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melanated-writersblock · 15 days ago

Text

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.Lunch Rush.⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆

[CEO!Husband!Yunho x BlackFem!Exec!Reader]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Where you and Yunho wanted to start trying for a baby, and with a long lunch break in your schedules, you decide to pay him a visit to try your hand at conception.

content: car sex, semi-public sex, thigh riding, cloth-ripping, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl pls), just a dollop of spit, cowgirl, doggy, full fledged backshots, like 2 creampies?

word count: 3.4k

a/n: This fic cost me 5 FUCKING DOLLARS TO MAKE?!?!?! I had to pay to use a fake text generator, so if any of you have a site or app that I can make fake text messages FOR FREE then PLEASE let me know😭. This was self indulgent but I wanna dedicate this fic to all my fellow Hotteoks🫶🏾 And the bitches that fantasize about getting nutted in and getting it poppin’ in the back of the parking lot (in theory of course)! WwaBRiM (if you can’t tell from the fact the reader is rocking soft locs😛)

‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎

To this day…you and Yunho’s BIGGEST regret in your relationship…is and ALWAYS WILL BE….agreeing to go to the christening of your friends’ 6-month old baby boy.

Everything was beautiful. The ceremony, the cathedral, the way the baby nestled into Yunho’s arms so naturally, and reached out to play with your bangles with such curiosity and wonder. It altered both of your brain chemistries, and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Your friends didn’t help either, saying things like “Parenthood would look so good on you two!” and “I can’t wait for your baby shower invitations.”.

How could they…….

After you pushed your meetings back to later in the week. After Yunho gave his team a free day when they could’ve been in the office perfecting the play-through on his new game before its release. Two very busy people with very busy work schedules, and you carved out time to come support your friends and their son, and they pay you back with…….

BABY FEVER?!?!

You and Yunho planned your futures out to a T. Go to university, get your respective degrees, join a company that you interned with, work your way up, become the boss, get married, honeymoon in The Maldives and spend your paid vacation days in The Swiss Alps.

Starting a family was definitely in there somewhere, but everything fell in line so well that it got lost. You’re at the top of your games…Yunho, figuratively and literally, with his gaming company being the best in the country and all…and you became the creative director for a top cosmetic brand. It really was all good. But it was lacking. And you both felt it. Ever since that christening.

You felt it every time one of your work partners went on maternity and paternity leave. Every time there were children in the offices on ‘Bring Your Kids to Work Day’. Every time Yunho saw posts or videos of kids around the world dressing up as characters he helped create. Every time your homegirls would send you milestones of their babies taking their first walk, or biting into a lemon for the first time. You two worked hard and accomplished everything you wanted to, everything except starting a family. It resonated for days after that christening.

For Weeks.

Months, even.

The energy around the house shifted. Yunho would steal glances at you as you did the simplest of routines, imagining your belly being round as you sip your favorite tea in the kitchen, waddling from room to room barefoot and pregnant. And you’d watch attentively as he’d play his video games, envisioning a child full of joy as he teaches them how to defeat their first villain. After a while it got to a point where neither of you would hide it. It became all too real, too wanted. And why not? What was stopping you two?

Everything was green lit once you and Yunho put it into the atmosphere and finally discussed it. You both were just about ready to start baby proofing the house and nothing even happened yet, becoming more proactive than you already were. Tracking apps were monitored, routines were tweaked, and everything seemed to be doable…but your work schedules…your jobs were the biggest obstacle. Just when could you slip away for a bit to see each other? When would be the right time to make a ba-

“Hey, I’m picking up my kid so we can go to lunch. I’ll be back in 2 hours!”

Your Editor in Chief pops their head in your office briefly before heading down the hall to the elevator, snapping you out of your rambling thoughts.

…………..Lunch Break.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You reverse your sedan into the space next to him before hoping out and swishing towards the driver’s door, knocking softy. Your ears perk up at the sound of r&b playing and a silent laugh escapes you. The dark windows of the door lower, revealing Yunho in the driver’s seat, fully reclined with the top buttons of his shirt undone and the silver crucifix you adorned him with for your anniversary gleaming.

“For a second I thought you were backing out on me.” He smiles at you, his voice deeper than usual, evidence of a brief stolen nap. “Traffic was hell, I would’ve been here in half the time otherwise.” The door unlocks and you climb in, grazing over Yunho’s body as he adjusts the driver’s seat sitting up slightly, he grabs ahold of you to help you straddle him and closes the door back behind you. And like clockwork, you lean in, beginning your onslaught of abuse on his lips.

Snaking your hands into Yunho’s hair, he moans, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing ever so eloquently with yours. “I missed you.” He says breathlessly between kisses, “You saw me this morning before I left boo!” You tease him, fixing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose that slid down in the midst of your passion, “That’s too long.” He pokes his lips out, and you console him with light pecks to ease his playful angst. “You’re so needy, you know that right?” “And you love me for it.”

Yunho starts to undo his shirt more, a sinister smile on the corner of his lips as he looks you over. “Come here,” You lean into him, your hand placed against his bare chest, the rock on your wedding band a flashy contrast to his skin. “Lift up for me baby.” You lift off of Yunho for a second as he helps you readjust yourself, now straddling one of his thighs. The pinstriped black skirt you wore for work today riding up your thighs. You let out a huff, immediately feeling the pressure of Yunho’s toned thigh on your bundle of nerves. Your black tights and panties not serving as any sort of buffer to the sensations. Your pussy lips spread apart feeling the course texture of his slacks. You let out a staggering sigh, reality finally setting in what you were about to do. “That’s right, you’re gonna ride me and come all over my thigh, and thennn~” Yunho begins to rock your hips back and forth on his thigh. You lurch forward, your right hand immediately planting on the interior wall of the Rover, “Damn, feels good right?” “Yeah, yes it does. Fuck.”

You place your other hand on his shoulder, stealing support as you rock onto him quicker, a few front strands of your freshly done soft locs coming undone from the high pony you put them in this morning, to his delight. Yunho enjoyed the sight of you working yourself on him, he loved how neat you looked before you climbed in the suv with him, and is obsessed with the thought of how disheveled and fucked out you’re gonna look when he’s done and you climb back out. Fuck, it’s all he’s thought about since you mentioned it in the texts. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to touch you, to feel you, to fuck you, to ruin you, to caress you, to make love to you, to put a baby in you……finally.

You watch Yunho as he closes his eyes, deep in thought, mindlessly guiding your hips against him, as if he’s immediately feeling all of the pleasure that you are in that moment. You begin to rock against him quicker, an impending climax moments away. Yunho opens his eyes, watching you as your moans get louder, less polite, more shameless. You lean your head forward trying to compose yourself as much as you possibly can in this situation, and he smiles at the sight. “I’m close………..fuck, I’m close.” Your hand now caresses his face as you lean your head on his shoulder, hunching him like a bitch in heat. “You’re close?” “Yeahhhh~” “Fuck, you’re gonna come all over my thigh like that?” “Yeah!” “Yeahhh, just like that?” “Yes! Yes! Just like that!” Yunho bounces his leg softly as you continue to rake against it, riding out your high as a warm dampness spreads on his designer slacks. He moans at the feeling, damn near coming untouched just from witnessing your pleaser unfold before him.

You steady your panting for air. Embarrassed, you pat at the wet spot you left on your husband, “I did not expect that I-“ “I did, you’re ovulating.” Yunho caresses your cheeks fully heated with shame, and kisses you, laughing into the kiss. “I don’t think you understand how hot that was, don’t apologize my love.” He gestures to the passenger seat, helping you off of him and guiding you there to sit tight and catch yourself for a second. He then leans the drivers seat back fully again, stepping over it to sit in the spacious middle seat. He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way before removing his glasses, tossing them somewhere far in the back seats. He holds one of his hands out to you, patting his thigh sharply with his other, ordering your immediate presence.

You crawl over the front armrest and take Yunho’s hand as he helps you towards him. You start to kneel down in front of him and he stops you, “Nooo no, no, none of that today.” “But I really want to.” “I knowww, and you do it so well, but we’re kind of on a fixed schedule.” Yunho gestures behind you to the time on the soft glowing screen on the dashboard. You sigh in agreement, “I wanted to get you ready too.” “Oh babe,” He begins to undue his belt buckle and pants, his fully hard cock slapping against his lower abdomen as he slides his pants down lower freeing him. “Does it look like I need to get ready?” Your mouth waters, his cock glistening as precum trails down the tip, and you moan at the sight. “Oh my God.” He laughs at your eager demeanor, “Come here baby,” he pats his thighs again signaling you to straddle him once more, your legs on either side of him cushioned by the materials used to adorn the luxury car seats.

Yunho hikes your skirt up higher, sliding his hands underneath to trail down your sheer-tights-clad inner thighs and up to your panties. Your breaths were short, shallow, hesitant. You closed your eyes as Yunho felt you up, getting you worked up again in the process, unbeknownst to himself, or was this all part of his plan? “These weren’t too pricey, right?” He pinches at your tights, “No they weren’t, why?”

****rrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrrrriiiiippp!****

You gasp as you feel the force from Yunho ripping your tights right down the middle, smacking his shoulder. “They weren’t pricey but they were my favorite!” “Shhh, I’ll buy you 10 more.” You lean your head on his shoulder, pouting…until you feel his slender hands move your panties to the side. Your breath begins to get shallow again, feeling his warm tip slide up and down your wet folds. You moan involuntarily, “Awww, come on baby I haven’t even put it in yet.” “I knowww, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” “I do,” You feel him slowly push into you, leaning your head back as you cry out. “This cunt was just waaaiting to get fucked, because today is a little different than the other days,” He picks up his pace, fucking up into you steady but firm, “Today your pussy is a little bit more needy for me,” the recoil of your ass sending vibrations through your lower body as Yunho’s movements are relentless. “Today you’re gonna let me get you pregnant.”

And there it was. Your brain immediately shuts off. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, and so hard-” “Unnnnhhhhhooohhhh my Godddddd!” “Yeahhhhh, yeah let me hear you baby,” You grip the disheveled collar of Yunho’s shirt, completely at his mercy, taking what he gives you. “I’m gonna cum all in this pretty fucking cunt and get you pregnant, I’m gonna make you a Mommy.” “Yunho Please! Pleaseee~” “Please what my love?” Yunho lifts your chin up to meet his gaze, your dark brown eyes staring several miles into his own, communicating beyond a frequency that sound couldn’t even capture in that moment, and he understood every bit of it…but figured it would be fulfilling just to hear it fall from your lips, “Pleaseeee? What.” “Please make me a Mommy~” In seconds, he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he drills into you. “Ahhhhhh!!!!” The sound of your screams, bounce off the interior of the car, and you pray that the seats absorb it all.

“Yesss, yes! Let me hear you Mama. Fuckkkk let me hear you!” “Fuckkkk!” “Uh huhhh~ Fuck! You sound so good taking my dick like this! Ughhhh~” You both were a mess, fully enraptured in pleasure and no longer prisoners to time. You place your forehead against Yunho’s now eye to eye as he continues to lean into you with force, your breathing syncing with his, both chasing your highs. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you.” He asks you with dark eyes, almost as if it wasn’t a request. Suddenly you’re whimpering against his lips, “Yeah you are gonna cum, you’re close, so close for me.” “I’m-“ “I’m gonna-“ He mocks, imitating your whines, “You’re gonna what, cream around me and take this cum like a good little wife?” All you could do was gasp at his sharp remarks, “You’re gonna cum for me like a good little wife? Hm?” “Yeah!” “Yeah? You’re gonna take my fucking cum like a good fucking wife?” “Yes! Yes! Ye- Yes! Yes! Yes!” You gush around him, repeating your words like a mantra against his ear. He returns the favor, “Good Girl” replaying in his surprisingly vulgar vocabulary as he finishes inside of you. You collapse against him for some time. Aligning your heaving chest with his as you both come down. Clammy from the altercation. You swivel around some assuming it may help with the progress, and he moans a little.

“What are you doing?” Yunho laughs at you endearingly, watching you be an unintentional menace. “I don’t know I just thought it might do something.” You giggle some, lifting off of his softening length with your combined messes drooling out of you and down your inner thighs. Yunho takes it all in, shaking his head in amazement at the fucked out state of you. Just as he imagined it, better than he imagined, even. Staring him down, you study his body language, how he looks subtly exhausted but not TOO drained. Almost as if on a bodily timer, your temperature starts to rise again, “You’re plotting.” you narrow your eyes at him. Sucking in a sharp breath between teeth, Yunho helps you up, only to place you over the front armrest.

You squirm as your stomach and breasts make contact with the cold leather. “See I KNEW you were plotting!” “Oh hush, don’t act like you’re not excited.” Yunho makes light work of your tights, pulling off and discarding what was left of it, and sliding your panties off of one of your legs in order to spread them further apart. Your breathing catches at the gust of air that hits your pussy. Yunho’s cock inches away as he works his hand over it. He reaches his hand around holding it out to your mouth, “Spit.”, and you oblige him. He continues to work himself hard again, one hand bunching your business skirt up your waist, exposing your bare ass. His hand slides down to caress it, before landing a harsh smack, resorting back to soothing over the stinging spot. All marks undetectable on your brown skin, he lands a few more smacks on both cheeks, knowing he’ll be safe. You jolt and whine at the barrage of sharp pain and he leans down to pepper the side of your face in kisses, rubbing your attacked spots to soothe the pain.

“Don’t forget to breathe my love.” You didn’t realize you weren’t until he mentioned it, immediately offloading a heavy breath. Yunho clicks his tongue as he braces one hand on your shoulder to hold you in place, fiddling with the bunched up hem of your skirt. Your body stiffens as you feel him use his fingers to collect your cum and push it back into your pussy. You shudder in pleasure, still recovering from your last high, not too far from another if touched too much. You feel him shift behind you again as his cock teases its way past your entrance one more time. “Mmm, You wore this skirt on purpose Mama?” He glides into you with ease, bottoming out effortlessly, and you sink into the armrest, your moan resembling that of a pornstar’s. “You knew you were gonna see me to get this pretty pussy filled, Hmm?” Yunho immediately picks up the pace, keeping his hand firm on your shoulder, guiding you back onto him. “Ooooohhhhh~” “Yeahhhh? You wore this skirt because you knew you were gonna get knocked up with my babies? Huh?” Yunho’s words started to slur as they turned into shameless moans, “Yeahhh~ keep moaning for me, it’s just us here, keep going, I wanna hear youuu~” even he started sounding pornstar-like, it was music to your already ringing ears.

He began to pound into you with fervor, your tits now hanging over the armrest, bouncing violently as you grip the seating of the driver’s and passengers seat to avoid going headfirst into the dashboard. “Oh fuckkkk I’m gonna cum again, shit- shit- shittttt~” Yunho plants a foot on the flooring of the suv to steady himself as he leans flush against your back, engulfing you. “Yes, yes, yessss~ come inside of me pleaseeee~” Your final plea sends him over the edge, ultimately setting off a chain reaction that makes you cum around him all over again.

You shudder with each thrust as he slows his pace gradually before coming to a complete stop, staying in the same position as he bear hugs you from behind over the dashboard. You laugh to yourselves as you match your breathing once more, an exercise you both had been doing since the start of everything. Thank God workers at Yunho’s job actually took advantage of leaving the facility for lunch, or else your windows definitely would’ve been knocked on. Sure, the 5% tint helps, but you’re sure the car rocking would’ve given enough away.

Yunho peels himself off of you and helps you up, sitting you down next to him in the middle seats. You lay your head on his shoulders as the both of you dwell in the backseat, visibly fucked out. Yunho’s shirt hangs open and off one shoulder with a button or two missing, crucifix chain crooked yet still sitting proudly on his chest, even after such a sinful act. Your soft locs were fully down by now, splayed and running down the side of Yunho’s torso. Your skirt and his pants still undone, neither of you bothering to bother with your surroundings just yet. Yet your blouse was surprisingly still somewhat presentable. You both sit in solitude and enjoyment of each other for a little while longer. Yunho looks down at you lovingly, watching as you pull your phone out to do something. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” “Letting the Editor in Chief know that I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day? Noo, I couldn’t possibly…” “Oh well that’s a shame…” You look at your husband, waiting, “Because I told the team to take the rest of the day off.” THAT’S why the deck looked so lifeless. “I can’t believe you set me up!” He peppers your face in kisses one last time.

“Alright, let’s get out of here, we definitely need to change. We’re celebrating tonight.” “Tonight? Forrrrr?” “For theeee…..you know…..” Yunho gestures towards himself then your stomach, and you grin knowingly. “The lunch rush?” “Exactlyyy, the lunch rush.” He says before pulling you in for one last kiss. Yunho helps fix up your appearance before assisting you out of the Range Rover and back into your car. Kissing you for the last time yet again. “I’ll be right behind you.” He starts back to his vehicle, looking over to you, “Oh, feel free to put me in your schedule whenever you have an hour or two for lunch. Just to make sure it takes.” Yunho winks at you, getting back in the car as you both leave work for the day.

‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎ If you liked what you read, please let me know, it gives me hope. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated ‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.Masterlist.⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆

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daimyosprincess · 10 months ago

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AN HONEST DAY'S WORK

—PAIRING: Contractor!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: You have a very special project you want your parents’ contractor, Boba Fett, to work on.

—WORD COUNT: 9k

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

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, contractor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), reader described as having hair, Boba is a dirty old man and doesn’t mind saying so 😈, likely an excessive use of pet names by yours truly, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), squirting, cum eating, soft Boba 🥹, mentions of a shitty ex

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you @baufraus for slapping a tool belt on that old man, you’re doing the lord’s work 😌 Enjoy besties 💖

Divider by the @saradika

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

What a pleasant thing to be woken up by your alarm, you think, stretching out in a luxurious full body stretch under your flowery covers. After a month and a half of what felt like constant construction right outside your window, waking to your buzzing alarm was a welcome relief from the jagged sounds of powertools and hard machinery.

While you love your parents dearly, their desire to turn the backyard of your childhood home into a suburban oasis has been a less than pleasant experience for you. They certainly deserved to enjoy their retirement after putting you and your siblings through school, but the necessity of such renovations during your last year of your masters was dubious to you at best.

All in all though, you can’t complain. You live in their spacious, boomer-bought house rent-free and enjoy a home-cooked meal every night; you have your mom to dote on you when you get sick and your dad to defrost your car in the cold winter mornings. Even with the long hours of inescapable noise and constant stream of people in and around the house, you’re grateful to be there. And, if you’re completely honest, you’re also extremely grateful for the unexpected front row seat to watch the handsome contractor heading the whole operation.

Boba Fett hasn’t left your thoughts since the day he arrived at your front door dressed in khaki cargo pants, a form fitting t-shirt, and a tool belt slung low across his hips. His perfect white smile and smoldering dark eyes left you speechless then and have continued to bedevil you ever since, winding your insides (and panties) into knots. The fact that he’s somehow a perfect gentleman to you while simultaneously being the most incorrigible flirt that ever lived hasn’t helped in the least. Between his sparkling winks, dazzling smile, and delicious voice calling you “princess” and “sweetheart,” you haven’t known a moment’s peace—even when the crew finally went home in the evenings.

It’s all enough to drive you totally insane.

Lucky for him, however, it hasn’t. Staring up at the familiar ceiling above you, you smile: today is the day you will finally have your revenge. The contractor had teased and poked at you for weeks and you’d been powerless to do anything more than glower and huff at him due to the constant company of your parents and his crew. But now you have him all to yourself for an entire day with the house to yourself and his workers off—and you have no intention of showing him any mercy.

It’s been nearly two years since you’ve had anything close to what one could consider “action.” Between school and your research fellowship, you haven’t had any time to go to parties or bars or wherever adults are supposed to meet people to do it with. No, for two long years, it has been you and your vibrator against the world.

Boba Fett is going to fix that.

