suddenly amnesia-like to his own situation, his current reality. it’s a bat that swings onto his shoulders that breaks him out of that trance.

eddie’s quick and agile, and grabs one of the oars laying around, and begins attacking the bat. so it’s not only keen on steve, but on the girls and eddie himself, too. it might be stupid, but what really motivates him and gets him through this terribly gross fight with the bats is the thought that he might look at y/n maybe just one more time after it. he might talk to her, might embrace her, might have her at all after this. she’s the reason he keeps a clear head and has a clear target in this fight.

when no more bats seem to be coming, yet there’s still sounds of a struggle, the group turn to watch steve taking down a bat one on one without any sign of mercy. even though eddie’s fascinated himself, he can’t help but think that y/n might find this the hottest thing in the world. a guy taking some demon bat down with his bare hands? pulling its head off with nothing but his hands and feet? it’s the most metal thing eddie’s ever seen, and quite the epic ozzy move, as well. it’s what eddie wants to be.

yet he’s no hero. he’s not like steve, who isn’t afraid to check out danger, who isn’t afraid to jump into dangerous waters first, who doesn’t hesitate to take down demon bats in an alternate dimension. eddie got scared. he saw proper traumatizing shit and ran. he wishes he was different, and that he’d have more guts. he wishes he was more like steve, who y/n undeniably likes. eddie sometimes wishes he had everything that steve has. and that’s why, regrettably, his eyes turn sour towards steve.

but after the last bat has been taken down and everyone’s coming to it slowly, eddie doesn’t hesitate to run straight towards y/n. he’s pleasantly surprised to find her also moving towards him, and he practically cradles her like fragile china in his arms. though he already let his tantrums get the best of him beforehand, he keeps chanting jesus h christ(though his religion is, quite frankly, the opposite of that) as he embraces y/n, his best friend, with shaking hands. “jesus christ,” eddie mutters and then pulls away, his hands on y/n’s cheeks now. he knows they’re off limits to each other in this sense, but he can mask his loving ways to her with care, can’t he? eddie inspects her face, searching for bruises or cuts or whatever else that might need quick attending-to, “did they hurt you? have you been bitten?” he asks in a super quick voice.

y/n shakes her head firmly. “no, no, i’m not hurt,” she tells him surely and rests her hands on eddie’s wrists. he realizes that might be a sign to draw back, to pull his hands away, to get out of that zone, so he begins lowering them, “are youhurt?” she asks in return, her eyes looking over eddie’s form. he shakes his head, too. though he’s sure that out of the shock and fear he’s feeling, he could very well not have felt if a bat has bit him.

“no, no, i’m not hurt... terrified out of my mind, though? traumatized? oh yeah,” eddie says, and y/n weakly smiles at his attempts to address the situation with humor, “you scared me, y/n, you really did. back there...” eddie shakes his head, his hands now on his hips as he looks down, very obviously hiding tears that he’s always trying to hold in, “i thought you... i mean—i—you went so—"

y/n puts her hands on eddie’s chest, one of them sneaking up to his neck, knowing that it’s always the place she needs to touch to get eddie to listen to her. “i’m sorry,” she tells him, “wasn’t thinking it through. acted like a dumb horror movie character there,” she admits, and eddie can manage to make a smile at that half-joke, “couldn’t let them go down here alone, could i? we’ve gotta figure all of this out. can’t leave my friends to certain death.”

eddie’s quiet, but he nods. friends. she definitely looks at steve as more than a friend, he’s sure, but he’ll let her words stay that way. eddie nods again. “i know, i know,” he tells her, and then they both hear more bat screeching from the forest. if you can call that a forest... eddie’s head shoots straight up, fast, rabid-like. he reminds y/n of a bunny—they’re perpetually anxious animals and jump at every and any noise around them. eddie seems to have taken a role of one for now.

y/n moves her hand up to eddie’s cheek, trying to make him look at her. she knows she often has the power to ground him. not often, but always. and slowly, with his head going into this and that direction first, he does turn to her. complete submission, as well as fear and anxiety, in his eyes as they connect with hers. y/n can only imagine what it’s like to be eddie. what he’s seen in the last forty-eight hours alone... and now to be jumping into a completely alien, dangerous world to find the monster that’s responsible for deaths in his hometown... fighting demon bats along the way... it’s no surprise eddie’s eyes are filled with tears now, at the sound of those bats, at the thought of y/n in danger. he’s a step away from sobbing, and y/n can see he’s slowly taking that step. but they don’t have much time for crying or letting it all out right now. eddie’s a straight-forward person with his emotions and has to deal with them right away, you know that. but there’s no time.

“the woods.” nancy huffs as the group of five all see a cloud of bats approaching. “come on,” nancy leads the way into the woods, which is totally not where y/n or eddie would go if they could choose, but they can’t choose at the moment. they both trust the people who have dealt with these monsters, with this whole world under hawkins. from what nancy has said, she’s the one most familiar with this dark, scary world.

and when she tells the group she has guns in her house—yes, plural, as eddie so pointedly emphasized—y/n and eddie can’t help but trust her even more. sure, nancy’s image deceives her true nature, and y/n is even glad to learn that it does, but the girl knows what she’s doing, and she knows what she’s dealing. the earthquake that comes to shake this world while the group are making plans around skull rock surprises even nancy—what could be causing something like this?

y/n immediately clings to eddie, who can’t help but be clung to by two girls—y/n and robin—at once, as she loses her balance. they crash to the ground in a mess of limbs, yelping in surprise and then grunting in pain almost immediately after. eddie’s holding both girls to him, one to each side, one for each arm. a strong arm, y/n must admit, eddie’s always been seemingly harmless from afar, but his arms hold the most strength in his body.

the shaking of the ground beneath her and everything else around her makes her nauseous, so she just closes her eyes and prays that the earthquake ends as quickly as it started. she didn’t know an earthquake could make her nauseous—they happen close to never in the state of indiana—and she hopes she doesn’t throw up now from that nausea feeling. ugh, and her mints are in steve’s car, she forgot to take them with. they might have helped against this nausea, but she could never have predicted she’d need them. this really sucks.

eventually, the terror of this earthquake ends, and y/n can breathe a deep sigh of relief. she still clings to eddie’s forearm, even when it’s past a few seconds since the earthquake ended. “so guns seem like a really good idea right now,” eddie says, fully backing away from his disbelief of nancy having guns in her bedroom, sure that the girl is telling the truth, and it might be the only solution to this situation right now.

y/n snaps her eyes open, though stays where she is for the next couple of seconds. in some way, she waits for another earthquake to start. it can’t be over yet, can it? “yeah, me too,” robin agrees with eddie and is the first to rise from the ground. eddie absentmindedly wraps that free arm of his around y/n’s frame now, too, and bends his head down next to her, their faces side by side. she feels tense against him.

“you alright, sweetheart?” he gently whispers into her ear. she gives him a shaky nod.

“for the most part,” she squeezes out, “i just feel very nauseous.” y/n informs him and takes deep breaths in and out again, hoping it will help that horrible feeling. eddie nods.

“sorry, i think i lost my gum somewhere in this... hellhole.” he tells her, checking all the pockets he can with one of his hands. y/n’s lips curl into a small smile at that response. eddie, ever so kind and considerate.

“it’s fine,” she says in a huffed breath and gets ready to stand up on her two feet, “as long as i don’t throw up, or another earthquake doesn’t happen, i’ll be fine.”

eddie nods again. “you just let me know, okay? i’ll do whatever i can.” he offers and is the first to stand up, pulling his legs away from under y/n. he offers her both of his hands, out-stretched and firm, before he thinks to do anything else, “come on,” eddie quietly urges her on before y/n takes his hands and is being pulled up by eddie. she feels faint, and ends up standing closer to him than she anticipated.

eddie notices right away how her eyes travel to steve—he doesn’t notice that they stick onto robin and nancy, as well, he’s blind as a bat to that—and how before they did that, as well. when nancy was tying that piece of fabric around his stomach. when they were all crouching around skull rock. eddie notices all of that, but he doesn’t see, now that y/n’s turned her back to him, that she’s not looking at steve at all anymore, but instead at this world they’re in behind him, around him, surrounding them all.

eddie shrugs off his denim vest and throws it at steve without a warning or word uttered. everyone looks at him, y/n included, and she sees a weird expression on eddie’s face, a strange look in his eyes she can’t quite recognize. “for your modesty, dude,” eddie explains to steve in a voice of mock-disgust. steve nods thankfully, but is too out of breath to say anything more. firstly, eddie wants steve to cover up a bit so y/n would stop literally gawking at him. secondly, steve’s much more vulnerable in this unpredictable place with a bare torso than with a covered one.

“come on,” nancy urges the group, breaking out to be the leader among them again as she heads deeper into the woods, “no time to waste. let’s go!” she commands her group of friends, and they follow her without another thought or protest.

y/n feels just nauseous enough to not be able to talk without feeling like she’ll barf, so she doesn’t walk side by side with anyone. she’d love to be walking with eddie, but the tension between him and steve, for some reason, could be cut through with a knife, and she doesn’t want to be in the middle of that.

she couldn’t handle it on a regular day, much less on a day she feels like vomiting any next second. she doesn’t wanna give the boys the delight of having vomit on their shoes, so she simply walks after nancy and robin, and in front of steve and eddie. she tries not to think of what the vines could be, tries not to think of where or what they could lead to, she simply keeps her head up and hopes this nausea will fade away soon. preferably, sooner than she has calculated.

eddie doesn’t protest, doesn’t request her beside him. nausea can be a tough time, and he understands if she doesn’t wanna talk to him at the moment. he walks solemnly with steve, some good few feet behind y/n. he tries not to look at her as much as he usually does, since he’s in front of steve now, but his eyes do wander to her, he can’t help it.

“eddie,” steve addresses his walking partner. he’s glad for it to be someone closer to his own age, a change of pace from his usual buddy, dustin. he does miss the kid, though, even if he’s been away from him only some fifteen to twenty minutes now. the long-haired brunette turns his head to steve with curious, oblivious eyes, “hey, uh... i just wanted to say thanks for, uh, saving my ass back there.” steve tells eddie, and gives him a respectful nod, lips pursed and eyes looking into eddie’s. much similar to his own—big, doe and brown.

eddie nearly snorts. “shit, you saved your own ass, man,” he tells steve, shaking his head slightly. steve’s lips make into a subtle grin, “i mean... that was a real ozzy move you pulled back there.” it’s everything i’ve wanted to be. especially for her. steve quirks an eyebrow.

“ozzy?” he echoes. like the wizard of oz?

“when you took a bite out of that bat,” eddie elaborates, but steve still gives him a clueless look, “ozzy osbourne? black sabbath?” he offers to steve, but he’s already shaking his head and turning away. awh, y/n would have gotten the reference. “he bit a bat’s head off, on stage, once.”

steve shakes his head again. “i don’t... i don’t know,” he tells eddie.

he shrugs. “doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, and guesses that the right person gets this reference, “it’s very metal, what you did. that’s all i’m saying.”

steve chuckles dryly. eddie doesn’t blame him. here he is, steve harrington, nearly bitten to death by bats he took apart with his bare hands mere moments later, and the weirdo of the school is trying to feed him a metaphor for it. plus, he’s bleeding while walking around some big monster’s lair. “thanks.” steve tells him.

eddie nods along. the man seems pretty unsure of himself as of now. “henderson told me you were a badass.” he continues. “insisted on the matter, in fact. y/l/n over there told me that, too.”

“they said that?” steve asks in disbelief, and eddie gives another nod in response. both guys now look after y/n, climbing over suspicious vines ahead of them, clearly oblivious to their conversation.

“oh, yeah, shit, henderson... worships you, dude,” eddie elaborates. he knows someone else who worships steve besides dustin, “like, you have no idea.” steve chuckles, a bit more lively this time. “it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. i.... don’t even know why i care what that little shrimp thinks, but, uh... i guess...” it gets difficult for eddie to say what he wants to say next, “i guess i got a little jealous, steve.” he doesn’t guess that, actually, he knows it. eddie just doesn’t want to fully admit it, but he is jealous of steve. for many reasons. y/n. dustin. “guess i couldn’t accept the fact that... steve harrington,” he makes a little dramatic pause, “was actually... a good dude.”

eddie sees steve’s head hanging lower. out of embarrassment? out of the good words? but there’s a smile on steve’s lips, as well. eddie can’t help his jealousy, his envy. of steve’s looks, of his character, his personality, his reputation, his brotherhood with dustin, with lucas and max, his close relationships with three (and maybe even more) smoking hot ladies. steve’s hero character and mind-set, on which he acts. he protects the kids and his friends any way he can, always being the first to test out dangerous waters—quite literally in the most recent situation. he’s not turning his back to a dangerous situation, he’s standing up and doing something about it.

“rich parents, popular, chicks love him,” eddie lists off, a certain chick he knows well popping up in his mind as he says the quality, “not a douche? no way, man, nooo way.” steve’s smile grows wider. “that, like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe, and... my own personal munson doctrine.” steve chuckles now. eddie leans closer to him. “still super jealous as hell, by the way.” of everything you are, everything and everyone you attract, everything that you can so easily have. unlike me.

steve pulls back a little, laughing now, “okay.” he tells eddie, and the boy grins.

“it’s actually why i, uh... would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass,” eddie admits, “sorry to say. no offense, of course, dude, but uh... not under any normal circumstances.”

steve shakes his head. “i get it, man, i get it,” he tells eddie, “nothing about this is normal in any way. it's insane how we can even think what to do next, after everything...”

eddie feels that shame he’s bound to talk about creep up his spine like a spider with sharp claws, “yeah, well... outside of d&d, i am nooo... hero.” his eyes fall onto y/n again. “well, okay, there is one exception.” eddie says, and a short sigh full of longing escapes his lips as he looks on the girl. steve follows his eyes, and makes a smile at the connection. something that is so clear to see. “one person i’d follow anywhere. other than that,” eddie shrugs, “i see danger and i just turn heel and run.”

steve pats him on the back, still that knowing smile playing on his lips as he does so, “give yourself a break, man,” he tells eddie, “witnessing and being a part of anything like this is very, uh... it’s not anything normal. and you’ve seen enough. cut yourself some slack.”

eddie shakes his head as a nervous chuckle passes through his lips, “yeah, well, see,” he starts to say, slowing him and steve both down in their path, “the only reason i came in here was ‘cause that little strong lady jumped in straight after you.” eddie gestures in y/n’s direction with his hand. “well, okay, not after you, but after nancy—they practically jumped in at the same time.” eddie explains. “now, i would have been too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. but as soon as she disappeared underwater, that all changed. i couldn’t stay behind.” he starts his and steve’s walk forwards up again. “surprised myself, even, doing that, but...” eddie shakes his head and inwardly punches himself at what he’s about to say, “i would literally pass through the gates of hell for her.” steve smiles again. “not sure she’d do the same for me, cause... she literally just proved that she’d do that for someone else. but i don’t know... maybe if i wasn’t such a chicken, things would have been different.”

