#do not ask me what possessed us to think this i do not know

[hitomisuzuya]

hi again suzu !!! could you do like really mean and harsh smut with obsessed scaramouche who kidnaps reader; and reader is actually obsessed with him aswell; if that makes sense 😞

you can make it kinky too; but that’s completely your choice!

- 🎧

yandere!scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. obsessive/possessive behavior. kidnap. drugging. blowjob. harsh degradation. degrading praise. creampie. mean!scara. if any of these themes make you uncomfortable, DNI.

scara really enjoys himself in this 😳

today was the day. scaramouche knew today was the day. the world was encroaching too much, too fast around you. because you are so strong, it would be too much for you. that's exactly why you need him to protect you.

life wasn't going to dig it's hideous claws into you like it had done to him. he absolutely wasn't going to let that happen.

he has everything all prepared, even a new bed with a soft mattress and softer pillows. various things that would make you happy and comfortable. it was easy for him to acquire the sedative he would use, which is also something he considered carefully. something mellow and soft that would make you instantly drowsy and fall right to sleep. you wouldn't feel a thing.

scaramouche knew your schedule inside and out. you didn't have any idea he was following right behind you the entire time, having made promises to meet up for a date later. you, being so easily trusting of him, would walk right into his plans.

you are just way too kind. way too naive. far too sweet. all too much for your own good. but that is okay. he is here now.

absolutely nothing would go wrong. he would successfully retrieve you, and snatch you up away from the world. keep you hidden and at his side. where you belong. after all, you already look at him with such devotion, love and adoration.

he swooped in the moment you inevitably stopped walking to check your phone. you'd been keeping such an eye on the weather all day.

your breath hitched in your throat, startled as scaramouche came up behind you. "ssh, it's okay," he cooed, gently cupping a hand over your mouth, "you won't feel a thing, i promise. this is for your own good," your eyes widened a little feeling the pin prick on your neck, but you didn't panic. you'd heard the sound of scaramouche's voice, that let you know not to be scared.

he shivered seeing your body relax even before he sedated you. you trusted him that much that he didn't scare you. you really are amazing. he picked up as you slumped against him.

that was how you ended up on your knees, naked in front him, his hand stroking your hair lovingly before grasping it firmly. "go on, slut. use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you told me shortly after you woke up," he narrowed his eyes in a glare down at you, sending a shiver straight to your throbbing clit.

he brought your mouth close to his cock. you look up at him so sweetly, your soft little tongue darting out to kitten lick the head of his leaking cock. "you are all i ever think about, scara," he groaned softly as your tongue danced on the precum gathering in his slit.

incidentally, scaramouche only asked you to repeat yourself. it was you who insisted on sucking and licking his cock while you elaborated. it made his ego stretch as much as his cock aches. "i love you. my heart only ever belonged to you. i didn't want to give it to anyone else but you," you continued, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping your hand as you scooped his cock head into your mouth to suck on.

scaramouche moaned, his cock pulsing on your velvety warm tongue. he pushed your mouth down onto his cock. "good girl, you know your place. on your knees. sucking my cock like a fucking slut," you muffled a moan on his cock, sucking obediently as pumped his thick length in and out of your mouth.

fuck you look so breathtaking, drool pooling from the corners of your mouth while he ruined your throat. "you look adorable with my cock stuffed in your mouth. i can fucking feel your throat enjoying me," his hand tightened on your hair, holding your head in place.

he let out a loud, husky moan as he pushed his cock into your throat. you coughed, your throat convulsing and spasming in a heavenly way on his cock. "as good as using your throat feels, it would be such a shame to not cum inside you first," he took your mouth off his cock, enjoying the way you were submitting and letting him essentially manhandle you.

the look in your eyes only deepened with further adoration for him.

"on the bed, and spread your legs," he commanded, his cock straining harder watching you spread your legs, your little fingers parting your folds for him. he feasted his eyes on your creamy cunt, all his for the taking.

crawling on top of you, scaramouche wasted no time putting his cock between your drooling folds. he slowly grinded his cock over your clit, hissing in pleasure feeling your juices soak his length.

you mewled, your legs shaking and your hips rocking up to grind back against him. "please, i am begging you to stretch me apart," you pleaded, spreading your legs more.

"needy, pathetic whore," he hissed, adruptly bullying his cock inside of you. "you are all mine," he bottomed out all at once, tearing the sweetest cry of pleasure from you. "do you understand?" his cock was shiny with your slick as he pulled halfway out of you.

he wanted to fuck his cock back inside of you at the exact moment you said you understood.

"i'm all yours, scara!" you cried out, your hips jerking up to help him fuck his cock deep back inside of you. your walls clenched tight from his harsh degradation, your cheeks flushed as you squirmed with need.

need that was all for him.

scaramouche lost control then.

he possessively held you down, his hips smacking into yours. his grip was bruising on your thighs as he held them apart. you could barely keep up with the intense pleasure of his cock driving into your sweet spot. your fingers shook as you reached down to rub your throbbing clit, your ministrations tinging your shameless moans with whimpers.

"what a whore. what a good girl," he groaned, his cock on the cusps of emptying inside of you. the wet warmth of your pussy sucking him in was almost too much for him. "fall apart faster for me," his eyes followed the motion of your hand on your clit.

you shook underneath him, your orgasm washing over you in dizzying proportions. scaramouche couldn't get enough of your cries of pleasure while you creamed on his cock.

"keep crying just like that for me," his cock squelched wetter in and out of your pussy, ribboning ropes of cum inside of you. you wrapped a leg around him, happy to let him fuck his cock deeper into you as he chased his high.