After a quick shower and a punched-up version of your morning routine, you’re almost ready to set your plan into motion. Flicking through your closet, you decide on your favorite floral sundress with a pair of cute sandals. Now dressed, you smooth your hands down the light fabric, smiling at your reflection in the mirror; you look sweet enough to eat. And lick. And suck. And-

Heat flares in your belly at the thought of Boba’s large, work-rough hands pulling up the hem of your dress to kiss up your soft thighs, his tongue spelling out all the dirty, awful things he wants to do to you in your parents’ own home… his lips wrapping around that desperate, aching spot between your legs and making that burning need finally go away in an explosion of pent-up pleasure.

Fuck. You bite down hard on your lip to stop from hopping back beneath your covers and touching yourself to the rest of that particular fantasy. The only thing that keeps you from sneaking in a quickie with your hand clamped over your mouth so his name doesn’t spill out is the chance to have him do all those things to you for real.

Taking a deep breath, you push away your lewd imaginings and check your phone. You have just enough time to grab your books and position yourself on the deck before Boba arrives to finish whatever project your parents told you about. Railings? Pool pump? Painting? Doesn’t matter.

With one last check in the mirror, you hurry towards your bedroom door only to stop short a second later. Before you can think better of it, you snatch down your panties and toss them over your shoulder with a grin.

Chancing a glance over the top of your unread book, you spy Boba leaning across a board and marking it with a flat drafting pencil. The suggestive slant of his hips and the sheen of perspiration on his brow made a slew of very suggestive images flood your brain. Was it possible to be attracted to the way someone clenches their jaw?

Boba had to be showing off. There’s simply no explanation for why he needed to carry that much lumber on his shoulder or measure that many things high enough for his gray t-shirt to ride up and reveal a tempting peek at the dark trail of hair leading into his jeans. And since when did there need to be so much drilling? He is sorely beating you at your own game, and that simply would not do—not when you need him so bad you’re scheming and panty-less in your parents’ backyard.

“See something you like, princess?”

Kark. Shaking your head, you blink your eyes like you’ve been caught deep into your reading. “Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

He straightens, arching a brow as he dusts himself off. As you follow his hands across his strong torso and thighs you realize too late that your eyes have wandered to his crotch. Smirking, Boba runs a palm over his face to wipe away the sweat there. “Never mind that,” he chuckles, “Could I interrupt your ‘study session’ for something to drink?”

The audacity of this man! Scoffing at your (admittedly weak) attempt at school work like he hasn’t been putting on a show himself for the past hour and a half.

You’re not going to let yourself be beat at your own game. Plastering on a big smile, you answer in a honey-sweet voice. “Actually, my mom made some sandwiches and lemonade since you had to come by on your day off. Why don’t you freshen up and take a seat over here,” you motion to the couch across from you, “and I’ll be out with lunch in a couple minutes.”

Boba watches with an amused smile as you trot past him into the cool of the house, taking your unspoken invitation to stare at your ass as you do so. When you re-emerge a few minutes later with the promised food and drink, he’s spread out over the couch with a fresh shirt on and looking every bit as regal as a king on a throne. You suppose it’s only fitting that he calls you his princess when he thanks you for bringing out the meal.

Picking up a sandwich, Boba nods to your stack of readings on the side table. “Lot of books you got there, princess. What are you in school for?”

You’re ready to give him some giggly, flippant reply but the genuine look of interest on his face stops you. For a stricken second you’re tongue tied by the thought of your parents’ hot contractor being genuinely interested in you as a person. Shimmering, unbidden fantasies float through your mind of Boba pulling out your chair for you on a date, the two of you sitting around a bonfire with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, him kissing the top of your head as he leaves for work in the morning. The images curl through the heat of your desire for him, mixing with the safe warmth and happiness he brings you.

Maybe…

You quickly scramble to answer before your imagination can run rampant and put dangerous thoughts of something more with him into your head.

“Speech-language pathology and therapy. Originally I was doing special education but then I really enjoyed my communicative disorders class, so my professor helped me apply to an internship program that convinced me to change my concentration. I even got into the fellowship program in the speech lab at St. Mary’s this semester and-”

You look up to see Boba staring at you so fondly that it makes your chest ache and your words evaporate into flushed smoke. “Oh, u-um, sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear all that… basically, I’m studying ways to help people speak easier.” You take a long sip of lemonade to avoid saying anything else, mentally kicking yourself to get it together. You have a plan and you need to stick to it, no matter how tingly and fuzzy he makes your heart feel.

The couch creaks as Boba shifts forward to rest his forearms on his knees so he can meet your downcast eyes. “Hey… never apologize for your passion. Not many people have what you have, or the drive to go after it. That’s something to be proud of, sweetheart.”

That same warm, shimmery feeling from before returns and you smile at him. “Thanks,” you murmur, wondering if it’s normal for his tenderness to make you want to get in his pants even more. You don’t care either way. Clearing your throat, you roll back your shoulders and lean back against the plump cushions. “Well I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got any more, uh, “measuring” to do.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he winks.

“Right.” He nods to his cleared plate. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Of course,” you assure him, “gotta make sure you keep your strength up for any… activities you might get up to.”

Boba laughs rich and deep as he pushes up from the couch. “You really are too good to me, princess.”

If only he knew just how good I can be.

The following hour passes in pleasant, if sexually charged, silence as both of you vie to make the other crack first. When he lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face, revealing the thick wall of muscle and softer belly underneath, you finally decide enough is enough. If he’s playing dirty, you will too.

Reaching your arms above your head, you stretch and let out a suggestive groan that has Boba’s head snapping towards you. Of course, you pretend you don’t notice and continue your stretch, leisurely easing out your legs to their full length. With his eyes boring into you, you purposefully slide your knees up the couch cushions so the hem of your flowy dress rides dangerously high up your thighs. You can physically feel the tables turning in your favor, upper hand slipping from him to you in this one powerful, heady moment.

Tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze, you savor the feeling, watching through your lashes as his breath stutters in his chest. Then, taking your lip between your teeth, you slowly open your thighs, one, then the other, to reveal the glistening folds hidden between them.

For a brief second, it seems like he’s going to snap the board in his hands with the way his muscles strain against his shirt. When you moan a quiet little sound as you stretch again, he slams the wood down and stalks over you with his fists clenching.

Blinking up at him with siren eyes, you give him a sultry smile. “See something you like, handsome?” you mimic, reaching out to drag your fingers down his arm.

He snatches up your hand in a tight grip. “Careful, princess,” Boba warns in a low, scraped voice. “Think very carefully about-”

Before you can chicken out, you flip the front of your dress above your waist with your free hand. “About this?”

Boba sucks in a sharp breath and stares for a long second, the muscles in his jaw working in tight feathers before he yanks your dress back down over your legs. “Sweetheart, I’m serious,” he shuts his eyes and exhales heavily. “Think about what you’re offering.”

As if you haven’t thought about this very thing for weeks on end, writhing and panting to the thought of Boba Fett doing every dirty thing to you that you could come up with. No, if anything, you need to stop thinking and start feeling everything your wicked thoughts had conjured up about this man.

“Boba, please,” you whine, the feel of his hand on your skin making your voice desperate, “I’m sure, I’m so, so sure I swear.” His grip tightens and you can sense he’s waiting to hear for something more concrete. “I’ve thought about you every day, every night… I want you, Boba. Please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart…” His skin burns against yours and he curses again, dropping your wrist and coming to his knees in front of you. “Tell me then,” he grunts, bracing himself between your thighs, “tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

Pure, molten want burns in his eyes, igniting the desperate tinder of your desire. What didn’t you want him to do? You’ve dreamed about him taking you every possible way in every possible place, groaning your name and screwing you senseless. What could you say when you want everything he’ll give you?

Luckily, your tongue has the answer your brain does not. “Kiss me,” you gasp, “Please kriffing kiss me.”

And like he’d been waiting his entire life to hear you say those very words, he’s on you, pushing you back against the pillows and crashing his perfect lips against yours in a scorching fury. Your body welcomes his intensity, instinctually shaping itself around his strong hips and wide shoulders as you claw at him to get closer. Fuck, you’re already greedy for him, your skin thirsting for his and your pussy soaking your dress beneath it.

“W-wait,” you gasp, hating the way he immediately recoils even as you appreciate his caution. You don’t want to give Boba any reason to stop but you don’t want to embarrass yourself in the heat of things either. “I’ve never, um, well… I’ve never had… never with someone else.” You wince; your words sound even worse than they did tripping through your head. Anxiety pricks your heated skin—you want to bury yourself into his shirt and hide there forever.

Why did you bring this up? You should’ve just gone with it like before.

When he speaks, Boba’s voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Princess, baby, look at me.” He rolls the both of you up to a sitting position, giving you just enough space to pull away if you needed to while still being close. Gently taking one of your clenched fists into his large hand, he smooths your fingers out, rubbing soothing circles into your palm with his thumb.

You sneak a peek at him. Gone is the hot fervor of passion that previously colored his features; now he’s a softer shade that beckons you into his comfort.

“There she is,” he smiles, rewarding you with his own when you force your face up to his. The urgent tear of worry in your chest eases and you melt into his side. “Now, how about you tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?”

“Really, it’s nothing,” you try, knowing it won’t work as soon as you say it. All you want to do is go back to him kissing the air out of your lungs and to have his fingers brushing over your soaked slit, but Boba isn’t going to let you off the hook.

Damn him and his honorable ways.

Boba sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He lays his cheek on top of your head and wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Listen, if all this is happening too fast, if you want to stop here, we can. I won’t be mad, baby. Your first time should be with someone special, and if that’s not me then that’s alright.”

First time? Realization dawns on you a second later and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from your belly. Giggling, you arch up and give the confused man next to you a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you, Boba, really. But that’s not what I meant.” A new kind of nervousness pools in your gut now, one that swirls with hot anticipation rather than cold dread.

Grabbing his free hand for support, you look into the warm depth of his eyes as his fingers curl around yours. “What I was trying to say was that… well, that no one else has ever made me come before. I’ve made myself come plenty of times but,” yikes, did you have to say that?, “I’ve only been with one other guy and he never made me… I mean, I got close one time but he never actually made me finish.”

The concerned look on Boba’s face melts into a glorious laugh that rumbles your chest. Before you know it, you’re both laughing and kissing in between delighted gasps for air. A bright sense of joy permeates every cell in your body and you tuck it safely inside your heart. If this was your first time, you know that you’d want it to be with him. Maybe you’ll pretend this is your first time.

“Oh, sweetheart, is that what you’re worried about?” he finally sighs, his warm breath tickling your neck. You nod against him.

In one quick motion, Boba scoops you up into his lap, wrapping his arms around you to grab your ass through your dress. “Are you worried that I won’t be able to make you scream and shake when I lick and stroke your perfect little pussy? Hmm?” He groans into your ear when you shiver against him. “Babygirl, don’t you worry one bit. I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna make you feel so amazing you’re not going to be able to sit out here ever again without remembering how I made you cry with how good it feels.”

This time, you’re the one who slams your lips against his, stealing whatever dark, sweet words he had left from his tongue. You mewl into his open mouth as he rocks your bare core over the thick denim straining over his erection. The seam of his jeans catches your clit perfectly and you would have cried out loud enough for the neighbors three houses down to hear if Boba hadn’t held your face against his.

“Easy there, beautiful,” Boba chuckles, “we don’t need everyone knowing what we’re up to, not till we’re done anyways, yeah?” You hum in agreement and bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling his clean smell and the surprisingly attractive scent of a day’s work clinging to his skin. “Now, tell me about this boy before, did he make you feel good? Make you want to flash your bare cunt to him and beg him to take you where anyone could walk around and see?”

Your crappy college boyfriend never made you want anything remotely like what Boba’s saying. The only thing he ever made you want was for him to hurry up so you could go in the bathroom and finish yourself off. He had been nice enough, but, nice enough didn’t make your eyes cross and pussy wet. “He never, shit, he never…” you gasp as Boba grinds you harder against himself, “I had to beg him to eat me out and even then he complained about it every time.”

“Complained? Kark, princess, tasting you is all I’ve been able to think about for a month. In fact,” Boba grins wickedly, “I’d like to solve that problem right now, with your permission, of course.” His tongue flicks out to wet his lips like he’s preparing to enjoy the best meal of his life.

You can’t give him your permission fast enough.

Reaching behind his back, Boba tosses one of the decorative pillows from the couch onto the deck and slides down to kneel on it in front of you. “Why don’t you hand me another one of those,” he flashes you a smile and a wink, “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“They didn’t seem to be a problem when you were putting on a show for me earlier,” you snark back, rolling your eyes for extra effect. “I hardly got any reading done with your whole construction worker performance going on.”

Boba tosses his head back and laughs a deep belly laugh that makes you glow for being its source. Grabbing your hips, he yanks you to the edge of the couch, making you squeal. “Now I think we both know you never had any intention of studying when you planted your cute little ass on this couch.” He leans in, inching your dress up so he can brush his lips over the ticklish skin just above your knees.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Your lashes flutter shut and you dig your nails into the cushions to keep your composure as Boba begins to pepper kisses up your thighs while his hands massaged what his mouth wasn’t on. “I h-have all my stuff out here, see?”

Of course, your handsome contractor is exactly right but you’re not going to admit that.

Licking a stripe mere centimeters from where you want him most, Boba huffs a laugh into your damp skin. “All props, sweetheart. Your dress and flirty little smile gave it all away.” His hands travel to the back of your hips where he spreads them wide so you arch against him, bringing the top of your pelvic bone right to his mouth. “Though really, the fact you didn’t turn a single page the entire time you were out here would have clued me in regardless.”

Boba’s words feel like they’re coming through a wall of thick molasses, heavy and sweet as they are to your ears. All you can focus on is the heat of his breath whispering across the wetness he caused and how his lips feel ghosting against your soft flesh as he speaks. Kark, how are you supposed to think with him like this, kneeling for the very opportunity to put his mouth where you’ve dreamed it would be so many times? All that time trembling, aching, yearning for him and he was finally yours—at least for now—and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

You bunch up the material of your dress in a fist and force your hazy eyes to focus on him. “Either way, it got me what I truly wanted,” you smile affectionately, “You.”

An emotion flashes across Boba’s sun-bronzed face so quickly it feels like a secret to have seen it, something deep and tender, petal-soft and just as vulnerable. Something words couldn’t quite express and certainly not something he wanted to be seen. It made him feel so frighteningly human that you want to bury him in your chest and murmur all lovely things he makes you feel until he feels safe enough to let that emotion out of its closely guarded cage.

A second later, however, his usual cocksure expression is back in place. “Aw, you’re sweet to flatter an old man. Now how about you sit up on those knees so I can taste every inch of your pretty pussy?”

You couldn’t have refused his request even if it wasn’t the hottest thing you ever heard, not with the way you’re so agonizingly ready that you’re literally dripping with arousal. “Boba, please. Need your-ooohh!” A searing shock of pleasure ricochets up your spine as his tongue swipes through the web of slick pooled in your slit.

Your intense reaction spurs Boba on and he immediately dives into your core, jamming his face between your legs and groaning loudly as he inhales your scent. “Sweet as fucking cherry pie, baby. Shit, come here,” he growls, yanking you down so nearly your full weight is on his face. “I want you down my damn throat, you’re so delicious. Better than anything I’ve ever had.”

You wish you could open your scrunched eyes to see the expression that matches his blissed out tone, but it’s impossible with the way his tongue is flicking through folds as he sucks up every drop of your slick like he needs it to live. Heat pumps through your veins, lighting you up until you’re sure you could replace the sun. In less than thirty seconds, Boba has made you feel more beautiful, more cherished than you ever felt in your entire life.

As your knees begin to buckle from the luscious intensity of his mouth, Boba tosses your right leg over his shoulder, balancing you across his face and giving him the perfect opportunity to flatten his tongue against your clit. You have to slap a hand across your mouth to keep from screaming when he starts a pace that has you riding his face with fervent abandon, your hand dropping your dress to clutch at the back of his skull for more pressure.

Boba moans and scrapes his teeth over your clit, making you squeal and jolt at the sharp sensation. “Fucking hell, girl, you really are dirty, aren’t you? I never should have waited to get my mouth on you. Lay down for me, I wanna feel that tight cunt squeezing my fingers while you make a mess on my face.”

As much as you don’t want to part with his mouth, the temptation to feel him stretching you out on his thick fingers, stroking all the places your own can’t reach, is too great to resist. Scrambling back onto the couch, you tuck yourself into the corner to give him the maximum amount of access to your trembling body.

Boba grins up at you, his face up to his eyes shiny with your slick. “Howya feeling, sweetheart? Ready for me to make you see stars?”

In response, you just toss the fabric of your dress over your shoulder and roll your hips forward.

Boba was a man of his word, bringing you to the edge of orgasm once with mouth and hands then once more with his cock as took you from behind—you’re in actual tears with how good every single one of his movements feel. Every drag of his cock is pure pleasure, every touch of his hands delicious delight, and every kiss is incandescent bliss. You’re never going to be the same again.

“Oh, my filthy little girl,” he taunts, grabbing a handful of your tits as he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, “what would your parents think, hmm? What would they do if they knew you let an old man bend you over the table they’ll eat off of? That you’re bouncing on his dick and begging him for more on their couch?”

“Oh, fuck! Boba!” A wave of liquid arousal floods your core, make the sound of him fucking into you even wetter.

“Yeah? You like it when I talk like that, sweetheart? You like knowing that I’m going to own every part of you then send you back to them with a smile on my face and your cum leaking down my cock?”

Every single one of his sex-stained words sear into your skin, going straight to your throbbing clit. Every beat of your pounding heart brings you closer and closer to the bright brink of orgasm, every roll of his hips thrusting his length into that perfect spot inside you. Fuck he’s going to make me come if he keeps… fuck!

“Kark, baby, I can feel you squeezing me with that perfect tight cunt. Shit, you’re so-”

You can’t take it anymore. Falling forward onto his heaving chest, you dig your nails into the thick muscle there and start grinding your aching clit against him like some feral animal chasing their heat.

Faster, harder, faster, fuck! Just like that, juuuust like that and you’ll feel that perfect fucking release, just a little more and…

Boba stills his bucking hips and halts your rocking.

You howl, clawing at his unmoving body. “No, please!” you sob, “I’m so close, please don’t stop now!”

Boba shushes you with the press of his mouth. “Shh, you’ll get what you want, baby, I promise you. But if I'm gonna be the first man to make you come, I’m gonna make it much more memorable than that was going to be.”

The thought of anything more than the building pleasure thrashing in core was unimaginable. How on earth could it be better than him balls deep inside you hitting your g-spot like it’s what he was made for? Never in your wildest dreams had you felt this good, even when you had hours alone to tease yourself before riding out the wave of your orgasm. If there was anything greater than this pleasure you’re not sure you would survive it—not with your mind intact, anyways.

Sliding his hands under your slicked thighs, Boba swings his legs off the couch and stands with a huff, keeping himself sheathed inside you. You grind into the fabric of his shirt until gives your ass a firm swat and you a stern warning to behave, which you’re too desperate to test. He walks the pair of you over to the large, oak table and plops you on top of it. The rich grain is supple and smooth on your bare skin, and Boba eases your back flat against it as he kisses and gropes across your body.

“Alright, princess,” he pulls away slightly to rest his damp forehead on yours, “I need you to do something for me, okay?”

Brushing your hands down his neck and shoulders, you’d promise him anything he asked. “O-okay, Boba.”

He peppers a few kisses on your tear-stained cheeks before continuing, letting his hips rut into you at an agonizingly slow pace. “When I tell you to, I want you to release all your muscles and completely let go. Don’t hold anything in, alright, babygirl?”

You’re not sure where he’s leading you but you have complete faith in the fact that it’s going to be mind blowing. You give him your affirmation and he presses a small kiss on your lips.