“why do you think she wouldn’t do the same for you?” steve asks. clearly, he doesn’t know eddie as well as he knows y/n, and not nearly as long, either. but he knows they’ve been best friends forever, probably since they wore diapers, and he knows y/n’s dedication to her friends. to eddie.

eddie glances at steve momentarily, slight fear in his eyes. “well, ‘cause it’s clear there’s someone else she would dive after—literally,” eddie says, “this popular dude who babysits random kids when he’s not working shifts at family video.” eddie finally says—it took a lot in him to say that out loud, much less without getting all emotional about it—and huffs quietly, turning his gaze away from steve. he doesn’t wanna see his boasty, self-centered reaction to the clear fact eddie’s just stated.

but steve shakes his head with a scoff that he only wants to sound like complete disagreement to what eddie’s just said. “you think she’s after me?” steve asks eddie in a quieter voice, since there’s a possibility y/n could hear them both. as steve looks at eddie, the metalhead nods.

“it’s clear as day!” eddie argues. “you’re all she talks about, who her eyes are glued on all the time, and no doubt who she thinks about all the time, too.” he crosses his arms over his chest like a little kid. steve chuckles again.

“your radar is way off, dude,” steve says, but receives no reply from eddie, meaning he’s not convinced, but he’s on the way there, “it’s not me she thinks and talks about all the time, i guarantee you that. a hundred percent,” he assures.

“who is it, then?” eddie inquires, clueless as any next person. steve shakes his head.

“it’s you, dumbass,” steve breaks him the news and looks at eddie while he does so to make his point more sure, more firm. at first eddie just stares off in the distance, his arms still crossed over his chest as he ponders on this, “trust me, i know when a girl is, as they say, smitten. and she’s not smitten with me.” steve gulps. “you are all she talks about, she gushes about you, dude. rambles, if i may say that. you are her every waking thought, no doubt, everything that we do, everything we see reminds her in the weirdest of ways of you.”

now eddie just thinks steve’s playing a prank. making all that he said up, pulling it out of thin air. “how can you be so sure? how can you know that?” eddie inquires further. now steve laughs and shakes his head at how clueless eddie really is with girls. sure, he can treat a girl right, and he can love her to the ends of this earth, but he can’t catch her drift for the life of him. he can’t read women at all.

steve gives eddie one last shake of his head and leans in closer to the boy. “just... tell her how you feel, prove your feelings to her in some way, any way, or at least try to,” he advises eddie, “and you’ll see. i guarantee you, there will be promising results.” steve says, and his last words make both boys giggle.

“thanks, harrington, really,” eddie tells him genuinely, and steve nods. eddie thinks on this advice steve has given him. if what he’s said is true about y/n, and if his advice will prove that, why should eddie waste any time? no time like the present, right? who the fuck knows what’s next in this dark dimension. vecna might come after any one of them any second. so why not tell y/n how he feels right now, while he’s still here, alive and breathing, while they both are? “i’ll see about those promising results and get back to ya.” eddie says to steve as he begins to skip ahead, so he’d be in one step with y/n. steve gives eddie an encouraging nod, and even a true smile. he hopes it works out for those two. and he hopes eddie won’t chicken out.

y/n notices him next to her with the corner of her eye as she still tries to stifle her nausea, her nose as high in the air as it can be. “hi, eddie,” she says quietly in an exhale. eddie gives her a kind smile, his hands fidgeting with his jacket in his crossed-arms position.

“hi, sweetheart,” he tells her, “how you feeling?” he genuinely inquires. y/n sighs.

“still nauseous,” she responds, “though it’s going away slowly. the stink of this place doesn’t help at all.”

eddie chuckles at that revelation. “i bet it doesn’t, yeah,” he agrees, “listen, uh... wanted to, uh, tell you something. just hear me out, nothing else, no obligation to answer or... anything.”

y/n furrows her eyebrows, but then realizes what this could be about. eddie’s great at argumentative monologues, you know that. he always has backing reasons for whatever he wants or needs. “you can use my garage for band practice, eddie, i don’t mind,” she tells him in a slightly annoyed voice, “dad’s at work on saturdays, anyway.” she makes a hard sniff with her nose. though it’s probably not the best idea right now, since there’s... particles flying around in the air. who knows what they contain?

“it’s... not about that, actually, but... i’ll definitely keep it in mind,” eddie says and makes a nervous chuckle. y/n furrows her eyebrows even more. what else could this be about? “listen, uh... i’ll try my best to say this straight-forward. god! i’m so nervous,” eddie shakes his head. y/n finally drops her head to a normal level and turns it to look at eddie properly. what on earth could he be nervous about? he keeps his eyes ahead of him, “i’m gonna sound like a pussy saying this, but there was really no other reason that made me jump in that damn lover’s lake, except you.” eddie finally begins, and y/n is in a slight state of shock, so much so that she listens without any interjection. if it had been any other setting, any other situation, she would be arguing already, or asking a million questions. “you, who i’ve known since we were building sand castles in the playing ground’s sandbox. you’ve, uh, been my best friend ever since you threw that box of acorns down on my head.” they both chuckle at that memory. y/n can tell this is something serious, something really important to eddie that he’s talking about. “you’re the most amazing, badass girl i know. my mother would have loved to see you grow up.” eddie shakes his head softly. “and, fuck, i feel so... not me with this, but i also feel like the best version of myself ever since i...” y/n furrows her eyebrows again. “i’m not makin’ any sense... it’s just, you know i hate clichés, right?” eddie leans closer to y/n, looking into her eyes. she, as clueless as a by-passer about everything that he’s saying and the point he’s trying to make, nods at eddie. “yeah.” he nods. “i never expected my cliché of choice to be falling for my best friend, so... that’s two surprises in one. well, it’s not like i chose to—which i would have done, anyway, but...”

y/n is in utter shock. she just looks at eddie with wide eyes, watching his lips twist and turn as he tries to say something. something more, something different—whatever. it’s all out of stress, he can’t stand her not answering or responding in any way, so he immediately feels like he has to make up the silence with something, anything. but what can y/n say? she has been bamboozled totally and utterly.

neither of them can get a word in to save their lives, because the ground starts shaking again, starting up another earthquake. y/n falls to the ground helplessly, and eddie falls right after her, reaching for her hand. he might have dropped a complete bombshell on her just, and is still waiting for a response, and she might not want him near her now or later or ever, but he has to make sure she’s at least on a support system throughout this earthquake. “here we go again!” eddie whines as he pulls y/n into his arms, her back against his chest. she holds onto his hands, but faintly. then she nearly pulls away completely.

“i’m gonna be sick,” she exclaims awkwardly, holding her stomach, as she gets up on her shaking legs, on the shaky ground, and makes away from eddie, heading towards a near-by tree. eddie worries, shoots an anxious look towards steve, who’s a few feet behind them, also on the vine-covered ground, holding onto his flashlight for dear life, clear signs of struggle on his face. he nods at eddie, as he knows what he’s thinking. eddie just shakes his head, closing his eyes.

he tries his best to get up while he still wobbles and everything around him is rattling and shaking, and he follows y/n. after he takes a few steps, the earth settles and the earthquake slowly ends, and he makes an exhale of relief. his ears aren’t filled with the horridly loud noise of the earthquake anymore, but he does hear the sound of retching. that must be poor y/n, puking out her insides and whatever it was she ate last. eddie frowns, waits for it to end, and approaches her around the vine-wrapped tree.

he hears her spitting, and then she’s steadying herself against the tree, her back somewhat straight. she notices eddie two feet away from her, and he sees her face is exhausted, pale, nearly green. poor thing. “well,” she starts to say in a breathy voice, “i guess my nausea got worse.” y/n admits, and tries to make a smile. it barely works, and it makes eddie laugh. full-on laugh, with his hand on his stomach. y/n wipes the corner of her mouth and her chin with the sleeve of her jacket, wrapped and tied around her waist. ugh, the thought of there being sick on her skin, on her clothes—which there definitely is—nearly makes her sick to her stomach again.

“you alright to walk?” he asks and glances around at their team-mates. they’re just getting ready to get up themselves now. eddie looks back at y/n.

“i’m good,” she answers with a nod of her head, “looks like i really needed to empty my stomach to function normally, but uh... can we stay here? for just a moment longer?” y/n requests. eddie raises his eyebrows and gives her a nod.

“sure,” he says, and now that the conversation of her nausea and the earthquake has dissipated, he feels the awkward silence of their conversation before enter the atmosphere again. he awkwardly looks around as y/n still heaves with heavy breaths.

“that’s quite a bombshell to drop in another dimension, in the midst of the world ending,” y/n tells him, referencing his previous confession, “i, uh, actually thought you liked someone else all this time. didn’t know who, but... i had a feeling.” she breathes out deeply. “how long have you known?” y/n asks him, their eyes finally connecting again.

eddie purses his lips and then huffs. “well, since, uh... sophomore year, i guess?”

“so since we both hit puberty,” y/n clarifies, and eddie nods, though he is slightly ashamed to, “me first, though.”

he scoffs. “obviously,” he says, “i was seventeen, and you were, well... you were just a dream. i told you that every chance i got, thinking it’s gonna go somewhere, but clearly, it never did.” eddie admits.

now y/n makes an amused scoff. “i wanted it to go somewhere, too, but,” she shrugs, “i always thought it was just you, you know, complimenting me because you’d done that countless times before. you did all the time, actually,” she tells him, “never thought there was something more behind it. i never would have thought you, eddie munson, my drop-dead-gorgeous metal-head, nerd best friend would have the same feelings i had—have for you.” she admits and shakes her head subtly. that catches eddie off-guard completely. scratch the fact that he just admitted him being in love with her, this... this is something else.

promising results.

“didn’t wanna appear as delusional or, uh—or greedy for something i clearly couldn’t get,” y/n continues, “i mean, you’re just way out of my league. always have been.”

eddie steps closer to her, his breath stuck in his throat—he’s not sure he’s breathing right now, but it’s not exactly what he’s focusing on right now, either—and he looks dead into her eyes. “no, you’re out of my league.” he argues to her, and now y/n straightens her back and stretches her muscles with an easy laugh.

“no, you are,” she argues back, “two can play at this game, munson, and we both know i’ll—”

“can i kiss you right now?” eddie interrupts her characteristic snap-back at him, catching her off-guard now. he’s sure she’s never been more beautiful, more herself to him than she is now. she’s the hottest girl in school, has the best personality—also deemed one of a pirate—, is eddie’s best friend in the entire world, challenges him on the daily and has the same feelings for him as he does for her? out of this world (that’s where they are right now, though). unbelievable. unreal.

he’s been waiting for the chance to ask her that, he’s been waiting to kiss her since forever, and there isn’t a more perfect moment than now. y/n has wanted the same thing for years, as well—they’re both in quite the same boat—she’s wanted eddie to just take her face in his hands and kiss her until they both suffocate since she can remember. but she’ll disagree with him about that best moment aspect of this whole thing. “eddie, i literally just threw up,” she says in a coarse voice, “my breath stinks and i’m covered in sick.” y/n tells him, looking him back dead in the eyes. “i don’t think you’re gonna want to kiss me right now.” she says with a shake of her head, and a gentle smirk playing at her lips. eddie narrows his eyes at her.

“you don’t know what i think,” he says with a slight shake of his head, keeping his eyes narrowed at her, “can i level with you?” he asks her, and y/n gives him a nod. their faces are close as ever, sure, they’ve been that close before, but never in this context, “we’re in an alternate dimension, where monsters powerful enough to break into people’s psyche rule with their miles-long vines crawling all around. we’re about to go to nancy wheeler’s house to get guns she’s hiding in her bedroom,” eddie says, getting ever so closer to y/n with nearly each word he speaks, “to kill that very monster. there’s earthquakes left and right, and probably monsters, too—who knows? we might get attacked any next second,” eddie’s voice gets lower and huskier as he talks, and y/n can’t help but admit that it’s making her lower belly tickle. not with nausea this time, though, thankfully. with something much more pleasant, “now i’ve just told you i’ve been in love with you since i was seventeen, and you’ve told me you have those exact same feelings. but now you’re telling me i won’t want to kiss you? just because you’ve thrown up?” y/n has to admit he’s made a point. “come on, sweetheart. not the worst thing i’ve seen you do in all our years of friendship.”

y/n can name a few memories he’s referencing with that already, and she blushes while a giggle escapes her lips. “stop,” she simply says, looking away from his strong, captivating eyes.

“point is, don’t tell me what i want or don’t want to do,” eddie continues and moves even closer to her, “another point is, this might be our last conversation ever,” he says and looks down at her as he stretches his back again, y/n looking up at him with a grin slowly stretching her lips, “so just stand on those tippy-toes of yours and let me kiss you, ‘kay?” eddie’s already moving a hand into her hair, about to cradle the back of her head as he requests this one sacred thing from her. he might die, she might die—they both might die any next moment. and he doesn’t want to go without having kissed her, ever. his whole life would be wasted then. “please,” eddie breathes a whisper. his big, doe eyes hold that plea in them, as well. she’s never been able to resist them. well, with great discipline, but only sometimes.

and to his much pleasant surprise, y/n nods without a word uttered, and does as he’s so sweetly requested of her. she stands on her tippy-toes, grips eddie’s shoulder for support and stability—both of them uttering breathy giggles at that little intermission—and leans her face even higher up, closer to his, their lips now just an inch apart—

“hey, lovebirds! we got a monster to kill, wrap it up!” a very annoying call from the hair king himself disrupts y/n and eddie’s enviable moment of intimacy. they both shut their eyes and huff out deeply. then they laugh, because they did both of those things in complete unison, and it just shows how close they are. y/n’s head rests momentarily on eddie’s chest, and she still holds onto his shoulders as the both of them look at steve past their closest tree. he’s gesturing for them to come quick, and the pair shake their heads.