[sceletaflores]

come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

you can't sleep, logan left his door open...

Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.

It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.

You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.

In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.

It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.

Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.

The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.

You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.

It was raining the first night he touched you.

You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.

A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.

Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.

You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.

It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.

Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.

You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 

It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.

At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 

You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 

Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.

You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.

You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.

And then, one night, the rain came.

You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 

You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”

There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 

You didn’t pull away.

The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.

He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.

He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.

You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.

It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.

You figured that was enough.

The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.

The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.

The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.

It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.

The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.

You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.

The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

And that hasn’t dared to change.

You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.

He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.

There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.

You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.

When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 

He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.

You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.

His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.

But then he speaks.

“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.

You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”

You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 

You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.

“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.

You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.

Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.

“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”

“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.

Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.

Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.

You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.

Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.

You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.

But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.

Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.

“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.

His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”

The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.

He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.

You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.

"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.

“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 

Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”

Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.

You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.

His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"

Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”

Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.

“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”

You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.

Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.

“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 

You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.

"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."

Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.

A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 

His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.

"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.

It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.

His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.

Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.

You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.

“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”

Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.

“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.

You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.

You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.

Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 

His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.

“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”

You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.

You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 

His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.

Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.

You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire

“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”

The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.

A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 

The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.

Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.

And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 

You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.

Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."

His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.

His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”

You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.

Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”

You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.

Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.

Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.

“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”

“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.

Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.

Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.

A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.

Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.

You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 

Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.

His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.

"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.

Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.

“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.

You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 

And neither do you.

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[justagalwhowrites]

Fucksgiving 2k24: Growing Family

You and Joel try to patch things up with your father while starting a family of your own. A Thanksgiving oneshot in the Stranger in a Bar universe.

^This is how I pictured this Joel as I was writing, with his lil tie on. Sorry not sorry.

Pairing: DBF!Joel x Female Reader (from Stranger in a Bar)

Length: 3.8k

CW: BREEDING KINK. Unprotected P in V for obvious reasons. Planning for pregnancy. Age gap (Joel is 20 years older, reader is 35 and Joel is 55.) Reader's dad is kind of a dick. No outbreak AU. Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel was reader's dad's bestie and he and reader are living together after dating years prior. No use of Y/N, minors DNI 18+ only.

A/N: Here's something to read while you navigate your own Thanksgiving dinner situations which are, hopefully, less awkward than this one. Happy Thanksgiving!!

“I mean it,” you said, clutching the casserole dish of mashed potatoes tightly to your stomach. “Best. Behavior.” 

“When am I ever not on my best behavior?” Joel asked, his hand on the small of your back possessively. 

You stopped in the middle of the drive on the mercifully long walk to your parents’ front door to stare at him, incredulous. 

“When are you?” You asked, brows raised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you behave yourself, not once, especially not where my dad is involved…” 

“Alright,” he chuckled good naturedly. “I’ll do my best.” 

“You’d better,” you said. “He’s just coming around to this, OK? I’d rather not blow it.” 

“I know, baby,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll be good. Promise.” 

“Thank you,” you said, continuing up to the front door.

“Your dad needs to behave too, though,” Joel said, sticking close to you. “Because I’m not gonna just let him say the same shit he always does, I don’t care.” 

“Please try,” you said, ringing the doorbell. “If you do, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“Really?” He asked, his voice husky. “Dyin’ to know what you mean by that.” 

“I mean,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Given how much I want to fuck your brains out, I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating and I can think of all kinds of ways you can try to knock me up - hey Mom!” 

“Hey, honey!” Your mom opened the door and pulled you in for a hug. You just caught Joel’s expression out of the corner of your eye, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you, too,” you gave her a squeeze, carefully angling the casserole dish away from her before stepping back. “We come bearing potatoes.” 

“So you do!” She said, taking the dish before turning to your boyfriend and taking a deep breath. “Joel. Always good to see you.” 

You looked to Joel and saw him collect himself for half a second before smiling to your mom. 

“Good to see you, too,” he said. “Been a while.” 

“Yeah,” she smiled a little bigger and reached out to give his arm a squeeze. “It has.” 

You gave Joel an encouraging smile as the two of you followed your mother into a kitchen that was overflowing with dishes. 

“Can I help?” You asked, laughing a little as you looked around. 

“Oh…” she sighed, looking around before she laughed, too. “Yes, yes please. Your father has been utterly useless, just wandering around, muttering to himself. Not that he’s the most helpful in the kitchen but he’s not completely incompetent…”

“He’s good on the grill,” you said. “Kitchen… eh.” 

“Well, yes,” she giggled conspiratorially. “But I try to give him credit where it’s due. Usually I’m not on my own for a holiday but this year he’s been… something.” 

You just hummed in agreement and started in on the green beans because you were pretty sure you knew the reason why your dad was acting strange and that reason was currently asking your mom how she wanted the cucumber cut for the salad. 

Joel and your father had barely spoken in the six months since you’d moved back to Austin and gotten back together with Joel. 

Not that you were too surprised about that. He was, after all, one of your dad’s closest friends and was much closer to his age than your own. You hadn’t exactly expected the news of your relationship to go over well but it had been even worse than you’d anticipated. 

You’d arranged to talk to your parents in public when you decided to tell them. Neutral ground, as it were. Plus, you were pretty sure your father would be less likely to punch Joel in the face if you were in public. 

It ended up not making much of a difference. 

“You’re what!” Your father stood up so fast that his chair fell over, the sharp clatter of the wood on the tile restaurant floor and violence of his tone plunging the once bustling room into silence. 

“Dad,” you said gently. “It’s not a big deal…” 

“The hell it’s not!” He yelled, looking between the two of you. “When the fuck did this start, hm? When the hell did you start fucking my daughter!” 