“Good. Now start playing with those perfect fucking tits, give me a good show.”

You’re in such a hurry to comply that you get frustrated by the straps of your dress and bra, to which Boba chuckles and makes quick work of them, dragging the material down until your chest was bared for his mouth to claim. He curses when you press the soft flesh of your breasts together, moaning when your fingers brush over your pert nipples. For a minute he just watches you revel in the pleasure of your own hands, fucking yourself shallowly on him as you pluck and caress the sensitive skin beneath your fingers.

Boba is a man entranced, his dark eyes glassy with want. Under his reverential gaze, you feel so desired, so utterly divine, like you’re his own personal goddess—he stares down at you as your most pious devotee who longs for nothing more than to feel the blessing of your body and the joy of your bliss.

“Boba…” you whisper duskily. He leans into your outstretched hand and you pull him into your arms with a crushing kiss.

As if he can read exactly what you need, he hikes your leg over his hip and begins a pace of snapping thrusts that has your entire body bouncing with their bruising force. “Pretty baby, precious girl, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he pants into your neck, pressing his lips there to taste the salt of your skin, “Been dying to take care of you like this, sweetheart. Watching you work so hard, leaving early and coming back late… you’re such a good little girl, aren’t you?”

With the way he’s hitting every single sweet spot that makes you feel like a woman, all you can manage is a breathy affirmative and a few warbling words. “Y-yes, Boba, w-wanted you s-so bad. Thought-thought about you every n-night. Ohhhh fuck!”

Boba lifts your hips and guides your legs to lock around him, giving him a mind-shattering angle as he drives into your wet heat. After swallowing down your cries of pleasure with a searing kiss, he wraps his large hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he continues.

“So loud, aren’t you, princess? No, I like that, I like hearing how good I make you feel, like knowing I’m the only one who has you making these sweet fucking sounds.” Leaning back, he trails his free hand up your calf, letting it follow the curve of your thigh and giving your ass a smack that makes your eyes roll back. “Because I’m the only one who makes you feel like this, the only one who can make this perfect pussy soak and come. You just needed a real man to give you what you needed, huh, sweetheart? Come on, answer me and I’ll make you scream.”

Every nerve in your body is lighting up, every neuron in your brain firing with blinding pleasure. The voice that claws its way from your throat is wrecked and ragged, gasping and begging for more, more, more. The heat and pressure building in your core is volcanic, and you absolutely need it to burn you alive. Only then could you shed the weight of everything that came before and become the beautiful thing Boba is crafting with every sinful word and scalding caress.

“That’s it, just like that, pretty baby,” Boba grunts in praise when you start chasing his thrusts with your own. “Take what you need, what you deserve. Use my cock… I’m all yours, all fucking yours, princess.”

You can’t see him behind your scrunched eyelids, but you can hear the sincerity laced through his words like a shining vein of shimmering gold. The images of him wrapping his arm around you at campfire, settling you into your chair on a date come flashing back, play across your mind with such visceral clarity you could almost reach out and touch them. There was so much warmth to this man, so much untapped softness and care underneath his rough-hewn exterior that you want so karking bad you can taste it hot on your tongue. You want him loving you, fucking you, caring for you every single day from now until forever. Most urgently, however, you want him to mark your very soul with his in an orgasm so intense you leave your body.

“B-boba, Boba, please! I’m so close, I-I want you so bad! Please!” you beg between his fingers over your mouth as your hands paw at his sweat-slicked skin.

“I got you, babygirl, I got you. Come here.” Boba crushes his mouth against yours, licking your taste onto his tongue with a moan. When he finally breaks your kiss, his cheeks are flushed with carnal color and his eyes are glazed with devoted fervor. “Remember what I said before, sweetheart? About letting go, releasing all your muscles?”

You bob your head, biting into your lip to keep your focus on his face.

“Good. I’m going to count down from ten then I want you to do just that, okay? Can you do that for me? Let me hear you say you understand.”

As if you wouldn’t kiss the very ground he walks on with how good he’s making you feel. “I-I understand.”

He beams at you, a diamond drop of sweat rolling down his brow. “That’s my good girl. Now stuff your dress in your mouth because I’m going to make you scream loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.”

Burning ecstasy explodes inside you, snapping your muscles taunt and clamping down on the thick length rocking into you. How can you possibly feel this good, this fucking amazing and you’re not even coming yet? You don’t even remember where you are at this point, only that Boba’s on top of you and his dick’s inside you.

Gagged and bleary-eyed with tears, you arch into his touch when his calloused fingertips find your pulsing clit.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” Boba’s fingers slide back and forth across your sopping folds with delicious speed, the pressure of his hand singing the glorious feeling into your bones.

“Seven. Six. Five.” His angle changes just slightly so his thrusts aim up towards your belly. Tears run down your temples into your hair and you know you have to be screaming around your spit-soaked dress.

“Four… three…”

Stars begin to explode in cataclysmic bursts of light as everything in your body tightens into a ball of pure energy. If you could think beyond the primal sensation you would worry that you might literally die with how hard your heart is thundering in your chest.

Boba presses a hand on your lower tummy and everything snaps into stark relief: you can feel every cell in your body, every atom of being as all the light inside you floods to core.

“Two…” His voice is sabled sin, luscious smoke dripping onto your burning skin in hot, fat drops. “One. Let go, baby, let go of everything.”

His thrusts, his fingers, his hand pressing into you, everything melts into one caldecent elixir that pours directly into your deepest parts and washes you down to your most tender parts. Then, just when you thought you couldn’t feel anything more, the final dam inside you breaks. Liquid heat washes through you, roaring through your body with all the force of every desire you’ve ever had being met in one singular, perfect moment.

The waves crashing into you feel so real that it feels like you're soaking through your skin into a puddle of your own arousal.

“Oh, fuuuuck, princess, that’s it…” Boba’s voice strains through clenched teeth and torrid control, the last shreds clinging just barely to his skin. “Fuck yes, you’re f-fucking soaking me, I can’t-shit-I c-can’t… baby, princess, beautiful girl…”

Your whole world is so soft and warm and full of him that you can’t think a mortal thought, but you know that you have to see the look on his face as he pants and karking whines as his thrusts dissolve into sloppy rutting. With the last of your remaining strength, you peel your wet lashes apart as you shakily tilt your head up. Everything is blurry and rose-hued, and… wet? You try to blink away the clouds in your vision but the bright sheen coating everything below your waist doesn’t disappear.

Seeing your confusion, Boba breaks out into a devilish grin that turns up his flushed cheeks. “See all this, s-sweetheart? See how much a real man c-can make you come?” he puffs out, breaking your gaze to drop his chin to chest. His brows knit together in concentration as if he’s hanging on the very last sliver of restraint.

You can only watch in downey bliss as he scrapes his hand down your belly to swipe his fingers through the wet rivulets trailing down your thighs, transfixed as he brings them dripping to his swollen lips. When the first finger disappears into his mouth, his eyes roll back and his dick throbs inside your ruined pussy. Realization slams into you watching him lap your juice from his palm like sweet nectar, his arms and shirt damply glinting in the sunlight.

I did that, I made him… holy fucking shit did I-

“Fucking hell, babygirl, I want you to squirt all over me every single kriffing day until I die,” Boba hisses, his wrecked rasp one second away from cracking. “Look like a fucking queen, my queen, lying there s-soaked and gorgeous- aaaahh!”

The revelation that you came so hard on his thick, perfect cock that you blacked out a little and squirted to the point Boba was completely soaked, all on your parents’ dining table makes you sob in pleasure and bare down on him with another blinding orgasm. Your fingernails scrape across the wood grain as you flail mindlessly, your back arching up as your head slams back against the table. This climax isn’t as powerful as the first but it still slings you out into the stars, spinning and tumbling through an aurora of colors and light.

The sudden emptiness of your cunt is replaced by hot ribbons slicing across your belly, pulling you out of the stars and back into your body. You’ve never had anyone come on you before—you had always insisted on a condom with your ex—and it feels impossibly erotic, almost degrading but in the best possible way; not like Boba didn’t care enough about you not to do it but that he was so out of his usually controlled mind with pleasure that he couldn’t help it. Pleasure that you brought him, pleasure he found in you.

You’re reaching for him, desperate to feel his skin, to know that all of this was real, that he wasn’t going to fade away into a dream. Boba leans forward catching himself on the edge of the table while he sucks in breath after shaky breath. He looks so beautiful fucked-out and soft, his usual sharp edges sanded down into a smooth sea glass that reveals a glimpse of his soul.

Eventually he stills and peeks up at you, watching you with adoring brown eyes. He whispers your name, warm and gentle, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He straightens up and reaches back to pull his t-shirt over his head to mop up your stomach and the liquid pooled between your thighs. His shoulders work in glorious exertion, and you watch in awe at the way his skin ripples with his silent strength.

Finished, he tucks the garment under his arm and eases your dress from your mouth and rearranges it back over your body, murmuring to wait right there. As if you would want to be anywhere other than here with him.

Boba isn’t gone for long, reappearing at your side with a flannel and a water bottle. He’s wearing a white tank top that fits snugly over his broad chest in such a way that it makes you consider seducing him for another around—if you only had the energy to do so. He coos over you, softly instructing you to lift your arms so he can remove your ruined dress. You happily float along, allowing him to undress you and curl you against his chest on the couch with his flannel laid over you for comfort. It smells of him, rich and warm, and he presses the water bottle to your lips. After several greedy gulps, you pull back and tuck your face into his neck, humming with satisfaction.

The two of you doze for a lazy hour, wrapped up in each other while the afternoon breeze pleasantly tinkles the windchimes on the deck.

Eventually, though, you have to break to clean and reclothe yourself. When you amble back outside, Boba has finished wiping down the table with cleaner and a rag from his truck.

“There she is,” he grins, “how’s my pretty princess feeling?”

“Amazing… a little wobbly,” you add truthfully. You’re not sure if your bones will ever fully resolidify after this. Boba opens his arm and you press yourself against him, relishing his touch while you still have it. You don’t want to think about him leaving. “What about you?”

It’s like he can sense your unease and he pulls you closer, placing a kiss into your hair. “Never been better, you were… kriff, you were amazing, baby. Filthy, perfect, wet… and soft, so so soft,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, “like you were made just for me.”

He leans in to kiss you but stops when he sees the sullen look on your face. Cocking a brow, he lifts up your chin on two fingers. “What’s that look for?”

You can’t look at him. This is the part where he says goodbye and things go back to normal, where you part ways and pretend like this never happened. He’d be back day after day to finish the backyard, a sore reminder of what you desperately want but will never have. Why couldn’t you just let this be a fun fuck and let it go? Why did your heart have to ache for his?

“I-” you swallow the warble in your voice. “I, um… I don’t want to hold you up if you have another job or something after this.” You’re a big girl, you don’t need him to stay and prolong the inevitable—better to rip it off quick like a band-aid. You toss your head towards the table. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

Boba studies you silently, a frown shadowing his handsome features. Every second that passes with you in his arms has your resolve weakening more and more; too much longer and you’ll shatter against his chest.

“I don’t have anything after this…” He pauses, mulling over his words for a tense moment before continuing. “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you? Please, sweetheart, talk to me, if there’s anything I can do to-”

“No!” You break free from his embrace, hot tears of frustration beading behind your eyes. The last thing you want to do is hurt him but the longer he stays the more it’s going to tear you apart later. Boba steps back, giving you space and your heart twinges in your chest. “You’ve done nothing wrong, really. It’s just…”

Blowing out a quivering sigh, you force yourself to look him in the eye—he at least deserves that. “It’s just that I don’t like this part, especially with how amazing and wonderful you were. You are. I think it’s just better if we don’t draw this out.” Once again, your eyes drop with the weight of the fast-approaching future.

The following silence is almost unbearably thick, the air congealing to a sodden, soupy haze in your lungs. How could this hurt this much already?

Boba rubs his fingers over his lips thoughtfully, his tan forehead creasing. “Princess… it’s better if we don’t draw ‘what’ out?”

Maker, he is really going to make you say it. No, it wasn’t enough to have made you come so hard you literally soaked the both of you, you have to admit you’re falling for a man twice your age that you’ve known for a month, too. It would be easier to make yourself hate him for that but you can’t bring yourself to confess and do that in the same breath.

Folding your arms over your chest, you force your focus back on his face. “Boba, I… I know this was just for fun and I’m sorry for making this weird but it would be easier for me if we didn’t pretend this isn’t a goodbye. Like I feel nothing for you. Like you won’t show up here tomorrow like you didn’t fuck me right into my soul in my parents’ backyard.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers curling into tight fists. “Please, just go.”

You can hear Boba shift and you crack open an eye to see him looking at you with longing deep enough to drown in. Finally, he says your name in a voice streaked with a vulnerable emotion you’d never seen him display. “Babygirl, I want you to listen to me, okay? I don’t know how that boy treated you before, but this was never a one time thing to me. I’m far too old to lay down with a woman I don’t intend on having by my side the next day, and all the days after that.”

Hope seizes your chest as his words settle into you.

Slowly he moves in front of you, taking your hands in his and gently rubbing them loose like he did before. “Now I’m no poet, sweetheart, I’m just a simple man making his way through life. I can’t make this sound as beautiful as you deserve, but I need you to know that I would never ever do anything to hurt you. I know it’s only been a month but kark, baby, I want you. I want to wake up to you in the mornings and hear your voice when I call you at lunch. I want to bring you tea while you study and make sure you don’t work yourself too hard. Most of all, though, my beautiful girl, I want you to be mine… because I’m already yours.”

The entire world shifts beneath your feet and you collapse into Boba’s waiting arms. When you bury your face into his shoulder, you pinch your thigh to make sure this was all still real. “D-do you,” your voice shakes, your joy threatening to overwhelm you, “do you really mean it?”

He kisses the top of your head and gingerly tilts your face up, caressing the swell of your cheek. “I’ve never been more serious, princess,” he smiles tenderly, “I want to make you mine. If you’ll have me, of course.”

You can’t help the choked laugh that burst from your chest. Pulling him closer, you meet his lips and throw everything you want to say into your kiss, sealing your sentiment into him with the press of your mouth. As much as you want to get lost in his sweet embrace, though, you break to give him an actual answer. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” you giggle breathlessly into him between more kisses. “In fact, I want you to make me yours over and over and over…”

But before you can get too cheeky, he swats your ass with a smirk. “Dirty girl, aren’t you? I’m old enough to be your father, you know.”

“Ah, well, the younger ones never did it for me anyways. I’ve always wanted a man with some… experience in getting me wet.” You bite your lip playfully and wiggle your brows at him. Now that the oppressive cloud of doubt has lifted from your mind, you feel positively giddy.

Boba smacks your ass again making you squeal in surprised delight. “Now I want you to go upstairs, pick up that cute little dress you ruined, and bring it to me.”

Your breath catches at his dark, delicious tone and you blink up at him, confused—and definitely turned on. “W-Why?”

Boba spins you around to face the house then wraps an arm around your middle to pull you back against his rising chest. “Because, princess,” he murmurs sinfully into your ear, nipping at the tender spot behind it, “I want something to remember you by tonight. Wanna smell that sweet little cunt while I tug on my cock and think about you coming in my mouth. And on my cock. And all over me.”

His salacious request goes straight to your still-swollen clit and you scurry to your room before you can lose your nerve. When you return, you find him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and expression smug at your obedience. Where your desire to sass him might have been at such pompousness, however, is filled with warm bashfulness as you shuffle over to him. He stretches out the hand that had, until very recently, buried between your legs. Biting your lip, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him as your cheeks burn with aroused embarrassment.

“Ah ah ah, let me see those pretty eyes, sweetheart,” he tuts. “Let me see that sweet look on your face when you give me the dress I made you squirt all over.”

Heat scalds through you, your heart pumping hot desire into your veins as you drag your eyes to meet his dark ones. Boba takes the dress almost reverently from your hand then brings it up to face and inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering shut. He groans into the material, desire scraping the sound raw.

Fuck how are supposed to keep your hands off him long enough to get anything done ever again?

Before you have time to jump his bones, however, Boba’s phone rings loudly, making you jump. He huffs in annoyance and unhooks his phone from his toolbelt. “Sorry, princess, gotta take this.”

He answers the call, but opens up his arm so you can lean against him. As he talks, his fingers trail up and down your hip, tracing absent-minded patterns that make you glow with affection. The way his body responds to yours, his subconscious little touches, they all confirm his declaration—you’re so happy you might float away if not for his hold on you. All your problems seem far away at the moment and you’re content to leave it that way, if just for now.

When Boba hangs up, he pulls you close to plant a kiss on your forehead. “That was another client of mine,” he explains with a sigh.

You pout. “So you have to go?”

“Unfortunately.” Kissing you again, he swipes his thumbs over your cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, you know I’d much rather be with you. my pretty princess. Can I call you tonight?”

“Of course,” you smile. You enter your number into his phone and send yourself a text. “There. Now you’ll know it’s me.”

Looking down at the collection of suggestive emojis and hearts following your name, Boba lets out a hardy laugh. “As if I could ever forget you, sweetheart.” When he finally extricates himself from your feeble attempt to lock him in your arms, he tucks your dress into his belt with a wink. “For safekeeping,” he assures you.

Once he’s pulled away in his truck, you realize he left his flannel on the couch. Pulling it around your shoulders, you decide that if Boba could still put in an honest day’s work after fucking you senseless, then you could at least get some actual studying in. After all, your night is already booked.

#look y'all i wrote a fic about boba fett without calling him daddy for once 🙈#strongly implied though no worries #zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #contractor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #an honest day's work fic

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eoieopda · 1 year ago

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meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it.

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it — your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain.

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance.

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone.

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however.

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs.

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind.

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night.

That rush of warmth you felt then — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job.

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”

“No, that was embarrassing.”

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink.

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?”

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —”

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point:

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?”

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise.

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning.

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict?

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty.

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex.

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer.

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own.

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness.

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars.

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more.

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank.

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now.

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can.

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement.

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No.

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going.

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap.

Once more with feeling: thank god.

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance.

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances.

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it.

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning.

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all.

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded.

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances, “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck.

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you:

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours.

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours.

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?”

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms.

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod.

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh.

Fuck.

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you.

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap.

Strike that.

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive. “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.”

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes.

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks.

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs.

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?”

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn��t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear.

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist.

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut.

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear.

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow, he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please.

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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an-ambivalent · 1 year ago

Text

Woes of Reincarnation Part 2 [Yandere! Miguel x Fem! Reader]

Chapter Synopsis: You’re an Alchemax neuroscientist specializing in genetics and cognition memory research. Outside of work, you spend majority of your time with your daughter Gabriella and your partner Miguel. For the most part, you loved your life - you had a thriving career, a lovely daughter, and your wonderful stay-at-home partner who supported you and cared for your small bundle of joy in ways you were unable to. But slowly but surely, something starts to seem amiss with your husband and you realise that Miguel is not who you knew him to be. This is a sequel to this

Warnings: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with behaviours and themes of that can be uncomfortable to read. Specific warnings: implied noncon. This work also has spoilers about Miguel from the comics. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl. By clicking the ‘read more/keep reading’ you are consenting to read this at your discretion.

Establishing yourself at your current point in career was a lot of work hard; from extensive studying, to jumping from one temporary contracted job to another, it often made you want to hit your head against the wall in frustration. Amidst all the chaos, the universe threw even more at you; just as you were finishing your PHD, and were starting to climb your career ladder, you had found out that you were pregnant. It was nerve wrecking, stressful, exciting, and involved so many other emotions and tears, and pondering over countless of future possibilities. Becoming overwhelmed from all of this was beginning to drive you mad. But lucky for you, Miguel was the perfect anchor to your chaotic storm of thoughts; he was with you every step of the way and was amazing at providing you the reassurance you needed. After your daughter was born, whom you had named Gabriella, things had been very challenging at first: you had to look after your daughter while still having your own recovery. Miguel took on additional responsibilities while also trying to look after you and your daughter as well. Eventually, after a few years passed, it became easier to manage and cope with the challenges that came with looking after a tiny human. Both of you decided that you were going to work full-time at your new job, while Miguel would be the stay at home partner to look after Gabriella.

