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oceantornadoo · 4 months ago

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the ex-wife chronicles pt.3 (ex husband!john price x f!reader)

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John wakes up regretfully. It’s too easy to bite at a newcomer, especially you with all the history between you too. He’s determined to make it up, but with Ghost and Soap coming, it’ll be a lot harder to get you alone. Plus, despite Soap’s injury, Simon is too perceptive. He’ll know something is going on. John’s debated telling the team about your ex status, but he doesn’t want to ruin whatever perception they have of you. He’s really hoping you can help the team, and he’s not going to let his past eclipse that.

Once John gets dressed, he finds you and Gaz eating breakfast in the kitchen. There’s a third bowl of oatmeal waiting for him on the counter, with a sprinkle of brown sugar. He just knows you made it and now he feels even more dick-ish. Great.

“Soap an’ Ghost will be here in thirty minutes.” John says by way of greeting. Gaz grunts, clearly still sleepy, and you nod, eyes trained on the empty bowl in front of you. “Thanks for the breakfast, Doc.” John murmurs as he walks past your chair to get his bowl. You don’t even correct his insinuation, just tense your shoulders a bit before dropping them and nodding. The air isn’t as tense as he thought it would be, which is the most he can ask for during this reunion.

“You guys ready to see your teammates?” You ask the space in front of you. It’s said pleasantly, a rarity in a team built for battle and bloodshed. John nods and Gaz launches into a story of how, years ago, Johnny wooed almost all of the nurses that took care of him after a nasty cut to his leg. The story takes up the rest of breakfast, thankfully. He’s stopped by the sound of honking outside the compound. Gaz jumps in his seat and takes off to the front. You stand and move to follow, but John stops you with a hand to your waist.

“I’m sorry for last night.” He whispers, his hand moving to the small of your back as he guides you towards the front doors. Surprisingly, you don’t shrug it off. “It’s fine, John. I was being mean.” He squeezes your waist and drops his hand before he can remind himself that you’re no longer his to squeeze. “Reckon we both were. Thought a decade might change that, but looks like we’re still kids.” You bark out a small laugh and shake your head, looking down at your synced footfalls. “Looks like it.” You reply, light and airy. A welcome change from this morning.

“If it makes you feel better, I am a bit. Lonely, that is.” He doesn’t know why he said that, why he’d trust you with that information despite having not seen you in years. It’s not like you know each other anymore, have no reason to trust except Laswell- “I think I am, too. Different reasons but…” You trail off, shrugging. When you look up at him, eyes catching for the first time this whole morning, he can’t help but remember how you look under him, wet and willing. Breath catching as you both try something new, his voice soft and low in your ear…

“Cap!” Soap’s voice, clear and healed, rings out in the crisp morning air. His hair is gone, replaced with a rough buzzcut on the side of his head that the bullet grazed. He grips a cane loosely, like it’s there just in case. Other than being in civvies, he looks almost exactly like normal. Whole. Simon is also dressed in civvies, a black sweatshirt and blue jeans, his arm fluttering at his side like he’s waiting for Soap to fall so he can catch him. It only took a bullet for him to get over himself. How predictable.

“It’s good to see you, Soap.” John peels himself from your side and claps both of his men in one-armed hugs. They linger a bit, mostly because John needs to feel Soap’s beating heart before he can let him go. When he’s done greeting Simon, he finds you already introducing yourself to Soap, your hand clasped in his. Simon stiffens imperceptibly and John pats his shoulder in reassurance before stepping back. “Few weeks an’ you’re already a caveman.” John grunts, only for Simon’s ears. He can feel the force of his eye roll and grins under his mustache before joining Gaz where he stands. You greet Simon next, and John holds his surprise in as the man takes your handshake. Maybe he has softened. Maybe so has John.

“Well, I’m glad to see you all together. Johnny starts his PT tomorrow, so today we’ll spend as much time as we can together. I talked to the facility and he’ll be able to join us twice a week on the days he’s not working with them.” You sound a bit like a summer camp instructor, but your brightness is welcomed to cheer up the reunion. If you weren’t here, John has a feeling they would’ve already started day-drinking in a dark pub somewhere. “Y’r makin’ me work, Doc.” Johnny comments goodnaturedly. You smile and it’s blinding. “I’m not treating anyone, but especially you, with kiddie gloves. I know the conditions you’re used to and I definitely know you won’t do any good being idle. Anyone disagree?” They’re all silent, even John. He can’t refute a single point.

They follow you back into the building, Gaz and Soap bickering like old times. Simon didn’t even pretend to bring an overnight bag, simply setting down an extra cane for Soap in his room. John’s chest tightens. He excuses himself to the bathroom, shutting the door forcefully and locking it. It’s hit him now, that it won’t ever be the same. Soap probably won’t be able to come back and Simon will do anything for him. Gaz is here, always following John’s lead, but he’s destined for greater things than Sergeant. John’ll probably get assigned new soldiers within the year, prodigies of their classes who aren’t worth half of any of his men. And for now he’s just in limbo, waiting. Shepherd and Makarov are dead. Other loose strings have been tied. His men will leave, but where does that leave him? Of course, he’s moved teams, locations, bases. But this one stuck, these are his men. With every thought, his heart beats louder and louder in his ears.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Occupied.” John grunts out. “It’s me.” Your voice is muffled through the wooden door. Reason has long left him, which is the only reason his shaking hand unlocks the lock. You slip in quietly, keeping it tightly closed so no one else could see. “Gaz is taking them on a walk, we’re meeting them at base in twenty. When- John? Can you hear me?” He’s gripping the basin of the sink hard, like he wants to break it. The faucet is leaking, small drips landing every few seconds.

“Alright, John, can you breathe for me? In and out, let’s do it together.” He scrambles and finds your hand warm and strong, squeezing his. It’s a reminder that you’re here, he’s here and not in some world where the carpet has been swept out from under him. You move his hand to your chest, where he can feel your lungs expand under your t-shirt. It grounds him as he matches your breathing to his, breaths calmer with every inhale and exhale. “You’re doing good, John. There you go.” Your voice rumbles through his hand, immovable as a mountain. He blinks and his vision is clear, staring straight into the mirror. His hand lays on your sternum, covered by your own. It feels a bit like ownership, security. The rest of his face looks…normal. His hair is in place, his beard sharp from where he cleaned it up this morning. There’s no signs of that immense pressure that had been pressing into him.

“Feel better?” You ask. He meets your eyes in the mirror, can sense you’re going into doctor mode. “Yeah, love. Feelin’ alrigh’.” The petname slips out unbidden, and neither of you acknowledge it. All you do is nod, squeezing his hand on your chest before dropping it back to his side. “Seeing them must have been hard. I’m sorry it hit you like this.” He nods. John runs the water and cleans his hands, washing away the sweat that gathered there. You watch from your perch near the door, all-seeing.

“John, do you-”

“Let’s talk later, Doc. Need to get t’ base.” He can’t bring himself to glimpse the pity on your face, so he simply walks out the door. There’s a ghost of a touch against his back as he passes you, so light he could’ve imagined it. Something tells him he didn’t, so he does what a good soldier does and compartmentalizes.

The two of you walk in silence all the way to base. When you both get there, the boys are waiting by what suspiciously looks like an…ATV. He turns to you, and the placid expression you’ve been maintaining suddenly transforms into a grin. “Welcome to our first day of team bonding!”

“Don’t worry, we’re not doing anything to aggravate injuries. I just figured between this and a golf cart, you might want something fun.” Your words meet four blank male faces. Clearly, they are not excited at your tone. “Where are we goin’ on it, Doc?” Gaz eventually asks. “We’re going on a nature walk!”

Jeez, not a happy crowd.

“There’s a small forest a few kilometers from here. We’re going on a nature walk.” You like scaring human war machines with the phrase ‘nature walk’. It’s a way for them to talk about their feelings while hiding their faces in foliage, one of your favorite tricks of the trade.

Unfortunately, the ATV is not big enough. It would be, with two seats in the front and a bench for three in the back, if you were with regular soldiers. Unfortunately, Gaz insists on driving and Soap needs the passenger seat so he doesn’t get vertigo. They’re the two leanest which leaves you with two hulking masses of muscle in the back. You can’t sit in the middle as you tried to do in the beginning, before Simon almost sat on you. Before you can tell them you’ll meet them there, John swings out and snatches you from where you’re standing outside the vehicle. There’s no doors so in an instant, you’re seated on his lap. Right thigh, to be exact. You haven’t touched him like this in a decade and he’s since put on weight, muscle and fat combining into a very comfortable seat. You’ve gained weight too, but it doesn’t occur to you to protest. If he wants to sign up for this, you’re not going to stop him.

You’re not going to slide down further into John’s lap when Gaz guns the gas pedal, seemingly knowing where the forest is without you telling him. You’re not going to put a hand on John’s other thigh as you hit a bump, no seat belts in sight. You’re not going to squeeze it hard, to feel that rigid muscle and sinew under your fingertips. You won’t let his arm tighten around your waist, his hand splayed on your belly like he owns it. You will, in fact, ignore the side eye Ghost is giving you, the searing gaze of Gaz in the rear view mirror.

You do jump off the moment the vehicle stops.

“Right, well, let’s get going before the sun gets higher.” Absurdly, you expect something to have changed during the ride. For John to pull you into him and whisper something foul in your ear. You expect to have to reject him or ask how he’s doing after his panic attack. None of that happens.

Instead, John stays in the back of the group, walking with Soap as he tests out his cane on the worn trail of the forest. You walk in between Ghost and Gaz, thankful for the latter’s conversation. You let them get settled in, cataloguing escape routes and the rustling of creatures until their shoulders relax. It’s only when Ghost seems settled that you clear your throat to get their attention.

“Right, everyone. We’re going to address the elephant in the room.” It’s been grudging acceptance so far, but the forest turns pin-drop silent. These poor soldiers, taught they have to wage war on themselves even off the battlefield. It’s unfortunate, to have such unique skills you get turned into a weapon, not able to wield yourself anymore.

“We’re going to say something we regret. Could be about the last mission, or not. But I want you to take this seriously. Think of things that have been on your chest.” The only sound is the occasional chirping bird. These men know how to walk silently, so you’re the loudest one there.

“I’ll go first.” You say when no one says anything. You decide to start light. “I regret eating oatmeal before this. My stomach is turning.” That gets a pity laugh from Gaz. You catch his eyes, pleading for him to go next.

“I regret not bringing enough candy back with me.” The men grumble and hum, going around in a circle with lighthearted comments. Forgetting cigarettes, a last trip to the pub, a massage. When it gets back to you again, you steel yourself for an uncomfortable silence. “I regret not staying in London longer.”

Gaz scratches the back of his head. Ghost cracks his neck. You can’t see Soap or John behind you, but you bet they’re fidgeting as well. They can sit for hours behind a sniper scope, but talking about their feelings sets them on edge, years of training down the drain. (You know that’s not true. That they feel comfortable and safe enough with each other to show these little bits of emotion. But you like to think it’s you, that unnerves them).

It’s quiet for a few minutes. Sticks break under feet and light breaks through the winter-worn trees, not yet having bloomed with new leaves. Only when the sun temporarily blinds you does Gaz speak. “I regret not spendin’ more time with my mum ‘fore I left.” He grunts out. You nudge his shoulder in thanks. He’s a bit stiff, but relaxes eventually.

“Ah regret runnin’ in tae tha’ fuckin’ room.”

“Johnny-”

“Soap-”

“Now, Soap-”

Despite their protests, there was a collective sigh in the group. The acknowledgement, the truth of it barren and raw. Pain is etched into their faces, wrinkled and squinting. But there’s something else there too. Relief. Acknowledgement.

“I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get some lunch in all of you.”

The dynamic switches on the way back. John leads, Gaz trailing hesitantly behind him. Ghost and Soap after him, their hands occasionally brushing as they walk. You bring up the rear, cataloguing your own admission. I regret not staying in London longer. You’d left for your first mission with the Americans, the meeting with Laswell that would change your life.

You’d also left to escape the divorce papers tucked into the bedtable of your new, shitty flat.

When you get to the ATV, John is already sitting in his spot, legs spread to accommodate you. You resolutely do not look down at his cargos stretched over skin.