“Why don’t you sit down and…” Joel began, but your dad didn’t let him finish. 

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” he put his finger inches from Joel’s face. “She is a child!” 

“I’m 35!” You gaped at him. “Dad, you’re being ridiculous!” 

“You’re already in hot water,” he snapped at you. “So keep your damn mouth shut while…” 

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Joel said, standing up with too much force, his voice hot. “You got a problem with me, handle it with me, don’t take it out on her.” 

“Don’t you tell me how to treat my own fucking kid!” Your dad yelled. “I’ll handle her however I damn well please!” 

You weren’t sure who threw the first punch but it devolved quickly then, your mother pulling your father away while you dragged Joel back, both men bloody and panting for breath. 

You kept your distance from your father after that. You talked to your mom regularly - she was smart enough to give up on trying to talk you out of your relationship quickly and, eventually, was even happy for you - but your father took some time. 

After a while, he was willing to talk to you. Your mother must have given him strict rules - he didn’t try to talk you out of your relationship or question Joel’s integrity - but it was stiff and awkward. 

Thanksgiving had been your mom’s idea. Joel was hesitant but - after you conspired with Sarah (you and Joel’s daughter becoming fast friends once you moved past the awkwardness of your closeness in age) so she would stay in Dallas to go to have dinner with her boyfriend’s family - he’d agreed eventually. 

“If this don’t prove how much I love you, woman,” he’d grumbled as he tied his tie that morning. 

“You? Love me?” You asked, adjusting the knot under his chin. “News to me…” 

“Uh huh,” he smiled a little, just enough to make his cheek dimple. 

“Never said it,” you had to fight to hold your smirk back. “Definitely not 20 times while you were inside me last night…” 

“That don’t sound like me at all,” he teased back before going to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, baby.” 

“Well, I do have a hot date.” 

“Really? When’s he showing up?” 

You glared at him and he laughed before giving you another kiss. 

“Let’s go before I lose my damn nerve,” he said. “Gonna be the most awkward Thanksgiving ever.” 

For a little while, there in the kitchen with just Joel and your mother, you almost forgot how awkward this was supposed to be. 

You and Joel moved around each other in tandem now. You’d been living together for months and you’d fallen into sync so fast it was almost strange when you stopped to think about it. When you’d moved in with your ex, it took what felt like a small eternity to really understand the flow of his life, to subconsciously recognize where he was going in the kitchen when you were cooking side by side, to remember to consider him when making decisions big and small. With Joel, it was almost instantaneous. There had been no odd fumbling around each other as you went through your lives under one roof, no putting one brand of peanut butter back to pick up the one you suddenly remembered he preferred, no confusion or frustration when you came home from the office to find him not back yet. It all clicked, like you’d been built to do this alongside each other all along. Even in the unfamiliar space of your parents’ kitchen, his hand found the small of your back as he moved behind you to get a serving bowl and you just knew which knife to pass him from the block beside you when he went to reach for it. 

Things shifted when your sister showed up about an hour and a half before dinner, her arrival finally coaxing your father out from wherever he’d been hiding since you and Joel had gotten there. 

“Hey Dad,” you smiled at him after he finished greeting your sister and he stood, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen. “Good to see you.” 

“Good to see you, too, princess,” he said pulling you in for a quick hug. 

He turned his attention to Joel then, looking him up and down like he would an adversary. 

“Joel,” he said, nodding once. 

“Hey man,” Joel said, holding his hand out. Your father’s jaw twitched but he shook Joel’s hand all the same. “Good to see you.” 

Your father just grunted before going to the fridge and getting out a beer. Joel followed him and you and your mother exchanged worried glances. 

“Think the Cowboys are gonna pull out a win this year?” Joel asked. 

Your dad held his beer for a moment, looking like he was considering just not responding but then seemed to think better of it. 

“We’ll see,” he said. “With their record, I’d settle for not getting our asses handed to us.” 

Things were easier after that. Your father and Joel disappeared to the living room and you heard the telltale sounds of football follow immediately after.

“I still can’t believe you’re fucking Dad’s weirdly hot friend!” Your sister said, just quiet enough that your mother was out of earshot. “Or that you were for years, forever ago! Seriously, there are rules about holding back to your sister like that.” 

“You don’t need to know everything I do, you know,” you said. 

“No but I need to know everyone you do,” she said. You snorted. “So… you think it’s going to last?” 

“Well, we’re trying for kids,” you said, putting the last of the shredded cheese on the mac and cheese. “So it’d better.” 

“What!” She yelped. 

“What?” Your mom ran over. “Everyone OK? Did you burn yourself?” 

“We’re good,” you smiled. “Just catching up. Sister shit, you know.” 

“Yeah,” your sister said. “Sister shit.” 

Your mother went back to the other side of the kitchen and your sister mouthed oh my God at you and you fought the urge to laugh. Your dad might hate your boyfriend but at least you could count on your sister to be your sister. 

Eventually, the rest of the family came over, too, and everyone settled around the overly full dining room table, Joel sitting beside you with a reassuring hand on your knee as he made small talk with one of your uncles. 

Dinner went surprisingly well, at least until everyone was a few glasses of wine deep and your father decided to pick a fight. 

“So, Joel,” he said, setting his wine glass down with a little too much force. “Not sure if I should thank you for getting my daughter to move back home or if I should blame you for her obsession with being a failed musician for a living.” 

“Dad!” Your sister gaped at him. “What the fuck!” 

“Language, please!” Your mother said. 