“always with the great fucking timing,” eddie mumbles under his breath, and rolls his eyes at steve. and though they might not have yet had their first kiss, eddie makes sure to hold y/n’s hand in his, or to have an arm around her shoulders as some level of visual affection between them. if there’s really no time, then there really is no time. nevertheless, even if the both of them are in hell, eddie will fight every monster it takes to hold y/n to him again and forever. he’ll always fight hell to get to kiss her. he’ll fight hell to hold her.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​​​ @thewinchesterchronicles​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @gasbomb69​​​ @xoxobabydolls​ @corallyink​ @rottenstyx​ @d4td7ewmachine (if anyone wants to be added, let me know! i'm also thinking of making an eddie taglist, so :) hmu)

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Warmth

Pairing: Alpha Beefy Bucky x Female Mutant Reader

Summary: Being paired off with Bucky Barnes on a mission was hard enough. Hell, the two of you being a part of Hydra a long time ago was already hard enough. But when the two of you are forced to seek shelter in an Avengers safehouse, it gets even worse.

Because there's only one freaking bed.

Will you survive the night with the grumpy Alpha by your side? Or will you rip your hair out?

Who knows. The nights are unpredictable.

What you do know is, is that Bucky Barnes is too fucking hot for his damn good.

Maybe you just might pull your hair out.

Warnings: Heavy A/B/O dynamics. Mentions of past torture from Hydra for both Bucky and the Reader. This Bucky is sort of a mix between CW!Bucky, (hence the beefy!Bucky), but also TFATWS!Bucky bc I love grumpy old man, sassy Bucky. Some angst/hurt/comfort, because I'm a hoe for angst. No heats/ruts in this lil fic, just good ole rough smut. Some biting and some mild blood too. This sex would be considered unprotected irl, but in the a/b/o verse, I don't think you'd need protection??? Who knows. Italics are for when Bucky and the Reader are talking in Russian. The Reader also has a nightmare, which ties back in with the whole mention of past torture from Hydra. If I missed any other warnings in this, let me know and I'll make sure to add them!

Additional Notes: This was written for @agentofbarnes's writing challenge! Congrats on 7k, Zee! I'm sorry this took so long. I started writing this in July, and let it marinate for far too long. But it's here now. I hope you enjoy!

All writing mistakes in this fic are mine, as usual.

Word Count: 4,602

Hell.

This was absolute pure fucking hell.

As you and the former Winter Soldier, James "Bucky" Barnes himself stared at the front door of one of the safehouses for the Avengers in case of emergencies, you couldn't help make eye contact with him.

Great. This was just great.

No one, not even Clint had told you that it would be snowing in freaking January in rural Ohio, of all places.

Then again, you had faintly remembered doing gymnastics before you had been taken by Hydra with some arrogant Alpha guy named Lance. He had been a real pain in your ass and you remembered you had made him cry once. After you had escaped from Hydra, you had bumped into him again. Funnily enough, he was still just as scared of you as he was all those years ago. Which, you know, was nice.

But what was not nice was the Alpha that was currently looking back at you. James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, Buck, White Panther, Jesus, Bionic Staring Machine- (the last three nicknames, all given to him by the Alpha Sam Wilson himself), scowled at you. His blue eyes even narrowed at you.

You wouldn't call what you and Bucky had a friendship. You two weren't even enemies. Heck, colleagues? Teammates? That was just putting it lightly, the relationship you had with the Alpha. Even when you had been captured and brainwashed into serving Hydra, the two of you had never crossed paths. It had been only after Hydra had fallen, did the two of you actually meet in person. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Nope. No with a capital N.O.

"Come on, let's go." Bucky all but grumbled. Realizing he didn't have the key to get inside, he looked at you. Like you had the key or something.

"James, I don't have the key." Bucky groaned. "Do you have a bobby pin, Omega? Something?" He asked in Russian. You plucked a bobby pin from your hair. A stray piece of hair fell. Putting the flat side in, you managed to unlock the door. You turned to look at him, giving him a toothy grin.

"Learned that from Pit Pocketing for Dummies, 101."

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. You just sniggered as you opened the door, greeted by cool air smacking against your face.

It made you shiver.

Because, unlike Bucky, you did not have any of that good ole supersoldier serum in your veins.

You were a mutant that could control water. Sometimes, you wished that you had the ability to control fire, because then, at least you could be warm in such dire situations such as these.

Taking your shoes off and putting them at the door, you surveyed the place.

It was a small house. Like a cozy little cottage. Probably only had at least two rooms at the max. It certainly gave off that vibe. There was a fireplace in the living room. A fully furnished kitchen, complete with a little wooden table with benches instead of individual chairs near the window.

Your grip on your bag of clothes became tighter as you realized that you needed to take a shower. Your stomach grumbled, alerting Bucky that you were hungry. Your comms had died. The two of you could contact no one until you charged them.

Which meant for at least tonight, or whenever the snowstorm outside stopped, you only had Bucky Barnes for company.

Well. That certainly would be pleasant.

"Go and shower first. I'll make dinner."

***

After your shower, you walked back into the kitchen, your sweet smell that reminded Bucky of deserts that his Ma used to make for him and his younger sisters back in Brooklyn drifted towards his nose. Thanks to the serum, he had already smelled it a mile away.

Cinamon rolls. Apple turnovers. Apple pies. Pumpkin pies. Bucky felt his Alpha rumble at the smell. Even Winter stirred at the familiar scent he loved so much.

When Bucky had gotten the trigger words wiped away from him due to Princess Shuri's genius, the Winter Soldier hadn't gone away from him. Rather, Winter had become a part of Bucky. Winter had been what Bucky became to survive Hydra. Winter was Bucky, only darker. More possessive. The deepest, darkest thing of him that the Wakandan Elders had helped him find again and reconcile with.

It was during times like this, making dinner in the kitchen that reminded him so much of his time back in Wakanda. Taking care of his farm and his pet goats, (that he sadly couldn't bring back with him when coming back to America), that he missed the most. It was domestic, in a way. He could almost feed into the fantasy, the thought that you were his Omega, his Bondmate, and that he was just making dinner for you.

From an outsider's perspective, it might've looked like Bucky didn't like you. That he just tolerated you. Treated you like how he treated everyone else in his life.

But it was the contrary.

He liked you.

He liked you very, very much. Other than Steve, Natalia, and heck, even the winged pigeon- you were one of the only people to truly understand him. You were probably even on the same playing field as Natalia, because you knew what it was like to be controlled by the Russian government. You held him at an arm's length at most, and you never treated him like he was some fragile, broken man. When you treated his wounds, you never fretted like other Omega's. Nor did you dottle. Ask him if he was okay every five seconds. It was disappointing in a way.

Bucky turned his head, just as you hopped yourself onto the counter, away from the conduction stove.

The smell of butter pasta was filling your nose. You watched with rapt attention as Bucky shut off the stove, grabbed the freshly grated cheese, and dumping it in. To hell with calories. Stirring quickly for a few seconds, he stopped. Turning his head to look at you, he gave you a low smirk. His scent of something sandalwood, oceany filling your nose. It made your Omega preen.

"Get some bowls, will ya doll? And forks too." Hopping off of the countertops, he heard a chirping, yet sarcastic reply.

"Yes, Sarge."

He felt his pants tighten at the thought. Hearing you grab all of the stuff, he swallowed.

Not that he would tell you that.

No.

Never.

***

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking with me."

So, as luck would have it. There weren't two bedrooms.

Nope.

There was only one.

Not only that, the entire room was fully furnished. A closet was on the left side of the door, against the wall. There was a window and just a bit to right, in the middle of the room, was a queen-sized bed, all made up with all the fluffiest blankets, comforters, and pillows imaginable.

"And you're sure this is the only room?" Bucky said. "Yeah! It's the only one, James. It's either this or the couch. And I'm not sleeping on the couch. It's too cold. Whoever built this safehouse didn't have any heaters built in either. Fuck, is this how I die? Freezing to death?" Your voice was getting higher with concern.

Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"No, doll. You're not to freeze to death. We're going to share that bed."

You turned your head towards him like he had just grown a second head. "What?" you exclaimed. "No. No, no, no. Noooo. James. Nu-uh. Uh-uh. I'm not going to sleep with you in my tank top and underwear. the least you've seen me in is a pair of short shorts and a tank top."

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

Get yourself together Barnes.

Don't throw her over your shoulder.

Don't do that.

"You're a water mutant, doll. You're not a fire mutant. You aren't a supersoldier either. I'm not letting you freeze to death. I'll keep you warm all night. Better yet, don't sleep in your tank top and shorts. Our body heats will do just fine." Bucky snapped at you. You were still trying to collect your thoughts.

And then the realization, the reality of your situation, smacked you right across the face.

Bucky was asking you to sleep naked.

With him.

In the same frigging bed together.

Oh you were going to die. You were going to die and go up to wherever other spirits went to after they died. You weren't really all that religious nor spiritual.

But tonight though?

Yeah. Maybe you believed. Maybe a little.

Just the slightest bit.

"Okay, okay," you grumbled, "I won't wear any clothes. Better yet, I'll even give you a show. That'll even out the odds, James."

***

Warm.

He was just oh so warm.

Your back was flush against his front, feeling skin-on-skin.

You had stopped shivering about an hour ago.

Bucky had scouted the safehouse, to see if there was actually a heater, in case you had missed anything.

Nope.

There were no heaters in the safehouse.

Absolutely none.

Not to mention, all of the blankets weren't as thick. From what Bucky had observed a few hours ago after dinner while you had tackled the task of doing the dishes, was that the safe house had been abandoned for a while. It was either that, or nobody had stocked this place up for a while.

He had chosen the latter.

With his strong arms wrapped around your stomach, he pulled you close. You were asleep. Dead asleep. Bucky felt and saw your body rise up and down as you slept, your breaths all evened out.

It was nice, almost. Outside was quiet. Bucky could hear other than your breathing only the soft wind blowing due to the snowstorm outside.

For a moment, Bucky was lulled into a sense of calm. His mind was clear. His Alpha and Winter were quiet. He didn't have to fret. Or look over his shoulder. Didn't have to second guess himself or his actions anymore.

And then he heard it.

Soft whimpers coming from the sweet-smelling Omega that he was currently holding in his arms. You had begun to squirm, arms thrashing out. Your legs smacked on his knees, trying to desperately claw yourself free from his tightening grip on you.

"... I'll be good... just don't chuck me in the freezer again... please sir... I hate it there... please don't chuck me in the freezer, please..." you were sobbing in your sleep. You started to blubber, continually trying to claw yourself out of Bucky's grip. The metal plates of his Vibrainum arm shifted as his metal fingers tightened around your stomach. Bucky knew not to apply too much pressure on you- you weren't like him, Steve, or Natalia. You didn't have the serum in you.

"Doll? Hey, doll. C'mon, wake up. It's not real." Bucky tried shaking you awake to no avail. You had continued to thrash in his arms.

Sniffling loudly, your Omega was thrashing in her cage, in the confines of your mind. She was whispering, yelling at you to wake up.

"Omega. Wake up."

Bucky didn't mean to use his Tone. But you were being so hysterical, shaking, and crying to the point where it was beginning to worry him. Your sweet scent had begun to twist and turn into something more burnt. Singed. It made his eyes water.

You stopped thrashing in his grip. Your body froze up at his use of his Tone. Your Omega stopped throwing her temper tantrum too. She had paused for a second.

Her Alpha had given her a Command.

So why wouldn't she listen?

Peering from her cage in the confines of your mind, she sighed happily.

Alpha. Alpha cares about us. She whispered in your ear.

Slowly returning to consciousness, you struggled to know where you were for a second.

You had been having a nightmare.

A full-fledged nightmare.

You hadn't had one of those in a while.

"... Where am I?" Your voice was gentle but confused.

You still didn't know if you were still in that godforsaken Hydra facility or not. But you just wanted to make sure.

"Here, doll. You're here with me. We're in Ohio, remember? Sharin' one bed together cause I don't wanna be a bad Alpha and letcha freeze to death." Bucky said.

You couldn't help it. You snuggled into him, hearing a deep rumble coming from his chest. Bucky's Alpha was pleased. Very pleased. Winter was quiet. Which surprised Bucky. The little shit was usually more vocal about his own needs these days.

For a moment, it felt okay. You felt that weird fog lifting. Your brain slowly settling in your current surroundings. Your sweet, filling scent that had twisted and burnt into something smoky and burnt was slowly wearing off.

You were still a little shaken up. You could still hear your screaming echoing in your head. Your voice trembling, and because you didn't know if you were still stuck in the facility, "How long?"

"Not long."

Bucky watched as you lifted your head up, blinking once. And then twice. And then again, just to be sure.

Your body felt like it still wasn't physically here. Your body still felt like it was back in the cryo chamber, stuck in that damn freezer. Bucky watched your chest heave up and down. Taking in deep breaths.

Then you flopped right back into your previous spot, your back facing his front. Bucky pulled you back with his metal arm. You heard the metal plates in his arm readjust and move. You couldn't help it. Your vagina throbbed at the sound. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wiggled a little bit.

A deep rumble had come from Bucky.

The metal-armed Alpha had pushed a little bit of his weight down on you. Making you feel all warm and safe with the sandalwood and salty scent wrapped all around you like a cocoon.

You wiggled up against him again, trying to get comfortable. Your eyes closed.

A deep groan came from Bucky.

Was he asleep?

You stopped moving.

Another groan came from Bucky. His arms were wrapped around you. Not tightly, but still. It was kinda nice in a way. You could feel every muscle on his broad chest against your back.

Maybe Bucky had the right idea to sleep naked after all.