Over the years, you made exceptional progress in your career until you got to your current position. While you really enjoyed your work in the past, recently, it was starting to become too stressful and impact your mental health. There was a certain feeling of being done etched in your body language. And despite the fact that you looked after your physical health, there was a new type of dullness on your face in place of your usual genuine contentment, and the glint of mischief that always gleamed in your eyes and smiles was starting to disappear.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you unlocked the front door and entered your abode. You took off your outdoor shoes and placed them on the shoe rack, while simultaneously slipped your feet in your indoor slippers. As you walked through the hallway and into the main living room, you raised your eyebrow in surprise when you saw Miguel leaning against the kitchen counter closest to you, with his back turned against you, and nervously tapping his index finger on the counter’s marble surface.

“What are you doing here?” You asked simply, and threw your jacket and keys carelessly on the dinning table as you walked towards the kitchen.

Your usual very composed and charismatic husband jumped at the sound of your voice. He whipped around in shock, his eyes wide, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He seemed even more jumpy when you neared him in proximity, grabbed onto the collar of his white shirt, and strongly pulled him down to your level for a chaste kiss as a greeting. Usually, your pecks that started out as a quick greeting, would turn into deeper, and more passionate kisses, almost into a full make out session. But that wasn’t the case this time around; this time around, Miguel was simple frozen in surprise as you kissed him. He did not respond back, and his hands were raised and stilled awkwardly in mid air as if he was going to push you away, but didn’t due to some last minute realisation. It was very strange because he never hesitated to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer until there was no physical space left, and one of his hands would be tangled messily in your locks. The awkwardness of the entire situation made you pull away instantly, and there was even more confusion evident in your eyebrow raise. Nonetheless, you released your hold on him, and started to work your way around the kitchen like your usual evening routine.

“I’m surprised that you’re already home. Picking up Gabriella from her tennis practice and the groceries, you usually wouldn’t be home for another hour,” You remarked causally, while you put on your bright pink apron that had ‘Kiss the chief’ written on it. It was one of the gifts your Miguel and Gabriella had given you on the most recent mother’s day, so anytime you wore it, they had an excuse to shower you in kisses.

Miguel blinked owlishly, as he stared hard at the words written on your apron for for a good few seconds, before returning his gaze to you. He showed no signs of moving closer to you to kiss you like he usually would.

“Uh, doesn’t she have tennis practice on Tuesdays and not today? Besides, I don’t have the car.” He responded simply.

You blinked at him in confusion. “She has her practice today - she has her coaching on Tuesdays and her club games on Friday. And what do you mean you don’t have the car? I left the keys in front of the TV and its parked right outside on the street...? We talked about it this morning - you dropped me off to work and I took the train back. This is no new information, come on Miguel,” You retorted, and opened the fridge to get the needed ingredients you required to make dinner. However, there was barely anything in there - your eye twitched. You turned to Miguel with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“How come you didn’t go grocery shopping?” You asked. Just as Miguel was about to respond, your eyes widened in another realisation.

“Don’t tell me you forgot to pick up Gabriella?! No wonder I don’t hear her trotting around! Miguel! What’s wrong with you today?!” You snapped, and instantly untied your apron, and took it off instantly.

At the shift of annoyance in your tone, Miguel’s eyebrow twitched in anger. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know - this wasn’t even meant to be his responsibility. It was supposed to be your Miguel’s responsibility but he was dead now. He simply chose to replace him in this dimension because he had a family; he felt sorry for the young child who had lost her father, and a bit sorry for you, who would have been a full-time working single mother if you had found that your husband was dead. He was doing you a favour, and you had no idea how grateful you should be. But alas, you were so bossy instead. He wanted to reveal the truth so he could see the reaction on your face, but he couldn’t disclose anything. For his young child, he would endure.

“You didn’t tell me to do so,” He responded coldly, since there was no other way he knew how to carry out his argument.

You were so confused by his response that you had to stop for moment and gather your thoughts. You blinked at him in confusion, even more so, when you noticed the anger on his face - Miguel never got angry that easily.

“It’s the same routine every week...? What’s there to tell?” You murmured to yourself. You glanced at him once more, and you looked at him from the top of his head, to the soles of his feet in scrutiny multiple times. Upon closer inspection, you saw something different about him; the exhaustion in his body - it was an exact reflection of yours. He looked like he was done. It made you think: had you been so busy thinking about your own problems at work that you forgot to check in with your own husband? Had you relied on him to take care of you and Gabriella so much that you forgot to do your part and look after him?!

Guilt wallowed up in your chest, and your throat started to feel constricted - you were starting to feel anxious again. However, just before your anxiety could overwhelm you, you pushed it down. Miguel needed you right now, not the other way around.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, love. I shouldn’t have done that. I guess work’s been too stressful,” You mumbled, and then, walked closer to Miguel. The Spider-Man was genuinely surprised at the quick apology that left your lips; he was even more shocked when you walked in front of him once more, and gave him a bright grin. He was taken back by how beautiful you looked when you were smiling and the way your face glowed when a hint of joy shone through.

“We both seem to be having a tough time today, how about we get things done together and just relax? Let’s go pick up our cheeky munchkin and order in, we’ll get your favourite! Sounds good?” You said grinning wider, and cheekily swung your hip against his. Given his build and strength as Spider-Man, it barely did anything. But your joy and cheekiness was contagious because Miguel returned your grin with a playful scoff off his own. Instinctively, he lifted you up easily, and the suddenness of the gesture made you yelp in surprise. You easily wrapped your legs around his tiny slutty waist as he supported your weight by holding you in both of his arms, and wrapped your arms around his neck. You combed through his soft brown locks with one of your hands, and leaned closer to his face; Miguel felt flustered.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered softly, looking at him with so much love and longing in your eyes as if he had hung up the moon and stars for you. No one had looked at him with so much love before. Miguel felt flustered. Instead of answering you, he tightened his hold onto you, as he brought you closer to him until you were absolutely squished against his physique. He felt more muscular than before, and his grip on you felt more possessive rather than his usual protective one. But, you weren’t the one to complain since this was so much better than the awkwardness from before.

Miguel moved his arms so he supported your weight with one, and held the back of your head with the other. Then, he guided you down until your lips locked. It was a nice kiss, a bit clumsy than usual, but nice nonetheless. He didn’t want to follow your lead like he usually did, so you tried to follow his lead instead. It was definitely different, even more so, when you felt him bite your bottom lip hard. You yelped in pain and tried to pull away from him. Your efforts were fruitless for a few seconds until Miguel eased his grip at the back of your head. Just as he let you go, enough blood gathered instantly at the spot you were bitten on your lip that it started to drip down your chin. Immediately, Miguel licked it and then gazed at you with his disheveled hair hovering above the predatory and lust gleaming in his red eyes. Both of you breathed heavily, but he wore a giant grin that showed off his canines. When did Miguel have canines?

“What you said sounded good, but I would like it much better if we could relax, just the two of us, later tonight.”

�� ***

Once upon a time, Miguel was a bright and innovative scientist himself. He was intelligent and quick to grasp things. For that reason, it didn’t take him long to adapt to the same lifestyle that the original Miguel of this dimension was living. Actually, this domestic life was so much better and easier than his job had been at Alchemax. Maybe, it was easy because he genuinely came to love it; he loved his daughter Gabriella like he had anticipated he would. But first impressions aside, he was also surprised at how quickly he came to love you. You were just so caring and attentive, and everytime you smiled your lovely smile, he swore, cupid’s arrow shot through his heart. You always looked at him with so much love - and it didn’t just end there - you always showed your love through actions too. Every morning when you woke up, before going to sleep, coming home, before leaving, and if you saw each other just after a few hours, you always kissed him. They were such passionate kisses too - it was addictive. All of your little quirks and the constant displays of affection were addictive. For once, Miguel was constantly surrounded by love and happiness. He loved it, and he was going to do anything to protect it.

Although he did love his current life, there were some things that he did wish could be better - like how he wished he could spend more time with you. He had been trying to talk you into reducing your work hours, because recently, it seemed like you just were getting busier and busier. Your acts of affection, your long lasting kisses -- everything was becoming quicker and more rushed. The nights of intimacy you shared often when he had first came into your life versus recently, were much fewer too. It was distraughting and almost starting to feel frustrating because he had become accustomed to everything you had given him. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how he had ever managed to live without having you by his side. Now, it was almost to the point where he felt that his even spider craved you.

It was another night like the one’s recently. Presently, it was just after 9:30 pm, half an hour after Gabriella has been put to bed. Miguel had just come out of a steaming hot shower - his skin carried an underlying darker red hue indicating just how boiling hot the water had to be, and he only wore a small white towel around his hips. He was hoping that giving you a preview would help him finally get another night of sex with you. But the moment he had stepped out of your shared ensuite, and was browsing through your shared closet, pretending to look for clothes, you paid no attention to him. Instead, you were entirely focused on the folders of paperwork labelled ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ in big block red letters that you had been bringing home from work every, single, fucking, day.

Come to think of it, exactly what was your job? Why were you the one that had chosen to work rather than his alternate deceased self? Surely, if his deceased self was also a scientist at Alchemax like he had been, he had to be making more than enough money.

In the end, Miguel mindless chose to wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. He climbed into your shared bed with you, and snatched your papers from your hands. You yelped when this happened suddenly, and immediately tried to wrestle Miguel for them as he started to look over their content himself.

“What the hell, Miguel?! Give those back to me right now! That’s confidential!” You yelled, while trying to climb over him in whatever way you could to get your paperwork back. Miguel simply ignored you, and easily held you back with one arm, while holding up the papers with his other hand, and reading them.

It read:

“ALCHEMAX PROPERTY

ONGOING RESEARCH PROGREES: PROJECT DIMCOG6.V - COGNITION AND MEMORY THROUGH THE MULTIVERSE

RESEARCH LEAD: [Name] O’Hara

‘-utlising deep learning neural networks, we have managed to analyse microarray data at an anatomical level[1]. Given this groundbreaking discovery, we can hypothetically give ourselves false memories of living in another universe and completely alter our reality. Or, we could even transfer the psych of our alternative self to our current self. Tests will need to be conducted-”

“You’re... working for Alchemax?” Miguel asked in disbelief, looking at you with wide eyes - like he didn’t knew you at all. In a way, that was not far from the truth.

You took his shock as an opportunity to snatch your paperwork back, and scoffed at him. “Of course I am. I don’t see why you’re so surprised? You’re the one who told me to take the job when I was offered it.”

You carefully tied up your paperwork the way you had brought it from work, before setting it on the bedside table beside you. You turned towards Miguel and scowled at him.

“I’d appreciate it if you don’t just snatch my things. Seriously Miguel, what is with you recently? You’re so moody and quick to temper! I understand you may be stressed and I’m seriously trying my best to make things as easy as possible for you, but you can’t just do whatever you want. You know I’m having a really hard time at work right now as it is, I don’t need you making it the same for me at home. Back off a bit, yeah?” You snapped. Instantly, you turned away from him. You had been feeling your regular nightly migraine building up for a while, and the stress from dealing with Miguel just seemed to have triggered it. You took off your reading glasses so they were resting on your head instead of your nose; a heavy sigh left your lips as you rubbed your temple to try soothe your headache.

You failed to notice the angry red eyes that were glaring at you.

“I didn’t know that you were working for the filth of Alchemax.... And I didn’t tell you to take that job, I would never allow my own wife to betray me like that. If it really had been me, in the first place, you wouldn’t even be working.” Miguel hissed, as he had moved closer to you until his body was pressing right against your side. Then, he leaned closer to you, and gently nipped you right behind your earlobe. Chills went through your spine, and you groaned in frustration; you failed to understand exactly what Miguel words implied due to your horrible headache reducing your ability to focus.

“I don’t have the energy to worry about your nuances Miguel, nor do I have the energy for sex tonight. Just let me rest,” You murmured, and tried to swat at his arms he wrapped around you possessively.

You didn’t get the response you wanted - verbally or his actions wise. Instead, you screamed as Miguel pushed you so you laying on your back, and he sat on you immediately. From the impact, your glasses were swung backwards randomly and dug into the randomest part of your neck painfully. You winced and tried to move so they weren’t digging into your skin, but you were unable to move since Miguel had your wrists pinned down on the bed in each hand. He pushed all of his bodyweight on you making it hard to breath, and leaned down until he was right next to your ear.

“Let me rephrase what I said, and really listen this time, okay? You’re my smart little scientist, I’m sure you can figure it out.” He whispered sensually, and this time, bit your earlobe hard enough to draw blood.

You cried out in pain. You tried to wriggle yourself free, but your efforts continued to be in vain. When Miguel applied more pressure on your wrists to the point it felt like they were going to break, you stopped struggling. However, your breath started to pick up and your throat felt tight. Despite how light headed you felt, you understood that this wasn’t normal. His grip wasn’t normal - your Miguel would never do something like this. He had never raised his voice at you, much less be physically violent with you the way the stranger on top of you was being. So, for your own sake, you listened attentively to what he had to say.

“I didn’t tell you to take the job. I would never tell you to take any job, much less at Alchemax, especially after what they did to me. If it had been me, the me in front of you right now, I would keep you locked up in a safe little cage that I make just for you.”

Tears welled in the corner of your eyes. You hoped that what you were thinking wasn’t right.

“W-What they did to you...? You never told me? I, I don’t understand-” You tried to say. You weren’t sure if you were just repeating yourself like a parrot because there wasn’t enough oxygen flowing in your brain to think rationally, or you were desperately hoping that what you understood to be the truth, wasn’t actually the truth. Maybe it was both.

“I’m not your Miguel, I never was. Where I’m from, I used to be scientist at Alchemax. They spliced my DNA with a spider when I tried to quit,” Miguel started, and then, flashed his fangs at you. “I have access to many dimensions. I saw that the me of this dimension was killed and out of pity, I decided to take his place so Gabriella wouldn’t be fatherless and you wouldn’t be a single mother.

“You really pissed me off in our first interaction.... but now, now, I love you, I can’t see myself without you. I might not be your Miguel yet, but you are my [Name]. Thanks to your research, we can start again. I can figure out a way to change your memories so you’ll know me as your Miguel from the start. I’m sure there’s a dimension out there somewhere we can use.” He whispered in your ear, and then, grinded against you.

Goosebumps of repulsion and fear arose across your skin - you shook your head in denial.

“Don’t, please don’t do that. You have no idea what you’re messing with--”

“Shut up. Now that you know, you’re going to see what I would have done with you in the first place. I’m going to keep you locked up in a cage I make just for you. No work, no research, nothing for you. I’m going to keep you locked up so you’re not a tired cranky bitch and I’m going to be the only person you see. I’m going to make you so touch starved so that whenever you see me, you’re going to be nothing but yearning and desperate for any ounce of attention that I give you.”

Then, Miguel wrapped his hands around your neck, and pressed tightly onto your trachea until you passed out from the lack of oxygen. He grinned widely.

“Goodnight [Name]. We’ll meet again on the other side.”

***

[1] deep learning neural network is a type of AI technique that mimics the workings of a human brain. It’s used in neuroscience to study the complex intra- and interhemispheric coherence, and other brain regional interactions in relation to cognition and behaviour.

Microarray data refers to studying many genes at once. So, given all this, and how astrophysics works (if you were to be anywhere in the universe, like being pulled into a black hole or a neutron star), their ruthless gravity would literally tear you apart at your atoms level. So my theory is that, if you were to transfer “memories and cognition” through dimensions and defy the very essence of space and time, you’d need to have studied the neurobiology at the atoms level to the very least. [JUST MY THEORY BASED ON WHAT I KNOW ABOUT THESE SUBJECTS. I JUST WANTED TO NERD OUT OKAY]

[2] basically the ‘isekai’d’ reader’s memories in Part 1 can be understood in this way: in all the manipulation of memories that Miguel does after this, [Name] gets so many new memories implanted she eventually remembers all of this. She made an escape plan to stage her own death and live in the shadows with random memories planted (like she thinks she reincarnated and lived in a ‘different’ world) but thats actually just false memories. And given how much Miguel was trying to code that “she loves him” in her genes everytime he changed her memories, that turns into a false memory of him being her favourite character and that she “simps for” so she automatically wants to seek him out to meet him when she gets “reincarnated”

I hope everything I explained makes sense and that you enjoyed this! Let me know if you have any questions!

#yandere x reader #spiderman x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere spiderman #miguel x reader #yandere atsv #ambivalent writes

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kwanisms · 11 months ago

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🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 06 🎄

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➮ choir teacher!Seungkwan × fem!Reader wc: 10.9k summary: While organizing a children's choir show, Seungkwan runs into an old fling who offers to help him corral the kids and help run the show. genres/themes/au: angst (only a little), fluff (a lot), smut (also a lot); holiday themes; non idol au, choir teacher au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo @1004luvangel join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes when part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: Seungkwan’s was initially the longest piece before I wrote Wonwoo’s whopping 12k novel in the OG series. I’ve grown as a writer since then so I wanted to explore more with writing for Seungkwan because while he’s my ult bias and the absolute love of my life, I actually don’t write a lot for him so when I do, I like to go a little above and beyond for my fellow Kwannie enthusiasts. So here’s the conclusion to our Lord and Savior, Boo Seungkwan’s part. Thank you so much for reading and if you enjoyed this part, please consider reblogging as it really helps me reach a larger audience. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (use protection pls. Don’t be like these two idiots lol), dubcon (they’re both pretty drunk), oral (f receiving, m receiving and it’s pretty messy), dirty talk (and lots of it cause whew), Seungkwan has a stocking & lingerie kink, begging (Seungkwan because I believe he’s pretty when he’s all flustered, red in the face, and begging), orgasm denial (m receiving), some thigh fucking (cause why not!), fingering (f receiving), power bottom!Seungkwan, slight voice kink on the MC’s part, and I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed any!

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“Alright, everyone, places please!” Seungkwan called, clapping his hands and looking over the children.

“That’s my spot!”

“Stop shoving!”

“Mr. Seungkwan, Annie took my spot!”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

Seungkwan sighed as the kids around him bickered as they lined up. This was proving to be much for him to handle. Why didn’t he agree to have an assistant? He shook his head before calling over the children’s heads again.

“Please, everyone. We need to get back to practice!” he said. “Annie, your spot is here and Jordan, there you are. Stephen, please stop pushing, we don’t push. Carrie, give Dalton back his hat.” Wrangling twenty-one children was a lot of work but it was his job as a choir teacher at an elementary school.

Upon graduating from university, Seungkwan landed this job and was surprised to find he loved it. He loved singing and teaching. Sure, the kids were hard to control sometimes but they were kids after all. He knows he was probably a handful for his mother at that age.

Once the kids were in line, Seungkwan made sure they were all accounted for before beginning practice. He’d chosen to arrange a holiday choir for the school’s Holiday Festival and had given his students the option of joining, telling them they didn’t have to if they didn’t want to. The other music teacher, Molly, had offered to help him and Seungkwan politely turned her down, thinking he could manage.

To be fair, he could manage but only just. He was barely floating at this point and the kids, as much as he loved them, were wearing him and his patience thin. If this had been his friends, he would have already been yelling at them, cursing between every word but these were kids.

He unfortunately had to be the adult.

“Let’s take it from the top,” he instructed, holding his hands up to direct. “One, two, three…”

Practice had gone about as well as he could expect. The kids were able to get through two of the planned songs before one of the boys, Evan, had a full blown meltdown over the girl next to him yawning. Thankfully the parents arrived to pick up their kids right after and Seungkwan was free to go home.