When you sit, John tugs you closer than he had on the way there. Gaz drives smoothly at a reasonable speed, no bumps in sight. You have no explanation for the hairy paw that sits on the pouch of your stomach, securing you like a seatbelt. Or your hand on his chest, the stability unnecessary as the ATV rolls over flat land.

John squeezes your waist. You squeeze him back.

so i neared a super angsty moment with soap and the boys on this but i decided to stick to the romance bc me personally thats what i am here for

also im making this group therapy stuff up as i go pls dont expect medical accuracy

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maybege · 2 months ago

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Trial and Error

Summary: Asking your boss out for a practice date results in an unexpected serious of events and self-discovery.

Pairing: private investigator!Boba Fett x fem!assistant!Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, oral sex (both receiving), some dirty talk, slight degradation (loving), heavily implied virgin!Reader, inexperienced!Reader, daddy kink, age gap, older man/younger woman, mentions of sexual acts w/ someone else, Dreks (mentioned)

I kid you not, this wip has been worked on since Jan 14, 2022 (that’s when the word doc was created), so it’s been a long time coming. The PI!Boba AU has existed for a long time in my brain and some very vague idea posts which you can find here but I was never quite sure what to do with it or how to gather the inspiration and courage to actually finish it because it is so very self-indulgent lol anyway, i am also tagging @catsnkooks and @bitchin-beskar bc without the gc this would have taken another 3 years

I also want to explicitly state that this is a daddy kink fic which puts emphasis on the age gap and the fact that Reader is quite inexperienced (though clearly an adult). I know that this is not for everyone so please proceed with caution.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please do let me know what you thought in a comment or a reblog, that is the best part of sharing 🥰

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Boba Fett swore you were going to be the death of him.

In all his decades in the city, he had never thought his downfall would come so easily. And then you had come along with your little waitress uniform and your pot of coffee, smiling like the sun at 3 am in an open-around-the-clock diner down by the river.

He should’ve recognised the danger the moment he returned your smile. But maybe it had already been too late by then.

First, you had become his favourite waitress. Remembering his coffee order, making sure to give him the freshest blueberry bagel, and keeping him entertained with little day-to-day anecdotes. Once you found out he worked as a Private Investigator downtown, he found out you were working on a book. “A crime novel,” you revealed on late Thursday night, “But I’m afraid my knowledge of all things crime work begins and ends with 15 seasons of Criminal Minds.”

That was how you had become his assistant.

And now you had become the woman that haunted him day and night. In all his waking (and sleeping) moments, you were there, at the back (or forefront) of his every thought. If you were safe. If you were happy. If you had gotten that book you had mentioned during one of his many coffee refill breaks. If you wanted a new office chair because the one he had in his office was probably even older than he was. If you knew how much you deserved when all you talked bout was the

If you had lost your mind asking him for a practice date when your crush finally asked you out.

(“Please?” you had asked him when morning when you brought a list of the people who had left a voicemail for him to call back, “I – I never really went on a proper date and I don’t want Dreks to think I’m some … some inexperienced nobody from the country who has no idea how city life works.”

Boba had wanted to reply that there was nothing wrong with being inexperienced. That there was nothing wrong with you. And that maybe Dreks was not the person you should go on a date with if you thought that he would be repelled by your lack of experience.

But all he could say was “Sure thing, princess.”)

The date went well – really well, actually – and he cursed himself for not having asked you out before Dreks. And then he cursed himself because he had no business asking out a woman so much younger than himself. You had your entire life yet to live, whereas he was already jaded by the dark realities of life. The only thing he would achieve was corrupting your happiness and innocence until you were just as cynical as him.

His moral dilemma had him missing the entire way back to your apartment. He knew you could not have earned a lot as a waitress, supported by the fact that you were at the diner basically 24/7, but he had made sure that your pay as his assistant was a significant step up. Significantly enough to afford you some safer housing.

Instead, you still led him up the stairs through a giant apartment block that smelled of cigarettes and was littered with more than one used needle. It felt wrong, seeing you in your sunflower-printed dress, your yellow purse and bright smile, walking through the cement-cracked hallway.

“This is me,” you announced quietly, “Thank you for the drive.”

“Anytime, princess,” he murmured, “I hope this eased some of your worries for tomorrow. You will have a great time.”

“It did,” you confirmed, your hand still on the doorknob, your back against the door. If this were a real date, he would allow himself to let his eyes roam over your figure. Let you know how much he wanted you. He would take a step closer, crowding you against the wall and –

“So … will there be a good night kiss?” you joked, sounding all breathless, and he smirked. Maybe you weren’t as unaffected as he thought.

“You do whatever you’re comfortable with, Princess,” he murmured, watching with his hands in his pockets as you stepped closer to him.

You looked up through your lashes, “What if I want more than that?”

You were so close he could smell your perfume, and he closed his eyes, taking this moment in. One hand snuck out of his pocket and landed on your waist. “We haven’t even kissed and you’re already asking for more?” his nose bumped against yours. “Greedy girl.”

“It’s more of a favour,” you murmured against his lips, “A really big one.”

“Another one?” he teased, planting his mouth on yours. The way you melted in his arms would be imprinted on him forever, of that he was sure. Stars, he could not remember the last time he had enjoyed kissing someone as much as he enjoyed kissing you.

“I want to suck your cock,” you gasped between kisses.

“Say that again,” he growled against your neck, his blood pumping south, “Say it again, princess, or else I think I’m hallucinating.”

“Teach me how to suck a cock, Boba,” you repeated, head tilted back so he could suck a bruise into your collarbone, your voice almost a whimper, “Please.”

Moving to a new place was scary. Especially when this new place was everything your parents had never wanted for you. Living in the city was expensive, they said. What would you do with your English Lit major except for waitressing tables, they asked. The suburbs were safe and comfortable, they implored you.

But as your boss was sitting on the small couch in your dingy studio apartment and you were kneeling before him, you had never been more convinced that moving to the city had been the right step forward in your life.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” he asked you, voice deep and gruff and so very erotic, you had to clench your thighs.

“Yes,” you nodded, “Yes, I – I want to try it, please.”

To be honest, this plan was more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. It was true, you had wanted to try oral sex. You knew you were inexperienced and Dreks had made some allusions via text that had intrigued, but also terrified, you. You weren’t opposed to the idea of getting intimate with him if the mood was right and he was a nice man. You just wanted to try it first with someone you trusted.

And after your trial date with your boss, who looked way too handsome to admit, saying goodbye to him made you realise you wanted to try it with him. There was no one you trusted more than this grumpy old man whose coffee order you knew by heart, who left you books on your desk because “The depiction of the PD here is quite good, but ignore the IT plotline, that’s humbug.”

Boba Fett was a good man. He was also an attractive one.

You watched completely enraptured as his hands loosened the belt on his slacks, your breath hitching as one hand pulled down the zipper and revealed the tent in his boxers.

“Oh,” you breathed, and Boba chuckled, his large hand wrapping around the bulge.

“No time to be intimidated,” he teased you. And he was right. You didn’t have time for this because the more time you spent worrying about how you could best please him, the less time you had to actually touch him.

You really wanted to touch him.

Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him. He was thick, too thick for your finger to meet around him, and your jaw already hurt at the idea of taking him in your mouth. Your pussy, however, got even wetter.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Boba rumbled, “Take your time.”

You looked up at him. The best way to describe him was lounging. This older man was lounging on your couch, legs spread to make space for you, completely relaxed into the cushion as he looked down at you, completely in charge of everything.

Your hand moved in a few experimental strokes, trying to get used to the feel of him, the size of him. Blowjobs weren’t a new concept to you, you knew what it involved. But there was just so much of him, you felt overwhelmed.

“You can use your tongue,” Boba encouraged you, “Or your mouth.”

Nodding, you darted out your tongue and licked over the tip. The taste was a bit on the salty side, but altogether not unpleasant. So, you allowed yourself another lick of your tongue, this time up the entire shaft. The broken noise from his throat made you relish the fact that you did something right.

You opened your mouth wide and took him in. It was a struggle at first, the mushroom head feeling bigger than you had expected and you had to pull back. The frustration must have shown on your face because Boba’s warm hand landed on your cheek.

“I meant it,” he assured you as you looked up at him, “Take your time.”

Returning his smile with one of your own, you took a deep breath. You weren’t used to being in the spotlight, and you certainly didn’t like it when people paid you too much attention. But something about being his centre of attention made you feel all warm and fuzzy. Failing before him didn’t feel like failure; it felt like showing him how much you wanted him.

Another deep breath had you trying to relax your jaw as much as possible. This time you worked your lips past his tips and sucked around him. He felt warm and smooth in your mouth, your tongue brushing along the underside, and you could feel a spurt of something hit your tongue.

“Fuck, princess, your mouth feels amazing,” he cursed, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head.

He took up a lot of space and you did your best to give it to him. To relax your jaw, to somehow continue breathing, to get used to the size of him. It felt like there was no more space in your mouth, but you could see how much there was left to take. You barely had the tip.

“Breathe through your nose,” Boba murmured, staying completely still. You didn’t move forward, but you also didn’t move back. Something about having him in your mouth calmed you, gave you a goal to work towards, and distracted you from your own anxiety.

You swallowed, swirling your tongue around the tip. Another drop of precoma landed on your tongue and you swallowed again. Breathing through your nose made things much easier and you could feel your shoulder relax. You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were.

Boba’s breathing grew heavy, but he didn’t move a muscle either, completely frozen above you. You looked up from his thick thighs to find a pinched look on his face.

Your brows furrowed instantly, the tension back in your shoulders. Were you doing something wrong?

He must’ve felt you looking because he met your gaze, his eyes burning hot. “You’re doing so good,” he assured you, “Look at you, taking all that cock in your mouth. You’re a natural for me, aren’t you, hm?”

You moaned around him, desire pushing your head forward until he hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You spluttered around him, struggling for air when he pulled you back, his cock slipping out of your mouth. Drool trailed down your chin to your cleavage, and you whined at the loss.

“We don’t want you to choke now, do we?”

You didn’t say anything, too focused on the ache between your thighs that grew more prominent the longer he was away from you.

“Oh,” he grinned, “Do we?”

“I – I kind of like it,” you admitted, shifting on your knees. You hadn’t expected it to turn you on as much as it did but there was something about Boba Fett spreading his legs even more, nodding to his cock with an unforgiving look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “Then get to it, little one,” he encouraged you, his big hand cupping your cheek.

Taking him in your mouth again was easier this time, the sensation no longer unfamiliar. Once you got around his tip again, you trusted yourself to slowly bob up and down, taking him a little deeper each time. You managed it better and better, feeling him heavy on your tongue, and the noises that left you made you feel filthy and sexy all at once.

“Can you take me deeper?” the older man asked over the wet noises, his hand moving to the front of your throat, “I want to feel you here.”

Your eyes widened in shock but you did your best to swallow around him, the rumble in his chest the best kind of reward. He kept your eye contact, his thumb brushing just where your jaw met your throat. “Remember to breathe through your nose,” he instructed you gently, his voice rough, “Good girl. There we go.”

It felt strange, having him bump into the back of your throat. But the knowledge that he was so deep, the girth making your jaw and throat ache, inevitably made you think about all the other body parts he could make ache. His hand squeezed ever so gently, squeezing himself inside you, and you gasped, your walls clenching around nothing. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were dripping onto your carpet.

“You’re perfect,” he praised you, “You should see yourself, princess, no one ever looked prettier drooling on my cock than you do just now.”

You did your best to bob your head up and down, licking and sucking and slurping. His praise turned you on and encouraged you equally, sending you into the mindless happy task of gagging on an almost-too-big cock.

But you got tired, too, and you noticed the one glass of wine you had with dinner. Boba did not interfere as you slowed down; he just leaned back against the cushions, his hand cupping your cheek while he looked at you like you had been made just for him. And that made you even wetter.

Lifting his shaft with both hands, you trailed kissed down to his balls, swirling your tongue around them before taking him in your mouth again. You had never expected to enjoy it this much, giving someone (him) a blowjob. But there was something about making sure that he received the pleasure he deserved that had your heart racing and your pussy wet.