You shifted again. Trying to wiggle out a little out of the embrace.

A deep growl rumbled from Bucky. His grip on you tightened. You squirmed against him again.

Voice gravelly, "Stop moving."

Your eyes flew open.

He was awake.

And you had been-

Letting out a hiss, Bucky pushed his entire weight onto you and grinded his half-hard cock against your ass cheeks. Not even caring about if his entire weight would crush you, because of the serum.

He saw red.

Pure absolute red.

You choked. A needy little whimper filled the room.

Bucky's metal hand traveled down, all the way down to your pussy, his knee pushing your legs apart. You were panting in anticipation, eyes wide as saucers. His metal fingers were shoved deep, all the way to the knuckles. A pitiful whine left your lips. A needy whine too.

When he entered you, a choked sob escaped from your lips. Your hands curled into fists, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the formerly brainwashed assassin let out a growl.

"So sick and tired of you teasin' me," was what the former Winter Soldier growled under his breath, hissing at the way your cunt wrapped around him. Slick was smeared around your inner thighs, and you couldn't help but sob at the feeling of being so full.

Bucky was groaning above you, his hands nearing shaking.

Never had he ever thought he could ever get to do this again.

Because Bucky very much still liked sex. He very much so was a sexual creature. Being inside you gave him flashes of his life before Hydra. It made him remember a much skinner, smaller Steve. A much duller, war-stricken Brooklyn. It made him remember the giggles of Omegas. It made him remember his Ma's cooking growing up. Rebecca's giggles in his ears. Just like the old times.

Not for the first time in his life, he didn't feel trapped.

He felt free.

This was freeing to him.

And when he began to move, position his hips against your back, smacking roughly. Good enough to leave marks in the morning.

Wet, squishing noise echoed noisily every time he bottomed out of you. Every thrust in, filling you, completing you. It sent you gasping and crying out into the pillows. His hands- both metal and flesh, reached under you, to grab ahold of your breasts in a tight grip that only made you sob for more.

"More, more, more, please James, please-"

Something snapped in him.

Broke.

Bucky had never felt this feral before. The last time he felt this feral had been the hours when he first presented.

You whined loudly when he slid out of you, crying out at the empty feeling. Your Omega screeched in alarm.

Why had her Alpha stopped? Why?

Grabbing ahold of your legs, he lifted them up. Before he thrusted back in again, filling you up to the brim. It was deeper than last time, and his cock hit that spongy part. Hit your g-spot so good that you screamed into the pillows.

You were coming. You were coming so fast, that deep coil inside you snapping like a bomb wire being cut that you never got the chance to feel your programs. Your body jolted, spasmed. Your legs lifted off of the bed or at least tried to. Bucky's body weight was still keeping you down. So all you could do was grip the bedsheets when Bucky started to pound into you again, taking all he could.

You couldn't help yourself. You glanced back, just to take a glimpse of him.

James Buchanan Barnes looked downright feral and your pussy clenched around him deeper at the sight. as if she knew.

Every thrust made him go deeper, hitting your cervix every time. It made your second orgasm piggyback off of your first one, sobbing into the pillows. It was only when your second orgasm came, your walls clenching down onto his cock that Bucky's teeth sank into your shoulder, shattering, breaking the skin there. The taste of copper filling his mouth. Bucky let out a grunt as he came. Filling you up with so much of his jizz that he was sure it would drip from you tomorrow morning.

Bucky lifted his mouth from your shoulder.

Pants filled the room as the two of you tried to regain yourselves.

Bucky shifted, moving off of you and lying beside you. His eyes weren't black anymore. They were back to their normal blue. They reminded you of the sea in the morning on a peaceful day.

Your hand came to touch his face. Your hand faltered, trembled though. Because you were nervous.

"It's okay," his voice was deeper, huskier. It made your pussy throb. "You can touch me. It's okay."

Your hands came to touch, cup his jaw. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his. His lips were soft. Your lips moved together, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss became deeper. You hadn't expected it to become deeper. You had been just going for an innocent kiss.

You swore.

Like- you really did.

You didn't expect to be fully making out with James Buchanan Barnes.

But it wasn't like you were complaining though.

Because you weren't.

Bucky was the first one to pull away. He could see how red, bruised your lips looked. He didn't recoil from your gentle touch on his face. He welcomed it. He truly did. Hands holding your hips, he looked at you.

His lips traveled down to your mating gland. He touched over it with his tongue, giving it a broad lick. His teeth sank in, piercing the skin.

Your ears popped. You cried out. His grip on your hips didn't falter.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasped. Bucky lifted his mouth up from your gland, before sinking his teeth back in and biting again. Making his mark all that deeper.

It was only when he lifted his mouth from your gland, wiped your blood off of him with the blanket did you come at him, sinking your teeth into his gland. It made him grunt, even groan. His flesh hand came to your head, pushing your head down, making you sink your teeth even deeper into his gland.

"Yesss," hissed Bucky, his flesh hand sinking into your hair, gripping it. "Deeper, doll. Go deeper."

Winter and his Alpha completely agreed.

Theirs.

You were theirs.

After what seemed an eternity, you lifted your head up. Wiping your mouth on the blanket, you spoke.

"I missed you. What did you do to get us paired on this mission? I thought I was going with Sam," you said to your Alpha. A smirk stretched over Bucky's lips. "Ah," your Alpha said, still smirking, "I might've put something in his drink to make him vomit his guts out. He got sick."

A noise came from you.

"You gave him food poisoning? James!" You scolded him. Bucky leaned back against the headboard. "Don't worry doll, it'll wear off when we come back to the Compound. Bird Brain won't even know what hit him."

You shook your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable, Sasha. Did you teach Natalia that trick, too? Hmm? She and all of your Widow students?"

Bucky was still grinning ear to ear at you when he responded back.

"Well little bird, someone had to teach them. After all, I was their teacher. They all called me Yasha. Speaking of my Widow students..." he trailed off in Russian. You looked at him.

"You've contacted one of the KBG? About that leaked Russian tape with the orange man that is, unfortunately, our President?" He asked you. You nodded. "Yeah, Sasha. Everything's going as planned. Although, I think assassinating the orange man would've been a much better option. We would've gone in there and made it a done deal by now! Fuckin' Steve and his righteous self." You grumbled unhappily.

"Hmm. It would've been great as a date night. Don't you think, doll?" Bucky drawled. You gave a serious nod.

"Although... seeing him freak out on Twitter is much, much better. The tea is better when it's hot." You grinned. Bucky just let out a sigh.

"I'm restricting your phone privileges. And your TV privileges. You need to stop watching those drama channels, Mega."

A noise of deep discomfort came from you.

"Sasha!" you whined, "then what will I do while you're gone on missions?"

"Wait for me to come back?" Bucky suggested. You just sighed. Even shook your head in fondest. You happily snuggled up to your Alpha, your nose rubbing up against your Mate's gland. "I always wait for you to come back, Sasha. I wait and I worry. I love you, James."

A deep rumble came from your Mate.

"I love you too, Little Omega."

Your head peeked up.

"So, can we tell the rest of the team when I leak the tape?" You asked, your eyes glimmering with mischief.

Bucky burst out laughing.

"Yes, yes, yes. We can tell them once you've wreaked havoc, Omega."

"Good." You were nodding seriously, in complete agreement. "It'll be fun. And... also, I forgot to tell you."

The joyful expression on Bucky's face was suddenly replaced with one of worry.

"What? What is it?" He asked gently. "When you were gone for your last mission two months ago... I... I came off of my suppressants. I'm ready, James. I want a family with you."

Shock flickered over Bucky's face. And then he was shoving you back into the bed with a shriek coming from you.

"When's your pre-heat?" He demanded.

You felt it. A cramp. It made you whimper.

"N-Now, James. Now," you stammered. Your Alpha pulled your legs apart roughly before he thrusted back into you, making you gasp.

"Say it," he hissed. "Say you want it. Say you want my knot. Say you want my pups."

"I want it, James." Your voice was a low whisper, even staggering a little bit. "I want your knot. I want your pups. Please. Please, Sasha."

His hands, both metal, and flesh gripped your shoulder tight as that vein of his neck nearly popped. His eyes were black with want. Soon, his Rut would be upon him and he'd breed you. Put his pup in you. You'd carry his pup. He'd have the pack that Winter and his Alpha desperately wanted after all these years.

A whine came from you when he pulled out, only to let out a scream when he thrusted back in. Hitting that part of you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

His pace was brutal, not even letting you hold onto him. Your hands were left to grip the bedsheets again. You gripped them so tight that your knuckles turned white and you thought that they were going to pop.

Bucky continued to push, continued to shove his ejaculate deeper and deeper inside of you. A mixture of your slick and his ejaculate smeared all over your thighs and trickled down your legs, and you just didn't know what was happening. Your hindbrain was telling you that this was what was needed. That your designation wanted, nay, demanded this. After all the shit you had gone through, your Omega had found her Alpha and now, now she was determined to have a family. Have the pack she desperately desired.

"Mine."

A harsh thrust made you sob.

"You're mine now. I waited for you for so long. Wanted you for so long. You're mine now. Got my Mark. Got my clothes in your nest. Gonna give you my name. Gonna give you my pups. You're mine. All mine. Say you're mine. Say it!"

You came screaming. Your orgasm making you see white. Bucky continued slamming into you, the wet, squishing noises coming from your pussy becoming louder and louder the more he pushed in. Your teeth sank into his flesh shoulder, shattering and piercing the skin there. You tasted copper in your mouth.

Bucky came with a shout. He shoved you back completely, making you shriek. And then he was leaning in again, sinking his teeth into your gland. Making another deep mark. It made you fall limp into the bed as his knot swelled, locking the two of you in place.

He lifted his head.

Being inside you... knotted inside of you... it was bliss. It was just as good as cockwarming. His cock all nestled deep inside of you whenever you two would sneak off to sleep together.

"Bite me again. Give me your mark, Omega." he panted. Slowly, your head went up, you slowly sat up, before taking in a deep breath and sinking your teeth back into his gland.

Home.

You had brought Bucky home. He held you tight, whispering in your ear how much he loved you and how much of a good Omega you were.

"I love you Omega." His voice was rough.

Lifting your head from his gland. Blood still trickling down the corners of your mouth. You offered him a smile. A genuine one. One that made his stomach all fluttery.

"I love you too, Alpha."

[tammyisobsessedwith]

Okay, so the ONE THING I’m on board with for the latest episodes is the Angie arc and I’m gonna gush about it now. 🥰

Honestly? That was perfection. Putting aside the fact that she would’ve totally stayed the night with MC out in the daybeds, the way she’s there for us every step of the way regardless of the outcome with our LI is just friendship goals and the whole moment on the rooftop terrace was just :chef’s kiss:

Angie has come as one of the best characters with growth, realness and maturity all around. It takes guts to take that leap of faith and put yourself out there, more so since she’s never been with another girl before and there is the very real fear of ruining a friendship, so I like that she puts herself out just enough, stumbling through words and feelings, and we’re the ones who decide to take the plunge or not.

I’m honestly getting some type of way about the whole Angie arc because it’s so similar to what happened to me irl with my ex-girlfriend. Our friendship grew stronger and I fell in love with her and, sure, I’d fooled around with girls before (I’ve actually snogged all my girl friends from uni at one point or another) but I’d never actually fallen for one and it was confusing and scary af. So this is all bringing a lot of memories back to the forefront, not all pleasant because it was a messy breakup after.

So even though I’ve been gushing/moaning about the Angie arc recently, I might go back and replay to just stay with someone else (probably Will, he’s still my favourite despite the stupid fight that makes no sense, or maybe the upcoming Youcef thing) and leave out the Angie endgame for later as this is all hitting too close to home in things I still need to work through in therapy (apparently).

[gnocchighoul]

The boys (+undateables?) reactions when they discover MC is actually a vampire?

....so I’m a dingus and didn’t realize that this was also for the undateables and just wrote it for the brothers, my bad 😅 Part two maybe? 👀

WARNING: as this is about vampires, it’s a little bit morbid. I strayed away from being too graphic, but y’know. Vampires. There’s death and blood and such. 

Enjoy! :D

~

Lucifer

In hindsight, he really should have figured it out on his own.

But it’s not like he’s been around enough humans lately to know what Normal human behavior is. 

So he just kinda took your... quirks at face value.

So what if you’re far too comfortable with the Devildom’s constant state of nighttime? Solomon doesn’t seem to mind it either, so maybe humans are just more nocturnal now.

And perhaps your Very Strong aversion to garlic is a little odd, but Mammon wouldn't eat it either for the first 600 years of his life, so it’s not that weird.

You’re also not phased by constantly being surrounded by demons and monsters, which is a little strange, but maybe you’re just like the ancient greeks. A monster fucker.

You feeling right at home in the Devildom is auspicious for the exchange program, so he doesn’t bother dwelling on it.

Though maybe he does find it a little bit weird when you really insist that he start drinking cranberry juice.

(It’s just for health benefits of course, totally has nothing to do with you prepping your next meal)

So what, you may ask, triggers his big lightbulb moment?

You fall off the roof.

And you just get right back up.

Now he knows that humans aren’t supposed to be THAT durable, so he stops you from scaling the side of the fucking house with your bare hands, and very eloquently asks you, “What the fuck?” 

You shake him off. “What? Mammon and I are playing roof-ball.” 

Lucifer stares. “You fell. I saw how hard you hit the ground. You should be dead.”

You laugh. “Dead? Just from a little fall like that? Are you serio-ohhh wait. You don’t know, do you?” 

You give him your biggest, cheesiest grin and—oh. 

Fangs.

...And now he understands why you want him to drink cranberry juice.

Mammon

You are, by far, the weirdest human he’s ever met. 

Which is saying something, because Solomon is literally just a few blocks away.

Seriously, despite camping out in your room nearly every single night, Mammon has never seen you sleep, he’s pretty fucking sure that sometimes you don’t even breathe, you won’t step foot into the House of Lamentation unless someone invites you in, and who the hell hates garlic that much?? 

But you’ve also expressed your intense dislike for crosses, so he supposes that you’re not unredeemable. 

Just weird.