He stopped by the store on his way, remembering the grocery list on his phone. The store seemed to be a little busier than usual, the holidays being the time of the year where everyone was cooking and baking for family and entertaining friends. Seungkwan managed to snag a parking space close to the doors as a light mist started to fall over the city. He pulled his hat on and got out of his car, heading for the store quickly.

Once inside, he grabbed a cart, pulling out his phone to go over his list and start shopping. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world but he really did relish the time he got alone in the store. It was the only place he could feel truly alone. At work, he was surrounded by children and at home, he shared an apartment with his best friends.

Seungkwan made a turn into an aisle, looking for pasta sauce when his cart ran into another and he stopped, apologizing profusely. His eyes looked up and widened in surprise as they landed on the person pushing the cart.

“Well, well, well, Boo Seungkwan,” you said with an amused smile. “Long time no see.”

Seungkwan offered a sheepish smile. What were the odds? He’d spilled his guts about the time you and he were camp counselors and hooked up at his last camping trip with his friends and here you were months later. It had been years since he’d seen you and he was captivated by the way you didn’t seem to have changed much but also at the same time, you changed a lot.

“Wow, Y/N,” he replied. “How have you been?” He watched as you shrugged. “Can’t complain,” you replied. “Just been working. I got back from an overseas assignment,” you added. Seungkwan looked at you with surprise. “Whoa, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah! It was really cool. But what about you? What have you been up to?” you asked.

Seungkwan felt his cheeks grow warm. “Uhm,” he hesitated. “I heard you got a job as a vocal teacher, is that right?” you asked. Seungkwan nodded wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “Elementary kids. They have music class divided. One vocal teacher and one music teacher.”

You smiled widely. “That’s great! I know how much you love working with kids.”

Seungkwan nodded. “Yeah, they’re really testing my patience though,” he added in an undertone making you laugh, throwing your head back. God how he had missed your laugh. “Boo Seungkwan, getting his patience tested? Unheard of,” you joked, making him join in your laughter.

“Yeah,” he started, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s just we’re putting on this Holiday Festival and I’m in charge of the choir. These kids signed up for it, it’s not like this is for a grade,” he explained. “But they’re just so restless.”

You nodded as you listened to his worries.

“I’ve been trying to wrangle these kids but it’s really wearing me down,” he explained and you frowned slightly. “Do you need some help?” you asked, making him look up at you. “What?” he asked softly. You offered a warm smile. “I could help, if you’d like?”

Seungkwan couldn’t describe the relief he felt when you offered. Yet he knew he couldn’t accept your help so easily. “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t ask that of you,” he added. You shook your head with a light laugh. “You aren’t asking, Seungkwan,” you replied. “I’m offering.”

Seungkwan made a show of thinking about it before he gave in. “Yes, okay. I could really use some help,” he said quickly, making you giggle. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” you said with a smile as you pulled your phone out. “Is your number the same?”

“Uhh, no,” Seungkwan said, patting his pockets and managing to locate his phone. Once you had swapped new contact information, Seungkwan slipped the device back in his pocket. “I should probably finish this,” he said, gesturing to the shopping cart in front of him. You nodded, placing your hands on your own handlebar. “Same,” you replied. “My mom will kill me if I don’t get back with ample time for her to make dinner.” Seungkwan smiled as you looked up at him.

“Just text me the time and location of the next practice and I’ll be there.”

You let Seungkwan go first, watching as he disappeared around the corner before you headed on to finish your own shopping.

Seungkwan felt like he was speedrunning the rest of his shopping to get to the check out, hoping you might finish around the same time but unfortunately he didn’t see you again in the shop. Outside, he opened the trunk of his car, placing his groceries inside before shutting it and returning the cart.

On the drive home, Seungkwan reminisced about your time together at camp and your long standing rivalry. It wasn’t lost on him how things had changed over the years. In some of his free time, he found himself wondering what you were up to. How had life been treating you? What had changed?

After seeing you again, he was surprised to see not much had changed at all. Sure, you were both a little older, a little wiser, but you looked almost exactly the same. You had a different aura about you, though Seungkwan couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly that was giving you said aura.

Upon arriving home, Seungkwan put the groceries away, taking note that his roommate was not home before he decided to start making dinner. While he cooked, his thoughts drifted to you before remembering he needed to text you where to meet him and what time.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up your contact, hesitating for a moment as he looked at your picture. It was one he’d taken of you at camp all those years ago. The last day he saw you before you both graduated from university and started working, no longer free to work summer camps.

[flashback - 3 years ago]

“Wow,” you exclaimed, hand raised over your eyes as you shielded the sun and looked out over the ocean. “It’s so blue!” Seungkwan smiled as he looked at you. “Come on,” he said, tugging your hand. “Hang on,” you said, pulling from his grip and walking over the sand where the water was washing up onto the shore. “I’ve never been to the ocean,” you exclaimed with a laugh.

Seungkwan walked over slowly, watching you stand and wait for the water to return. As it washed over your barefeet, you squealed in excitement, looking up at him with a bright smile.

It was the last few days of the summer vacation before your final year of university. Soon you would be heading back home for school and after graduation, Seungkwan wasn’t sure when he’d see you again, if ever. He’d invited you to spend a couple weeks in Jeju with him, visiting his family before he, too, returned to school.

“We can come back,” he said, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together, giving you a slight tug. “There’s something I want to show you,” he added and led you away from the shoreline and back towards the path he’d been trying to take you on. He stopped, letting you brush the sand off your feet and put your sandals on before the two of you continued, walking along the path.

The hike wasn’t a long one and it wasn’t too extensive but it boasted arguably the best views on the island and even better was that only a handful of people knew about it. Seungkwan and his friends had stumbled upon the secluded area in middle school one summer and turned it into a haven of sorts.

As you climbed higher and higher into the mountains, you started to whine that you wanted to go back to the beach, making Seungkwan chuckle as he found the hidden path. “I promise this is worth it,” he said softly, pulling back some of the vegetation to reveal the hidden footpath that was much less traveled than the paved one you’d been walking on.

You eyed him suspiciously before stepping onto the path, Seungkwan right behind you. The path between the trees was narrow but Seungkwan kept close to you from behind, making sure you didn’t trip or stumble as you walked.

Soon the path opened up into a small clearing, overlooking the beach and the ocean. You let out a gasp as you stopped, turning to look back at Seungkwan who only smiled and gestured for you to continue.

It had been some time since Seungkwan had been here. The open area was covered overhead by the canopy of leaves and a wall of rocks lined the edge of the cliff. He and his friends had built it to feel a little safer in their youth. It also helped obscure the clear from the beach and made the area look and feel much more private.

“This is incredible, Kwan,” you said softly as you walked closer to the cliff’s edge. “Look at the ocean,” you whispered as he walked up to stand beside you. “It just stretches for miles.” Seungkwan said nothing, letting you soak in the view at your own pace. “It’s gorgeous,” you added, turning to smile at him before quickly looking back at the water as he looked at you.

“Yeah, you are,” he muttered, making you groan and playfully hit his shoulder. Your light punches didn’t seem to phase Seungkwan as he reached up, turning your face towards him as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. After a moment, he pulled back, a smile on his lips before he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and let go of your chin.

Seungkwan sat on a fallen log, one he and his friends had dragged up to the cliff and used as a makeshift bench. You joined him, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder as you both stared out over the water. Neither one of you spoke for several minutes that seemed to take hours to pass by.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” you said softly. “Gonna miss the beach, and the food,” you added. Seungkwan smiled, turning his head to kiss the top of your head. “We can always come back,” he said softly as you raised your head to look at him. “Come back?” you asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a nod. “Next summer,” he continued. Your look of confusion was replaced with one of dejection. “I don’t know if that will be possible,” you said softly, turning to look away from him quickly. Seungkwan took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Why not?” he asked, searching your eyes for the answers but finding only despair. “We’re graduating,” you replied. “Once college is over, real life begins.” Seungkwan chuckled. “Well, of course,” he said, letting go of your chin. “But what does that have to do with --?”

“Who knows if we’ll even see each other again.”

The words you blurted out held a lot of weight and Seungkwan was aware of the fact that what you had shared over the last four summers couldn’t last forever but it still hit him in the gut like a strong punch. Despite knowing things might not ever progress to anything more than a regular summer fling, he still had hope. He had to. How could he not when he was desperately head over heels for you?

“Y/N,” he started, taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I know our paths only cross once a year and have for the last four years,” he continued. “But the thing about graduating college, becoming a full fledged adult, and joining the real world is that we get to decide where we go.”

You looked up from your intertwined hands at him as he looked up to meet your gaze.

“And who we go with.”

[end flashback - the present]

He shook his head, pushing the memory down. Things hadn’t ended the way he’d hoped. He’d been so optimistic about the future you could have had but when graduation came around, he didn’t hear from you and he feared the worst. He’d tried looking you up on social media but never found a profile.

He eventually came to accept this and tried to move on but in the end, he was just too lovesick and so he pushed the memories and feelings down, repressing them rather than confronting them and moving on like a sane person would do.

But you were back. You were back and going to be working with him to get this choir show presentation ready. Seungkwan knew he’d be a fool if he let this opportunity slip him by so he needed a game plan.

The next day of practice for the children’s choir at the youth center came much faster than Seungkwan was prepared for and he was pleasantly surprised to see you waiting at the door for him, a coffee in either hand. You’d chosen to wear a turtleneck black dress that stopped just above the knee, sheer tights, knee high black boots and a cream colored long coat.

You looked like a vision as Seungkwan approached, giving him a warm smile. “Iced americano with extra liquid sugar?” you asked as you held out one of the cups of coffee. Seungkwan took it from you with a muttered thanks, his cheeks starting to grow warm.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” he added as he pulled the door open for you, allowing you inside first. You smiled, laughing softly as you walked together. “Of course I remembered,” you replied. “Listening to you place your order was always one of my favorite things when we were in Jeju.”

Seungkwan froze in his steps, causing you to turn. “Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised. You laughed again, nodding. “Yeah. I like listening to the way you said it in Korean. To be honest, I just like listening to you speak in Korean,” you added as he started to walk again, matching his pace.

Silence washed over the two of you as Seungkwan processed this information. Perhaps his plan to confess his feelings to you wasn’t such a bad idea after all but he needed more to go off of before he could just blurt out he was still in love with you.

“What else do you remember from Jeju?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalantly as possible. You gave him a quick side glance. “I remember the beach,” you said softly as the two of you reached the room Seungkwan had been assigned for the practices.

He unlocked the door and opened it for you, letting you in first before following and turning on the light. “Just the beach?” he asked as he propped the door open and walked over to the desk, setting down his coffee and bag before shrugging off his coat.

He placed it on the back of the chair and turned to find you’d also stripped your coat off, allowing him to see you in your dress fully. It was a form-fitted cable knit sweater dress with long sleeves and turtleneck. The ends of the sleeves had black fuzzy cuffs. You turned to look at him.

“Not just the beach,” you replied, giving him a very pointed look and Seungkwan couldn’t help but smile as a memory resurfaced from your time together in Jeju. He’d taken you all over the island, showing you his hometown, taking you to local spots as well as tourist ones. You’d tried local specialties, seen multiple sights but for him the best part of the trip was when you got back to the cabin you were staying in.

Whether it was making dinner together, watching a movie, or in the sheets, he had loved every minute spent with you in that cabin. It was almost like he imagined being married would be. The domesticity of it all. He loved making dinner with you in the kitchen as you joked around and then doing the dishes and cleaning up. He loved curling up on the sofa to watch a movie before retiring to bed.

Not to mention being able to have a taste of you almost every night was more than worth it.

“Ah,” he said, fighting the urge to smirk. So he wasn’t the only one who remembered the sex.

You turned away from him, pulling your phone out of your purse and checking that the sound was turned off before you walked over to the desk where Seungkwan stood. “I remember a lot about that summer,” you said, leaning against the desk and looking up at him. “Like what?” he asked.

He was pushing his luck and he knew it but he still wanted to hear you say it.

“The cliff,” you said, catching him off guard. “And the cabin,” you added, your lips pulling into a smirk.

Seungkwan felt heat rise to his face at the same time it started to settle in the pit of his stomach.

Before he could answer, he heard the sound of laughter in the lobby. ‘The kids,’ he thought as he walked over to the door and peered out. He turned back to you. “Alright, they’re here,” he said, looking back at you. “I’d like to introduce you to the parents, so they know you’re here.”

You nodded and walked over to where he stood. You watched him get into his element, greeting the kids and their parents as they wandered over to the door. True to his word, Seungkwan introduced you to all the parents who were more pleased than upset to see you, a stranger, would be helping Seungkwan.

Once all the kids had been dropped off and the parents informed of your presence, you followed Seungkwan back into the room to begin wrangling the kids.

“I need everyone’s attention!” Seungkwan called over the sounds of laughter and giggling.

To your shock, the kids immediately fell silent, turning their attention to their teacher. “We have a guest today,” Seungkwan continued and you saw several pairs of eyes fall on you. “This is my friend, Miss Y/N,” he announced. “She’s going to be helping us during practices. Everyone say ‘hello Miss Y/N!’”

You were suddenly greeted by a cacophony of children saying hello in unison. You smiled warmly around at them before repeating the same sentiment. “Hello everyone,” you said in a cheerful tone. “It’s nice to meet you all!”

Seungkwan launched immediately into practice, having you help him get the children into their places and assisting him in any way you could. It wasn’t particularly hard work and whenever the kids weren’t listening to Seungkwan speak, you were able to walk around the room and gently return their attention up front.

Once practice was over and the parents came to pick their kids up, you were sure you and Seungkwan could manage this. What was the worst that could happen?

The first couple days flew by, you had settled into a routine, bringing Seungkwan a coffee before each Saturday morning practice. You started bringing him breakfast just to make sure he’d eat something in the morning. Setting up the room and getting ready for the kids to arrive while you chatted and caught up with each others’ weeks.

Seungkwan had become extremely grateful for your help and presence. He felt that the children behaved much better with you around. He was grateful for the coffee and breakfast sandwiches you brought him, claiming they were store bought but he knew damn well you were getting up extra early to make him breakfast and stopping to grab coffee.

You also made sure he got lunch, even accompanying him after practice and cleaning up the room. He was looking forward to his Saturday mornings as it meant he got to spend them with you.

The last practice fell on a Friday before the Saturday show was one long practice and dress rehearsal rolled into one. The kids were now on winter break and being exceptionally restless that day and despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t get the kids to pay attention and behave. It was the one morning you hadn’t been able to join him immediately as you had a prior work engagement.

He was really starting to worry that they’d never get through practice when the door opened and you peered in. The kids looked up as you entered and excitedly greeted you as you shut the door behind you. In your arms was a green tub full of white paper sacks.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said as you walked over to the desk and set the tub down before shedding your jacket. The weather had warmed up a little, the remnants of the snow from before melting but another snow storm was due that night. “Hi Miss Y/N!” the kids chimed excitedly, waving.

You waved back as you set your jacket down. Today, you’d chosen to wear another dress. This one was more festive. It was a Christmas green fitted bodice with a circle skirt that fell to the middle of your thighs, and long fitted sleeves. The material looked like some type of velvet and Seungkwan briefly wondered what it would be like to run his hand over the material. He shook the thoughts from his head quickly.

You’d matched the dress with pantyhose, and white low heels. Your makeup was also very festive. A soft eyeshadow look with a bold dark green lip. It was striking and Seungkwan couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you walked over, carrying the tub.

“What’s that?” he asked, peering into the tub. Each bag had a little winter and holiday motif on it. Snowflakes, reindeer, santa, candy canes, and more adorned the bags. “I thought we could take a lunch break,” you said softly. “I checked with the parents and they said they would be extremely grateful for this. I also got dietary restrictions from them for their kids,” you explained under your breath.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened as you started to address the kids.

“How about we take a little break?” you asked, smiling around at them. “I asked your parents if I could bring lunch for you all and they said yes and they also told me what you couldn’t eat, so I went ahead and prepared some lunches!” you said excitedly, showing the contents of the tub to the kids who whispered excitedly.

“Let me help,” Seungkwan said softly, taking the tub from you. “You pass them out, I’ll carry this.”

You worked as a team, calling out names and passing the lunches to the kids. Once everyone had theirs, you told them to dig in before walking over to the desk and showing Seungkwan the lunch you’d grabbed for the two of you.

The kids sat on the floor in circles with their friends, talking animatedly while they ate their lunches. You pulled a chair up to the desk as Seungkwan opened the bag your food had come in. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmured so only you could hear. “Although I really appreciate it.”

You smiled as you unwrapped your sandwich. “I don’t mind,” you said softly. “And besides, it lets me use up the groceries I buy in bulk,” you added. “So,” you said as Seungkwan opened a bottle of cola, setting it in front of you before opening one for himself. “Tomorrow’s the big day,” you noted and he nodded, heaving a big sigh. “They’ve been so restless and rowdy all day,” he murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the children.

“I’ve been struggling to get through this practice.”

You smiled, taking a sip of your soda before swallowing. “Well, I’m here now,” you offered. “I’m sure together we can get them to behave long enough to get through practice.” Seungkwan didn’t miss the wink you threw his way. He also didn’t miss the way it made his heart skip a beat.

After lunch, the kids were allowed to rest and you pulled out homemade bingo boards and passed them around to the kids, also passing out bags with smashed marbles as you explained the rules. It was going to be musical bingo. It was going to test their memory of the songs they were going to sing for the show as well as their parts. Seungkwan felt like he could kiss you.

He decided to get some paperwork done while you kept the kids entertained.

It took a couple rounds before kids started getting bingos and it wasn’t until the last child called out a bingo that you ended the game and passed out rewards in the form of snacks and small toys you most likely grabbed from the dollar store.

“Now that we’ve had lunch and we’ve refreshed our memories,” you said as you finished packing up the boards and bags of markers. “Let’s continue this practice cause I know you’ve all got this and you’re going to totally rock this show!”

By the end of practice, Seungkwan wanted to ask you to marry him. You’d managed to turn the children from gremlins into calm little lambs and not only did they behave during practice but they were the best they’d ever been. As the kids were putting on their coats and thanking you for today, Seungkwan had one of his students come up and tug on his sleeve. It was one of the more quiet students.

“What is it, Stephanie?” he asked, squatting down to her level. “You have a really nice girlfriend, Mr. Seungkwan,” she said softly before sauntering off to join her friends. Seungkwan glanced up to where he saw you helping one of the kids put their coat on correctly.

His cheeks burned from the embarrassment and he suddenly wondered who else thought you were his girlfriend. He decided not to dwell on it as the parents started arriving. He’d bring it up to you later.

One by one, the kids were picked up until it was just you and Seungkwan in the room. He grabbed the empty tub and waited for you to put on your jacket and grab your purse before turning the light off and following you out the door, closing and locking it.

The two of you walked to the door and stopped. “Thank you for today,” he said softly. “It was a huge help.” You smiled at him as you wrapped a scarf around your neck. The sun was already starting to set and the temperature had dropped considerably as the weather predicted for the snow coming later.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

You thanked Seungkwan as he opened the door for you and walked into the parking lot. Your car wasn’t far into the parking lot and soon you had reached it, unlocking the doors. “Just put that in the backseat,” you said softly, pointing at the tub and opening the door for Seungkwan to place on the seat before shutting it again.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” you asked and Seungkwan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I think you’re right. They’ve got this.” You smiled as you leaned against your car. Seungkwan contemplated telling you what Stephanie had said. ‘Just tell her, you idiot!’

“You know,” he started, a soft laugh escaping him. “I think my students are really fond of you.”