You had gotten to know him as a mysterious, grumpy diner patron, then as a less mysterious, grumpy but incredibly fair and knowledgeable boss. You knew how hard he worked every day. He deserved to relax. And if you could do that for him? You wanted to do it.

Once you got in a comfortable rhythm, you couldn’t resist the urge to rest your cheek against his thigh. He was warm under you and you felt so content, sucking in him as you gazed up at a man you had no business sucking off. Too old, too handsome, too much your boss. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you saw how the harsh lines on his face had disappeared, how happy and pleased he looked with you between his legs.

He chuckled, “There it is. There is that cockdrunk look I was aiming for. You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”

You swallowed around him in agreement and you could feel him twitch in your mouth. It soon became necessary to remind yourself that this was just an experiment. It was not an option to kneel like this for him in the office every day. You had no idea why that thought disappointed you.

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he warned you, sounding strained, “If you’re not ready to swallow, now would be the time.”

You pulled off him just in time, his come erupting over your face and you closed your eyes. His hand closed around yours, stroking himself as more and more wetness landed on your face. In just a few moments, you were covered in drool and his come and nothing had ever felt more exhilarating.

“That was the best blowjob I ever had,” Boba announced quietly, leaning forward to brush his thumb over your eyes, feeding you his come back, “You have nothing to worry about with that date of yours.”

Somehow, that was even more important to hear than when Dreks had asked you out on a date.

Boba had to take himself in hand more times in the last 48 hours than in the last few years, thinking of your beautiful mouth and the way you had been so eager to please him. He wasn’t proud of himself for that, but who could blame him? That had been the best blowjob in his life and on top of all that you were just beautiful inside and out. He was thinking of you constantly anyway; now his dirty daydreams just felt a bit more real.

For a Monday morning, he felt incredibly relaxed, even coming in earlier than usual to work on that report for his client. He usually came in late each morning, owing to late-night stakeouts and long nights at the diner. But ever since you had started working for him, coming in bright and early around 7 am, he found his morning routine shifting closer and closer to sunrise.

Which was why he missed seeing you at your desk when he opened up the shop at 8 am, no sign of you at all. He set down the files he had taken with him for the weekend on his desk and took it upon himself to fight with the coffee machine.

Stars knew how you managed to operate the thing.

Braced with a steaming mug of coffee and the resolution not to think about you or why you could possibly be late, he sat down at his desk and got to writing down his report. It was a classic infidelity case which would most likely result in divorce. He had had so many of them, there was nothing new or exciting about it, but they were his bread and butter, and so he made sure to only ever put his best work out.

He caught himself looking out the window every few minutes. When your figure appeared in the doorway at exactly 09:03 am, he convinced himself that his body had only been so tense because he had slept wrong. The way he relaxed into his chair and was able to breathe deeply was not because he had been worried about your well-being. Not at all.

And it also wasn’t worrying that you did not say anything at all when you entered the office, dumping your things on your desk without the usual smile.

Boba frowned, his fingers leaving the keyboard. “Good morning,” he called through the open door of his office.

You did not say anything back. It was cute, almost, seeing you agitated, and he raised his eyebrow in amusement. Maybe the date did not go well. And why did that make him so happy?

You worked in silence for a few hours, he poring over the reports and pictures he had taken on his stakeout last night, hoping to hear back from one of his contacts, while he heard you make calls and manage his appointments unless you were nose deep in a new book.

Until he could not take it anymore.

“Was it that bad?” he called through the open door, seeing you straighten up in your seat, “I thought I taught you well.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, grinning smugly when he saw you squirm. And then you stood up, making your way to him and any focus on his work was lost. This was going to be interesting.

“It’s not that he had any complaints,” you admitted, crossing your arms over your chest as you leant against the doorway, “On the contrary, actually …”

He sat up, leaning his elbows onto his desk, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you paused, clearly unsure if you should continue. Thoughts of horrible things that could have happened filled his mind. Clearly, the date had not gone well and what were the chances that Dreks was not only an asshole but a predatory asshole as well?

Boba knew enough people in the PD to track him down if necessary and make him regret the way he had treated you. He had never seen you avert your eyes, and he did not like it now. Were you ashamed? Of what?

“Well,” you started again, clearly flustered, “I’m the one who has the complaints.”

Now that was a surprise.

“How so?” he heard himself asking, leaning back in his chair, “I thought Dreks was the kind of man dreams were made of.”

You chuckled drily, your hand trailing over a few files on his sideboard. The bow sitting at your waist enticed him, and he swallowed. It was not only the bow, but the whole of your dark green wrap dress made him think the dirtiest things. Namely, how easy it would be to untie it from you.

“He, uh, he didn’t return the favour,” you mumbled before eagerly assuring him, “I did everything you taught me and he … I mean, he came so quickly and then he just showed me the door.”

Fuck the PD, he’d hunt that fucker down himself.

“He what?” Boba growled, leaning forward on his knees. Only at the back of his mind did he register the way your eyes lingered on his thighs, on his crotch, but for a moment, he was too offended on your behalf to think of something smug to say.

“I’m sorry for whining,” you said shyly, making your way around his desk until you were standing before him, “It’s just frustrating and unfair and,” you exhaled sharply, “Sorry, it’s just –“

He stood up, your eyes following him, and his lips quirked up when he saw you lick your lips. The dress was soft under his fingers as he gently gripped your hip, “No need to apologise, princess. You are more than right to complain.”

His nose brushed against yours, and your eyes fluttered, the proximity too much. “I just want to know what it feels like,” you breathed against him, your lips brushing his, “Sir, please …”

Oh, you knew what you were doing. He realized that with a smirk, the cock twitching in his pants finally not a nuisance but something for you to grind on. And grind on, you did.

Your lips were soft and pliant as you moved against him, your fingers gripping his white dress shirt tight as you tried to get him closer, the slit of your wrap dress not covering your leg anymore.

“C’mere,” he rumbled, tipping his fingers under your chin. He loved the way your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered when he did that. And what he loved even more was that now you were the one to press your lips against his, all pliant and needy and oh so lovely.

“Lock the door,” he rumbled, “It’s my lunch break and I feel like getting something to eat.”

Your hand trembled in anticipation as you turned the lock.

“Good girl,” Boba said behind you, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing pulse. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you told him about your failed date with Dreks. It wasn’t this. But you would also be lying if you said you were disappointed by this outcome.

Deep down, maybe this was exactly what you hoped for.

“Now come here,” he instructed you gently, “Sit on my desk.”

Your eyes flew to the desk. His files were all gone and you smiled when you saw them on the sideboard behind him. All stacked up neatly. The free space allowed you to sit comfortably, your feet dangling above the floor as you looked up at him.

When Boba had left after your practice date, it had occurred to you that you had only kissed once. And that you'd very much like to kiss him again. Boba seemed to think the same with the way his hands caged you in next to your hips, his face so close to yours, you could spot the fleck of green in his brown iris.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announced calmly, “And when I am done kissing you, I am going to open this beautiful dress of yours, pull your panties down and eat you out like you deserve. Okay?”

“Please,” you breathed against him, swallowing hard, “Sir, I – yes.”

Your inability to form coherent sentences made him chuckle, the little condescension doing something to your insides. Something good. You couldn’t understand how he seemed so calm, so in control, when you were this close to losing it. Could you go insane from desire? Was that a thing?

It certainly hadn’t been when you were out with Dreks, but here in your boss’s office, it seemed to be the thing.

Kissing Boba was giving up control in the best way. You could wrap your arms around him, move your lips against and know that he still was the one in charge. He was the one who moved you this and that way to his heart’s desire, his teeth nipping on your bottom lip, his tongue clashing with yours. It all served to stir the fire inside you.

You could not get enough of kissing him but it also wasn’t enough. You needed, wanted, more.

The older man planted hot kisses down your neck and you used the distraction to get your hands on his shirt, fighting with the buttons until you got the first few undone. Boba Fett was a large man. Not fat, per se, but big. Your mother would scrunch her nose and call him “solid” with that look in her eyes that told you she didn’t like it.

But you did.

The first glimpse of his barrel chest had your mind all scrambled as you took him in. Was that a tattoo?

He kissed you again, slower this time and you opened your mouth for him with no complaint.

“Lift your hips for me – there we go. Good girl.”

Your arms were trembling as you carried your own weight, excitement and desire making you feel weak. His rough fingers hooked into the side of your panties and could not pull them down fast enough for your taste. The cold air on your body made you shiver but you could also feel his warmth from how close he was.

You watched as he sat down on his chair, scooting forward until he was sitting right in front of you. His eyes zeroed in on you.

You shifted, feeling nervous at how much he got to see of you. This was the first time anyone had ever seen all of you (except that annual doctor’s visit, but this certainly wasn’t comparable) and you didn’t know how to proceed. Were you supposed to say something? Do something?

But then his warm hand landed on your belly, low enough that his thumb could rub gentle circles over your clit, and all your worries were forgotten.

“Oh stars,” you gasped, back arching at the electric touch.

“Lean back for me, let me enjoy my lunch, little one,” Boba rumbled, his thumb dragging through your wetness.

With a heaving chest, you did as he asked. The wood was cold beneath your hot body and you felt both relieved and terrified that you could not see what was happening. You didn’t have to meet Boba’s intense gaze; that was good, but as you stared at the ceiling, you also couldn’t anticipate what happened next.

You flinched when his hands landed on your thighs but you tried to relax in the same breath. His warm hands gently stroked over your inner thighs, slowly spreading you open until his fingers were on your folds. There was no way he could not see how wet he had made you and you took another deep breath, allowing yourself to enjoy his gentle touches.

“Good girl,” his deep voice praised you, causing your walls to flutter.

“Oh, you like when I call you that,” he murmured, his breath now brushing over your sensitive folds, “I’ll remember that.”

And then his mouth was on you.

Every time you thought about what oral sex would be like, you understood that oral sex would feel different from fingering or even penetrative sex. It made sense. Different body parts were involved, your friends all talked about how much they enjoyed it (some more than fingering, too), and it all seemed fine and dandy. Something you were prepared for.

But nothing prepared you for the sensation of your boss’s tongue travelling along your slit. Nothing prepared you for the feel of him circling your clit or the sensation that he really was eating you out, a man desperate for your wetness. And certainly nothing prepared you for what it would feel like when he sucked on your clit.

Your back arched, an electric current travelling from the top of your head right down to your toes as your body thrummed with pleasure. Everything seemed so much more sensitive now but Boba did not let up. His fingers spread you open as he found the spots that made you gasp and he kept going at them until you felt like you could hardly breathe.

Pleasure was clouding your mind, and all you could think about was the man between your thighs making you feel things you hadn’t thought possible.

“Daddy!”

Boba’s ministrations paused and your eyebrows pulled together, your hips twitching as you wondered why the hell he had suddenly stopped. And then what had left your mouth finally caught up to your brain.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“What did you call me?”

Was it possible to die from embarrassment? Because you were pretty sure you were about to. The humiliation brought tears to your eyes and yet your body still dint listen to you. “Please,” you murmured, trying to close your legs, “This is so embarrassing. Let’s just – let’s forget about it.”

“There is nothing embarrassing about my assistant being a bit kinky,” he rumbled against you, his tongue licking over your slit, making you tremble “And I will certainly not forget about it.”

“Now tell me,” he stood up in all his glory, looking down at you like he was ready to conquer you, “What did you call me?”

“Daddy,” you whispered, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes made you squirm and for the first time, you realised what kind of predicament you were really in. You were lying on your boss’s desk, your dress undone, your panties hanging from your ankle. You lay completely bare for a man old enough to be your father and who you had just called daddy.

You could’ve cried from shame if it wasn’t for how hot he looked.

Boba hummed, gripping the bulge in his slacks, looking so unapologetically turned on as he loosened his belt and in a matter of second was stroking his hard cock right in front of you. Your mouth watered; you really wanted to have him in your mouth again.

You never understood the expression of someone eating you out “like a man starved”. But Boba showed it to you. He was messy as he devoured you, his tongue licking over all the spots that made you see stars and his mouth sucking on your clit as his hand held your thighs open. You could hear where he was stroking himself and the thought that he enjoyed eating you out as much as you enjoyed pleasuring him had you right on the edge.