But it’s incredibly annoying how you wont sleep. Your tossin’ and turnin’ is killing him, why the fuck can’t you just settle down? You need to just put your DDD down and sleep already, dammit.

He sits up, ready to tear you a new one—and pauses. 

“Um,” his voice is high, somewhat uncertain, and your eyes snap over to look at him. “Why are you looking at coffins for sale?” 

You sigh, a bit wistfully. “I just can’t stand sleeping in a bed anymore. I didn’t want to be rude, so I really did try, but it's been a couple hundred years since I last had one and it’s just murder on my back. I think I’m gonna just have to get a coffin. They’re so much more comfortable.” 

Briefly, Mammon considers running. 

Instead, he says, “What the fuck?” 

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You do know I’m a vampire, right?” 

...What the fuck—

Mammon lays back down—crosses his arms over his chest with a huff and pretends that he isn’t totally freaked the fuck out. “‘Course I do, don’t be stupid. Now go to sleep already.” 

So that he can escape before you try to eat him.

“Mammon,” you sing, leaning over the bed to loom over him. He swallows hard—can’t look away from your sharp, toothy grin. 

You coo, “I can hear the scared little pitter patter of your heart, darling.”

He squeaks.

Levi

Honestly, Levi is so so happy to have another irl friend who’s into video games that he looks past your strangeness.

You like to stay indoors and play games!! That’s something he has in common with you that his brothers don’t, and that’s all that matters!

...Though he does find it a little weird how sometimes you just kinda sniff him. 

The first dozen times he nearly had a heart attack, and when he asked why you were doing it, he Really wasn't expecting you to shrug and say “I dunno, you just smell tasty” 

Seriously. Tasty? Are you Beel or something, what’s that supposed to mean?!

He’s not entirely sure why you’re a bit of a shut in gamer though, because despite your, ah, quirks, you’re still so much cooler than he is, so what’s the deal with that?

When he asks, you just shrug and say, “Old habits die hard, I guess. Real sunshine hurts, but virtual doesn’t, so I just got kinda used to living through games and staying indoors.”

“Oh.” Levi’s a bit surprised, but sympathetic. “So, you sunburn easily?” 

He’s not entirely sure why you’re laughing now, since that wasn’t a joke. He was just trying to be friendly :(

But then you hug him and he’s too flustered to be offended anymore jndcks

So, when does it finally click for Levi that you’re a vampire?

You guys are having a game night in his room.

He accidentally takes a sip of your caprisun and realizes, very quickly, that it is not the refreshing juice of a caprisun pouch.

He throws up a little bit.

And screams.

And maybe blacks out for a few seconds.

But when he finally calms down and lets you explain, he’s pretty damn enchanted, because this is just like Help, My Roommate Is A Vampire And I Didn’t Know Until A Vampire-Hunter Mistook Me For Them And Attacked Me!! :D 

Satan

Satan considers himself to be somewhat of a detective, y’know. His brain is just filled to the brim with Big Smarts

Naturally, he puts that jelly thicc thought tank of his to good use and realizes very quickly that you aren’t totally human. 

At first, he isn’t totally sure what you are.

And then a coffin gets delivered to the house, which upon seeing you cheer “Oh sweet, my new bed!!” aaaand he puts the pieces together.

You become somewhat of a case study to him. You’re the first vampire he’s ever encountered and he just wants to know everything and anything about your life.

He’s so intrigued by you.

But you frustrate him SO much.

He wants to know about how you were turned!! It’s not like he has any other vampires that he can ask about their experience!! And you fucking tell him a different story every day!!

“A cat jumped over my deceased body!”

“I was stabbed and the wound wasn’t treated with boiling water!” 

“On a dark and stormy night, I came across a palace and the owner, a hospitable gentleman, let me take refuge there. But then, I quickly realized that I was actually a hostage, and when I tried to escape, that fucker turned me!”

“Nobody put an obolus in my mouth to pay the toll of the Styx, so Charon the ferryman sent me back! What a great guy.” 

“A chupacabra bit me!”

Needless to say, he considers breaking the wooden leg off one of the dining room chairs and stabbing you with it, but the lecture he would get from Lucifer just isn’t worth the effort. 

He’s gonna pull the truth out of you one of these days.

Asmo

“My my, darling, what sharp teeth you have~” Asmo purrs, lifting a finger to brush against them, doe-eyes wide and curious. “The better to eat me with, hopefully?” 

You smile. “Something like that.”

And you fuckin’ bite his finger.

His scream is fantastic. If you actually draw blood next time, maybe he’ll even shatter the windows! 

He swats your leg sharply with a silk folding fan and cries, “What if you had broken my skin!? Do you have any idea how much time and effort goes into maintaining this soft, supple skin?! What’s wrong with you, you psychopath?”

“Don’t hit me,” you pout, scooting away from him. “I couldn’t help it! You just smell so sweet and I haven’t had any blood in a while, so—”

“Huh?” Asmo blinks, looking a bit confused. Then recovers far too quickly and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Oh, so that’s what you’re into! What a pleasant surprise~” 

You thunk him on the back of the head. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to tease a vampire?”

Asmo’s grin could rival the sun.

“A vampire?! Well why didn’t you say so sooner?” 

He’s already taking off his shirt.

“Get over here already and take a bite out of me~”

Beel

When he finds out that you’re a vampire, his first thought is to worry over if you can eat normal food or not.

He’s very relieved when you tell him that you can, so long as you’ve had enough blood, but that garlic is a very big no-no.

Naturally, you two bond over how both of you never quite feel full. 

It’s not uncommon for the other house members to find you two laying face down on the floor, tummies rumbling, whining about how you’re staaaaarving

You carry around snacks for him, and Beel makes sure that you’ve always got access to blood (whether that means stashing blood bags, letting you feed from him, or a combo of both ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

He’s probably going to be the least weirded out by your ~undead tendencies~

Honestly, he’s a bit relieved by how strong you are. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you or see you get hurt, and it gives him peace of mind when he realizes that you’re actually pretty durable!

But it does give him a fucking heart attack the first time he sees you yeet yourself out a second story window to crush poor, poor unassuming Mammon.

He also really loves how your body temperature naturally runs cold. He’s a space heater, you’re an icicle—it just works. Snuggle time is good :)

He totally compares the size of your incisors with his jkdcnkj

He just thinks you’re really neat!!!

But he is very sympathetic about how you cant eat good garlic bread :(

Belphie

Listen.

We all know this emo boy is a vampire fucker, probably even more so than Asmo.

(He read Twilight. He saw all the movies. He had merch.)

(Fuck Edward and Jacob though, he was Team Alice all the way.)

(If he can stay awake long enough, he reads really shitty vampire romance novels.)

He just thinks vampires are hot, okay? He can’t help that his soul longs to be a vampire fucker.

Just accept it into your heart. Belphie already has.

So needless to say, he’s THRILLED when he finds out that you’re a vampire. He tries to play it cool though and pretends that he isn’t immediately trying to jump your bones dfghjkjh

He overheard you telling Satan that you got bitten by a Chupacabra, and they’re known for going after cows right? 

He is a cowboy, y’know, guess you’re just gonna have to go to him now when you’re thirsty, y’know, since you were bitten by a Chupacabra. it just makes sense, really ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(No it doesn’t)

(But let’s be real, are you gonna pass up the chance to snuggle the shit out of him AND get a snack out of it? No. No you’re not.)

(He totally makes you arm wrestle Beel to recreate the “Iconic” twilight scene with Emmett and Bella.)

(When he realizes that you’re strong, he’s gonna make you give him piggyback rides, just like Edward and Bella :) and no he doesn’t care how ridiculous you both look)

[weedlette]

This is self indulgent af due to the nature of my irl job, but it’s 3AM and I’m vibing sooo behold my goofy idea about a janitor accidentally befriending the Daycare Attendant by simply doing their work and chilling with a roughly eight foot tall metal goofball:

🌙☀️🌙☀️

• Being one of the small handful of human cleaners working for the Pizzaplex isn’t a bad gig all in all if you ignore how creepy the place can be after closing hours, plus the majority of your “coworkers” are robots so it’s a nice break from people if you’re the introverted type.

• Your job is mostly to assign the mop-bots different zones around the mall while your job as the human janitor on duty is to make sure the mantainace robots are in the correct location while cleaning places they couldn’t get to easily…like say a ball pit, for example.

• The daycare’s lights are off once you step through the large wooden doors, you can’t help the feeling that you’re not alone so you take out your headphones and announce yourself: “Maintenance. Anyone in here?”

• A heavy silence follows and you can barely see anything under the dim nightlights decorating the area. So you abandon your trusty cleaning cart and wander around trying to find a light switch.

• Enter Moon: on his usual freaky bullshit. Of course it scares the daylights out of you since you’re kinda new to the job and have been following everyone’s advice on just sending a mop-bot down to take care of the daycare, but you had to go and be ambitious taking it upon yourself to deep clean the ball pit (that probably hasn’t been properly sanitized since the place opened 🤢).

• So now you’re hollering in surprise/fear about having the proper clearance while holding out your employee badge; Moon, being the salty bitch he is, yanks the lanyard right off your neck to look it over (His facial recongition software probably already cross-checked you via the Pizzaplex’s internal severs, but of course he’s gotta be Extra)

🌙: Hm, usually you people send down one of the others.

Y/N: Y-yeah, sorry to bother, but I’m here to do a deep clean of the kids equipment.

🌙: 🤨

Y/N: …The ball pit especially.

🌙: …Took you long enough.

• He then fucks right off to the top of the jungle gym to watch you like some kind of pissed off cat, and you figure if he hasn’t twisted you into a human pretzel by this point than he must be at least somewhat cool with you being there so back to work it is.

• When you finally find the light switch it’s like he vanishes; you try not to think about lurking animatronics and wander back to your supply cart.

• Then along comes Sun, startling you all over again, but this side of him is at least apologetic after the fact.

• The entire time your wiping down surfaces, sweeping, etc. Sunny is asking you (his ‘new best friend’) a million and one questions ranging from “What’s this bottle of purple stuff?” to “What’s your favorite color?” You humor him since he’s got maybe three to four feet and god knows how many pounds on you, and you’re not about to be the Bite Of 20XX 🗿

• He was a little alarmed when you started to empty his beloved pit, but once you explained what you were doing you gained a very enthusatic helper.

• It was one of the weirder shifts you’ve had, but once all was said and done the daycare was squeaky clean; ready for a new day.

• Sunny was oh so grateful as he told you so over fifty times throughout the night. Which was a pleasant surprise given how grumpy Moon seemed about some strange, new person in his space; however you kinda shrugged it off all “Hey, no worries it’s kind of my job. Goodnight, Sunny…and, uh, Moon?”

• The next night when you came into work you discovered that a certain someone had pried the door off your locker and left you a big, glittery thank you card freaturing a picture of you, Sunny, and Moon holding hands under a rainbow with a caption of “Friends Forever! :) :) :)” How sweet…and slightly unsettling lmao

[thefanficmonster]

Oblivious

Valkyrae (Rae) x Reader (Gender Neutral) ft. Corpse Husband

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: In the most desperate of times, we may or may not be used to hearing the phrase ‘Beggers can’t be choosers’ which is exactly why Y/N’s found themself asking the most hopeless of cases when it comes to love and romance - Corpse, for help.

Requested by Xara. Hi darling! Thank you so much for this wonderful request you’ve sent me - I love writing for Rae (excuse my bi excitement, I’m just a HUGE simp) and I can’t thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to do so. Sorry it’s been two months since you requested this but here it finally is and I hope it makes up for the wait. Love, Vy ❤

“Corpse, I’m in desperate need for help.“ I don’t even bother with a friendly or even polite greeting. Being best friends for as long as we have, Corpse and I excluded the politeness that comes with phone calls a long time ago, especially when calling with an emergency. Though, let’s be honest, if I’m calling him on the phone and not on video chat like I usually do, it is an emergency.

“Given that you’re asking me, I can imagine how desperate you are.“ He has the audacity to laugh in response, causing me to roll my eyes. 

Now, don’t get the wrong idea - I love Corpse with all my heart. Him and I have been through A LOT together considering we know each other since we were teenagers. However, there are some instances in life when he simply doesn’t get me. Not that he doesn’t try to, he does and does so very hard, but he rarely succeeds. Trying is what matters, of course. Given that he is my only close friend, I can only ever turn to him with my problems though I try my best not to bother him too much, but when things get REALLY tough, I can’t help but go and vent to him. Luckily, he’s always been very understanding, but it may be because he feels like he owes me for all the times he has turned to me with his problems. I’ve tried to explain that he shouldn’t feel such a way, but that’s rather hypocritical of me cause I feel the same way.

Alright, enough digressing, back on track!

“Desperate doesn’t even begin to summarize how I feel.“ I sigh, plopping down on the couch in my living room, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as I cover my eyes with my hand. “Brutally miserable is, I think, the correct term to use here.“

I hear Corpse let out a quiet ‘oof’, one I think he hoped I wouldn’t hear. “And what led you to finally give in and ask for help, not that I can offer you much?”

I can’t help but snort at that, a snort that serves as a replacement to slapping myself across the face. “Rae texted me yesterday asking if I’d like to play Minecraft with her and I took THREE HOURS to respond! Not on purpose, I just couldn’t think of something good to say!” I know I sound like a whiney kid, but I think I’ve passed that threshold LONG ago. Of course, this whiney kid version of me only surfaces around Corpse and Corpse only. No one else is allowed to see me like this or that would legit be the end of any sort of pride I may have left in me.

“You mean you couldn’t choose between ‘Sure, I’d like that!’ and ‘Of course, I’d love to!’? Please say yes.“ Corpse already sounds disappointed and he hasn’t even heard the worst of it yet.

“No and sit tight, it gets worse. I...“

He cuts me off, “Wait, no, don’t say it. Let me guess - you turned her down? Keep in mind if you say yes I’m hanging up on you.”

I remain silent, pinching the bridge of me nose and cringing as hard as my facial muscles are willing to allow. I can’t say yes, not cause he’ll hang up but because admitting it makes it more real, and the more real it is the more depressed it’ll make me and I will go back to being a self-deprecating mess that refuses to be productive or properly functioning - aka ‘Whiney Kid Maximum’.