Another smile spread across your lips. “Not as fond as they are of you,” you replied and he shook his head. “They don’t like me that much.” You shook your head this time. “No, really. They adore you, Seungkwan. It’s really cute actually.”

Silence fell over the two of you for a beat. ‘It’s now or never.’

“Hey, after all of this is said and done,” Seungkwan started, drawing your attention. “Would you maybe want to--”

He was interrupted by the shrill ringing of your phone and you sighed, pulling the device out, glancing at the screen before giving him an apologetic look and answering it. “Yes, mom?” you asked and Seungkwan forced a smile. ‘Cockblocked by the mom. Great.’

You waited, listening to what your mother had to say, nodding along before finally answering. “Yeah, sure. I can swing by the store on my way home.” You looked at Seungkwan and playfully rolled your eyes. “Yeah, we’re leaving just now. So I’ll be home soon… okay. Yep. Love you, too.”

You said bye, hanging up and slipping your phone back into your pocket and looking up at Seungkwan. “Sorry about that,” you said breathlessly. “You were saying?”

Seungkwan looked up, meeting your gaze. ‘Come on, she’s waiting!’

But it was no use. His momentary confidence was gone.

“It’s nothing,” he replied with a smile. “Just, get home safe, okay?” he asked, starting to turn away but stopped when you gently grabbed his arm, making him turn back to face you. “Don’t do that,” you said softly. “I know you want to say something. Don’t psyche yourself into not saying it. Just ask me.”

Seungkwan cleared his throat, cheeks burning from having been caught. You knew him far too well for his own good. He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I thought that maybe when everything is said and done, we could get dinner?” A smile spread across your face and you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’d love that,” you replied. “Just tell me when and where.”

Seungkwan nodded, stepping back as you opened your door and got in, turning on the car and rolling your window down. “Text me when you get back to your mom’s safe, okay?” he said, leaning down to look into your window. You nodded up at him. “You too. Let me know when you get home.”

Seungkwan promised he would before saying he would see you tomorrow and watching you drive off as the first few flurries of snow fell. He glanced up at the sky and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t exactly according to plan, but it was better than nothing.

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

The next morning, the day of the choir show, Seungkwan woke up to a blanket of snow covering the ground but thankfully the road crews were out clearing the roads and treating them for ice. Seungkwan went about his day as usual, nerves setting in.

He wasn’t nervous for the show, but because of you. The kiss last night, even if it was on the cheek, felt extremely intimate for some reason. He chalked it up to him being overly optimistic but he was going to ride that wave for as long as he could.

As the day wore on, Seungkwan got ready for the show. The attire was festive so he chose a red sweater and a pair of black slacks and black shoes, grabbing the green and red striped elf hat and his coat before leaving the apartment. He was thankful for his building’s parking garage as he walked into the covered space, locating his car and getting in.

The concert was to be performed inside the gymnasium at the community center while the rest of the festival took place in the halls and outside. He arrived early, finding a cleared parking lot and pulled into a space before getting out and moving to the trunk of his, pulling out the box of reindeer antlers for the kids.

He walked up to the doors, thanking the man who held it open for him as he exited.

Once inside, Seungkwan made his way to the gym, greeting the staff as he walked up to check in.

He looked at the list and saw you had already arrived, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

‘What is wrong with you? Calm down!’

Seungkwan entered the gymnasium and looked around, astonished at the work put into decorating the space. His eyes landed on you over by the small stage that had been erected, talking to one of the staff members. He walked over, eyes scanning your figure.

You’d really dressed up for the occasion. The dress you wore was another green one but under this one, you wore a white petticoat, fluffing up the skirt. The bodice was fitted but instead of long sleeves, it had short off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. You had on a green Santa hat with white fur trim and the trim of your dress matched the hat. You paired the dress with some pantyhose and a black pair of shoes, ones that Seungkwan was impressed to see had red bottoms.

He approached you, setting the box of antlers on the top of the piano, drawing both yours and the staff members’ attention. Your face lit up upon seeing him, giving him a quick once over. Your makeup was similar to yesterday only your eyes had more shimmer and your lips were a deep red.

Seungkwan sighed dramatically before gesturing at the box. “These feel like they weigh a ton!” he whined and you chuckled lightly at him, turning back to the staff member before she departed, leaving you and Seungkwan alone in your little corner.

“You look incredible,” he said softly. “Th-thanks,” you stuttered, turning away to busy yourself with the box of antlers. “Not gonna lie, I kinda of want to wear these,” you joked. Seungkwan smiled, pointing to your hat. “But your hat matches so well,” he commented. You shrugged. “Maybe I want something different,” you replied cheekily. Seungkwan shook his head, turning away.

When his back was turned, you were quick to grab his hat off his head. Seungkwan spun around, eyes wide and you forced your hat into his hands. “You should have the Santa hat,” you said, putting his hat on your head. “I’m your assistant. I should have the elf ears.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, smiling all the same as he turned back around. “You’re silly,” he murmured as he picked the box up and moved it over to the side of the stage near the steps and out of the way as you sat on the piano bench.

Seungkwan felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, checking the screen to see Molly was calling him before answering it. “Hey, Molly,” he said softly, glancing at you before paying attention to his co-worker.

“Seungkwan, I’m so sorry!” Molly said, her voice sounding hysterical. “Whoa, whoa, are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, excusing himself and walking a short distance away from where you sat, keeping his voice down as he spoke.

You turned your head, wondering who Molly was and how Seungkwan knew her. ‘Probably his girlfriend,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Or possibly a wife,’ a voice in the back of your brain said. You mentally shook that idea away. ‘He’s not married,’ you told yourself. ‘He would have mentioned that.’

You glanced Seungkwan’s way and saw him nervously biting at his thumbnail. The look on his face was one of distress. ‘That can’t be good…’

A few moments later, after nodding and murmuring a few words you couldn’t hear, Seungkwan hung up, placing his phone back in his pocket and walked over, taking a seat beside you and hanging his head, elbows resting on his thighs.

“That doesn’t sound good,” you said as he let out a deep sigh. “Molly can’t make it,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Oh,” you replied, not sure how to respond. You had no idea who Molly was. “Is that your girlfriend?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seungkwan’s head snapped up and he gave you a bewildered look. “What? No,” he replied, sounding confused. “Molly is the music teacher at the school I work at. She teaches music and I teach vocals,” he explained. “She was supposed to be our accompaniment.”

You mentally scolded yourself before perking up. “Wait,” you said quickly, making Seungkwan look up. “Piano, right?” you asked, turning to him. Seungkwan nodded slowly as a smile spread across your face.

“How much time do we have before the concert?”

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes before checking his watch. “An hour,” he replied, looking back up at you as you stood up and turned to face the piano, lifting the key cover and opening the music book. “Let me run through these songs real quick and I can do it,” you told him.

Seungkwan has lost track of how many times he wanted to kiss you for literally saving the day. “No fucking way,” he laughed in disbelief as you started warming up, flexing your fingers. “It’s been a few years since I’ve played,” you explained, fingers gliding over the keys as you read the sheet music before pausing to look at him.

“But I think I got this.”

Not only did you manage to run through the entire set a couple times with Seungkwan but you followed the kids perfectly, surprising Seungkwan and yourself. When the show came to a close, Seungkwan hurried over to you, a man you’d never seen following him.

“Y/N,” he said as you stood up, brushing off your dress. “This is Jihoon,” he explained, introducing the man who smiled politely at you, a woman standing off to the side on her phone behind him. “JIhoon, this is Y/N,” he said, introducing you excitedly.

You didn’t miss the way Jihoon’s eyes widened slightly, glancing at Seungkwan before looking quickly back at you. “It’s nice to meet you,” Jihoon said, giving you a polite nod. “Sorry, Kwan,” Jihoon said, turning to his friend. “But I’ve got plans.” You noticed how he glanced at the woman who smiled at you and Seungkwan. “We’ll catch up soon,” Jihoon added before waving and walking over to the woman and the pair headed for the gymnasium exit.

Seungkwan stared after them before turning to you. “Sorry about that,” he said softly, taking your green hat off his head. “Jihoon is one of my friends I told you about.” You smiled as he handed your hat back and took his hat off your head, passing it back to him.

“The friends you go camping with, right?” you asked, glancing at the green Santa hat in your hands. “Yeah,” Seungkwan said softly. Silence fell over the two of you briefly before you looked up at Seungkwan. “You want to check out the rest of the festival?” A grin spread over his face before he nodded. “Sure,” he said.

“Why not? You saved the show after all. I’d do anything you asked me to, right now.”

As the festival went on, you dragged Seungkwan outside, donning your coats and walking around the ice sculpture display as well as the holiday lights, taking pictures. Despite the freezing temperatures, Seungkwan still found himself having a good time. Up until you dragged him into a photobooth.

“Nothing good happens in photobooths,” his roommate, Vernon, once told him. As you squeezed into the tight space, you scrolled through the frame options until you settled on one and pushed the button. The first set of pictures turned out okay, some of them sort of awkward so Seungkwan was determined to get ones you could proudly display.

The first picture was just a nice one of the two of you smiling. Then you separate your pointer and index fingers into V’s before putting them upside down to your head, like cat ears which Seungkwan followed. You turned to look at him, laughter on your tongue and he just acted.

His hands went to the sides of your neck, pulling you into a kiss as the flash continued, the pictures all but forgotten as soon as your lips met. It was like time stood still, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt Seungkwan’s tongue swipe over your bottom lip and you parted your lips, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, a muffled groan coming from his chest as he pressed further into you.

After what felt like forever but was probably only a few moments, he pulled back, looking at you with heavy lidded eyes, his cheeks tinged red. His lips were slightly stained from your lipstick but he couldn’t care less and neither could you.

You panted, trying to catch your breath as you stared back before Seungkwan finally spoke, breaking the silence, leaning his forehead against yours.

“God, I love you.”

Your eyes snapped open and you looked up at him. “What?” you whispered.

The moment the words left his mouth, Seungkwan knew he was screwed. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but he just couldn’t hold it in anymore. There was no doubt in his mind that he was hopelessly and shamelessly still in love with you.

He pulled back, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes to meet your confused gaze.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I have ever since Jeju. Actually, since before Jeju,” he explained. “I’ve thought about no one else but you since then. When it’s just me and my thoughts alone, you occupy them. When I see something that reminds me of you, you’re just there. I don’t mean for it to sound so weird but I never stopped loving you,” he continued, cupping your cheeks gently.

“I just repressed all my feelings instead of dealing with them like an adult and --”

You pulled him into a kiss by the collar of his sweater, your lips meeting his and shutting him up mid sentence. When you pulled back, Seungkwan looked properly shocked. “Seungkwan,” you said softly, lips ghosting over his. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Take me home,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. His expression shifted and he nodded. “Oh, okay,” he murmured, pulling back. “I thought you drove here.” Your smile dropped before you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“I meant take me to your home, you idiot.”

His brow furrowed in confusion before the meaning of your words sank in and his eyes widened comically. “Oh!” he said loudly before you clapped your hand over his mouth. “Shh, shut up!” He nodded, pulling your hand from his mouth.

“Right,” he said, his voice lower again. “I’ll take you home,” he said softly.

You grabbed the two strips of photos from the photobooth and allowed Seungkwan to lead you from the festival, making his way over to his car. He unlocked the door and opened it for you, shutting the door and quickly jogging around to the driver’s side before getting in and starting the engine.

The drive back to his place, he tried to obey the traffic laws, he really did, but he was just too eager and impatient. When you noticed his knee bouncing, you reached over, taking his hand gently. “We have all night,” you said softly. “No need to be anxious.” Seungkwan shook his head, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not anxious,” he replied. “I’m impatient.”

Not long after, Seungkwan was pulling into his designated parking space, cutting the engine and making you wait so he could open your door for you. Inside the building, you tried to behave and keep your hands to yourself but the moment you entered the elevator, you lost your resolve.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan cursed as you pushed him back against the mirrored surface of the elevator wall, his hands moving to cup your face. “We shouldn’t be doing this here,” he grunted before taking your lips in a kiss, his tongue hot and messy against yours as your hands pulled at his clothes.

“Ssstop it!” he hissed, breaking the kiss and glancing up at the camera mounted to the shiny elevator ceiling. “Someone’s probably watching,” he whined, hands falling to your hips as your lips moved down his neck. “Then let’s give them a show,” you giggled in his ear, your breath tickling his skin.

The elevator dinged, Seungkwan pushing you back slightly. “We’re here,” he confirmed as the doors opened onto his floor. He took your hand and pulled, tugging you down the deserted hallway towards the door to his apartment. You were only able to get a brief glance at your surroundings as Seungkwan fished for his keycard.

The building was a new building, state of the art card readers on every door. The hallway reminding you of a fancy upscale hotel rather than an apartment building. Seungkwan managed to get the card to read properly and turned the handle, shoving the door open as he dragged you in behind him.

Once the door clicked shut, he had you pinned against it, lips attaching to your neck and leaving soft bites and kisses as he made his way down to your collar, whining at the lack of access due to your blazer. He fumbled with the button, succeeding a moment later and peeling the garment off you.

You kicked your heels off as he stumbled to take his shoes off. You giggled as he pulled you through the apartment, pushing you against the kitchen island as he grinded into you from behind, teeth grazing against the skin of your shoulder. You managed to stumble your way through the apartment to his bedroom, pulling layer after layer of clothes off one another, leaving you in just your underwear.

Once you were laid on the bed, Seungkwan hesitated, taking in your form under him. He could remember the last time he had you like this and it made his cock throb, wanting to bury himself inside you and never leave again.

“God,” he groaned, leaning down to press his face into your chest, his hips resting against yours as he lay between your thighs. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whined. “Kwannie,” you whined, combing your fingers through his hair, undoing the style he’d done earlier before the concert. He lifted his head, pushing himself up and hovering over you.

“Lay back,” you instructed, starting to sit up but Seungkwan placed a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back against the mattress. “Later,” he whispered, lowering his face to kiss your chest. “I just really wanna taste you,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed down your stomach.

“Wanna bury my face between these beautiful thighs,” he groaned, gripping your thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin over your stockings. “Okay,” you breathed as he kissed further down. He wasted no time removing your panties, flinging them away as he settled between your thighs, kissing the inside of each before his mouth descended on your sex, fingers spreading your folds.

You gasped out as he licked slowly up your sex, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. His eyes opened lazily as he made eye contact before shutting again as he threw himself into it, tongue wiggling against you, slurping and lapping at your clit. You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, slipping inside you until he was knuckles deep.

“Ngh, Seungkwan,” you groaned, back arching off the mattress as he teasingly curled his fingers. “Sound so pretty for me,” he noted, barely pulling back enough to speak before he was licking at your clit, tongue moving quickly against it. His fingers started to pump slowly, just enough to build the tension but he would slow them to a stop when he felt your walls start to flutter.

“Can’t have you coming undone just yet,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your mound before pulling back, resting his head against the inside of your thigh as his fingers moved quicker, scissoring you open. He watched the rise and fall of your lace clad chest, admiring the way you whimpered and mewled as he fingered you.

“I could do this for hours,” he huffed, hot breath fanning over your skin. “D-don’t,” you murmured. “I need you, Kwannie.” You heard him chuckle lowly. “You need me?” he asked, raising his head slightly, turning to place a wet kiss against your thigh.

“Need me to stuff this pretty little pussy full?”

You nodded wordlessly, moans spilling from your lips instead of words. Seungkwan felt his heart swell. Seeing you needy and proclaiming that you needed him certainly was fanning the flames and stroking his ego. He wanted you to want him. Wanted you to need him. He loved feeling this way.

The way you made him feel. Like he was so irresistibly sexy. He loved feeling that way.

“Wanna feel me inside?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. You groaned, walls tightening around his fingers. “You like it when I talk like this?” he asked, raising himself just enough to see your face contorted in pleasure. You nodded fervently, another moan ripping from you as he curled his fingers.

“Wanna feel my cock pound this tight pussy?”

Seungkwan enjoyed the way you tensed up, thighs shaking as your orgasm threatened to wash over you. “I’ll give you what you want,” he murmured. “But only if you do something for me,” he added. You raised yourself up, resting on your elbows to look at him, a thin layer of sweat on your forehead. “Anything,” you whined. Seungkwan’s eyebrow quirked up. “Anything?” he asked.

You nodded, not realizing the implications of your words. “Yes,” you replied. “Anything. I’ll do whatever you ask, just please fuck me.” Seungkwan’s lips curled into a smile as he added a third finger, stretching your walls to prepare you. He glanced down, watching his fingers sink into your heat.

“Alright,” Seungkwan murmured, pulling his fingers from your cunt and bringing his hand to your lips. “Suck,” he ordered, cock twitching as you parted your lips and accepted his fingers into your mouth, licking and sucking them clean. He pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“Keep going,” he continued, moving a hand over his hard cock. You took the hint instantly, pushing him onto his back and slipping your fingers under the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down as he lifted his hips. You licked your lips as his cock sprang up, standing proud.

You wasted no time, taking him in your fist and leaning over, spitting onto the tip and using your saliva to lubricate, your hand started to stroke him quickly. Seungkwan let out a groan, head falling back against the bed as your hand worked him.

When you took the head in your mouth, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven, letting out a pretty pathetic moan but you didn’t seem to mind as you bobbed your head, keeping your fist at the base of his cock. Seungkwan’s hand moved, stroking your hair as he tried to push your head down further but you were firm and stood your ground.

“Please,” he whined, hips starting to buck. You pulled off him with a pop, looking at him as your hand moved up and down his cock. “Be patient,” you reminded him. “You made me wait,” you added. Seungkwan was about to retort when you took him back in your mouth, lips moving down to meet your hand as you continued to stroke him. He let out a groan instead, fingers digging into the bedding beneath him. “Fuck,” he grunted, stomach clenching. “Just like that. Just like that, baby.”

You hummed, your mouth vibrating around Seungkwan’s cock and making him gasp, hips bucking into your face. “Sh-shit!” he breathed. “Sl-slow down, babe.” You pulled him from your mouth, jerking him faster. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warned. You licked the head of his dick, swirling your tongue around the tip before sinking your mouth back on him.

“Fuck, babe, m’gonna cum,” he warned again. You pulled back, your hand stopping at the base of his cock and letting it fall slightly. Seungkwan let out a whine of protest. “What the hell!” he cried. You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock. “Can’t have you cumming just yet,” you said with a wink.

Seungkwan could have kicked himself. ‘Of course she’s gonna use that against you. Idiot.’

You continued to work him up, bringing him to the brink only to back off and let it slip away from him. Seungkwan was a mess, begging you to stop teasing him and to let him fuck you already.

“Please, baby,” he said, choking back a sob, tears threatening to spill. “Please let me fuck you. I need to be inside you. Please, baby. Please.” Your hand slowed to a stop, lightly squeezing his cock before you sat up. “Okay,” you murmured.

You climbed over him, turning to face away as you planted your hips over his thighs. Seungkwan watched as you grinded backwards against his cock, the sensation of your panties against his throbbing cock almost making him burst into tears. “B-baby. God, fuck. Please. Let me put it in. Let me fuck you. I promise I’ll make you feel so fucking good!”

You scooted back further, reaching down to pull your panties aside and rub your dripping cunt against the underside of Seungkwan’s cock. The glide and friction felt so good, Seungkwan was certain he could have blown his load right then but just as quickly as it started, you lifted off him.

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded as you climbed off him. “Please let me fuck you.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him up as you laid back. “Only if you fuck my thighs first,” you replied, looking up at him through your lashes. Seungkwan melted, moving quickly into position. “O-Okay?” he answered, sounding mildly confused.

You smiled up at him, taking his hand on your knee and placing it between your thighs, pressing it against your soaked panties. “I know you couldn’t get enough of my stockings earlier,” you explained. “You thought you were being slick and that I wouldn’t notice the way you were staring. But I did.”