“Just seems to be real clear to me now,” he said. “Doubt she’d be so stuck on playing that damn guitar all the time if it weren’t for your bad influence.” 

“Bad influence?” You laughed. “Dad, I’m almost middle aged, I’m not some impressionable teenager. I love my work, I don’t consider myself to be a failure just because I do music therapy instead of being a rock star, I…” 

“You could have actually done something with yourself, you know,” he cut you off. “Instead, you decided to drive your life into the ground with this man and some bullshit career path…” 

“Watch it,” Joel said sharply. “Not gonna let you talk to her that way. You will treat her with respect or I will make you treat her with respect.” 

“Respect?” Your dad asked, his eyebrows raised. “You’re gonna sit there, in my house, at my table and lecture me about respect when you decided to take up with my daughter?” 

“Stop it!” You shoved your chair back, throwing your napkin on your gravy smeared plate. “Both of you! Dad, stop acting like your my keeper and that I don’t have any goddamn agency because you raised me! Joel, stop acting like I need you to defend my honor! Just… fucking stop it!” 

“Baby,” Joel said but you ignored him, stalking off to the guest room at the back of your parents’ house, needing some space from everyone. 

You let yourself cry for a minute, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at an old family photo of you with your parents and sister, back when you were just 10 years old. Your hand drifted to your lower stomach. You weren’t pregnant yet - at least, not that you knew - but you couldn’t imagine your child doing anything that would make you as mad at them as your father seemed to be at you loving Joel. 

There was a soft knock at the door and you wiped your eyes on the backs of your wrists. 

“Yeah?” 

“S’me,” Joel said quietly. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed. 

He came in, closing the door gently behind him before sitting next to you. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. 

“I will be,” you sniffed again. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, reaching out and cupping your face, his thumb tracing the arch of your cheekbone. “Know I promised to be on my best behavior but… Look, him being a dick to me is fine, I can handle that. I just can’t watch him say that shit to you. But that don’t mean I should get… aggressive and…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said. “I’d do the same thing if I were you, I can’t really blame you for it. And I appreciate that you care about me…” 

“I love you,” he smiled a little. “More than just about anything else. But that means I need to take care of you in the way you want me to, not just the way I want to do it.” 

You smiled tightly before leaning in to kiss him. Joel kissed you back, gentle at first but, before long, something shifted, the kiss becoming hot and needy. 

“Baby,” Joel said, his voice low. “Should… should probably get back out there…” 

“They can wait,” you said, panting a little. “I want you.” 

He groaned, nipping at your lower lip but still hesitating. 

“Please, Joel,” you breathed, pressing yourself closer to him. “I need you. Let’s make a baby.” 

“Fuck,” he said, his tone shifting, and then he was on you. His tongue plunged into your mouth as he lay you back on the bed. 

He didn’t bother taking your panties off, just tucking them to the side and tugging the low v-neck of your sweater down to expose your cleavage. 

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he groaned, cupping your sex with one hand and tugging your breasts free of your bra with the other. He mouthed at your nipple, licking and sucking over your breasts as he ground his palm against your clit, one thick finger slipping inside your seam to your already dripping entrance. “Don’t deserve you, baby.” 

“Yes you do,” you whispered. “You deserve the world.” 

He just moaned in response, kissing you again, one large hand cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple. 

It wasn’t long before he shoved his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock and he jerked himself a few times with the hand that had become coated in your wetness. He notched himself at your entrance, his head thick and large and swollen, and pressed inside, a moment of resistance before your channel stretched over him and he buried himself within you. 

He pulled his lips from yours, his head falling to the bed over your shoulder as he panted for breath. 

“Goddamn you feel good,” he said, voice tight and hot in your ear. You rolled your hips up against him, making him moan. 

“Good,” you said. “Love making you feel good, sometimes that’s all I want to do.” 

“Fuck, you think your daddy hates me now,” he said. “If he knew what you do to me he’d shoot me.” 

He started to fuck into you then, keeping his chest pressed tight to yours while his cock worked you hard and fast inside, his head finding that soft and tender place within you that built your orgasm fast with every stroke. He ground his cock against you there, his hips on your clit, making every ounce of need inside yourself gather tight and low. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted. “I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, I…” 

“Good,” he growled. “Come for me, come while I get you pregnant, c’mon baby and come all over me.” 

You had to bury your face in his shoulder to keep quiet, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast, your center fluttering over his thick length as he held himself inside you. 

“Oh you like hearin’ that, huh?” He asked, breathless, starting to move again, already building your next orgasm as he did. “Like hearing how I’m gonna put a baby in my baby, that it?” 

“Yes,” you groaned, your second climax growing quickly. “Yes, please, please, please, please…” 

“You don’t gotta beg for it baby,” he said, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “I’ll give you everything, as many babies as you want, fuck, gonna give you my baby right now, gonna make you pregnant, fuck!” 

He buried his face in your neck and pressed himself so deep inside you as he came, the heat of him spilling into you in thick, heavy pulses. 

“Fuck,” he said after he finished, kissing your neck before pulling back from you to kiss your lips, too. “Didn’t mean to come that quick, wanted to get you off one more time first.” 

“It’s OK,” you said, panting, even though it was kind of a lie. You’d been so close to coming again that you felt tight inside your skin, an energy rippling over you that you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake until you came again once you got home. 

“No, it’s not,” he said, sitting up and slowly, carefully pulling his softening cock from you. “Got you all worked up, not taking care of you the way you deserve if I don’t finish the job.” 

You felt some of his come slip out of you but he caught it with the tip of his cock, pressing it back inside before tucking himself away in his underwear and cupping your swollen, aching sex. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he said quietly. “Take care of you the rest of my life.” 