“Daddy, please, I need to come.”

“Oh my, good girl,” he praised you, meeting your eyes from where he was between your legs, “Asking for what she wants daddy to give her.”

It took only a few more licks and sucks and you were right there, gasping out your release. Boba stood up, his body plastered against yours as he looked at you. You could feel his hand moving between your bodies, stroking his cock right against you and all you could say was “Please, daddy” over and over again.

You were losing your mind, there was no other way to explain it.

His mushroom tip was right against your slick folds, brushing over your clit as he stroked himself. The sensations prolonged your orgasm and encouraged his, you knew. He was about to come against you. Boba Fett was about to come right against your bare pussy and that somehow became the hottest thing you ever experienced.

“This is just what you needed, isn’t it?” he groaned into your ear, “An old man showing you how it’s done. How good it can feel.”

“Yes,” you gasped, “Boba, please, I – I need it, daddy.”

Your hips twitched against him, your hand gripping the edge of the desk and with a moan, you could feel his come pooling against you. Everything felt even more slippery and wet and you felt so very desired.

Your chest heaved as you laid on his desk, staring at the popcorn ceiling as if that would help you find out whether you were dreaming or not.

“Fuck that was hot,” Boba said, finally, and you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your chest.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you gasped out, letting him help you sit up. The mess between your legs squelched and you grimaced.

His gaze was soft as he looked you over, as if anything of what you just did could’ve harmed you. “You okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah, just … just a bit messy.”

Both of you looked down. Your legs were still spread around his hips, offering the direct view of his come on your pussy. That really was the hottest thing and your ears burned at the thought that maybe you should take a picture of it. Just to prove to yourself it really happened.

“I should’ve asked,” he said, his fingers brushing the inside of your thighs and although you had just come, you could feel the pleasure gathering in your core again.

“I don’t mind,” you replied instantly, cheeks burning, “I … I liked it.”

“Messy girl,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I liked it too.”

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut #private investigator!boba vibes

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justagalwhowrites · 7 months ago

Text

Joyeux Noël - A Lavender AU Christmas Story

Joel and your daughters plan something special for you for the holidays. A Christmas one shot set in the Lavender AU Universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. No outbreak AU. Fluff fluff fluff. Christmas fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.6k

A/N: JOEL AND DOC ARE BACK FOR THE HOLIDAYS BECAUSE I MISSED THEM (and hopefully some of you did, too.) This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel and reader are a married couple with a shared biological daughter as well as Ellie and Sarah. I hope you enjoy this tooth rotting-ly sweet fic!

AO3 | Lavender Masterlist | Lavender AU Masterlist | Full Masterlist

December 24, 2024

“You’re sure you’ve got everything?” Sarah asked, her son, Carson, squealing in the background.

“Pretty sure,” Joel said, frowning a little.

“Put me on FaceTime,” she said. “Show me.”

Joel sighed and fussed with his phone until it became a video call, Sarah on the other end with a smudge of flour on her nose.

“Busy over there, baby girl?” He teased.

“Your grandson got me in the face when we were making sugar cookies,” she said. “I haven’t had the chance to get cleaned up yet, the kitchen is a disaster but that’s beside the point, show me Mom’s suitcase.”

Joel fussed with the phone again - having to search for the little button that let him do it, not a fan of figuring out technology without the help of any of his girls - and got the camera to flip around.

“So I put in some of the sweaters she wears a lot,” he said, showing Sarah the stacks. “Some of the pants she likes, too. Got this one dress she looks real good in, real good…”

“Ew,” Sarah said.

“Shut it, kid,” he said. She laughed. “Got the shoes she says are comfortable, some that are pretty, too…”

“Do you have a bag for her?” She asked.

“What do you think you’re lookin’ at?”

“Not that kind of bag,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean a purse.”

“Wouldn’t she just bring the one she uses all the time?” He asked.

“Dad, you’re going to be walking around Paris,” Sarah said. “Spending hours in museums and in stores and lounging at chic cafes, she’s not going to want to carry that giant thing around. In her closet, in one of the dust bags at the top is a smaller bag that Ellie, Evie and I went in on for Mother's Day, grab that one. It’s cross body so she can just wear it, she likes that when she’s walking around a lot. Also, do you have her hair stuff?”

“Hair stuff?” Joel frowned. “Don’t they have that in the room?”

She sighed.

“See, this is why I make you show me,” Sarah said. “Yes, there’s shampoo and stuff but she uses serums and oils and things, she needs those. Bathroom next.”

Joel obeyed his oldest daughter’s instructions, thankful that the two of you were so close that she’d know these kinds of things. He got what she told him from the bathroom and packed it.

“Alright,” she said. “I think you’re all good! Just let her get a book or five at the airport and you’ll be golden, old man.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he smiled a little. “You still good to take your sister for a while?”

“Of course,” she smiled back. “I love Ellie and Evie can stay as long as she wants until she wants to go back to school. Plus Brandon could use someone to give him a run for his money on this new video game, he’s getting over confident.”

“Thank you for keeping an eye on Ellie,” Joel said. “We’d like to get all you girls on a trip like this with us sometime but for the first one…”

“It should just be the two of you,” Sarah finished for him with a smile. “She’s going to love it, Dad.”

He sure hoped so.

Joel had been planning this for a while. Decades, really.

Back when the two of you were young and flat broke, a trip to Paris had been a pipe dream. You talked about it that way, the same way Ellie talked about going to the moon now, something that you dreamed about but didn’t expect to ever have.

Then Evie came along. Then you were in med school and then you were an intern and resident and attending and Sarah got married and Ellie joined the family and life had just gotten in the way, as it always seemed to.

But it had been a beautiful life and you’d never even come close to complaining about not getting to visit France the way you’d dreamed. As you’d always done, you put everyone else’s needs and wants before your own, constantly looking for a way to make Joel or your daughters’ lives better before thinking of yourself.

But the Paris trip was possible now. The two of you had made more money than Joel had ever dreamed of making, Sarah and Evie were off on their own and Ellie was in a good enough place that she could spend a few weeks with her sister. Things were even calm at work for both of you - Tommy could run the business for a few weeks and Joel had coordinated with your boss to get you time off. It was the perfect time to finally give you something you’d been dreaming of as long as Joel had known you.

Joel didn’t want to put more work on your plate, though, so he worked with Sarah, Evie and Ellie to plan everything. Sarah traveled a lot - she’d made it to Europe long before Joel ever had - and knew how to find a good hotel. Ellie told Joel about the different museums to visit, her passion for art coming in handy as he was planning. Evie - who had even taken after your knack for language - helped Joel learn a few phrases in French (though he was going to be pretty dependent on you to get around.) But that was fine. As long as you were happy, he didn’t care if everyone around him was speaking gibberish.

“Dad!” Ellie yelled from down the hall. “Mom just texted, she’s almost home!”

“Shit,” Joel said, zipping the suitcase quickly. “Stall her for me, will ya?”

“Can do!” She yelled back and he heard her pounding down the stairs to intercept you.

Joel hauled the luggage downstairs the best he could, stashing the packed bags in a room just off the garage so he could wrestle them into the trunk later. He finished just as the garage door opened and Ellie went racing past him to catch you in the car, giving him a chance to slip into the living room unnoticed. You joined him just a minute after he got there, flopping on the couch next to him.

“Tough day?” He asked, putting his arm up so you could snuggle into him.

“Just long,” you sighed. “That early start the day before a holiday made this shift feel like 20 hours, not 12. But at least I have Christmas off to spend with you and the girls before I’m back in on Thursday.”

Joel tried to keep from smiling at the fact that you didn’t know that, by this time on Thursday, you’d be across the world.

“Want to watch a movie?” He asked. “Your pick.”

“Sure,” you snuggled closer. “But let’s see what Ellie and Evie want to watch, I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you guys.”

He kissed your forehead and called the girls down, the two of them settling on Elf followed by Die Hard and you not even putting in a vote for your favorite because you never tried to put yourself first in anything. That’s why Joel was doing all this, to make sure it happened at least now and then. He made you a plate of Chinese food and you fell asleep against him when you finished it, still wearing the Christmas-themed sweater and earrings you’d worn that day to the hospital.

“Alright, girls,” Joel said quietly. “Upstairs, Santa can’t come ’til you’re in bed.”

Evie and Ellie shared a look before looking back to Joel.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Evie said, getting up and helping Ellie to her feet, too. “I hope Santa can get Mom upstairs OK…”

He snorted and watched the girls go to their rooms before laying you gently on the couch. He went and got the presents out of your closet and stashed the suitcases in the back of the car. He stuffed the stockings - you sleeping peacefully the whole time - and set up the living room the same way he’d done since Sarah was little before gently rousing you from your long winter’s nap.

“C’mon, baby,” he said softly, cupping your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “Bed time.”

“But…” you sat up, groggy. “We gotta set up Christmas and…”

“Already done,” he smiled. “Let’s go, sleepyhead.”

You sighed contentedly as he looped an arm around your waist and guided you groggily to your room.

“You’re the best husband in the world, you know that?” You said as you burrowed against his chest once you were both in bed.

He smiled.

“Doin’ my best, baby.”

***

You definitely missed having little kids on Christmas morning but having older ones had its perks.

You woke up before Joel, your unreasonably early day - and bed time - on Christmas Eve rousing you before the sun.

Your husband was still snoring gently and you just watched him for a moment, a peaceful look on his face in the red and green glow of the lights on the eaves outside. You smiled. There was something so damn beautiful about the man you’d married more than 20 years ago, just getting to look at him while he slept made you feel unreasonably lucky, like you were getting away with something you shouldn’t.

You ran your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, and he stirred, smiling every so slightly before delicately catching your wrist and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered.

He smiled broader, his eyes still closed.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Want one of your presents now?” You asked and he opened one eye so fast it made you giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You leaned in close and kissed him softly, almost chastely, before moving down his body and nudging him onto his back as you went. Your lips went over the firm expanse of his chest, the soft warmth of his stomach, down to the top of his pajama pants where his thick length was already hardening for you.

You tugged the pants down enough that you could get at his cock. You licked the tip of him, tongue circling his head before you wrapped your lips around just the very end, sucking softly at his precome.

“Goddamn baby,” he said, already breathless, his hand coming to the back of your head as you took the whole of him slowly, tantalizingly into your mouth.

Once you swallowed him into your throat, you moaned and held him there, sucking and savoring him before starting to move over him. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock, making his head run along the roof of your mouth as he started to move in shallow, gentle thrusts, working himself deeper, groaning as he did.

“Can I have that soft little pussy, too?” He asked eventually, sounding desperate, his grip tightening on your head. “Because goddamn baby if I don’t need you right now.”

You sucked him all the way to the tip before releasing him from your mouth.

“You can have as much of me as you want,” you said, breathless yourself. “I’m all yours.”

Before you had the chance to start sucking him again, he tugged you back up his body, laying you beside him before rolling to face you. He gripped your thigh, tugging your leg over his hip and tucking your panties to the side before petting at your leaking entrance.

“Good,” he whispered. “Just the way I want you.”

The tip of his cock replaced his fingers and he thrust just the head of himself inside of you, stretching you enough that you had to press your face into his chest to muffle your moan.

“How do you always feel so goddamn good, baby?” He asked, tugging you closer as he pushed inside. He tucked your head below his chin, one arm below you and around you, his fingers spread wide between your shoulders, his other on the small of your back holding you in just the right place. You were completely enveloped by him as he filled you to the root, everything about your husband completely surrounding you. “Don’t deserve something as good as you.”

You just groaned in protest, not really able to form words, too overwhelmed by the way Joel was completing you.

Instead, you rocked your hips against him and he responded in kind, the two of you moving slowly, firmly against each other. Heat drew low inside you, concentrated on where Joel was shaping you to him and you grew tighter and tighter around him, your orgasm growing sure and steady.

“You gonna come for me?” He whispered in your ear. You moaned and nodded against him. “Good, want you to come for me, let me feel it baby, milk me dry, c’mon.”

You let out a strangled little sob as you obeyed, your channel fluttering and rippling around him.