Seungkwan groaned, moving his thumb to press against your clit through the red lace lingerie.

“And you like this set,” you added, hands moving to cup your breasts. “I noticed the way your eyes lit up when you saw it,” you added. Seungkwan nodded, licking his lips as he brought his free hand up to push one of your hands away, groping your chest. “Fuck,” he said hoarsely. “I do.”

“I fucking love how you look in it.”

You hummed in response, bringing your thighs up. “Then do me a favor and fuck my thighs,” you replied. “And then I’ll let you fuck this pussy. Raw.” Seungkwan choked on his own air as he moved into position, pushing your thighs tighter together. He brought his hand up to his mouth, spitting into it before coating his cock. He guided the head between your thighs, pushing in between them with a groan.

It was so warm and soft. Tight. Almost like fucking you for real.

“Feels so good,” you heard him groan as he pulled back slightly to thrust back in slowly. You felt his saliva smear over your skin as his cock glided between your thighs. “Mmm, that’s it,” you murmured, looking up at him as his eyes fluttered shut, brown knitting together in concentration as he tried to focus.

“That’s good,” you groaned as you felt his cock bump against your cloth covered clit. “Just like that.”

Seungkwan’s fingers dug into your thighs, holding them together tightly as he thrust his hips, fucking between your thighs. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, eyes fluttering open to look down at you. The red lingerie, the black stockings and black garter belt. You were an absolute vision.

“C-can I fuck you now?” Seungkwan asked, tripping over his words as he continued to fuck your thighs. You shook your head, gasping again as you felt his cock nudge against your clit through your panties. “N-not yet-- ah!” you gasped.

Seungkwan took note of your reaction every time his cock brushed against your clit and continued to aim for the same spot. “Come on, princess,” he moaned. “Let me fuck you.” You stared up at him for a moment longer before stopping him.

You sat up, pushing him back against the mattress. You climbed over him, straddling his hips as you reached down, pulling your panties to the side. Seungkwan guided the head of his cock to your entrance, watching as you sank down, cunt enveloping him little by little.

You continued until you were sitting on him, walls gripping his cock tightly. Seungkwan let out a satisfied groan as your walls convulsed around his throbbing length. He wouldn’t last long but he didn’t care. He was inside you again after years. It felt so good. So familiar. So right.

After allowing your walls to relax around him, you placed your hands on his chest, raising your hips only to sink back down, his cock pumping into you. “F-fuck,” you groaned as you sank down, taking more of his cock.

“Ye-yes!” Seungkwan groaned as you started to move fast, bouncing on his cock. The wet sound of his cock entering you repeatedly filled the room, bouncing off the walls and drowning out your breathy moans. You felt his hands grip your hips, trying to speed up your movements.

You slowed to a stop, pushing yourself up until he slipped out of you. “Yah!” Seungkwan protested as you turned to face away, pulling your panties aside and waiting for him to move his cock. Once you felt the tip enter your cunt, you were back to moving, bouncing on his lap, his cock plunging into you.

You felt him grab your hips, one hand moving to massage your ass. “Fuck, we should have done this sooner,” he groaned, hips bucking up to meet your movements. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continued to ride him.

“Stay like that,” you heard him groan and felt his weight under you shift as he sat up. “Keep going,” he urged, trying to move your hips. You lifted your ass, sinking back on him. His hands pulling you back when you lifted up. You felt heat pool in your belly, a swelling sensation as tension mounted.

Each matched thrust had you crying out. Seungkwan pulled you off him, moving to kneel behind you before reentering you. “Come on,” he grunted, now meeting your movements with ferocity. “Fuck me like you mean it,” he growled. You let out a mewl, thighs shaking as his hips hit your ass, the slapping growing louder into a clap. “Fuck,” you gasped as Seungkwan pushed your chest down, taking over as he pounded into you from behind.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he growled. “Who’s the one fucking you this good?”

“Yuh-you are!” you stammered. “I am,” he reaffirmed. “I’m fucking you like the good little slut you are. My good little slut. Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, fingers clenching the sheets as you pushed back to meet his movements.

Each thrust drew a little whimper from you, sounds that grew into moans and mewls as Seungkwan continued to fuck you hard. “Who does this pussy belong to?” you heard him ask suddenly, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck and pushing your face down, squishing your cheek against the sheets. “You,” you gasped, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Say it,” Seungkwan commanded.

“It’s yours!” you cried out. “This pussy belongs to you!”

“Fucking right it does. And m’gonna fill it up until you’re dripping. M’gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, stuff it full, and then fuck it further into you. Pump you full of my cum ‘cause you’re mine. Understand?”

You nodded wordlessly, moan after moan tumbling from your lips onto the sheets along with your drool. “You’re mine and no one else’s! Say it!”

“I-I’m yours! A-and no one else’s!”

You heard Seungkwan groan, hips stuttering as he came, his cock twitching as he painted your walls with his hot thick load. He continued to thrust as he emptied his balls. You whimpered as he didn’t stop, hips still moving as he finally stopped pumping you full.

“Kw-Kwannie, please,” you pleaded. “S-stop. M’so full.”

Seungkwan’s hips came to a stop as he caught his breath. Somewhere between his initial release and the last of his cum spilling into you, your own orgasm had washed over you, rendering you immobile for a few moments as you came down.

You gasped as you felt Seungkwan pull from you, feeling some of his cum mixed with yours slide down the inside of your thigh. “Let me clean that up,” he mumbled. The weight on the bed shifted as he no doubt got up and walked into his bathroom.

He returned moments later, carefully wiping your skin with a warm, damp cloth. He climbed into bed next to you, pulling the covers up over the both of you before you both passed out. The next morning, you awoke to the bluish light of twilight filtering into the room.

You could hear Seungkwan’s soft snores behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he slept peacefully. You started to roll over, a deep aching pain settling between your legs and making you wince. ‘We didn’t even go that hard last night,’ you thought to yourself as you peered over your shoulder at Seungkwan, taking in his angelic expression.

You tried to carefully roll in his hold but you jostled him and he started to stir, making you curse internally. You watched as his eyes fluttered open sleepily. When his eyes met yours, he smiled sleepily. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep from having just woken up.

“Morning,” you replied softly. Seungkwan leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. “My head is killing me,” he whined suddenly and you were glad it wasn’t just you. “We should get some food,” you suggested. “Maybe make some ramyeon.” Seungkwan nodded, rolling onto his back and turning his head to look at the clock. “Later,” he murmured, rolling back to face you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you flush against him.

“It’s only half past five in the morning,” he explained, tucking your head under his chin and sighing contentedly. “We can sleep in longer,” he added. You nodded silently, snuggling up next to him. “And then we can make food?” you asked, smiling as you felt him nod. “And then we can make food,” he confirmed.

It was silent only for a few moments before Seungkwan spoke again.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, breaking the silence. You smiled, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jawline. “Well, I just moved back to the area,” you replied. “Good,” you heard him murmur. “I don’t think I could survive you leaving again like before.” You felt his lips press against your forehead.

You shook your head, letting out a relieved sigh. “Nah,” you answered.

“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan fanfiction #seungkwan fanfic #seungkwan smut #seungkwan x reader #tales from camp holiday special

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mirensiart · 11 days ago

Note

Look, I truly do realize it’s frustrating to be asked the same thing over and over again, but sometimes when looking through a blog to see if something’s been answered, you skip over where it’s been answered, or you don’t quite understand so you ask a similar but different question in hopes of elaboration or for it to make more sense. Yes, sometimes it’s just people not bothering to read the pinned post, but other times it’s an ask for clarification.

Also, when someone asks you what something is, it’s not necessarily them being too lazy to figure it out themselves, it’s often them wanting to initiate a sort of conversation, they want to know what YOU think of something. What is lu? Is it a super cool comic that you like because of the dynamics shown? What is it to YOU? That is what people are asking.

I’m not any of the people to whom you have given the ‘look it up/it’s already been answered’ responses to, but almost every time you say it has more and more felt like a slap in the face and a ‘you’re stupid for asking’.

I want to engage and interact with your content, but the way you respond makes me feel like I have to quadruple check things to make sure it’s not going to get a negative response. Maybe I’m just sensitive, and you’ll just get upset with me (I’m certainly used to it irl), but I feel like it’s important to tell people when they’re coming off as mean and don’t seem to realize it.

I don’t want this to ruin your day or anything, and I truly enjoy your work and think you’re a great artist.

Ok so, I understand where you’re coming from but a couple of things to take into consideration:

1. It’s all about the tone and the way people ask the thing. Some people just come out as entitled and rude, at least to me, which is why it irks me and bothers me. There’s been people who have asked things I’ve answered before, hell the very same question about what linked universe is, I’ve replied to it before with no problems because the person who asked was nice! I do understand not looking at the entire blog for an answer. Another example is the mipha’s grace question, I have gotten it a ton but there are twists to it, some people add interesting details or questions, I don’t mind that at all. It’s when people just come at me with an entitled tone that I don’t like. Maybe I come off as rude myself because tone is so hard to read over text, but I try to be as nice as I can regarding my own circumstances

2. I am doing all of this for free. I have a job and a pretty awful personal life right now lol I create content and I share it with you all and I engage with everyone during my limited free time. I don’t have to reply to everyone, that is true, but I do and I try to as much as I can. I encourage people to send me asks actually since it’s thanks to this that I’ve been able to come out with more ideas for the content I’m making, but sometimes it is too much. I do apologize if I come off rude some days, again I don’t share my personal life online, but I’ve been dealing with the loss of 2 close family members that I lost in a short period of time, so I have bad days. Again it’s not an excuse, and I apologize again for coming off rude, it’s not my intention and sometimes the constant pressure of engaging with people and my own personal problems gets to me. And you guys shouldn’t pay for it.

3. English is not my first language, and i do get meaning and tone mixed up A LOT. I’ve had problems with it before, and I’ve had misunderstandings online cause I took something said to me wrong because of different meanings and ways to say things in Spanish . I’ve come off super rude to people when I’m not trying to cause that phrase or tone is said differently in Spanish and the same has happened vice versa, aka I misunderstand people in English cause some ways to say things come off as super rude here. Again, not an excuse, but it is a problem I’ve been dealing with for a while. I do strive to do better and to learn the language better. So I suppose I can only promise to try harder next time.

All in all, I will be more careful with my tone and my replies from now on, I really don’t want to offend anyone or cause a misunderstanding. I appreciate you telling me though, it helps to remind me that I need to separate my personal life from my online presence, and just not reply to people when I’m not having a good day, since I am more prone to be annoyed that way.

I do hope you have a good day (or night) and I thank you whole heartedly for the honesty. And you’re not sensitive at all anon, I was rude, i appreciate you telling me that. And please don’t feel as if you can’t engage with me, I really want this to be a fun space for everyone, so I’ll try extra hard to make this all a better and safer space for everyone.

#also again if I come off as rude in this very same reply PLEASE know that it’s not what I mean at all #like I hate how limited I feel while writing in English it’s so hard to truly express myself #just know that I am truly sorry if my replies have made you not want to engage with me at all #that like truly hurts more than anything and it was a reality check that I needed #and also thank you a lot for the honesty and for explaining yourself so nicely #anyway I will get better I promise #miry’s ask box

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spicyseonghwas · 1 year ago

Text

" illusory obsessions " - choi san

pairing :: choi san x male reader genres/au's :: angst, smut, romance, subtle yandere viewer rating :: 18+ ; heavy emotions & sexual content content warnings :: cursing, very rough sex, unprotected sex, degradation, vaguely implied breeding, possessive/slightly yandere!san, sexual masochism, san is in his mid-30s & pretty much 10 years older than reader in the fic (hes 24 irl), the last sentence is a lil bit dark lol network tag :: @preciousillusions-net event :: preciousillusions net's grand opening event! word count :: 1,881 synopsis :: ah, choi san… your best friend since preschool… and the love of your life. but are you the same to him? or are you just a playdate to him?

"ugh," san groaned, "i'm so bored, someone give me something to fuck."

"what the fuck do you mean, 'something to fuck'...?" you asked snippily, looking up from your phone to give your long-time best friend a suspicious, eyebrow-up look.

"what the hell do you think i mean when i say that? i want to fuck, m/n, you dumbass. i want a hole to stick my dick in."

you rolled your eyes, mumbling under your breath thinking san wouldn't hear.

"well maybe i'd give you myself if you'd fuckin' ask nicely."

but quite (un)fortunately for you, san did indeed hear every word you said.

and that was how you ended up in your current situation...

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you screamed, throwing your head back into the thick layer of blankets on san's bed and fisting the blankets as hard as you could in futile efforts to keep yourself from floating up onto cloud nine.

"yeah?" san purred, leaning in and biting your neck as hard as he could as he whispered filthy, possessive nothings into your ear. "you like that, bitch? you like being stuffed full of your best friend's cock, hm?"

he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed as hard as he could, letting loose a low, feral, wolf-like growl into your ear before letting his whole weight fall on top of you so he could fuck you harder.

"well your best friend likes it too, and now you don't get to fuck anyone else!" he said happily.

"fuck, s-san, right there," you whimpered weakly, wrapping your arms and legs around san's waist and shoulders and using all the strength you had left to squeeze as hard as you could in an effort to keep him as close as you could possibly get him to be.

"yeah, slut?" san hissed into your ear, pulling out to the tip before slamming back into you as hard as he could, making sure he was balls-deep inside you and nuzzling into your neck before he continued his beforehand movements of fucking you into oblivion.

"you love my cock so much, puppy, you're taking it so fucking well... you're gonna drive me insane..."

"fuuuck," you groaned, your face turning cherry-red and your eyes rolling back into your head as the tip of san's cock grazed your prostate again.

"f-shit, san, right there-"

san chuckled, deciding to change positions a bit. he pulled out, immediately replacing his cock with three fingers before you could register that you'd lost the feeling of his cock inside you. he wrapped his other hand around your cock and began to stroke it as fast as his wrist would let him whilst he continued to finger-fuck you into the clouds in the outer atmosphere with his fingers.

"such a filthy, slutty little bitch. such a cute little cocksleeve," san snapped, slapping your face- he didn't hit you hard, but he didn't exactly go soft on you either. he made sure to hit you just hard enough to get the cutest, most kitten-like little whimper out of you when you felt the light sting of his hand making contact with your cheek.

your face turned a little bit of a darker, bloodier shade of red when san slapped you, and despite your devout mental pleading with the universe that he didn't notice... he did.

"oh? you like it when i slap you around, you little whore?" san growled, giving you another, slightly softer slap on your cheek when you took a moment to respond- you were quite mentally unavailable at the moment with how hard and fast san's fingers were still fucking into you.

san smirked darkly when his second hit landed, taking his fingers out of your abused hole and reaching up and yanking you up by your hair. he moved you so that you were sitting on his lap, then wrapped his hand around your throat and yanked you closer.

"you said you wanted to try voyeurism, right?" he asked, looking right into your eyes with his dark, lustful, chocolate-colored ones.

you nodded vigorously, doing your dearest to pay full attention to san's words whilst imagining the things he was going to do to you next.

san let himself fall slightly out of character for a moment, a happy giggle escaping his throat as he smiled his shiny white trademark smile at you.

"yeah?" he asked, falling smoothly back into character as he leaned in to give you his next command.

"ride it, bitch." he hissed, "be a good, obedient little cocksleeve for your hyung, and maybe he'll let you suck it later while i talk with wooyoung."

you immediately obeyed san's wishes, taking hold of his cock and carefully sliding down back onto it. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck before starting to move.

"mmmm... fuck," san growled, slapping your ass cheek lightly. "speed up, slut. i'm feeling impatient tonight."

you once again obeyed san's wishes, speeding up the movements of your hips so that you were bouncing up and down quick and hard on his cock, fucking yourself on it like there was no tomorrow.

"you're so cute," san cooed, pulling you closer by your throat and smashing his lips onto yours as hard as he could while his hips started moving to help you keep up with the pace he had set for you.

after all, he wasn't completely heartless.

not completely.

"oh, m/n," he sighed dramatically, moving both hands to your hips to help you fuck yourself a little harder. "you're such a beautiful boy... tearing my heart up like a rabid dog. i love you so much..." he confessed, smiling softly and pulling you as close as he could physically get you while he sped up his thrusts and chasing his high like a starving cat after a plump mouse.

his hand strayed up to hold your chin, and he closed the distance again, pressing his lips to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip with his canines, just hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

"fuck, san, i-i'm getting close-" you whimpered, biting your already-broken bottom lip and licking a little bit of the blood off of the wound.

"cum for me, prince." san whispered, tangling his fingers into the hair on your scalp and yanking it in a tantalizingly slow manner before moving his hand to the hair on the base of your neck and yanking it as hard as he could without any warning to you.

and that one little feeling, that burning sting on the back of your neck, was the last little thing that drove you fully over the edge.

you screamed into san's neck as your orgasm hit you like a ship hitting the beach, biting into his collar to keep yourself from falling too far into the blissful void of feelings that was your orgasm.

"good boy." san said softly, helping you get yourself off of him. then he wrapped his arms around you and let his and your weight fall backward into the bed. he squeezed you as hard as he could. then he turned you carefully over onto your back and beginning to leave little butterfly kisses all over your neck, lips, body, chest, thighs, and forehead in an effort to give you soft feelings to focus on as you came down from your high.

"san?" you asked after a short while.

"yeah?" san replied softly.

"were you telling the truth when you said you love me?" you asked hesitantly, turning over onto your side and looking right into his eyes.

san smiled softly, reaching over and brushing some strands off of your sweaty forehead. his hand strayed to your cheek and his thumb began to softly caress your cheek, which was still slightly red from having been slapped twice earlier.

"of course i love you, darling," san said softly, "truthfully? i always have." he confessed.

"wait, really?" you asked confusedly, "what do you mean, you always have?"

san smiled softly again, his face turning a little red as his eyes strayed away from yours for a split second.

"i've been in love with you since you were eighteen, m/n."

"wait, really??" you said astonishedly, "san, baby, how come you never told me?? you've been in love with me since i was eighteen?? that's like- shit..."

you had to stop talking for a moment, and san just grinned in anticipation, waiting for you to figure it out.

"san..."

"yeah?"

"san, you're... you're thirty-five years old. you literally turned thirty-five, like, two days ago. and i'm almost twenty-five."

"mhmmm... and?" san said, trailing off in an effort to prompt you to figure the rest of it out.

"and.... and so that means you've been in love with me for... HOLY FUCKING-"

and san started laughing.

"SEVEN YEARS??" you shrieked.

"yeah, and??"

"AND- AND?? CHOI SAN, YOU'VE KEPT THIS INFORMATION FROM ME FOR SEVEN YEARS!!"

after san got his breath back enough to answer you coherently, he said,

"and i'd gladly fall in love with you for a thousand more and not tell you until the day you die if you not knowing that information keeps you from loving someone else the way it obviously has this time around."

you had no response for this.

"san..." you started softly, but trailed off; you couldn't find anything to say.

"san, why so long?"

"i just told you, it's so that you'd keep trailing along after me trying to find out whether i loved you back or not, and that would keep you from giving in to someone else's advances." san answered, taking your hand and squeezing it.

"m/n, the thought of you falling in love with another man haunts my dreams, it's the only thing i've had a nightmare about for almost eighteen years. i don't... i want you to love me. i don't want you to love someone else, because i'm afraid that if you do, i'll hurt them out of jealousy, and that'll drive you away."

your heart broke.

"san, i..."

your eyes started to burn, and you screwed them shut as they filled up with tears. you tried to keep them at bay, but san knew this would happen, and he wasn't going to let you continue this self-destructive habit you'd always had of acting tougher than you were. because the thought in his mind might sound sort of sick, and one could rightfully judge him if they thought it so...

but san wanted you to cry.

and no, it wasn't because of some sick fantasy of dacryphilia... no, it was for the sake of your heart, because, you see...

l/n m/n never cried.

and every time you kept yourself from crying, it broke san's already-shattered heart into another ten thousand tiny little pieces. he wanted you to cry. he wanted you to let your walls fall down for a while. he needed you to feel better, because you feeling a little more at peace with yourself would make san hate himself a little less for loving you as long as he had.

it would make him feel a little better about the things he wanted to do to you when you were comfortable with him doing them.