“I’m hanging up.“ Corpse says after waiting five seconds for my response that only comes in the form of dead silence which is more than enough of an answer in and of itself.

“No, please don’t!“ I squeak out despite my agony, “I’ll never break the cycle if you don’t help me, Corpse! I’m a hopeless case!“

“You’re a hopeless case with or without me, Y/N.“ He states, angering me ever so slightly. “Not only cause you really are, but because I have nothing useful to offer you. Not even a single advice. Even if I did, giving it to you would by hypocritical when considered how bad I am on this field myself. Hell, the very person you’re head over heels for is my personal matchmaker. If anything, you should be asking her how to swoon her...“ He pauses.

So does my brain.

For a second we’re both quiet, the silence on the line suggesting big plans are being developed - well, not on my end but still.

“Now there’s an idea...“ He mutters more to himself than to me.

“No!“ I shriek fearfully, “Please, if you love me even the tiniest bit, Corpse, don’t put me in a situation where I have to be alone with Rae! Not IRL not in a Discord call - not in ANYTHING. I close up and end up seeming unfriendly and rude because of my inability to talk to her like a normal human being! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just can’t do it! So please don’t make me.“

I maybe can’t read minds, but hell if I can’t at least have a rough guess of what’s on my best friend’s mind - I know he’s already scheming and coming up with odd solutions to my problem - some of which will cause me more problems but let’s not even mention those. That being said, I need to prevent him from actually carrying out any of his absurd schemes, otherwise it’s game over for me.

“Hmm, ok fine, but only cause I wanna spare you your own awkwardness. Consider it charity.“ He sighs, the disappointment even more evident now.

I sigh too, but I do so in defeated relief. It’s bittersweet, to be honest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.“ He says sharply, “Don’t thank me. It’ll make me feel like I’m encouraging your behavior.“

Well, screw my feelings, I guess. I’m left on this battlefield alone, aren’t I?

Corpse hanging up the call confirms that I am, indeed, alone.

                                                             *  *  *

“Hello?“

“Are you still in bed, for the love of God? It’s noon!“ Not only did he have the audacity to wake me up with his phone call, but now he has the audacity to judge me on my sleeping habits as well. Some darn nerve he has.

“What do you want, Corpse?“ I grumble out, groggy and now grumpy too. The last thing I need is the only person I can turn to turning on me. Especially not now. I don’t need his or anybody else’s judgement of me or my life, it’ll hurt too much.

“I want to know how long you haven’t showered, Y/N.“ He barks back, causing me to roll my eyes. “And when’s the last time you actually ate something healthy and nutritious and not just greasy takeout?”

“I showered last night!“ I straighten up and frown, feeling offended despite his questions being justifiable. I think that’s exactly why I’m pissed off, to be honest - he knows me and my habits too well. “And you’re just being hypocritical on the eating part!“

“Whatever.“ He mutters, allowing me to feel at least a tiny sense of victory for having proven him wrong, “Get your ass up and come play Minecraft with me, you need to be cheered up asap.“ He continues, much to my dismay. “And don’t even think about saying ‘no’. If you do, just remember, I have your address and a strong will to kick your ass into shape.“

“Into shape? We’re going to the gym or something?“ I’m honestly confused and intrigued now. Maybe the gym isn’t such a bad idea, I’m sure I could become really good friends with the punching bag.

Corpse sighs exasperatedly in a way I can basically hear him roll his eyes as well, “Not that kind of shape, Y/N. Just get on Discord, seriously, I’m worried about you.“ 

That sentence strikes a nerve. Something about that genuine concern in his voice reminds me that I still need to move on from focusing so strongly on just my failures, no matter how big or small, and keep pushing forward, if not for myself then for the people who care about me. For Corpse especially, seeing as how he’s sort of been my babysitter ever since my feelings towards Rae started to consume me whole and suffocate me. I don’t know how or when it happened, in fact I can best describe it as the Titanic: I was doing ok and then instead of hitting an iceberg the iceberg of feelings hit me and I started sinking. Corpse was there to offer me a hand to help me keep at least my head above the surface. He can’t pull me out of the water but he’s not willing to let go either. I’m afraid holding on like that will tire him out to the point of letting go of me completely, but I’m afraid of sinking too. You see my dilemma here, no?

“Ok, give me twenty minutes.“

I would have probably continued sleeping or just chilled on social media, refusing to get out of bed for at least another hour, but the debt I feel towards Corpse is stronger than the desire to be a slob so I motivate myself with every power my fragile mind can fish out of the void and push the covers off me, shivering at the drastic change in temperature around my body now that I’m exposed to the rather cool air in my room, my pajamas hopeless at providing me with any warmth.

Twenty minutes later sharp, I’m seated at my desk, in front of my computer with my headphones on, taking one last encouraging breath before entering the call where Corpse is waiting for me.

“Yo.“ I greet him half-heartedly, drawing invisible abstract patterns on my desk with my finger as if I’m avoiding eye contact with him IRL.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of punctuality at least.“ He chuckles, sounding a lot more pleasant and a lot more like my friend Corpse and less like sergeant Corpse Husband who was speaking with me on the phone earlier.

“Very funny.“ I murmur in my now common brooding manner, “Anyway, enough about me, how are you doing? Anything interesting happen since we last spoke?“

“You mean in the past ten hours? No, nothing interesting apart from that I managed to catch a few z’s.“ He replies as I join the Minecraft server, managing to get a smile out of me.

“Hey, that’s nice to hear! Good for you, Corpsie.“ I say, honestly proud and happy for him.

“Yeah, and just so you’re not calling me hypocritical on the topic of eating, I’m currently cooking myself lunch.“ He points out, now just straight up peacocking, “On that note, I got a pot on the stove so you’ll have to excuse me for a sec.“

“Please go. Don’t set your apartment on fire the first time you cook” I snicker, leaning back in my chair and fetch my phone to kill the time while he’s gone to tend to whatever attempt at a meal he has prepping in his kitchen. I feel bad for his stomach, and his kitchen, already.

“Corpse? Hi!“

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no - tell me that was an auditory hallucination and I didn’t actually hear that just now! TELL ME!

“Rae?“ I blurt out, almost falling backwards out of my chair, eyes wide, jaw hanging slightly.

Just then I get a text from Corpse:

Consider me dead and carry the convo. I know you’ve got this, Y/N

Oh that prick is gonna get it!

“Y/N? Hi! Sorry, Corpse didn’t mention you’d be playing with us, but it’s so nice to be hearing from you! It feels like it’s been forever.“ Rae replies, cheery and enthusiastic as ever, just like the absolute sweetheart she is.

With Corpse absent from his position, without his metaphorical hand holding mine, I’m metaphorically sinking and drowning. Maybe the drowning part isn’t so metaphorical after all, considering I actually am drowning in all the thoughts produced by my mind at the moment. A mind that’s going completely haywire, might I add.

“Hehe, well, funny thing, he didn’t tell me you’d be playing with us either.“ I chuckle anxiously, already breaking out in a nervous sweat. I solemnly promise to kill Corpse first chance I get, that way he’ll at least be dead for real.

“He set us up, huh? What’s his game, where even is he?“ Rae asks, properly confused as she should be.

All on-point questions, hun. And I can’t answer any of them logically.

“Um, you know, he’s off doing...something.“ And there go my conversational skills out the window, I hope they send me a postcard one day.

“Whatever, enough about Mr. Ominous. Tell me, what’s been keeping you busy?“ Oh crap, this is the question I’ve been fearing. Mostly cause I’m not prepared for it. “Actually no, let me rephrase: Why have you been avoiding me recently?“

‘Oh crap’ squared. Tripled.

“Whaaat? Avoiding you? Where’d you get that idea?“ I’m aware of my high pitched voice, but it’s not like I can do much to tone it down. Every part of me is in critical panic mode and rationality has accompanied my aforementioned conversational skills out the window.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Ignoring my texts, leaving me on ‘Seen’ and then declining my offer just to accept the same one coming from Corpse - can’t really blame me for finding it shady.“ She replies, her words making me wince and hide my face in the palms of my hands as though it’ll shield me from Rae’s brutal honesty and forthrightness. 

“I’ve been...bad at replying to everyone lately, nothing personal, I swear.“ Yeah, that sounded convincing, good gosh-darn job, Y/N!

“Why’s that?“ Something about her tone suggest she knows I’m lying and is just humoring me and my agony. I don’t know if to thank her for it or wish she’d just rip off the band-aid and confront me head-on. In that case I’d have only one of two options: freeze up or spill my guts. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse. “I thought you’d reach out to me, given you’ve found yourself in a pickle.”

I frown, confused and wary like I’m walking on thin ice over a pool of sharks, “Pickle? What pickle?“

“Corpse mentioned you needed dating advice.“ She replies simply as though it should’ve been obvious and as if it’s the most casual, regular and normal thing. Little does she know...

“Um, yeah, I guess you can call it that.“ I murmur sheepishly, my cheeks reddening.

“Who’s the lucky girl?“ She asks, the excitement now replacing the previous suspicion she was fronting, making me nervous as hell.

My heart skips a beat, “How’d you know I’m crushing on a girl?“

“Uh...“ She stumbles over her words, pausing to collect her thoughts and formulate a response, “Corpse told me!“ When the reply finally arrives it’s as high pitched as mine was earlier, suggesting something ain’t right.

I stay quiet, my mind and heart racing which is quicker. My leg is bouncing, my fingers are tapping the keyboard rhythmically as I rack my brain, pushing it to put the pieces of this enigmatic puzzle together, connect the dots.

When it finally does, I’m left with a horrific end-result, a realization that makes me go pale as a ghost, “He told you who said girl is too, didn’t he?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I keep the tone low so she doesn’t notice how shaky it is.

It takes her a few seconds to reply, but when she does I kinda wish she hadn’t, “Maybe...”

My first instinct is to excuse myself from the call, pack all my kitchen knives and drive to Corpse’s house but with my limbs having lost any and all feeling in them that is practically impossible. So, I settle for my second instinct which is hiding my face in the palms of my hands as though they can shield me from the immense embarrassment Corpse has set me up for.

“Listen...“ I start, not sure where I wanna go with this, “You don’t have to say anything, I get the hint. No need to bother with a gentle reje-“

“I like you too, Y/N!“ Rae cuts off my rambling with a melodic laugh, “I’m sorry, but you can be very oblivious sometimes, and I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine for a bit. Sorry if I freaked you out.“ Judging by her tone, she’s not sorry at all. In fact, she’s one step away from bursting out into laughter.

“Trust me, ‘freaked out’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.“ I sigh, exasperatedly, sinking into my chair alike a deflated balloon. “You and Corpse are gonna pay for that heart attack you led me to the brink of!”

This time, she doesn’t hold back, letting out the laughter she’s been holding back this whole time, “I don’t know how Corpse will do that, but could I pay my dues with a brunch on Friday?”

My eyebrows shoot up, “Miss Valkyrae, is this you asking me out on a date?“ I ask teasingly - aka with more confidence than I feel.

Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’.

“I don’t know, what do you think, Y/N?“ She asks, tone just as teasing as mine.

“Hey, I’m not as oblivious as you claim I am!“ I argue light-heartedly, “Does 2PM work for you?“

“Any time works for me.“ Rae replies, a smile blatantly evident in her voice. A smile that unleashes a flock of butterflies in my stomach.

And just like that, I have a date with the girl I’ve had a crush on for the longest time. It happened so fast it’s practically a blurred part in my mind, but one thing I’m sure will be crystal-clearly imbedded in my mind forever is that brunch on Friday. Just then, I get yet another text from Mr. Schemer himself.

That wasn’t so hard now, was it?

Some nerve he has, I swear to God.

[one-boring-person]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write more for Dutch from Predator? Lol it's me btw! I was wondering if it could be a hate to love relationship, where Dutch, being the hardass he is, can't live down his pride, and the reader (preferably female), is a strong independent woman who is actually Poncho's little sister, learning from the best. To add on, can the reader be short as Arnie is so tall, and because I am only 5'2" irl?

I kind of combined this with the enemies-to-lovers prompt request, I hope that's ok! I hope you like this!😊💛

Old Habits Die Hard.

Alan "Dutch" Schaefer (Predator 1987) x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, mention of violence, alcohol consumption

Masterlist

"This round's on me, what does everyone want?" Mac announces as we go to sit down at the table, the mercenary remaining standing.

"A beer sounds good." Poncho says, looking at the rest of us.

We give words of agreement, taking our respective places at the table as Mac goes to leave the room and go to the bar.

"Don't forget a soda, I don't think they sell alcohol to underage people here." Dutch chips in, flashing a pointed look in my direction.

"Very funny." I roll my eyes, forcing a smile as the others chuckle, "A beer is fine, Mac. Thanks."

He nods, ducking from the room we rented out for the evening, leaving the five of us alone.

"So what's all this about, Dutch? Got us another job?" Blain questions, the gruff man leaning back in his chair, jaw working languidly at the gunk in his mouth.

"Yeah, but this one's a bit different." The major replies, taking a cigar from his pocket and lighting it.

"Different? How?" Hawkins frowns, cokcing his head to the side.

Dutch takes a deep breath of smoke from the cigar, sitting back in his seat.

"An old friend from the army got in touch. Says he needs us for a rescue op."

"Friend from the army? Who?" I inquire, lifting an eyebrow.

"Old commander of mine." Dutch replies dismissively, barely sparing me a glance.

"Ok, where is the job?" Poncho asks, my brother shooting me a knowing look, his eyes flicking up as Mac walks in again, seven beers cradled in his arms.

"What job?" He asks as he places the bottles down on the table, looking round at us all.

"Dutch got us another op." Blain grunts, reaching out to take his beer, spitting the contents of his mouth out into the ashtray on the table. Hawkins, Poncho and I pull faces at that, but don't say anything.

"Another one? We only just got back!" Mac exclaims, taking a seat across from Hawkins, taking a sip from his beer.

"Perks of the job." Dutch shrugs, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Will you at least tell us what it is?" I can't keep the impatience from my voice, finding his vagueness irritating.