“There she is,” he breathed, keeping his pace inside you, the tip of his cock pressing into the soft place within you that made your back arch and toes curl as he ground himself deep. “That’s it, baby, keep coming, come on my cock. Fuck, you take it so well, come so pretty for me, just keep… keep…”

He squeezed you tighter, thrust impossibly deeper and you felt him come apart inside you with a needy grunt, throbbing deep and hard as he filled you, drawing your orgasm out as he did.

You went limp in his arms as your climax eased and his hold on you loosened just enough that he could kiss you, his lips gentle on yours as both of you came back down to earth.

“Dunno that anything’ll top that present,” he teased lightly and you laughed.

“One of the upsides to not having little kids running in here at six in the morning,” you smiled before kissing his chest and snuggling closer. His cock was softening inside you, the combination of his come and yours starting to drip from you. “Can we just stay like this for a while? I miss you when you’re not inside me.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers trailing over your spine.

“Course baby,” he said softly. “Think we got a bit before the girls start moving.”

You luxuriated in the slow start to the morning, drifting in and out of consciousness with Joel’s cock nestled inside you, your husband thrusting slowly and gently now and then so he stayed deep. The sun had just started to peek through the blinds when you heard a toilet flush down the hall and you kissed Joel one last time before slipping him from you, adjusting his pants and your panties before the girls were knocking on your door.

You loved Christmas morning with your family, loved the sense of joy and closeness as you watched your daughters open presents while you sat on the couch, snuggled up to Joel with a cup of coffee in your hands. You’d never had a holiday quite like this one growing up, always just you and your grandmother making the best of it. You treasured that, too, but it was different now, when you were surrounded by the people you loved more than anything else who loved you in return.

Ellie was super excited about a set of really nice markers you’d asked Andrew for help in researching, Evie shrieked with glee over concert tickets for her and her girlfriend and Joel kissed you so deep when he opened the fancy coffee maker you got him the aching place between your thighs throbbed again.

After cinnamon rolls and bacon and coffee made with Joel’s new toy, the four of you headed to Sarah’s, laughing as Carson showed you everything Santa brought him and giving Joel a look when he gave his grandson candy behind his daughter’s back.

“Well,” Joel said, downing the last of his beer as your entire family sat around Sarah’s table after dinner and dessert, you tucked contentedly against his side. “I’m afraid we gotta hit the road.”

You frowned, twisting to look at him.

“What?” You asked, looking down at your watch. It was barely five. “No we don’t, I don’t need to be in until tomorrow afternoon, we can hang out and…”

“No, Mom, you do really need to go,” Sarah said, a serious look on her face.

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded. “Don’t wanna be late.”

“Late for what?” You said.

Evie looked up from her phone.

“I just checked and everything is on time,” she said.

You laughed, looking around at your husband and daughters.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. “What’s on time, everything is closed. Are we going to a movie?”

“I mean, we can when we get there if that’s what you wanna do,” Joel shrugged. “But you’d have to translate for me the whole time.”

You frowned, looking around again, all your children looking like they were about to burst with excitement.

“Can someone clue me in?” You laughed again. “Because I’m at a loss…”

“Oh, right,” Evie said, going into her purse, pulling out an envelope and handing it over. “Guess you’ll need that.”

Joel was trying to hide his grin but you knew him too well for that and you just raised your brows at him as you opened the envelope. He just shrugged a little, his smile getting harder and harder to conceal.

“What are you all up to?” You teased as you opened the envelope, unfolding the papers that were inside.

“Guess you’ll have to look,” Joel shrugged.

You rolled your eyes good naturedly before looking at the pages in your hands.

It took you a second to realize what you were holding: a flight itinerary.

You frowned.

“Joel?” You asked looking over at him.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Joel, this…” you looked back at the paper, your heart racing. “Joel, this is a plane ticket.”

“Is it?” He asked, smile apparent in his voice.

“Joel,” you looked at him again. “This is a plane ticket to Paris. And it leaves in four hours.”

“Technically, I think it’s two plane tickets,” Joel said, sitting up to look over your shoulder. “First class, in case you wanted some room to sleep on your first overseas flight.”

“But…” Your eyes ranged over the ticket before looking around, all your daughters grinning like the cats who ate the canaries. “I have work!”

“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Joel smirked. “Talked with your boss back in October, you’re not due back to the hospital for a few weeks.”

“I…” you looked down and back up again. “I need to pack!”

“Wrong again, Mom,” Sarah smiled. “Dad took care of that. And I checked his work, you’re good.”

“We need to plan…”

“I gave him a list of all the coolest museums,” Ellie said proudly, cutting you off.

“And I helped Dad be a little less totally useless in French,” Evie added.

You looked around at all of them, tears stinging at your eyes.

“You all planned this?” You asked, a lump in your throat. “For me?”

“Been a long time coming, baby,” Joel smiled, his large hand cradling your elbow, thumb rubbing gentle circles over you. “You deserve it. Have for a while.”

“He’s right, Mom,” Sarah smiled, too. “After taking care of all of us over the years, it’s about damn time.”

“You’re the best mom in the world,” Ellie agreed. “Figured it was time that you see some of it.”

“You always do everything for all of us,” Evie said. “We really should return the favor now and then.”

You looked back at the tickets, covering your mouth with one hand, giving up on trying to keep from crying.

“I…” you sniffed. “I don’t know what to say!”

“How about we just say bon voyage,” Evie said. “Because you need to get on the road or you’re going to be late for your flight!”

You let your children usher you and Joel to the car and you gave everyone hugs as Evie and Ellie got their bags from the trunk so they could stay with Sarah. You hugged them all goodbye, having to dry your tears every time you realized exactly what was happening: You were finally going to Paris, a place you’d always wanted to go, on a trip planned by the people you loved most.

Joel drove the two of you to the airport, you practically glowing the entire way. Joel didn’t let you carry your own bags and you were still in disbelief as you settled into your seat on the plane, a glass of champagne in your hand as you waited to take off.

“So,” Joel smiled, watching you. “You excited?”

“I can’t believe it,” you said, laughing a little. “I can’t… You really shouldn’t have done all this, not for me!”

“Oh baby,” Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “You’ve done nothin’ but take care of everyone else as long as I’ve known you. Don’t think I can ever do enough to repay you for that but you gotta let me try, at least at Christmas.”

You smiled and leaned over to kiss him.

“I think I can handle that.”

He smiled.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said. “Or should I say… joyeux noël? That right?”

You laughed, his accent comically bad but so charming you had to love it.

“That’s right,” you said. “Joyeux noël.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut #christmas fic

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kadisiyuswyrd · 1 month ago

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MCR GAYLIST MASTERPOST

Hello, gays. I'm in the process of making a video & I'd like some input.

(I blame @cordspaghetti for keeping Alpharetta Gerard in my mind)

As the title implies, the video will rank every MCR song based on how gay it is in chronological order (more or less). Hopefully, it'll be released the first day of the new Black Parade tour (July 11, 2025). No promises, though.

[Edit 6/30/25: Oh man this is not releasing on time...I did not realize how much moving would tire me out. Also Delatrune chps. 3 & 4 took up some time...Me and Google Docs were not on speaking terms for a week.]

At this point in the writing process (just finished Bullets this morning) I think Everyone Hates the Eagles is their gayest song. Prison, Mama, & To the End are up there, though ("he's not around he's always looking at men," I mean...c'mon).

I'm not too good at lyrical analysis, though, nor is my knowledge of MCR as robust as I'd like, so I'm interested to hear different queer readings of their songs.

As unserious as this video concept is, I actually want to approach it from a really earnest lens. Tier lists are already so subjective; gayness is such an arbitrary, amorphous label. I want to play around with the inherent stupidity of this.

There are some fundamental questions that I still haven't really answered but would love to explore:

What does it mean for something to be queer / gay (weird)?

What does it mean for something to be straight (normal)?

I really have no conception of what normality is anymore. I find strange things normal, normal things strange; when I act normally I feel strange, but am called strange when I think I'm acting normally...

3. How does rock music manage to attract both extremely gay and extremely straight fanbases (e.g. Nirvana, Queen, Misfits)?

Nirvana's fanbase always surprises me because the band was so left-leaning and anti-machismo, but because they sounded rough and masculine they attract these really weird, pretentious assholes. The way that rock music oscillates between hypermasculine presentation (leather jackets, jeans, shirtless, hairy) and queer theatricality (David Bowie, early Queen) is really interesting to me in general. It's a genre that's been sexist and feminist, homophobic and relentlessly queer in the same decade.

4. Is there value in deliberately ambiguous queer representation?

This question makes me think of iLLi. She emerged from ambiguity and I think that's part of her appeal. Fanfiction is grasping at straws to make something beautiful and whole. Isn't the ambiguity sometimes preferrable—to allow unique fan interpretation?

Not all of these questions need to be answered in the video, but I want them on my mind while writing. Part of me wants to make a normal tier list video, another part wants to kind of deconstruct it...but. this video is shaping up to be a behemoth as is, so maybe I should avoid scope creep and keep my ambitiousness in check.

We'll see how it goes. I'd love to hear from y'all.

(Also, big shoutout to @angstics who is, by my estimation, the seminal queer MCR scholar. I've been referring to a lot of their writing during the research process.)

Below is a list of the sources I'll be referring to during the script writing process. This is a living document, so expect this list to expand in the coming weeks. Cheers.

—Kay

Research w/Notes:

This article is a fun look at the early days of the band. It features a fun story about a sickly Gerard getting punched by record exec to give him energy to record his vocals. It worked.

Blistein, Jon. (2021). How a Sucker Punch Fueled the Rise of My Chemical Romance. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/my-chemical-romance-rise-book-excerpt-sellout-dan-ozzi-1247331/

One of Gerard's answers during his famous 2014 Reddit AMA. Mainly focused on his answer to question 5 about Drowning Lessons and its status as MCR's "cursed song."

Way, Gerard. (2014). Reddit AMA https://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/2i1840/comment/ckxylaq/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

A really thorough video about queer (sub)text in You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison. A helpful resource. souryogurtgirl. (2024). My Chemical Romance's Gay Anthem? YouTube. https://youtu.be/jDP5_Kl36ms

A TRACK BY TRACK BREAKDOWN OF TBP. Hell yeah.

Great MCR essays. The essay SEX & VIOLENCE is the most interesting to me, at least in relation to this video. Love & suffering is such a deeply queer idea. The "queering of violence" is so central to MCR's lyricism. Love how the essay points out the importance of Gerard's delivery, that's something I want to highlight in my own analysis.

"Honey This Podcast Isn't Big Enough for The Both of Us" is not only a great resource for MCR fan discourse, it is just really entertaining podcasting. Maren & EJ are playful, yet insightful. Their episode on the demo lovers has been helpful to try to parse the storytelling of Bullets and Revenge.

Slowly diving a bit more into queer theory for this project. It's daunting, but interesting! I feel like queer time—the idea (to my understanding) that queer people's life trajectories are distinctly different and possibly even incompatible with the traditional straight narrative of getting married, having a kid, entering the job market, etc.—may prove a helpful concept, especially in relation to TBP.

Writer Kathryn Bond Stockton literally describes queer children as "ghosts" because many of them cannot yet verbalize their queerness and are they given a roadmap for what adult queer life will look like. I mean...that's very Black Parade coded.

Haven't read this read this yet, keeping it here to get back to it! I really want to understand the link between queerness and theater, there's gotta be some historical context that explains that a bit more clearly for me.

A cool talk Gerard did at LA Comic Con just a little bit before the reunion tour was announced. Some good nuggets about how the they approached the band and general insights on his creative process. Also, Gerard talks about how medications helped him manage his depression which was helpful when researching Sister to Sleep which is all about using medication to handle mental health.(The audience is so horny for My Chem...just saying "Frank" or "Ray" or a song title will get screams.)

youtube

A variety of sources all cataloging the politics of the 90s scene and how it's left-leaning messages contrasted their misogynistic and queerphobic environments. These have been providing a lot of good context on the specific culture MCR emerged from and how they responded to it indirectly.

https://www.tumblr.com/geoffrard/698483754371612672/my-chemical-romance-hardcore-sexual-repression?source=share

#kw :3 #video essay #my chemical romance #illi McMillin #long post #illi mcmillin #mcr #i ask of thee to help a fellow queer in this time of need #queer #Spotify #Youtube

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bixbiboom · 1 year ago

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So. Life update.