He worked your clit, slow and gentle circles at first before his touch grew firmer, drawing your orgasm back to the surface in the way that only Joel seemed to know how to do. You came to his touch, feeling his thick come inside you as you did, like your body was trying to pull him even deeper inside. 

“There you go,” he said, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Fuck, so pretty, every damn inch of you.” 

You panted for breath, relaxing down into the bed before suddenly remembering that your entire family was down the hall. 

“Fuck,” you sighed. “We should get back.” 

“We should,” Joel said, tugging your panties back in place and helping you cover your chest again before chuckling. “Think your daddy really might shoot me if he found us like this.” 

You laughed and sat up, looking at Joel for a moment. You trailed your fingers through his hair and he smiled a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Really not sure why you think I’m worth all this trouble,” he said. “But I sure am thankful I have you.” 

You smiled back. 

“I’m thankful for you, too.” 

You kissed him and he helped make sure your hair and makeup didn’t look like you just got fucked within an inch of your life before you emerged, the party having moved to the living room, your mom and aunts on one side of the room, your dad and uncles on the other, an uncomfortable silence falling when the two of you walked in. 

“Joel,” your dad said, getting up and walking over with a sigh. “Look… not sure I’ll ever really be OK with this but… my daughter could do worse than a man seems to adore her and is willing to stand up for her.” 

“I do adore her,” Joel said. “I love her. I want to do everything I can for here as long as she’ll let me.” 

Your dad nodded slowly. 

“Think I can live with that,” he said. “But you hurt her? I will kill you.” 

Joel laughed a little. 

“I expect nothing less.” 

Joel and your dad seemed a little more like the friends they’d started out as after that, laughing and talking and watching football. When the two of you left for home, your father and mother walked you out, containers of leftovers in hand. 

“It was so good to see you both,” your mom smiled, giving you a squeeze. “We’ll have to do this again. Soon.” 

“We will,” you kissed her cheek before turning to your dad. “It’ll be nice.” 

“It will,” he said before looking to Joel and holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.” 

Joel smiled a little, taking his hand and shaking it. 

“Thanks for letting me in it.” 

You smiled the whole drive home, Joel’s hand on your knee. 

“So,” he said, looking at you conspiratorially as he pulled into the drive way. “Think the family will be even bigger next Thanksgiving?” 

“I sure hope so,” you smiled. “But I think we’ll have fun trying either way.” 

“Think we should try again now?” He asked, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Because, you know… if you’re ovulating, should probably do it again. Seems like the smart move.” 

You laughed, already adding pregnancy tests to your mental shopping list.

“Well we can’t start out our lives as parents doing the dumb thing,” you said and he laughed before the two of you went inside to try again to grow your family.

[goingmerryfics]

HELLO!!! sorry if I request again because I really like how you write😔👊, I come with another request, something that I saw once in a fanfic and I loved the idea, it could be any other character you want but I see it more in Sanji (don't let it be obvious that I'm a Sanji lover HAHAH) well the issue is discovering that the character always carries with him a photo of gn!reader, whether it is a photo of them or the wanted poster of gn!reader

Carrying My Love With Me - Sanji, Shachi, Bartolomeo

Content: SFW, these boys are in love with you, strawhat reader in Barto’s, only Sanji’s is an explicit established relationship

Notes* Noooo please don’t apologize I love getting engagement :D and I finally get a prompt that I feel is perfect for my boy Barto!!

Sanji

Sanji is not shy at all about his picture of you that he keeps in his jacket pocket

He absolutely adores looking at you and your cute face, so when he has any excuse to pull that picture out, he does

He’ll use your photo to brag about you to other men all the time, claiming that you’re all his

That photo would always be in pristine condition, never letting anyone take it from him and making sure it doesn’t get destroyed after a battle

He would also pull it out anytime when he feels down, using your face as motivation in his dark times- even if it’s just him sulking over something

He takes out the photo while he’s cooking and sets it somewhere in sight. He talks to himself a lot as he cooks, so having your photo there makes him feel a little less silly

He promises your photo that he’s making this meal with love, and that he wishes he could share it with you

He does get a little embarrassed the next time he sees you and the crew rats on him about the photo, though

But after you’re reassurance that you think it’s sweet, he melts in your arms all over again, just like he always does

Shachi

What Shachi keeps with him is a picture of the two of you together

He hides it in his pillowcase, not wanting anyone to find it and make fun of him

He’s weirdly sensitive about the crew thinking he’s soft or something

But when you’re not around, it’s nice to have a piece of you nearby to hang onto

He pulls it out when he’s alone just to look at you- to study your eyes and the shape of your nose with a goofy little smile on his face

When people are around or he just wants to hold onto something while he’s lying down, he’ll put his arm into his pillow case and just hold onto the picture with his eyes closed, picturing you beside him, pretending he’s got you in his arms

Shachi is a romantic, he’s just too ashamed to admit it

The day Penguin is on laundry duty, he finds it and teases his friend relentlessly about it, holding it up in the dining hall and loudly proclaiming that he didn’t know his best friend had a girlfriend, and how could he not share this information?

A lot of chaos ensues, and after some teasing he snatches it back possessively

Bartolomeo

With you being a Strawhat, of course he’s got your wanted poster hung up in his room!