"I'm getting to it, (Y/n), calm down." He rolls his eyes, "It's in central America, somewhere in the jungle. Phillips was cagey about where exactly, but he said it's got something to do with guerrillas and hostages. We're supposed to get the hostages out of there."

"Sounds simple enough." Billy muses, rubbing his chin.

"When is it?" Poncho chips in, watching the major closely.

Dutch is quiet for a minute, his eyes flicking over us all, before he finally responds.

"It's tomorrow."

I nearly choke on my beer, spluttering as I sit upright in my chair.

"Tomorrow? Are you insane?!" I burst out, annoyed, "We got back from Afghanistan at the ass-crack of dawn today, and you want us to fly off to the jungle at the same time tomorrow? You trying to kill us or what?"

The others nod in agreement, murmuring their own complaints, only to shut up when Dutch turns a venomous glare on me.

"You know, if you spent half the energy you do on complaining on growing, you wouldn't look like a damn child anymore, (Y/n). Would make taking jobs a lot easier - means I don't have to explain why we've only got six and half mercs with us." He snaps, voice laced with anger, "I'm not insane, just practical. We all need more money, and the work is low at the moment. You'd know that if you weren't off lounging at home all day, letting us do the hard planning and prep work."

Silence descends on us all, my jaw dropping at the vehemence behind his words. No one speaks, letting the two of us stare at each other in hatred, my expression swiftly creasing into fury, every muscle in my body going tense.

Another moment passes, before I suddenly stand from the table, slamming my bottle on the table as I stalk past, heading straight out the door. Poncho tries to stop me, calling out to me, but I ignore him, practically seething as I leave the bar and stride to the car my brother and I came in. Unlocking it, I climb in and slam the door, buckling myself into the driver's seat as I throw the car into drive, pulling out onto the road. 

Furious, I drive way over the speed limit, weaving in and out of the traffic with no regard for my own safety as I careen down the highway. Screeching horns and tyres follow me as I go, but I ignore them, focusing instead on getting home, filled with anger now as Dutch's words play over and over in my head. 

It doesn't take long for me to pull up in the drive of my house, the car skidding on the loose gravel as I harshly jerk the handbrake into place, unbuckling myself before I climb out, making my way over to the door. Opening it, I go in and head straight to the bathroom, intending to take a shower to cool me down, knowing I need to calm down. I strip down quickly, quickly getting under the cold water with my fists clenched at my sides for a while, until I start to massage myself with my fingers, working out the knots in my muscles. It's pleasant, but I can still feel the anger burning in my system, so I swiftly leave again, wrapping myself in a towel. 

As I leave the bathroom, I hear a car pull up in the drive, the tyres crunching loudly on the gravel, announcing the newcomer's arrival. I dismiss it, chalking it up to it being Poncho, come to check up on me as the door downstairs opens, then closes, footsteps sounding in the hall as the person checks for me. The sounds are heavier than I thought they would be, and the identity of the person soon dawns on me.

Immediately, I feel the anger start racing through me again, my face creasing into a scowl until I force myself to calm down, at which point I turn and storm up to my bedroom. Going in, I start to rummage through my wardrobe, looking for some new clothes, trying to bite back the irritation rising in me as I hear the footsteps getting closer, the heavy boots not even halting as they reach the door. Within seconds, the wooden structure has been flung open, an angry mercenary standing in the space behind it.

"Ever learn to knock?" I snap at him as soon as I turn around, glaring at Dutch as he looms in the doorway, "Nevermind, you never learned manners period."

"Says the person who just stormed out of a bar." He scoffs, sneering at me as he steps into the room, "Talk about table manners."

"And whose fault is it I stormed out in the first place?" I glower at him, holding my towel in place as he continues forward, the glint in his eyes sparking a blazing heat inside me.

"Oh, so now it's my fault you can't take a joke?" Dutch jabs his finger at his chest before pointing it at me, brow furrowed in anger.

"You have a pretty poor idea of a joke, asshole." I spit back, lifting my finger up in his face as we step closer together, less than a foot away from each other now.

"You're the only one who thinks so, short-ass." He glares down at me, making me all too aware of how he towers over me.

Swallowing tightly, I shift uncomfortably.

"Sure about that? I can't be the only one who thinks your height jokes are getting old." I reply venomously, jabbing my finger at his chest.

He laughs humorlessly.

"Oh, but we both remember a time when you used to love playing into your shortness." His voice drops an octave, eyes boring into me, "I had you on your knees more than once with only standing over you. Remember?"

A flare of lust goes through me at the reminder, flashes of him looming over me as he pounded his cock harder and harder into my waiting mouth coming, unbidden, to mind. I'd always liked the sight of his muscular body above mine, as well as the feelings of his large hands wrapped around me, even if it was simply to hold my head still whilst he fucked it. 

"That was months ago." I hiss back at him, barely able to look up at him - if I do, it'll be too much like the memories in my head and I'll give in to the urges of my body. Already I can feel arousal pooling in my panties, my cheeks flushing as I realise this.

"Old habits die hard." Dutch growls, before swiftly reaching out to tear the towel away, exposing me to him. Before I can protest, however, he's taken hold of me and lifted me against the wall, pinning me roughly in place with his body, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His lips crash into mine, a mess of teeth and tongues ensuing as we kiss like we used to, wet sounds filling the air as we press closer and closer together. Soft sounds of need escape me, but they're swallowed by the ravenous major above me, who licks and nips at my lips, a few grunts leaving him as he does so. 

Moving to pull him closer, I moan loudly as Dutch jerks his hips into mine, using them to hold me in place, his arousal pressing at my clit through his trousers. I have to bite back whines at the feeling of the rough fabric against my unprotected clit, my slick soon covering the crotch of his jeans as he rolls his hips into me. One of his hands moves to palm roughly at my breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between two calloused fingers, his other hand grasping my ass, which he squeezes tightly. Whimpering into his mouth, I take my nails down his back, grinding my sensitive clit down onto him, enjoying the waves of pleasure emanating from the stimulation. 

Months and months of pent up lust pour through the kiss, only breaking as Dutch pulls back to yank his shirt off, revealing his muscular yet scarred torso to me. Instantly, I go to lick and kiss at the toned muscles, only to yelp indignantly as he takes hold of my hair and jerks my head back, growling as he fastens our lips together again. He presses closer, crushing me against the wall with his huge body, grinding his arousal into me with vigour, only to suddenly pull away, keeping me in his arms. In seconds, Dutch has thrown me on the bed, standing at the end with his hands on his belt. 

Biting my lip, I eagerly move to help him, but he pushes me back down roughly, wasting no time in pulling his trousers and underwear down, revealing his leaking cock to the air. I moan at the familiar sight of it, eyeing up the veined length keenly, following it from the base to the reddened tip, watching as precum beads there. 

Dutch doesn't give me long to admire him, climbing over me and pressing himself against me as soon as he's exposed, his lips moving to my neck. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake, biting at sensitive points as he goes, licking over them briefly each time to soothe them, every movement extracting a needy whine from me. One of his hands moves down to his cock, which he takes hold of and runs through my slick folds, coating the tip generously as he supplies pleasure to me. With every pass over my clit, I moan and rock up into him, clutching at his back. 

"Fuck me, Dutch. Show me how much bigger you are." I moan out, wrapping my legs around his waist.

As he hears my words, however, Dutch growls, leaning back, making my legs fall from where they were. I whine at the lack of contact until he rolls me onto my front, grabbing hold of my ass to knead and grope. 

"I'll show you alright." He practically snarls in my ear as he bends back over me, moulding his huge body to my smaller frame, hands jerking my ass into his hips. He grinds himself into me for a moment, building my pleasure further as he bites at the back of my neck, sending bolts of electricity through me, which I respond to by rocking back onto him. 

With a final grunt, Dutch lines himself up with my hole, surging forwards into me in one stroke, stretching me out as he goes. A half-scream leaves my throat as I feel his cock slide over every sensitive spot inside me, my walls clenching deliciously around him, every vein rubbing against me. He gives me no time to adjust, pulling out entirely before slamming back into me, setting a hard, fast pace that has me seeing stars in no time. Ecstasy races through me, a knot tightening swiftly in my abdomen at the feeling of his thick cock pounding into me. 

Dutch straightens after a moment, taking my hip in one hand whilst he presses my face into the bed with the other, using me as leverage to shove his cock as far into me as he can go, grunting and groaning behind me in pleasure and need. Under his grip, I feel totally immobile, but the thought of him using me to work out his anger sends me reeling, my walls clenching tightly around him, tearing a moan from his lips. His name falls from my own, almost like a mantra as he slams into me, sending bolts of pleasure through me, bringing me closer and closer to what I really want. 

"So close, Dutch...keep going, oh fuck, you're so good…" I moan out, my words muffled slightly by the bed, though they are audible enough for him.

A whine of displeasure echoes from my chest as he suddenly pulls out, my pussy throbbing at the loss. He doesn't wait long, though, rolling me back onto my back before he hikes my legs up onto his shoulders, thrusting roughly back into me. With the new angle, whole other waves of pleasure ripple through me, his cock hitting the very spot that brings me crashing towards an orgasm. The sound of skin slapping together fills the room, along with obscenely wet noises and moans from the two of us, both too caught up in the moment to care about what comes after.

"You're getting tighter, (Y/n)...gonna cum for me, are you?" Dutch groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as my pleasure rapidly builds, "Come on, (Y/n), cum for me!"

With a final scream of ecstasy, the tension inside me snaps and I cum, hard, my walls clenching like a vice around him. White light blinds me, everything disappearing around me as the pleasure floods through me in a great torrent, rendering me incapable of moving momentarily. 

Vaguely, I feel Dutch pound into me a few more times before he pulls out and cums over my stomach, letting out a roar of satisfaction at the sensation, his hand wrapped around himself, jerking his cock desperately. Breathing heavily, he milks himself dry before he slumps over me, smearing the sticky substance between us, the two of us left breathless in the throes of our pleasure. 

"Still as good as I remember." He hums, rolling off of me to lie beside me.

"Could say the same thing." I sigh, trailing a finger through his cooling cum, grimacing at the sight of it.

Groaning, I heave myself up, taking the towel up from the floor.

"Where are you going?" Dutch asks, still lounging on the bed.

"Shower. You should, too." I inform him, moving to leave, only to stop still as the door swings open.

"(Y/n)? Who are you- oh." Poncho blushes a deep red, grimacing as he swiftly ducks back out of the room. 

"Oh shit…" I groan, putting my head in my hands, unable to bite back a small smile.

With just grins, leaning back on his hands.

"Oops."

-

Tag list: @nightime-luna-fairy

[sukiglycerin]

13 minutes || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero (therefore aged up)!katsuki bakugou x fem manager!reader

* genre: pro-hero!au, smut, this is the longest warning section i’ve ever written, mainly pwp, fluff at the end :>

* words: 2,266 of all this fiLTH

* warnings: AGED UP KATSUKI, ugh tumblr deleted my super long tags so now i must redo them, this is very long & filthy, whew let's go, dom!katsuki, sub!reader, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, office sex, reader is bent over the desk ofc, master/sir kink, a little pet play (he calls reader pet/kitten), dirty talk, degradation, fingering, breast/nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, orgasm denial (how contradicting), cunnilingus (f receiving), cum eating (both ends), talks of safeword/colour system but no actual usage, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl!!), creampie, reader is kinda masochistic, pussy slapping, crying sex (no angst here tho), hair-pulling (m receiving if it matters), implied subspace, aftercare !! the best part !!

* a/n: so tumblr messed up sO much while i tried to post this, so i hope you like this! ty @toishi for sticking with me and all of my ramblings while writing this! (and ofc @dylanxmin for her lovely support!!) this is a VERY spicy thing, and almost had actual plot before i cut it out. if you like this, i may do a fluffier pt 2!! enjoy!

being a pro-hero's manager has its perks. the pay's good, the coworkers are pleasant, and travelling is pretty fun. to you, the best part is that you get to see your boyfriend of three years every day.

you've been dating pro-hero ground zero secretly, and you happen to be his manager. honestly, the latter came first in chronological order, but that doesn't matter anyway.

you first encountered ground zero (or as he was called back then, katsuki bakugou) during your time in the business course at ua. he bumped into you quite ungracefully, cursed at you, pushed past you, then let a startled but apologetic kirishima to apologize. it was fate, in kirishima's words. 

such fate led you to manage ground zero five years ago, after slowly climbing your way up from managing smaller heroes to finally reaching the popular ones. bakugou had been the only popular hero with a manager opening; you learned why soon after being hired.

the spiky haired hero had a short fuse and a tendency to cuss. he was picky, indecent, and often reckless with his public image; the calmest you'd ever seen him was when he blew up villains and screaming "die."

however, things change - things change a lot. five years later, you're here: katsuki mumbling sweet things into the crook of your neck as his hands tease the waistband of your pencil skirt.

"katsuki, we can't- you have a meeting in fift- hng-!"

his lips find yours quickly, effectively quieting you down. you're sitting on katsuki's desk - a polished cherry wood thing that took too many weeks to find - as he towers above you, pinning you to your spot.

katsuki pauses, and pulls back, licking his lips. "sounds like a you problem."

"we really can't, this meeting is really important-" bakugou's fingers nimbly find their way under your skirt, deadly close to your panties. he really isn’t paying attention to you.

"and i'm the star of the show, the number one pro-hero-" if he hears you mutter 'that's midoriya,' he ignores you and continues, "-aren't i the most important one here?" his fingers rub your clothed clit, smirking at your audible gasp.

"k-katsuki, no-" you know he can feel the wet patch growing on your panties; from the way his determined eyes lock on yours, you know he won't be finished until you are too.

"how long do we have now, love?”

"thirteen minutes, but-"

"you're going to cum for me three times in the thirteen minutes we have."

it's not a question; it's a fact. you are going to cum three times in the next fifteen minutes.

“once on my fingers,” he puts a finger up, “once on my tongue,” another finger, “and once on my cock. the only thing you have to worry your pretty head about-“ he leans in close to your ear, voice dropping a couple octaves, “-is keeping quiet enough.”

his fingers push your panties to the side with ease and play teasingly with your wet folds. he circles your clit with his middle finger slowly, dragging out each languid movement with a smirk on his face. you flush at the lewd, wet noises he elicits from your pussy. you know that his fingers are coated in your arousal.

you look down in embarrassment, gripping the edge of the desk, and stare at the cotton material of your pencil skirt.