Today (technically yesterday now) was the first day of my final year of my fourth decade. Happy birthday to me.

I take my duties (even self-assigned ones) way, way too seriously, and running this blog was killing me. Literally. I was given doctor’s orders to cut back on social media (actually she wanted me to cut out social media, but we compromised), and a very beloved friend actually paid me to take the month off. So I did. I turned off all my social media notifications, unfollowed a lot of ppl, muted a bunch of servers, and told my source suppliers I was going on hiatus.

Since the beginning of May, my daily average time actually using my phone has gone from over 17 hours to just seven hours, my blood pressure has gone from the 150s/90s range to the 130s/70s range, and I’ve stopped having nightly nightmares and daily coughing fits. I’m also walking 19% more than I did last month, and every doc appt shows I’ve lost more weight since the last one. I’ve also started writing again for the first time in months, and I’ve churned out over 10k words this month.

So I’m cutting way, way back on the CR content. Still a critter, still watching every week, ask box is still open for chatting, you can tag me in on questions if you want. I’m still actively participating in the fandom and keeping up with the goings-on. But I’m not referring to myself as a source blog anymore. Back to a mixed bag of whatever grabs my fancy, like a normal human person, while I try to become one of those again.

In other news, I’m getting a new kitten at the end of next month! A friend rescued a pregnant cat and I’ll be taking one of the litter when they’re old enough to leave their mama.

I don’t know which one I’ll be picking yet (I haven’t actually met them in person, mama’s a nervous kitty and still settling in to her new home and I don’t want to stress her out by showing up out of nowhere and handling her babies), but odds are good it’ll be one of the torties.

If anyone is so inclined, I’ve got »an Amazon wish list« for supplies for both the new kitten and a few things for my older cats, and »my ko-fi jar« is always around. (Also I’m down for suggestions for things the list is missing; my youngest cat is 11 years old, I’ve been out of the kitten game for a while.)

Love you guys, see you on Thursday!

#blogkeeping

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bellshazes · 9 months ago

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Taxonomy, like adultery, is a sin - but since it doesn't stop the Bdubs Patented Third Wheel Effect, we won't let it stop our categorizing its manifestations either.

The Third Wheel Effect

Bdubs has been engineering partnership and love triangles since his first SMP over a decade ago. In fact it's the consistency across such a long time that obscures the pattern's specifics: it's easy to tell he likes to play on jealousy and cast himself as a villain, but harder to look past the variations of who is pulled into what role obscures the fact that there's truly a small group of overlapping tropes where the players of each role may change, but fundamentally, it's the Third Wheel Effect all the way down.

The Tropes

WELCOME HOME, CHEATER: The earliest, but also the most flexible, as Bdubs is just as happy to have the B-Team in jeopardy because Genny caught him shacked up with Etho as he is to confront Doc for making out with Ren in his absence. As long as someone's mad with cause, it's good fun.

I NEVER LIKED HIM ANYWAY: In contrast to Welcome Home, Cheater, in this subset it's revealed the presumed original pair was a lie, and the third person has had his heart all along. The willingness of the surprised third party is mostly irrelevant to the high drama unfolding, probably under duress in a death game. In a certain light, the crumbling of Team BEST is not not this.

iS THIS A HAPPY COUPLE?: If you read the last description and thought it was missing handcuffs, you know where this is going. For some reason, partners are shaken up and new ones are established on the threat of death if they don't work together. Whether there's still lingering longing for the new third wheel is an open question. Oddly, tends to backfire with a karmic kind of irony, like Impulse and Bdubs' death in Double Life, or dying to your own bear trap anyway in Survival of the Fittest.

POWER STRUGGLE: Bdubs has a habit of appointing heads of state and then somehow acting affronted when he transitions from election champion to one of many civic advisors. Suddenly the subtext turns sharply toward not just governance but government affairs. The threatening third(s) may be or act oblivious to their alleged love triangle, like Cub's nonchalance at Bdubs' rage while they both worked for Mayor Scar.

THEY DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I DO: Most often instigated directly by Bdubs, the triangle becomes a game of tug-o-war - or at least Bdubs sees it that way. This is especially likely as a result of a Power Struggle, although Etho gets a less angry, more angsty flavor of this in some Life seasons. Also plays very well with Welcome Home Cheater.

Conclusion

Although Etho is a focal point of many past and present love triangles, sometimes even instigating conflict related to them himself, Bdubs' pattern of needing a third wheel to flesh out relationship dynamics is both broader and more predictable than it might appear. Any combination of players who will yes-and him and let him be a little stupidly vindictive or encourage interpersonal drama is a valid combination. It's Etho happily playing into Bdubs' natural wheelhouse and drawing it out of him pre-emptively that adds to them being a pair with no set configuration but that is more enduring than any other alliances they've made over the years.

#game shows DO touch our lives #the grand unified theory of ethubs #<- to come. this is an outtake/appendix to it #bdoubleo100 #ethubs #the grand unified theory

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wisteriagoesvroom · 10 months ago

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LOL I can imagine for vampire au Lando starting to third wheel Carcar and so even though turning Franco is a complete accident he can’t feel too guilty bc he uses it as an excuse to hang around someone else, and somehow he learns more about vampirism lore through a human grad student than he’s learned in his whole life (he’s lived a long time, lots of info to absorb). Then also, if you don’t mind my ask, what do they all do for jobs/how do they get money and would Franco keep studying ?

HELP this is so cute. ok. norpinto-frando vampire au for those who aren't up to speed...

Lando starting to third wheel Carcar and so even though turning Franco is a complete accident, [Lando] can’t feel too guilty bc he uses it as an excuse to hang around someone else -> screaming cus, absolutely. random associated headcanons for this... i'll rewind a bit:

carlos is the oldest vampire, like, moorish/medieval era. he met lando while they were both at a masquerade ball in the early 1600s and smelled each other right away (carlos like wood and ink, lando like gas lamps and wet stone).

lando is an tudor era vampire. like he actually knew shakespeare and said he was one of the best viral marketers of the era

oscar was turned in the early days of the australian penal colony, he's like first or second generation white australian but he refuses to be called british. he moved in to the house because the rent was cheap and he doesn't feel the need to live extravagantly -- even though he, too, is $$ loaded $$

oscar didn't move in until about two decades ago - very short by vampire standards, to them it feels like yesterday - but carlos and oscar are basically They Were Roommates atp even though they squabble con-stant-ly

their neighbours think they are a new age-y polyam group but because the people who live opposite them are students, nobody ever hangs around longer than a year to remember them or dig deeper

so franco definitely brings a fun funky fresh dynamic

he learns more about vampirism lore through a human grad student than he’s learned in his whole life (he’s lived a long time, lots of info to absorb) -> things that baby vamp!franco teaches lando include

tiktok trends, like how to make ur teeth comically large in photos. lando finds this hilarious

how to use venmo

creating a roster on google docs for who needs to do what house chores

jailbreaking an apple watch so it doesn't read their pulses (they don't have any), but it will remind them of the moon phases and when they might be extra hungry to feed

at one point franco actually puts his academic skills to use and helps lando hunt down some of his family tree, because since lando was turned and it's been so long, he doesn't remember much about them : ( so one of franco's little gifts to lando is helping him trace his heritage

what do they all do for jobs/how do they get money and would Franco keep studying ? -> i love how practical-minded you are. um well let's say this fictional supernatural creatures' market mostly runs on barter trades and goodwill agreements. the entire house sometimes just gets lazy tbh so lando or carlos will just dig into one of the old chests of random shit and pull out an antique and go: "do we think this is worth anything?" then they take it to an antiques dealer who is also a mage (alex albon) and there is a 1 in 25 chance that the antique is actually is worth something, so that bankrolls them for another half a year or whatever.

carlos makes a lot of noise about being "an art dealer" just because he sold a goya painting to a museum once.

oscar is a man of industry, of the "newer" world (australia) etc etc so he spent the 80s and 90s learning C++ and Java and Python so he legit just codes for a living. or when he feels like it. oscar has helped launch at least a dozen startups under various pseudonyms and one of them is even a blue chip company by now. he doesn't do it for money tho. he just does it cus he likes a challenge, and otherwise fights with carlos too much. when he isn't coding he likes to tinker and fix things just for fun. like, he legit knows how to fix a boiler and stuff. his familiar is definitely a grumpy orange neighbourhood cat.

franco keeps studying!! he is such a nerd that he's like "i can totally learn everything about anything now, and i could in theory do like 20 masters degrees, and nobody can stop me"!! then lando is like, "well you might get bored of it after a while or burn out". but franco insists he will not. in fact with his enhanced neurological abilities he goes on an academic bender trying to fast forward through an entire harvard's undergrad degree's worth of material in a week, and he ends up faceplanting on his desk. and then poor lando has to go and find a fresh chicken or something to kill and revive franco 'cus franco wore himself out too fast being a bb vampire with accelerated mind powers.

franco promises never to do that again (but of course he will continue to do it once in a while, and everyone still looks after him in his lil study hangovers because he is so very nice. also he taught them how to use venmo.)

and. one time. franco is like. "i can't find this rare sonnet do you know what library i could maybe locate it in" and lando is like "wait i know that one" and pulls out an honest to god original copy that he at some point got laminated in the early 80s. and franco is like. "um i think this should be in a museum??" and lando is like "yeah but i gave them a copy of this, cus i spilled ink on the corner of this in 1603 after a really good night out" and franco is like "???? ok ????"

then lando swans off to moodily stare at the moon or some shit.

#norpinto #frando #vampire AU #wiz.HCs #i could keep going but i probably should NAWT #q

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s10127470 · 1 month ago

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Team Flux Reboot Concept

So.....

Does anyone remember this?

This was Team Flux, a fan concept created by Deviantart user BreakoutForever.

The concept was about Doc Brown (depicted as he is in Back to the Future: The Animated Series) forming a team in order to battle the forces of his longtime rival Walter Wisdom, who formed a group of various villains to help him in his ongoing scheme to steal valuable artifacts and treasures throughout history.

This team initially consisted of his best buddy Marty McFly, Kitty Katswell from T.U.F.F. Puppy, Ace Hart from Dog City, and Earthworm Jim.

Though the team would be expanded as time goes on to include the likes of Coco Bandicoot, Brandy from Brandy and Mr. Whiskers, Dr. Zoidberg from Futurama, and Jack Spicer from Xiaolin Showdown.

The concept started back in December 2012, but Breakout would sadly discontinue it in May of 2014.

He did eventually reveal the concept of a reboot, which would follow a similar premise to the original, but slightly tweaked.

Along with a new team and new outfits for them.

This new team would only have four members again like before.

With one half consisting of OG members Marty and Jim, and the other half consisting of Crash Bandicoot and Sally Acorn from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Unfortunately, Breakout hasn't really done anything with that reboot.

And thus, Team Flux has pretty much been dormant for nearly a decade now.

As for me, I was introduced to this thing back in early 2018.

I was in my freshman year of high school, and was going through a massive Back to the Future kick.

I had watched the entire trilogy for the very first time and I had started watching the animated series.

When looking up some fanart for that series, I found the Team Flux fanart.

And ever since, I've been intrigued by this concept and even attempted to continue it.

And with the 40th anniversary of BTTF this year, I figured now would be the best time to do so!

So sit, grab a snack, and join me as I share my idea for a Team Flux reboot!

The reboot's premise is largely the same as the original, but with a few changes.

This concept would be set in one world, as whereas in the original, the characters came from separate dimensions.

I figured it'd help makes this less potentially confusing.

Like in the original, a group of villains have been traveling through time to steal valuable treasures and artifacts.

But that's not all.

They're also even altering history for their own benefit.