Luffy and his crew are his number one, and he loves Luffy, but you and him definitely had a special kind of relationship

Anytime you two meet, there’s always flirting involved

More from you than him, because he’s losing his mind with each compliment and sexual innuendo that comes out of your mouth

He didn’t expect that when he’d met you at first and went wild, swearing up and down that he’d do anything you asked just to hear your heavenly voice speaking like that again

So that picture is special to him, and he ends up fawning over it quite often- especially whenever he feels like he misses you

He rants to the crew all about how much he loves you to anyone that will lend him an ear (and to those who don’t, as well if there are anyone like that on the crew)

You make sure to sign it next time

[miifu666]

you've seen me babble about Yan! Wukong... BUT THIS TIME ITS MACAQUE!! i know he has a big dick- I've always wanted to write abt Macaque, just never had the time to but now I do- hihihii thank you for those who asked for him ♡♡

⋆˙⟡ —CW: Yandere, ooc Macaque, noncon drugging, rough Macaque, insecurities mentioned, manipulative, art is oc x canon but drabble is canon x reader.

Yandere! Macaque

Imagining Yan! Macaque who knows which words to strike your insecurities, what sentences can fully make you dissociate in the middle of the day. To let him be the one who guides you while you're busy drowning in your self-doubt. His hands maneuvering itself to gently lay on your back, the other acting like a fence, making sure no one can bump into you. He coos about how unfortunate you are, poor little you. Yet, his smirk came forth as he looks back.

"Ohohoho! Look at how you're dressed, baby~ well … maybe this part is a little tight for you, don't you think?"

Macaque tasted the bitter end of the stick, while Wukong got to gloat about the honeyed drip he tasted. The dark simian makes sure you never see the good side of that sage, he'll inject every single downside of every trait you love about Wukong. Sometimes, he even uses your own words against you. Turning your friends and family against you for having the same traits as that monkey you adore. You think Wukong's empathetic? How does it feel to be fooled and scammed by your own friends? Wukong's ambitious? Oh but it eats you up doesn't it? You'll never be good enough for yourself. Macaque is observant, he lives in the shadow and he knows how to use your own surroundings to make you feel little.

"Well, im glad you've learned your lesson…i know its hard to accept that sometimes good things, aren't always good, sweetheart"

He remembers when Wukong was possessed by LBD, there was a sense of longing whenever he thought back to how he was also under her control. The images of you so pliant, harmless and a soft bundle of drug induced state inspires him to try and concoct his own drug. Maybe even steals one from a pharmaceutical, any drug will do. As long as it keeps you pliant and adorable, no horrible side effects, at least that's what he hoped for.

He'll study how much doses you need to ensure you're all hazy and high as a kite. Can't even reach the door to his dojo without stumbling and holding on. So cute, adorable, ugh what other words can he use? You're all helpless, who would make sure you dont stumble and hit your head now hmm? Don't worry, your dear boyfriend Macaque is here. Albeit seeing you like this strikes a sadistic side of him he didn't know of.

"Hey hey, where you going sweetheart? A drunken little thing like you shouldn't walk around without any help. What if some big bad guy takes advantage of you hmm? Poor thing"

Macaque knows what he's doing is wrong. Punishing you, keeping you hidden, heck he even silently drugged you without your knowledge just so he can fulfill his stupid fantasy. He's not delusional, there's guilt eating him up and the only way a traumatized simian can say sorry is through his actions and services. he's the best at handling things patiently with care, Macaque will take care of you in ways he knows best, and he's really good at it too.

"Ohoho what's this? You missed me this much? Hahaha so cute.. ill have a fun time ravishing you.. just lay down and let me do my thing"

Yan! Macaque who longs for someone to share the lonely nights with him, someone who he can cuddle with and talk about the stars and which stupid cat reactions you are. Its all he ever dreams of, all he longs for. Yan! Macaque understand every single insecurity you're going through, he knows how to handle it. He'll help you through it, He'll make sure you wont have lonely nights to cry yourself to sleep on. Maybe if you close your eyes hard enough, you can forget about the shackle on your leg and the bruising lovebites around your intimate areas.

"I know… its hard, its tough but life happens and.. i know my little sweetheart can pull through.. you always do. Thats what i love about you.. haha even got me a little too obsessed"

Macaque is a good mate whether you admit it or not, his observant eyes and omniscient six ears focused solely on you. The slight sniff from your nose can be a sign of an oncoming sickness, within no time he'll be ready with the blankets, warm tea, tissues and medicine! You might think he's heartless, sure he locks you up whenever he goes out, talks you down every time you feel confident enough to leave him and yeah he might have a need to see you helpless without him But! But! He's not neglectful, maybe there are times where you feel like he's infantilizing you. Yet he swears it's just an instinct, he always makes sure you get your proper meals, he even watches cooking shows just to make sure you eat your flavourful food! Not those salt and pepper tasteless things.

"I made you something~ ...what? It tastes funny? Hmmm must be the new recipe im trying, im sure you're just not used to it, hun"

[risingsunresistance]

would you believe me if i said this is skyblock fanart 😭

explanation below for anyone interested. it's a bit long 🐖

basic explanation for people who dont go here. or the tldr: the rift is a separate dimension in hypixel skyblock where reality and time itself do not function the same. the other npcs tend to take on different forms in there. this is my interpretation of what might happen to techno if he were to travel into the rift based on some other theories about the place and my own headcanons for him

less basic explanation for the rest of you: ok so. first thing to get out of the way, the rift isnt completely separate from the main reality. SOME of your own thoughts and feelings influence the way you exist in the realm and the way the realm itself behaves. not very many people seem to take on forms ENTIRELY divorced from themselves, save for maybe enigma (we dont know who he was originally, if he was anyone at all)