"slut." the word is spat from katsuki's mouth. his hand holds your chin; his touch barely ghosts your skin, but the command still exudes dominance. he tips his hand up, so you're looking into his intense eyes.

"look at me, slut." the word is emphasized by the plunging of three fingers in your wet core. you whine, unprepared by the sudden intrusion. your legs move uncomfortably against the fabric of your skirt, which restricts you from spreading open your legs wider. you want to clamp down on katsuki's hand, but you know that that won't end well.

"patience, kitten." either by intuition or his own frustration, he speaks up gruffly. "all in due time." his thumb starts to knead your aching bud as he thrusts in and out, knuckle deep in your pussy. glancing at the clock, he grows impatient, quickly attempting to unbutton your blouse before ripping off the rest entirely. you'd normally protest - you liked that blouse - but you find yourself falling short of words at the pressure on your pussy. katsuki goes at a more rigorous pace, thrusting fast and deep while his free hand snakes itself under your bra to play with your nipple. the added stimulation has you keening to his touch, suddenly aware of his every touch. he pulls your bra cup down, freeing your breast and bending down to to encapsulate the hardened bud in his mouth. his tongue circles your areola and flicks your nipple; meanwhile, his pace on your pussy hasn't relented. 

soon, you feel the telltale feelings of pleasure bubbling through your body.  you tense against him, gasping out his name and clawing at his back. your knees buckle as your climax washes over you, making your body go limp in his hand. bakugou lets go of your nipple with a popping noise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his other hand pulls out, and he outstretches three cum-soaked fingers to you, an unspoken code for "suck." you open your mouth obediently, sucking your salty juices off his slim digits. 

"fuck," he cusses, eyes blown out wide in lust. "so fuckin' obedient for me, hm? such a fuckin' whore for your master."

you let go of the fingers in your mouth and nod. 

his non-wet fingers grip the bottom of your skirt. "off. now." 

"yes, master." you feel his eyes pierce you, watching you unzip your skirt and panties and let them pool around your legs. he holds you steady as you step out of the garments and toss them to the side. 

"sit up." he taps the desk lightly.

"it'll get w-w-" 

"did i stutter?"

"n-no, master."

he hums while you acquaint your bottom with the cold, hard wood of his desk.

"colour system, love?" his voice gets soft and he breaks the hard persona. his eyes are gentle, searching yours for any speck nervousness or hesitancy.

"green for 'i'm good, keep going,' yellow for 'slow down,' and red for 'stop.'"

"and if you can't speak?"

"three taps for red, two for yellow."

"what's your colour right now?"

"green, master."

his face hardens at the title. "always a good pet for me, aren't you?"

you nod. "yessir."

he spares another glance at the clock on the wall. "you're going to be a fucking good slut for master in the next 7 minutes, understand?"

"y-yessir."

"what was that, pet?"

"yessir."

"better be. spread." his fingers gesture to your legs.

he kneels before you, your drenched core spread out and on display for him at eye-level.

"so wet," he marvels, making your face heat up. like this, you're completely exposed to him; your breasts free from your bra, nipples hard against the cool air, and your pussy glistening under the light of his office.

he licks a long stripe up your folds, testing the waters. by now, the original intensity of your previous orgasm had worn off; despite this, when his tongue met your clit, you found yourself reaching for his hair, gripping it tightly. he groans into your pussy, poking his appendage through your folds and administrating kitten licks up and down your inner lips to slurp up whatever juices were left. the teasing doesn't last for long, however. he starts to suck harshly on your clit, making you buck into his face in overstimulation and surprise. you cry out at his unceasing ministrations, tugging on his hair and your toes curling. the overstimulation is too much; pain mixed with white hot pleasure blinds you. the lips closed against your clit go hard; you're not even sure how katsuki can breathe going at such a pace. the pain starts to blend into pure pleasure. you throw your arm over your mouth in attempt to stifle your noises, eyes shut tight. you feel tears line your eyes as you cum again, katsuki's tongue pressed flat against your pussy. the pleasure is five times more intense now; you cry out, sure anyone standing outside heard, and clutch katsuki's hair as you recover from your orgasm. your pussy convulses violently, and you pant in a similar manner.

"k-katsuki- master- i-" you breathe hard.

"one more for me, okay?" he rasps into your ear. "i know you can take it, kitten. so good for me..." his chin and lips shine with your essence.

you nod, spreading your sore legs further apart.

"colour?" he checks, hands starting to reach for his belt.

"green."

he nods and unbuckles, pulling his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock. katsuki leans in, hot breath fanning against you as he peppers kisses on your clavicle.

"you're gonna be a good cocksleeve for master, yeah? gonna be all fuckin' tight and wet for me?"

you whimper a shaky "yes," the head of his cock nudging your folds.

he eases his full length into you, the stretch always being something you always need to get used to. katsuki's not particularly girthy, but for what he lacks in girth he makes up in sheer length. he pushes in gently; it's clear on his face he wants nothing more than to ravage you, but he understands your needs.

"f-fuck," you gasps as he bottoms out. 

"ring ring ring," the tone of katsuki's phone rings through the room.

you lean over the desk, reading the caller id.

"it's horikoshi corp?" you say to katsuki.

"pick it up." there's a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but there's no time to dwell on it before you pick up the call.

"is this the office of ground zero?" a male voice asks through the line.

"yessir-" katsuki starts moving inside you, to which you bite your lip. "h-how can i help you?"

"this is regarding the meeting scheduled for today?"

"y-yes?" you gasp, flinging a hand over your mouth as bakugou starts thrusting into your core roughly.

"i'm terribly sorry to say this, but it appears that our boss has come down with food poisoning from lunch."

"don't- don't worry about it-" your knuckles are white gripping the edge of the desk, and you're slightly bent over it.

katsuki continues to hammer into you, speed increasing quickly.

"could we reschedule to friday, at 1:30pm?"

your mind skims through katsuki's friday schedule. "u-um... y-yes-! that can be arranged..." you're not sure if he can hear the wet slapping noises coming from your end of the line - but the thought of him knowing your dirty deeds with katsuki made you even wetter.

"alright, thank you!" the man sounds relieved. "goodbye."

"bye!" you half slam the phone down on the receiver, chest heaving.

"it's your lucky day, huh, kitten?" katsuki purrs smoothly. 

you nod, pressing yourself onto his desk so you're bent over it for him.

"such a fucking slut," you can hear the pride in his voice. "you like that, yeah? i can feel you clenching all around me. you're my fuckin' cockslut, right?"

your head bobs rapidly up and down. "yes, master- i'm-" you feel the familiar heat start to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

"don't you dare fucking cum yet," he growls in your ear, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust.

he presses you even harder into the desk, your breasts pushed up against the cold wood. 

"k-katsuki...!”

"my little pain slut, isn't that right?" 

"y-yes-! f-fuck, master-" 

he slaps your clit, making a loud, wet sound resound through the room.

it almost sends you over the edge. almost.

"don't- cum-" katsuki grunts in between thrusts.

you're so close it almost hurts. the pleasure overwhelms you; you shut your eyes tight to distract yourself, but you can only hear the sound of katsuki's heavy breaths and his cock slamming into you.

"katsuki- master- please, i can't-" tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. the pleasure is just too much, beating into you incessantly.

"you can, and you will," he orders, voice firm.

"k-ka- ka-" you blubber, tears dropping from your cheeks. you know you won't be able to hold it much longer; your pussy aches in need of release. "pl- pl, ka-"

"cum." it was the only word you needed to find yourself toppling off the edge, euphoria rippling over you violently.  tears stream down your cheeks, cum gushing from your heat. you're as limp as a doll in katsuki's arms, slumped against his desk. your pussy throbs, contracting violently - somewhere amidst your orgasm, katsuki had finished as well. your cheeks are wet, blouse thrown somewhere on the ground. your breathing is shaky as katsuki picks you up, stroking your hair delicately.

"hey, honey," he kisses your forehead softly.

you mumble incoherently, eyes drooping shut.

"you did so well for me... i didn't hurt you, did i?"

"no, 'suki.... 's good.... i liked it a lot..." you nuzzle into him, his body warmth comforting. katsuki smells of vanilla and caramel, a sweet combination that feels undeniably like home. 

you don't remember many of the next events well; everything blurs into a haze. you feel him gently thumbing your tears away, slipping your skirt and panties on and buttoning up one of his extra dress shirts on you.

the last thing you hear is a gentle "i love you," and before you know it, you're drifting asleep.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 22)

Finally a chapter not typed on mobile lol. Though I am going to be offline for a while. I'll probably do an update for my third fic and then all of them will mostly likely be going on a mini-hiatus for a few days as I have some stuff to do IRL.

It had taken another lengthy conversation, plenty of talking in complete circles, and even more words of affirmation but Ethan eventually finds himself both relieved and disappointed to have Salvatore trailing behind them. On one hand, he doesn’t have nearly as much private time with Alcina but on the other, he has on extra hand he now has one more ally and a flask. A flask that has Rose’s name and a label reading ‘arms’. Decidedly, this is more important than spending private time with the woman who hadn’t mentioned that she had a part of Rose with her the entire time. With the woman who he is still cradling his in his arms as he makes his way over the goo. Her eyes are set straight ahead, towards the smoggy mountains they are heading for.

He knows without asking that the woman wants to stop by her castle again but this time he doesn’t pose the offer. Even if it didn’t require backtracking and extending the trip time, he harbors a silent resentment. All this time and she had the flask... All this time and she didn’t tell him… He doesn’t know why he still holds her, not when he is suspicious of her all over again.

“You are being awfully quiet, Winters.” She notes at last.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

She gives a short hum and folds her arms across her chest. “I’m not sure that you need me anymore. Perhaps I should make my way back to the castle…”

“You said that you would accompany me the whole way.” He snaps.

“I am not fond of Heisenberg and that is putting it mildly. Honestly, you’re better off speaking to the man yourself. He might turn you away if he sees me.”

“Why would he want to turn you away?” Ethan asks. “Does he know that you’re not really on our side.”

Alcina furrows her brows. “What are you talking about, Winters?” Her face twists into a scowl. “We talked about this. We had…” she casts a look back at Salvatore who is lagging rather far behind. He cringes at the breaking of his own promise to make sure that the fish man could keep up. He stops his stride.  “We had made plans for when we have a free moment.”

“But do you have other plans that I don’t know about?”

“I’d have to go back to my castle and check my date book.” She shrugs. “What is this about?”

He sets the woman down, she can cope with the remnants of the goo now. He reaches into his pack and withdraws the flask. “You have one but you haven’t given it to me.”

She nods. “It’s much safer where I left it in my castle than it is on the road. My girls know how to protect it and I’m sure that the Duke is playing his part. Is there a problem with this arrangement?”

He sputters to think of one, of a reason to justify his anger. “Why didn’t you tell me that you had one.”

“I hadn’t realized that you are significantly dumber than you look.” She shrugs. “I assumed that you knew and that, that was why you came to Castle Dimitrescu.”

“I thought that…”

“I was, what? Hiding her away? No, the bar is very low but Mother Miranda is more intelligent than you.”

Ethan flushes, “You! I...how can you say that?”

“You make it very easy. You are not a smart man, Winters. You lack common sense and eloquence. And you are a fragile thing. That is why you need Beneivento, myself, and Moreau respectively. I do not know why you require Karl he is more of a dullard than you.”

Ethan narrows his eyes. “Lets just keep walking.”

She doesn’t make a move and it takes him a moment to realize that she expects to be carried again. He shakes his head, “there’s no more slime, you can walk on your own.”

Salvatore smiles. “My turn?”

.oOo.

Alcina doesn't know if it is spite, kindness, or a need to pick up the pace but she is dissatisfied to see that it is Moreau in Ethan’s arms now. She supposes that it is easier to flee back to her castle this way and, based upon his tone and his silence, she would say that he probably wouldn’t be all too disappointed if she did. Anyways, some warmth and affection from her daughters would be wonderful after having spent hours in the damp, stuffy, and repugnantly smelling living quarters of Moreau. She can do for some lovely perfume and putting on a nice face of makeup… Perhaps that is part of the problem, perhaps she isn’t alluring enough to charm Ethan into seeing things her way…

She finds her medications and supplements and downs them as she walks. It is even less pleasant without water to help them down, but she hasn’t had a flare up in quite some time now and she wouldn’t like one to begin in the presence of Heisenberg. Heisenberg who already has enough ammo now that she is notably smaller than he.

There is less snow on the ground but that is made up for by the absolutely noxious smell of oil and gasoline that hangs heavy in the air. It is almost dizzying and they have only just reached the reached where the bridge will be.

“What the hell is this!?” Were Moreau not in his arms, Ethan might have thrown his hands up and then gripped his head in frustration.

“That, Winters, is a puzzle. And I might just tell you how to solve it if you stop bemoaning over that flask.”

“I can solve it myself.” He replies through gritted teeth. Her stomach tickles with disappointment and rejection. Apparently she has made the man angrier than she had initially assumed. Against her better judgement, Alcina inhales deeply. This is going to take a while.

More than a while she realizes, “I have some...unsavory news.”

“Unsavory news?”

“We need to go back to my castle and House Beneviento after all.”

“For what!?” This time he does throw his arms up, Moreau flinches next to him.

“Look at the puzzle.” She points. “We need all four flasks.”

Ethan rubs his face. “No fucking way. We didn’t come all this way just for…”

“When we return to my castle we can…” she grits her teeth and snarls, “ call Heisenberg.”

“Let me guess, you’re going to make me do the talking.”

“I promise you, Winters, he will take better to hearing your voice. In fact, it’s best if you tell him that you have killed me and that you have been taking refuge at Castle Dimitrescu in my vacancy.” She pauses. “And I promise that you’ll have the flask when we get home.”

He doesn’t meet her with nearly as much gratitude and enthusiasm as she had hoped. She supposes that their plans are probably good and cancelled, and right when they have the opportunity to make good on them.