Making up this group is N. Tropy (who serves as the leader of the team), Dr. Cortex, Biff Tannen, Bertram (from Family Guy), Petra Fina, Dino, Mite (all three from Flint the Time Detective), Mad Jack (from The Time Warp Trio), Vlad Plasmius (from Danny Phantom), Cyrille Le Paradox (from Sly Cooper), Magneto, Quicksilver (those two specifically being their iterations from Wolverine and the X-Men), Cliff and Flynn (from the All Grown Up! episode "Rat Traps"), The Shredder, Bebop and Rocksteady, Kraang, Baxter Stockman (all those guys being their 1987 cartoon iterations), Kang the Conquerer (specifically the iteration from The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes), Mr. Ross (from Regular Show: The Movie), DOR-15 (from Meet The Robinsons), and Belos (from The Owl House).

In retaliation, Doc forms his own team of heroes.

This team consists of himself, Marty, Dipper and Mabel Pines (from Gravity Falls), Mr. Peabody and Sherman, Time Patrol, Stewie Griffin, Brian Griffin, Chris Griffin, Flint Hammerhead, Rocky Hammerhead, Sarah and Tony Goodman, Time Squad, The Time Warp Trio, Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher, Danny Phantom, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jazz Fenton, Valerie Gray, Crash and Coco, The Cooper Gang, The X-Men, The Rugrats (the All Grown Up! variants specifically), The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Avengers, The Park Workers, Jughead Jones (from Archie Comics), Doraemon, Noby, Lewis and Wilbur Robinson, and The Hexsquad.

All of them were recruited either because they either had experience with time travel, experience with members of the villain team, or both.

The team uniforms are the ones made for the reboot pitch.

Their main method of time travel is warping via pad.

Though they will use other methods like The DeLorean, The Wayback or The Book if the pad isn't working.

Their primary devices are wrist communicators and The Weaponizer 3000.

The Weaponizer 3000 is a device that able to turn into just about any weapon it's user can think of.

This thing is especially useful for the members who have little to no combat experience whatsoever.

And lastly for their base of operation: The Institute of Future Technology in Hill Valley, California in the year 1991.

Well that's about it!

I know this was a lot shorter than expected, but this was just going over the details.

Let me know what you guys think about this concept and what else you want to know about it!

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messyemmy · 1 year ago

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Green-Eyed Monster- Harry Styles x Reader (kiss prompt).

[Premise: Harry has been pining over his best friend's older sister for as long as he can recall. Here's some angst when the band goes on hiatus].

Prompts: "You're jealous, just admit it, you want to be the one kissing me." // “If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.”

Word count: 2.6k.

Grapejuice Masterlist

Other Writing

🍷 the guest 🍷

There is no reason for you to feel as bent out of shape as you are in this very moment, zoned out of a conversation with an old friend because standing behind her is the man himself- leaning against the balcony with a collection of adoring guests gathering near, Harry Styles.

Harry Styles; whose boyband had just announced a hiatus. Harry Styles; is properly back in his hometown for the first time in half a decade. Acting- as you deem- far too nonchalant for someone as global as he seemed to be. He had simply slipped back into his old groove as if no time had passed at all.

But all you can think about is how much time has passed. Harry seems almost unrecognizable- hair and tattoos only increasing in length and number. It’s only when his face takes intervals to crinkle with glee- smile cheesing, eyes squinting with joy- that you see the Harry you’ve known so long it feels as if life never existed before him.

Even as his life is about to change completely- a whole new chapter challenging his past and now his future- Harry seems to have little reservation about embracing happiness. Perhaps his nonchalance is the reason your observation stirs into frustration and confusion, causing a sort of panic you were sure to have never felt prior. Who is Harry Styles now?

Then again, your sudden distaste may also be attributed to the adoring attention he has been receiving all night- particularly that of the beautiful people who were visibly blessed with the chance to praise and pet him… And they were indulgently taking advantage of the opportunity.

Harry, by the looks of it was eagerly lapping it up, happily reciprocating touches and even looking at some of them with a gaze you had once noticed when it was dedicated to yours truly.

He definitely isn't a teenager anymore, and it dawns on you how impactful and influential his introduction to stardom had been.

Where were these thoughts even coming from? Your mind never wavered to the thought of Harry unless a One Direction song came on in public or Jack dropped him in conversation.

All the questions you had never pondered were causing your brain to swell, your body stuck in a frozen frenzy of how much has changed- for all of you- starting with the obscene and sudden assessment of his features- had you ever considered him as anything other than just… Harry? Has he always been so pretty?

All of those thoughts shatter as you raise your glass for a sip and across the room, Harry’s arm wraps around an unknown auburn-headed woman’s waist- which, at the least, makes your stomach clench and at the most, has you tilting your head back to empty the glass in one desperate swallow.

Without consideration, you hastily dismiss the person still animatedly engaging in a one-sided conversation and turn your back on the oddly upsetting scene happening against the balcony railings.

Ignoring the high possibility of tripping, agitation carries you to the kitchen- abandoned and almost silent in contrast to the party vibing merely meters away- and you immediately get ahold of the nearest bottle of chilled champagne, filling your flute to the brim and have a hearty sip before finally settling, taking a deep breath, trying to untangle your thoughts- hopefully rid yourself of them for good.

A couple minutes- what sounds like the length of a song- pass before you feel grounded and sane enough to rejoin the festivities. So, with a deep breath and a final sip for good luck, your faithful docs exit the kitchen and trail into the chatty confinements of the living room.

Lo and behold, Harry Styles is everywhere you go, practically blocking your path with his body pressing up against Auburn from outside, and he looks mere moments away from engaging her in a kiss.

That silly sickly feeling threatens to return if you stay a moment longer, so your stare meets the floor and your feet pick up their pace, heading directly for the barricade that is Harry.

His eyes bore into your own with a fervour that you will never forget and for a moment he has you pondering how such a magnificent emerald forest, framed by the wispiest of lashes, could have gone unnoticed for so long- how had you granted his adoring gaze such little attention?

🍷 the host 🍷

Harry is in two minds about this evening- he can’t help but indulge in the praises and doting that showers him from each and every direction, his pulse is racing with ecstatic at the relief of finally being home again.

His fears of everything changing have long passed, leaving his worries at the door as he is embraced with excited and excessive welcomes from anyone and everyone who looks his way.

With his oldest and best friend, Jack, by his side once more, Harry feels no different than he did at that farewell party at least five years prior, enthusiastically greeting familiar faces, accepting each praise with a gracious humbleness.

But Harry can’t tell if humble is even an accurate definition anymore and it isn't long before he feels his social battery starting to stutter and it’s clearly time for a drink.

By the end of drink number two, his body is as relaxed as his mind, and Harry is now encouraging the constant vying for his attention- his supposed importance- especially when it includes an array of beautiful people stroking his extremely inflated ego.

Leaning against the balcony railing, Harry cradles a whisky in one hand and the waist of a dazzling woman in his other. He hasn't actually been listening to a word said around him, nodding every so often as the small group around him eagerly bantered on.

He’s just happy to be here and doesn't think it could get any better until he spots the only thing on earth that could permanently put him on cloud nine- his greatest dream all wrapped up in the gorgeous physical being that is yours truly- and suddenly Harry feels as if all of the happiness he currently feels is merely an appetizer to the type of joy he could be feeling if he were only across the room staring into your eyes.

Oddly enough, your eyes are already set on him, suspiciously staring him down with an unreadable gaze that fills his stomach with an odd sense of unease. You look older- the same, but older- and something about that freaks Harry out and reminds him of his own age, how different things actually are now, even if it doesn't feel that way.

And as if he were seeing you for the very first time, Harry cannot stop staring with bewildered admiration- his eyes darting from your trusty Docs to the extremely fashionable clothing you donned, sternly studying the dips and curves of your body before settling back on your grumpy, but heinously beautiful face.

He felt it unreasonable- borderline evil- how much better you seemed to get with each interaction, how the hell was he to garner your attention now when he was already hardly capable of doing so for the last decade?

After you disappear into the sanctuary of the kitchen, Harry is too antsy to keep it together any longer and he finds his legs blindly following after you.

He’s hardly in the hallway by the time his female company comes from outside- he didn’t bother learning her name. Her auburn hair was identification enough- and she caught up and captured his bicep between her cold hand.

She ascends to her tippy toes, puckered lips finding their place just below Harry’s earlobe, her breath fanning over his sharp jawline as she seductively slips sensual suggestions his way, her free hand trailing up along his torso, fingernails tapping his chest.

For a good moment, Harry truly does start to forget what he had gone on the hunt for, easily distracted by the shower of affection drizzling all along his body by the unknown woman.

But, with a sudden shock, the kitchen door violently swings open to reveal your rigid figure, eyes furrowed and lips trapped fearfully between your gritted teeth.

You are the spitting image of a deer in headlights, staring up at Harry with a look that has him stopping in his tracks, realizing that fate has struck again and he has his elusive person right where he wants you.

Except, his plan to finally confront you had not included a third party and Harry could feel his face swelling with red blotches of blushy embarrassment.

For a reason he can’t pinpoint, shame creeps its way into the pit of his stomach, fists clenched as his body turns to brick, and Auburn, still semi-latched on, is becoming so suffocating he feels like a lobster about to boil inside out.

Rudely, and far too obviously, Harry disarms himself, shrugging his body from beneath Auburn’s grip and muttering some dismissive promise of meeting up with her later on- praying that his words are muffled enough that you don’t hear them.

You aren't stupid though, and by the height your brow manages to raise in suspicion, Harry confirms that his words did not go unnoticed.

His dismissal of Auburn seems fine by her as she smiles hopefully, giving him a swift kiss on his cheek before slipping past Harry and disappearing back into the party.

Unfortunately, he isn’t surprised as you attempt to pretend this interaction was even occurring by disconnecting your shared stares, glancing your focus to the living room, and planning an escape route. But there is no choice other than to pass Harry and there is zero chance he will let you get away with it.

Harry steps and then tilts his body closer, hoping to encourage you to do the same, but you stay put and only glare up at him expectantly and impatiently. He ignores your frigidity as if it were just a farce- it is- instead his smile turns to a full-on grin, reaching his eyes and crinkling cutely at the corners, and it spreads along his features with a fondness so fierce that you find yourself working overtime to avoid your face from breaking out into the same smile.

“Avoiding me, hm?” He muses with a precious pout, “Y’know that hurts my feelings, klutz.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You do it every single time.”

Arms folding across your chest, face frowning with the preparation of upping your defensiveness in the name of dismissing Harry- just like old times,

“I see you enjoy lying for fun now.”

Harry nearly scoffs but it projects as a sly smirk and points it at your painful scowl,

“Y’do. Dipping in and out of patios… kitchens… Yet you always meet me in the hallway.”

The stomach-knotting realisation that this is factual- how many times had this happened before? How many times would it happen again? Have it your way, and this will be the last time,

“Meeting and cornering are not the same thing.”

“Stop tryna be smart.” Harry slightly, but softly snaps as his lips smack together.

“You’re ruder than I remember.”

All snippiness leaves as soon as it comes, Harry sinks back into a swell of adoring amusement,

“You rate?”

“Ignoring your guests is a party fowl.” Definite diversion on your part.

“Avoiding the host is a party fowl.” He counters.

Weakly attempting to walk past him, only renders your back pressed up against the red abstract wallpaper. He remains put- which, to you, is rather unnerving- and upset is racing along your prickling skin,

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He edges closer with curiosity.

“Just because you’re used to people throwing themselves at you doesn't mean I'm avoidant." You spit and suddenly, he’s so close.

“They don’t all do that.”

“Sure, Harry.”

Have you two ever been this near before? Most certainly, but you could always chalk that up to intoxicated confusion- at least on your end had it ever felt this… intense? Is there any worldly justification for the suspicious stirring of curiosity now that he has so calmly and tenderly crossed the threshold of your personal space.

Harry knows he has never felt as satisfied as he does whenever your bodies threaten to blend into one, but for perhaps the first time, he thinks you may consider this palpitating chemistry as something more than a silly game.

But, he does so fondly enjoy the game, and if he pushes even a moment longer, Harry knows your patience will wither and guide you away from him for good. He uses a tried and true tactic,

“I like your hair.” He does.

“Yours is like longer than mine.” It is.

“D’you like it?” Harry is deep within your space.

“It’s alright.” You shrug, lying through your damn teeth. And you could leave it at that, but the bitterness has clearly taken over, “I’m sure the groupies are creaming, though.”