but i have a theory backed up by absolutely nothing that your rift form is mostly influenced by three different things: your inherit magic, your ability to control and manipulate that magic, and your overall stability. stability will look different from person to person and you dont always know if someone is stable or not just by talking to them. even something as simple as a phobia might change them drastically. still, the rift is unstable itself, so sometimes people get altered horrifically even though they were perfectly fine

my main points of reference for this are that some of our most altered characters are some who check all these boxes, and some who are relatively normal dont check any of them. lathrop/porhtal is split into a bunch of eyes and has one human-looking form that sits motionless at the wither cage and doesnt speak. we know he was incredibly magical, eventually got a great grip on said magic, but was also very very unstable. the wizard is very magical, is a master of said magic, and is pretty well put together. he is nearly unchanged in the rift. barry is the same as the wizard but went a bit nuts before he left, so in the rift he seems just a bit... off

on the opposite side of things, maddox is someone who we are told has ZERO magic in him. the only thing that changes in the rift is the fact that his helmet is red now. kat has never shown us any magic and seems to be pretty normal, so she's also just a different color palette in the rift and happens to have a weird job

anyways back to techno. (btw if you're reading this and happen to not be a regular here this is a mix of headcanons and "canon" but im treating it ALL as real and true facts for the sake of this drawing ok). he could be one of the most magical people here... but he has no idea how to use any of it on command. if you asked him if he possessed any magic, he would say no. his healing ability, while it is VERY strong, is passive, and he was only able to gather magic during the resistance fight with the help of the wands we were given. but he was able to gather a lot of magic during that fight, concentrate it, and release it all on his own. not many people could handle that. he also worships the blood god and has its blessing, and has some connection with spirits in the form of the voices / chat / whatever you wanna call them. there might be even more to him, who knows

so that's already a setup for disaster, but what about his stability? well he's constantly followed by a chorus of thousands of voices all screaming at him and god itself might be hanging around in that mix, led a war against the server staff and a dictator that lasted for 2 years skyblock time, and did the whole potato war thing which was ~70 years server time iirc. i wouldnt really call him stable KFJHG

so what you end up with is a very violent beastly thing, nearly unrecognizable save for the fact that he's still a pig (my first point, you dont become a COMPLETELY different thing under most circumstances). i think he's entirely out of control of himself and would not remember a trip to the rift. a stability elixir might help him in terms of being more aware of himself (i think sirius really downplayed what that potion does lmao it's not just a fun drink, he wanted to guarantee himself some control over his mind while he was conducting his "business" in the rift) but there's no saving the physical form

i wanted him to be beastly to mimic what happens to "dante" in the rift (the memory of dante, it's complicated. but dante and bacte are most likely two different people who are also the same person). yeah he was a big slime in the overworld, but now he's more monstrous. he also doesnt speak, he might not have any idea what's going on. same could be said for techno in a way. of course this is related to dante, what else would you expect from me :P i want to see them fight at the colosseum so bad...

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

but anyways THIS WAS SO FUN AAAAAUGH IM SO GLAD I FINALLY GOT THROUGH THIS. MY IPAD FINALLY DIED AFTER AN ENTIRE DECADE IN THE MIDDLE OF LINING IT AND I HAD TO CONTINUE ON A NEW TABLET WHEN I'VE SPENT MY ENTIRE LIFE DRAWING WITHOUT A PEN... THIS DRAWING WAS CURSED KJFDHGK

here's a version without chat and the blood god so you can just see the big hog

and here's my old concept from july of last year for comparison :P

initially in the post for the old sketch i said he was based on what i think would happen if he got a hold of some sulphur. i actually think that would be about the same as his rift form because sulphur seems to do very similar things under certain circumstances. always corrupts your form, can sometimes make creatures MUCH larger (matriarch, kuudra, magma boss), heightens your magic (mage outlaw), and can make you incredibly violent (barbarian duke)

bye i hope i tricked someone into reading a really long skyblock theory post expecting more info about techno FKJHG

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 15

And here we are at the end! It's been a wild and fun ride. Thank you to everyone who came with me on this journey!

@cryptid-system I hope my solution is as easy as yours ;)

We have the fallout from the cliffhanger, Steve taking that final step, and the truth comes out.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

When they got there, it was already a mess. Eddie had caught Jason at his locker and when Chrissy provided evidence that he was told to do so by Billy, that pretty much stopped the whole fucking event.

It took two days to untangle the whole shitshow, but at the end, Jason was replaced by an alternate and Chrissy allowed to continue, but with strict instructions that if she so much as toed the line she would be removed too.

Chrissy readily agreed. She wanted to compete, she didn’t want to cheat.

But that got Eddie thinking and he discussed his theory with the judges. They agreed to look into it but that the games would continue as scheduled.

Eddie agreed that would probably be best.

When it was time for the first meet, for real this time, Eddie made a show of checking his starting block for any sign of sabotage.

“Eddie Munson, checking his block for any signs of tampering,” the announcer said. “With his coach being Steve Harrington and the attempt to get him out of the races for drug possession, he has a lot of reasons to be cautious.”

The other announcer burst out laughing. “Did he just kick it? Like one does a tire of a used car one is buying?”

“It appears he did,” the announcer said, grinning from ear to ear. “It makes for some good entertainment, though.”

“It does that, yes.”

Eddie looked up at the stands and gave Steve a thumbs up and Steve burst out laughing.

Then Eddie put his goggles on, lowered himself into the water and grasped the starting block. He settled in and waited for the horn. No gun shots here.

Then the horn blared and he was off like a shot, arching into the water the way that Steve always loved.

He was graceful and fluid. And he was way ahead of his peers.

Steve was on the edge of his seat. Wayne and Robin each had a hand on his shoulders as Eddie kept his lead. Steve glanced up at the timer, but it was no where near a world record. But at this point it didn’t matter. Slowly the three of them rose to their feet as he neared the end.