#chase.exe 🌑#fever.dreams 🌑#preciousillusionsnet #cacaokpop #k labels #ateez #san #choi san #ateez angst #ateez x male reader #choi san x male reader #ateez smut #ateez x male reader smut #kpop x male reader smut #choi san angst #san x male reader #choi san smut #choi san x male reader angst #ateez x atiny

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makingspiritualityreal · 10 months ago

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Lessons from my Anime Phase

Many years ago, before I matured into my spiritual journey, this used to be an anime blog. I don't regret this phase of my life, even though I completely outgrew it, because I believe it taught me something important.

The content of a creation is more important than the form. There is anime (sadly not as many as you would think) that is a good piece of art. There are regular movies that suck. I'm still waiting for a movie as good at depicting the power of wishful thinking and self repression as Perfect Blue. These years taught me to look deep beyond the surface form and into the meaning of any creation.

Supressing one's emotions leads to serious repercussions. One of the reasons some people find anime so weird is because it is literally an outlet for the collective mentality and emotionality of Japanese societal pressure. It feels exaggerated, but it is a reaction to the external forced numbness and politeness the Japanese society is plagued with. If you don't deal with how you feel regularly and don't express it and process it, if you don't make friends with your demons, you keep bubbling like a cauldron. It leads to having a very edgy, very draining life, not being present with yourself. It leads to not being able to function and ultimately making simple things feel like the end of the world.

Getting older is awesome. I would never come back to my past. Every morning felt like torture. Sometimes, even if life is never perfect, it moves you on in simpler ways that allow for balance. Establishment of healthy routines does wonders for mental peace. The Universe putting you in an environment where you can do that, after years of having that taken away from you, feels blissful. With time comes perspective and you can see your life shaping up and taking you somewhere. That allows you to approach the rest of your life with the same philosophy. I can read this post another 10 years into the future, and think wow, my life got even better. But at least now I try to be relaxed about it and no to overthink how every tiny little thing can go and I don't try to control or micromanage the future, even if it's sometimes hard.

Youth is overrated. Very few people really get to enjoy being young and hot, and those that do, are probably on YouTube's most watched list now. Being young and hot only pays off if you happen to be an artist, you're in a good film, or you're lucky enough to be in a music video. With those things, you build a legacy you will have forever. But most young women spend their youth and beauty on dating guys they wish they could forget in their 30s. At least I can say I spent it on doing the right thing, refining myself, self development and spiritual growth, which I am really proud of. I was younger and "hotter" once, but paradoxically I feel like I'm becoming more beautiful. I had absolutely no benefits from being young. I had no good relationships and everyone irl always criticized me for breathing. I never felt attractive. My highlights were compliments from my online friends, because no one around me actually thought well of me in my physical life. I'm married now, but this is my first serious adult relationship. I didn't have any good relationships with anyone that really appreciated my looks or personality back then. So whatever has passed, hasn't really been used anyway. I was very insecure because I lived surrounded by unfair criticism from many people, who should have been supporting me but betrayed me. Maybe some people have fun in their youth, I honestly didn't. Moving away from all the people that made my youth something I'm glad to put behind me was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Being different growing up is hell for everybody, no matter what form it takes. Being an outcast is probably the number one debilitating thing that makes youth difficult. You have no role models, you have no support, you endure extra pressure. But over time, even those that are different end up finding their place, and they realise they were just different to people around them in their early environment, but they're not that different from the rest of the world, and there is a niche out there for everybody. Even if you have to create one yourself, someone will flock to it. Being yourself trumps compromising your authenticity every day.

#spiritual journey #spiritual growth #spirituality #spiritual awakening #personal

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thanatoast250 · 6 months ago

Note

Every piece of Bloomacncheez has slowly disappeared off the internet. YouTube, Wikia, etc. They’re entitled to their privacy but I’m just curious if they’re okay. Did they finish college? Did they reach their dreams of working in animation? Things I think about some time.

Hey there, Anon

Bloo's DeviantArt is still up along with her Tumblr pages (main and art here) and Twitter, but if she has started using social media again, it isn't under her BMNC moniker.

Her main YouTube page has been down for quite a long time due to some old Copyright issues. This was way back in the old day when Viacom and Universal were hellbent on striking anything and everything that had semblance of their properties, and her page got hit with a bunch of issues from her old parodies. She and I tried to fix it a long time ago but once College time got around, we were both just so busy that we didn't end up getting around to it.

Her Wikia page was deleted because I didn't feel comfortable with how it had been used in the past. When I found out that it existed, I was super excited because it was something I could have worked on and just been a nice thing for her. But I also found out that people were using it to allegedly stalk her; since Wikia/Fandom pages can be edited by anyone, there were anonymous users using it to talk about how she disappeared and how they "found her" and were "watching from the shadows". It was super creepy and I started to clean it up, making the whole wiki nice and pretty and cleaning out as much as I could that would lead people to trying to stalk her or The Classy Peanuts. I became the Content Administrator, so I had full rule over what would and would not be posted, and I made several pages about her, her parodies, characters, and the many people that were either working on or going to work on the stuff (including one for myself that I was going to finish up last).

But the longer I worked on it the more I felt like something was off, and considering Wikia/Fandom doesn't like it when Wikias/Fandom pages are made about IRL people, I reached out and asked a moderator/developer about whether the work I was doing was safe or not, since I didn't want to put either her or any of the other Classy Peanuts (or really anyone) in danger of stalkers and the like. He told me that if that Wikia/Fandom were made today, it would likely be shut down for precisely the reasons/concerns that I had, even though Bloo didn't ever post anything about her IRL life outside of her birthday (I knew about a little bit more about her life, but I never shared any of it, obviously) and there wasn't going to be anything about her or the Peanuts' IRL lives on there. So that being said, I figured that the safest course of action would be to delete the Wikia/Fandom. I have all of the pages downloaded/archived on my computers in the chance that I ever get back in contact with Bloo or one of the Peanuts reaches out to me and says it's okay, but as it stands, the Fandom is down and will not be returning for their safety and respect. So I personally apologize for that.

However, I was informed that I could probably make a page for her on Wikitubia (I think that's what it was called?) because her page has over 10k subscribers, which is the minimum requirement for having a page. I was told that Fandom has more moderation that would help with keeping people from stalking her or posting irrelevant or personal information. It's currently in my ever-growing list of projects, but it'll be up eventually. Probably.

As for the rest of your questions, I can't say. The last time I talked with Bloo was when she was still in college, but she was trying very hard to stay focused and buckle down for everything. There were parts of our interactions and conversations that gave me concerns for her. She was under a lot of stress, and her taking a break from Tumblr (and online in general) was a good thing for her. She was in her final year of college the last time I spoke to her, so I imagine that she did graduate. A lot of her courses and focuses were in Illustration, and she was phenomenal at it, so I like to think that she ended up working what she wanted to. She's a strong person, so I like to believe that she overcame the stresses she was under and did achieve her dreams. At the end of the day, though, I can't give you any direct confirmations though; the last time we talked was back in 2015 or 2016, and her email closed due to inactivity a couple years ago.

The only other people that I can think of that would be able to help you or anyone else more than that are the other Classy Peanuts who knew her IRL because they lived near her and hung out all the time. But the last time I talked to one of the Peanuts they just told me, quote, "if we don't share details about our lives with the public/internet, it means we don't want anyone knowing". Granted, I wasn't exactly level-headed when I asked about it; the last couple conversations I had with Bloo had me concerned for her safety and health, so I was kind of a wreck and very pushy with this person. It's definitely a conversation I could have handled better, though I suppose there's not much I can do about it now.

I think about BMNC a lot, too. I think about all conversations we had, all the times before then where we helped each other get through hardship, all the silly back-and-forths in the early hours on weekdays despite us having classes in the morning, all those fun times. They're good memories and help me keep going when I'm feeling crummy. I still send her Happy Birthday messages on her DA and Tumblr in the off chance she sees them.

I'm sorry I can't be of more help, though. I wish I had more answers for you and all of the people that come to me about it. I don't mind answering questions, I just feel bad that I can't give good and satisfying answers to them.

#bmnc #bloomacncheez #bloomacnchez #bloo #bluepersona #anon #ask #june 6 2024 #long post #miss you bloo #shoot me a message if you feel like it

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styrmwb · 7 months ago

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I beat Slayers X

losers........ scroll away. u cant HANDEL how cool this game is....

Hypnospace Outlaw is one of my favorite indie games of all time (Slay the Spire is also up there, these two are the peak for me). When I found out there was a sequel I was hyped. It only took my brain... a little under a year to actually play it XD (I gave Hypnospace another playthrough a few days ago cause I never got 100% or did the Plus content so that helped). But giving me more hypnospace universe (the trennisverse, as I've heard) goodness in the form of a game created, in character, by Zane? Fucking Outstanding. I've never really been a boomer shooter guy, so this was like... technically my first one played? I had a blast the whole way through, regardless.

gameplay......

Again, never actually played with my own two hands a boomer shooter before, but of course I've watched Doom gameplay, I've played more modern FPSs. I knew what I was getting myself into, and it felt super easy to maneuver. The weapons were all really fun, and I actually got to feel like each one had its own use, although the Glass Blasta and the Rapid Mutilator were my personal favorites, for power and mobility reasons alike. I loved the map design, which wasn't constant enemies and perpetual combat like I was expecting. There was a lot of downtime that let me explore, see the details put into everything, and to look for secrets. That was my favorite part of the gameplay for sure, although I'm sure for some people they might not like those slower parts and how hard some of the secrets were to find. I know I struggled a bit on some, but I still liked it. I played on the normal difficulty, which felt like it gave me enough of a challenge and enough time to breathe. It was the perfect mix.

atmosfear....

The theming of the game was FUCKING perfect. Hypnospace crushed it with the vibe of early internet forums, and Zane was spot on for a stupid edgy 15 year old of the time. They already mastered the execution, and they got to expand on it further here. The misspellings, the nu metal soundtrack, the graphics, the toilet humor and crude but just innocent enough dialogue, it all gets the vibe exactly correct. Hell, even in real life, with Zane being the irl creator of the game, his twitter, and the way that he advertises his game is perfect. If you don't know what you're getting into, you're gonna think this game is stupid, and I know this cause I've seen quite a few people just not understand what the bit is, and the bit is 50% of the enjoyment of the game. I love it, though. Can't wait for more of this energy in the future.

musik (awsome)

Growing up in the 2000s with younger parents, the general nu metal genre and anything in that era is what I listened to growing up, so this shit is NOSTALGIC for me. I love every song in the game, I love how dirty and rancid it sounds, they literally already got it perfect in Hypnospace, and Slayers X just gives me even more of what I already love. When you're not in combat and you're just walking around, the rock takes a backside for this creepy atmospheric noise which really makes the levels, showing the dingy nature and the (literal) shit. The bonus levels have different soundtracks that get that Doom level sound perfect, which I really appreciated as well.

characterz... (Zane, the coolest guy, and those other idiots.....)

I LOVE how this game's cast feels. The in universe explanations for everything really enhances it. Zane is still that same immature child he was years ago, the game is full of his ego, but you can see in his like, dev dialogue, that he has in fact aged and mellowed out, which is really sweet and saddening to see. The same kid who made bullying pages is now a single dad who clearly loves his kid even if he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, and is dealing with a lot of hardships in life. Like the original game, it's a surface of humor with a really deep inside. You get more of his character by seeing the rest of the cast. Mevin is creepy, obviously evil, definitely not inspired by anyone irl, and Zane's way of physically lashing out at his struggles. Steffanie literally sounds like there's 0 effort being put into her lines, and combined with the secret with Adam, the person that helped Zane code the game, showing annoyance yet still helping him shows that this dude is pathetic but... there's still something in him that makes people want to help him anyways. Mikey is also in on this, putting WAY more effort than anyone would ever need to in this game, but you can tell because of that that there's just something ABOUT Zane that people can't help but want to push him forward for some reason. Again, it's heartwarming and sad, and I love that.

the rest, ig uess...

I don't really know what else to say that I haven't already said; I love this game. It gives me more of what I loved out of Hypnospace, although hyperspecified to Zane (not complaining)

I DO HAVE TO ADMIT THOUGH, I HAVE A SERIOUS BIAS CAUSE ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS HELPED MAKE IT AND I LOVE TO SEE HER WORK, SHE MADE SOME OF THE LEVELS AND SOME OF THE SOUNDTRACK AND SHE'S SUPER COOL AND AWESOME AND SKILLED SHOUTOUTS TO @headachelikeapillow YOU'RE THE BEST

I got a little easter egg in the game which is super cool :) It warms my heart to see my name lead into a fuckin saw chamber (that has literally stopped every streamer I've ever seen play that level in their tracks, it's hilarious)

sorry if I'm breaking an nda you can kill me if you need

Anyways, with that aside;

10/10. BADASS GAME MADE BY THE AWESOMEST DUDE AROUND.... HELL BE RICH AND FAMOUS FOR SURE AND GET ALL THE GIRLS (LIKE HE DOESNT ALREADY BWL)

#slayers x #textpost #games I beat in 2024 #jared's game ramblings

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pseudonymphomania · 1 year ago

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This is the first time I've made something for my own MC. "Dear Love" refers to my IRL partner, whom I pretend to write to about my adventures in the Devildom.

I play the game as everyone's platonic friend. I am asexual and enjoy Queer Platonic Relationships for myself. I also play matchmaker in my own Devildom universe.

My attributes: average height. Black hair styled with a medium hold matte pomade. Brown eyes. Beauty mark under my nose. Dimple on one side of my face.

Clothing: Prefer formal wear over casual. Suspenders over belts. Monochromatic colours or loud ostentatious patterns, no in-between. Comfy dress shoes in black or brown but open to other colours to match outfits; I'm wearing leather monkstrap shoes in the picture. Metal accents like tie clips are crucial. Got laser eye surgery but sometimes wears fake glasses to feel something on my face. Satchel contains good pens, quality paper, and workstation. Fitbit on my wrist to count every step I take to solve the problems of the day.

Personality: wry and dry humour. Workaholic. Lifelong learner. The Parent Friend. Always happy to help. Frontline tendencies.

Skills: technical writing, sewing and clothing construction, trades and mechanics, hair cutting, musician (piano and guitar), singer and actor (theatre), novelist, artist

Likes: obtaining new skills and making new friends. Justice. Equity.

Dislikes: misunderstandings, situations that could have been handled effectively but weren't. Unclear communication.

Occupation before I got Isekai'd: Director of Operations

Character I relate to the most: Lucifer

Character I would date if I was inclined: Diavolo, because he reminds me of my actual partner.

The reason I ship DiaLuci so hard: I love my partner the most and this is a mirror to that, right down to situations and actual conversations we have had in real life. The narrative potential. Other reasons.

My MC and OM Characters in my Devildom:

Lucifer: would smugly tell me that I've used a comma splice and I'd tell him to "shove a semi-colon in it". He's my bestest friend in the entire Devildom. We go to cafes and bookstores and go shopping for office supplies. I tell him to stop working so hard and he stares at me like "You're the one telling me this? The audacity." I needle him about his crush and he tells me to fuck off but his face is red.

Mammon: my other bestie but in a wildly different way. He brings out the shit-disturber in me. We play billiards together and play for treats. I disapprove of his gambling but am all-in on the shopping. He takes me out to all the best food places. "Try this, Beckett, you'll really love it." Meanwhile it's some sort of Devildom Atrocity, but somehow it's still good.

Levi: my nerd friend. I bring him offerings and leave them outside his door. We play games often with Mammon and I kick their butts at fighting games, but get wrecked when I have to make choices. We stay up hellishly late and I wake up with chocolate on my face. "Lets do this again: ive got the hottest new dating sim to try!" We are both groggy and destroyed and i have to go to work, but I agree to come back tonight.

Asmo: my favourite boy toy. He's stylish as hell and knows what looks good on anybody. Hes my personal stylist. I cut his hair in exchange. Just like with Mammon I go shopping with Asmo, except he knows all the good places for clothing and knows where all the thrift stores are. "It doesnt have to be new and expensive to look good honey!" I agree. I cuddle with Asmo the most because he loves touch.

Satan: my boy thirsts for knowledge and I do too. We skill-trade and fan over cats. Unfortunately I'm very allergic, but I appreciate them from afar and draw cats for him to hang in his book-filled room. "Do you want to come to the cat Cafe with me?" Oh Satan. He's his father's son alright, but he's just as much of a shit disturber as Mammon. He teaches me fun curses to use on people but I'm content with just knowing it.

Beel: when I'm tired Beel carries me back home and talks about the science behind calories and energy retention in relation to demonic body types. He enjoys cooking and I love testing recipes on him, but I have to swat him away from eating it before it's done. We do exercises together and buff up together. "I can almost see your six pack, haha".

Belphie: he's my sleepy boy. He can be irrational sometimes but I put a blanket over his head to shake him out of it and he snuggles closer. I play him songs on piano and guitar and sing him to sleep, but then I also end up quite sleepy. He's like a son to me and I lecture him often. I try to keep him and Satan from screwing with Lucifer too much. I'm a double agent in the anti Lucifer league lol

Diavolo: i enjoy it when he regales me with Devildom laws, traditions and customs. He speaks of how the executive branch and legislative branch operates in the context of his kingdom and I suggest to strengthen certain areas of his constitution to bring his vision of equity and interrealm relations to the forefront. I am also a shit disturber and needle him about his crush. "You are asking beyond your means, Beckett. Forgive me if I don't answer." Hm... yes, of course. Sorry.

Barbatos: I learn how to be the most efficient I can be from someone who is the most efficient. He is skilled in everything and I must learn from the best. I'm his best student and I'm a teachers pet so i love to hear it. He's been and seen everything and he is an excellent linguist. He is poetry personified in the every day. "Don't let Solomon ruin you too much." I won't!

Solomon: I use my knowledge of mechanics and trades and recontextualise it to be an artificier and create magical items. He is also one to bring out the shit disturber in me and I have almost become Thirteen just from the incidentally nonsense stuff I make. "Oh that's an interesting effect. I wonder what will happen if I give this to Barbatos". Solomon, dude. Do you want to get murdered. Is that what you're into.

Simeon: he is my sweetest and chillest boy. My bestie to talk about justice and relationality with. When I'm insecure and feel like people don't like me as much as they do, he reassures me and tells me stories of his own relationships. "There is nothing wrong with stepping back. Once you've regained your sense of self, you'll be able to pursue the path of friendship again and people will be ready to receive you."

Luke: he is like my son. I make sure he doesn't get nightmares because he seems to have a hard time acclimating to his demonic environment. He teaches me how to bake so that I can make some cakes that look like real inanimate objects and eat them in front of people, to their shock.

Mephisto: I am like Lucifer 2.0. He doesn't really like me but I have no hard feelings toward him.

Thirteen: my Bae. She's a delight but I have to make sure her shenanigans don't cause too much damage in the area or accidentally kill me. I would date her after Diavolo if I was inclined to do that.

I hope you enjoyed seeing my experience and interpretation of the game from my point of view. Everyone's MC journey is very personal to them and I do not believe there is a wrong way to enjoy the game. Thank you for reading. :)

#obey me dialuci #dialuci #obey me male mc #obey me main character #obey me shall we date #otome asexual #Obey me asexual player

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daimyosprincess · 6 months ago

Text

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.

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.

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.

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.

#i made my own slutty self blush with this one 🙈#zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #dad's friend!boba #fanfic #worth the risk fic

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