Hell, Harry has missed the pleasure of being in your preference, how electric and alive his body expels excitement and the anticipatory flames you will surely attack him with. He loves it- hates how much he does, can’t help but prod and provoke,

“I can tell you’re agitated.”

“Does that make you feel special?”

“Can’t put my finger on why…” He ponders- Harry’s missing context, the type you are unwilling to confess- the only evidence he has is your pointed stare flickering with fury- wait, envy? “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Oh, you’re jealous.”

Your throat chokes on your stomach as you croak out a spluttered, “What?” as Harry’s chest brushes your shoulder blade and his spearmint-scented breath fans across your neck,

“I think you heard me just fine.”

“You are delusional.”

Is he, though? Has jealousy been the reason for your distaste and discomfort this evening? Are you as delusional as you believe Harry to be? He seriously thinks so, skin tickling your own,

“Maybe… Still think I’m right.”

“Fuck off, Harry.”

He won’t though. Hand coming up to play with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger as his righteous gaze bores into your own- frozen and wide with bewilderment- and finally, his lips threaten to brush the back of your ear,

"You're jealous. Just admit it. You want to be the one kissing me."

“No-”

“Never looked at me like this before..”

You know, and you hate that he kdoes too. You should leave. Now. But with a compulsion too fierce to fight off, a culmination of fascination that ignores your conviction of moving away,

“I don’t-”

“If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.”

Harry says it so matter-of-factly that it shocks your body, and brain, into returning to reality and those succulent tingles swirling in your stomach twist sourly, threatening to suffocate you inside out.

With disappointment that is mostly directed at yourself, your sudden enamourment switches to the act of pressing your palm to Harry’s sternum and pushing sternly until he stumbles back in surprise. You cannot risk leaving without gifting him a cruel and crushing tongue-lashing,

“You’re a frat boy in the body of a former pop star. I would never want to kiss someone like you.”

You slip past him with zero resistance, no consideration for confirming his reaction as your back turns to Harry.

Well, Harry thinks he’s glad you grant him some privacy because the guttural disappointment melting his face into a frown is shameful enough.

He doesn’t understand the sudden stinging of his tear ducts, the shrill ringing in his ears. Suddenly, Harry doesn’t quite feel like celebrating his return.

Head bows as he carries his hurt and frustration to the confinements of the kitchen. It’s about time to spiral.

🍷

You can send me a couple numbers and a trope/dynamic to write about! (18, 26, 31, 32, 35,) em. Xo 💞

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tickfleato · 4 months ago

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oh my god ive finally had a breakthrough that lets me have my cake and eat it too with the various problematic lunarian tech in the hnk fixit postcanon au. Because like. let's be real. my real reasons for all of this is that i just want to draw the gems as gems for as long as possible. But i also want to keep the lunarian conversion machine development time not completely ridiculous (the 1000 year idea for my cairn fic was waaaay too long). so ive figured out a great way to slow down the conversions: make the machine take decades to do its thing instead of the length of one (1) pop song

1) this means that the number of gems that are able to get converted over a given time period goes down drastically (if only one can be in at a time. Which is the case both in canon and in my au)

2) this means that there would probably be more hesitance And more deliberation over making the decision to do so.

the Other decision i have is that the recovery/resurrection process with all the powdered gems takes way way way longer. not sure if the deus ice machina still exists or not but if it does it takes a lot longer to find and utilize.

i have several events and stories percolating at year 550 postwar, one that follows the dynamics of the new generation of gems (focusing on citrine & smoky who are kind of just starting to be seen as adults by people) and then the admirabilis stuff that i just came up with under the influence of powerful iced coffee, which is definitely going to need reworking and refining. i'm definitively saying that at this point in the timeline the conversion machine has been functional for at least a couple centuries.

the gems i know that are for sure lunarians by this point are new goshe, amethyst 84, yellow diamond, alexandrite and cinnabar. goshe for the same reason as in the manga (impulsively choosing to be the first person to test it out), amethyst 84 also for the same reason (wanting to test and also bc it would help with their research) and the latter three for medical reasons. Cairngorm is a maybe strongly in the yes direction. but i have Many ideas for their story. And then there are probably a few more i just haven't decided who yet.

Wait i should put all this in fucking google docs. well enjoy tumblr readers

#tick biz #hnk

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multiheadcanons · 6 months ago

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BABYS FIRST RESPAWN

aka tf2 mercs and the first time they died and respawned

tw: death, murder, marginal gore?

spy: it’s embarrassing, he hates to say it… he fell out of his smoking room window in the middle of the night. he was taking in the view, sitting in the feeling of new. he didn’t know whether he maybe leaned too far out the window, or if something or someone had pushed him, he didn’t see anything but the ground approaching. it was swift, and virtually painless. he squeezed his eyes shut before he hit; and before he realized the pain his eyes opened to the infirmary. he sat there in shock for a moment; confirming he was actually alive. he felt his body for any trace of ache, and felt his heart drop when there was none. that fucked him up. he quit thinking too much about it after the first few dozen times he encountered the respawn machine. he does not want to think about whether he’s actually him or a perfect clone or— never mind.

sniper: it’s also embarrassing and he hates to talk about it. he would consider it a case of murphy’s law. he was actually having a really good day! it was his first day on the job, and he made it out alive. he didn’t think much about the fact that the same guys were showing up between his crosshairs. he didn’t think much about it until he was cleaning his rifle. and as he finished, and inspected it, he’s pretty sure it misfired. he’s the one who didn’t put the safety on before he inspected the barrel. he doesn’t know. he knows he was staring down the barrel and a loud, a familiar crack rang through his ears for a fraction of a second before he saw the white of the infirmary. he immediately jumped to his feet; dazed. and, without really thinking about it, other than his eyes making out a red cross, yelled for the medic. the medic who took his time coming to reassure him. he also quit thinking about it the first few dozen times because he didn’t want to think about whether or not he was himself. he had enough on his plate as is.

medic: okay, technically it was his fault. he pushed heavy, who was a stranger at this point, verbally. he made a couple off handed comments, a few too many underhanded insults on their first day of work. and the worst part was, he would laugh about them. loudly. and when heavy would confront him, he would immediately back down. and heavy hates cowards. the final time he was given the opportunity to do this was in the infirmary; heavy simply…. picked him up. arms pinned against his own rib cage, which was trapped between heavy’s hands. he was still laughing when heavy started to squeeze. and said nothing more. he continued to laugh until he felt a painful snap. and after the pain, he almost felt…. a relief. a glorious relief in his back he hadn’t felt in years, no… decades. he sighed, and found he could not breathe in again. a final, firm grasp and squeeze around his neck sent him staring at the white wall of the room next door. and his back hurt again. there was a whisper of wind, almost like someone was also taking their first breaths; and turned to see demo; who was staring at the wall in shock. a slow turn revealed his one eye to be wide, pupils resizing as he attempted to focus it in the brilliant white room. “what the fuck just happened.”

“well… i see we must both still be alive.”

demo: tavish…….. poor guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. he happened to be entering the infirmary, a few drinks in, with a small cut. he literally just wanted a bandaid. he didn’t expect to walk in to the heavy weapons expert holding a…. very clearly dead doctor. well, maybe he was just giving like a fucked up chiropractic lesson, but doc’s back was bent at an unusual angle, and his eyes were not moving, and his lungs looked like they collapsed, and he was not making any sound... yeah. that’s a dead medic. he didn’t register that, or the doctor’s falling body, before he felt a palm encase his entire face, and something that he could swear was steel made contact with his temple. and his vision came back to him being in the room next door. next to the very much alive medic, who also seemed a little dazed, but at least was at the correct angle and breathing and making noises. after regaining his bearings, he actually didn’t hold it against heavy. nobody knew what it meant when they were told that they would come back, and nobody needs to mention it. emotions got hot and things just happen that way sometimes. medic should take the lesson in stride and stop pushing buttons. but he held no ill will. it actually makes him incredibly confident to know that he can go through anything and still come back. and he’s bolstered with more confidence to have a guy like heavy on his side. drives him through battle.

heavy: heavy had apologized to the doctor immediately after he (and demo) entered the main infirmary room from a set of double doors to the side. demo said all was well. medic said all was well. all was not well. medic did not forgive him for murdering him in what medic considered to be cold blood. and played the slow game about it. medic let their other teammates die in favor of making sure heavy did not see the inside of that infirmary for months, past minor to moderate damage. medic carefully cradled heavy’s life in his hands, and never dared to disrespect it again. medic never babied him, but was clearly better than had he… not snapped the man’s spine in half and crushed his rib cage. he had never truly seen what the others began to call “the respawn room”. he had sat in there a few times, pondering the feeling of it. heavy did not consider that medic’s intense intensive care could be a ruse. he didn’t consider that as they made their usual idle chatter on the field as they sped into the heat of battle; he didn’t think about it as he reminisced on that moment. he only thought about it as he mentioned medic’s grace and kindness for his outburst. how he actually quite liked the doctor. how he couldn’t believe he could get that worked up. “over a silly joke, no less.” was actually the last thing medic hissed in his ear as he shut off his medigun and stepped away from him, ubercharge wasted, as heavy rounded the corner to heavy fire. and he had never felt a burn like it to date. the medigun truly made bullets feel like nothing. what a medical wonder, he thought briefly. he turned his head, his final action, and watched medic make direct eye contact with him, before offering him a smile, a wave, and walking away. that was the first time he had seen the walls of the respawn room without his express permission. he decided then that he did not like that doctor. they’re fine now though. they can laugh about it.

engineer: it’s embarrassing, he hates talking about it. having family that worked in Mann Co, he generally knew and understood the workings of the respawn machine. he was a couple beers in, there was an outage. he felt confident enough to do it. he thought “i shouldn’t let the outage sit and wait for me to sober up, something might happen and we’ll need full electricity!” and he was haphazard. he didn’t give enough time and care to practice safety and paid that price. he felt a shock begin in his ungloved fingers and reach his chest, fast. but at that point he couldn’t let go. he woke up in the ward with his hand still clenched in a tight fist. he didn’t like that feeling much. but he’s glad the price wasn’t his life…. permanently.

pyro: pyro willingly jumped off a cliff on a question from scout; “do ya wanna know what it feels like to die?” and five dollars and seventy two cents. they returned, seemingly unfazed, and took scouts money, and pushed him off the edge in return. they both made a point from then on to never get too close to the edge, and pyro makes it a personal mission to warn others of the fall. they know what pain feels like. it bothers them more to not actually know what death feels like. they don’t like opening their eyes to the infirmary. and they wonder when it’ll be the last time they open their eyes to that sight. however, they’ll regularly air blast enemies off the cliff. they take every opportunity to show them that they shouldn’t be that close to the edge!

scout: scout…. honestly didn’t remember the first time. he remembers driving into teufort, and he was being kinda reckless, but he didn’t really care. there was nobody on the road for miles in either direction but him, he felt like he should be able to cut loose a little, even though he knows safety on the roads is paramount. if he died, at least he would just take himself out, right? and then the wheels popped on his dogshit car. he panicked, he couldn’t get the car under control, and the last thing he remembers is seeing a sign saying “welcome to teufort!” before he woke up in an infirmary. he didn’t put two and two together until pyro pushed him off the cliff he had just dared them to jump moments prior. and he screamed. he screamed until he hit the floor and shot up in the respawn room screaming. and seeing that infirmary again… he realized what had happened that first day. he now takes road safety very seriously. he can’t believe he is an actual story for road safety. he can’t believe he’s dying, or dead most of the times he sees that room. it bugs him. he would like to die permanently. not any time soon, but he does wonder when he’ll die permanently.

soldier:

pauling: “alright soldier, so you get how to rocket jump, right? you want to practice with the—“

soldier: “i got it ms pauling! shoot at your feet then jump!”

pauling: “no soldier it’s— no soldier WAIT—!”

soldier promptly blows himself to bits and returns to the training ground from the respawn room. takes approximately two and a half minutes.

soldier: “I DID IT! I JUMPED ALL THE WAY TO THE INFIRMARY!”

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 soldier #tf2 demo #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 scout

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