Then he touched the pad and the entire stadium roared to life.

“What an incredible performance!” the first announcer crowed. “First time Olympian, Eddie Munson has taken the first gold of the swimming games!”

“And what an amazing gold it was,” the second announcer agreed. “We have USA teammate Trent York in silver, and bronze medal to Itsuke Tohsaka for Japan!”

“Great work to the USA for that double win,” the announced concluded.

~

On the winner’s podium, Eddie took a bite out of the gold to make sure it was real and then held it above his head.

Steve was so excited, he was jumping up and down. Then he did the unexpected. He ran out to the field and kissed Eddie senseless as he hopped down from the podium and into Steve’s waiting arms.

Steve spun him around excitedly and then kissed him again.

“If that’s the reaction I get when I get gold I’m going to have to win a lot more of them,” Eddie teased.

“It won’t matter,” Steve murmured into his ear. “I’ll kiss you no matter how you fare.”

Eddie smacked his arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna watch my teammate propose to his girlfriend of three years.”

Steve turned to where, sure enough Trent York was getting down on one knee to ask his girlfriend to marry him.

“Ah...” he said with a deep blush. “Nothing to be jealous of there, then?”

Eddie gently pulled Steve’s gaze away from the happy scene. “Never, lover boy.” And kissed him to the roar of the crowd.

The poor Japanese kid was looking around because he didn’t know what to do. Then a fan came tearing through the crowd and promptly kissed him on the mouth.

The announcers were calling it the love games, much to Steve and Eddie’s absolute glee.

~

Eddie medalled in all five of his events with talks to see about joining some of the medley teams for greater diversity of his form.

After Eddie’s last gold medal, his third, he was approached by the Olympic community for the swimming. His other two were silver, beating out Steve’s first time.

“Mr. Munson,” the French judge said, “we wanted to thank you for bringing to our attention your suspicions of the 2008 games.”

Steve looked at Eddie in confusion. “What suspicions?”

“Steve,” Wayne said gravely, “it’s been the long-held belief of a lot of people for awhile now that your accident wasn’t an accident at all.”

“Of course it was,” he said, frowning. “They looked into it afterwards and there were no signs of tampering.”

The Olympic members looked around at each other abashedly.

“That’s not quite true,” the English Olympic member muttered, “it was deemed inconclusive.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“With Billy sabotaging Mr. Munson with the drugs,” the French Olympic member said, “he asked us to see if there was any indication he had done such things in the past.”

“Billy?” Steve said, feeling the rush of blood around his ears. “Oh god. I always thought there was more to what happened, but Billy?”

He sank to a crouch and put his head between his legs to ward off a faint. They led him over to a bench and Robin rushed to get him water.

“When we started looking into the matter,” the English Olympic member said, “a maintenance worker immediately came forward because he feared that he would lose his job if he didn’t.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, sitting down hard next to Steve. “I really didn’t think anything would come of this. But it’s assault, right?”

“Technically it’s battery,” the French Olympic member murmured, “but while the Olympic Community has the authority to strip Billy of his two bronze medals, we cannot do anything else because it happened in Tokyo.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no. I get it. Just knowing he’s to blame is enough. Knowing that I have answers for the first time in my life to what happened to me, is–is plenty.”

Just then Billy came storming up to them. “This all your fault, Harrington. You’ll pay for this. I’m the superior swimmer, you fucking coward.”

“So put your money where your mouth is,” Steve growled getting to his feet. “Right here, right now. You and me, 150m. They’ll judge,” he pointed to the two Olympic members. “But I am and will forever be your god.”

Robin and Eddie shared shocked glances. They both wanted to jump in and ask if Steve was sure, but Wayne put a hand on Eddie’s chest and shook his head.

Robin opened her mouth to protest, but she saw the firm lines of Steve’s jaw and knew. He had this.

“Go suit up,” the English Olympic member said with a curt nod. “I think Mr. Harrington deserves a rematch, don’t you Marie?”

The French Olympic member nodded. “Yes, Theodore, I do believe he does. I will send someone to get you the appropriate gear.”

“Steve would you mind changing in the women’s dressing room to prevent trouble?” Theodore asked.

Steve nodded. “That’s fine. It makes it easier because my assistant coach is a woman.”

The two members nodded and everyone went their separate ways, leaving Wayne and Eddie alone in the bleachers.

“I’m so worried, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie admitted as he clasped his hands together, leaning on his knees. He dropped his head between his shoulders with a heavy sigh.

“He’ll be fine,” Wayne soothed, rubbing Eddie’s back. “He needs to do this otherwise he’ll always be afraid. But if you’re so worried call Rhys.”

Eddie straightened up. “I didn’t know you were on a first name basis with Gareth’s dad.”

Wayne scoffed. “Kid, I’m on a first name basis with all your friends’ parents, considering how much trouble you lot tended to get up to.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, okay that tracks.” He picked up his bag that Wayne had been holding on to.

After the incident with Jason and Billy, Eddie refused to use the lockers at all and just handed Wayne his stuff before every meet. He dug around his clothes until he found what he was looking for. His cell phone. He called up Dr. Hughes.

“Eddie!” Dr. Hughes greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

So Eddie told him.

“I’m with Wayne on this one,” he said when Eddie was done. “But I appreciate your concern was enough that you reached out. He’ll be fine. Congrats on your relationship, though.”

Eddie snorted. “Of course he told you. But yeah, thanks. We don’t know what’s going to happen going forward, but we’re going to figure it out together.”

“He didn’t tell me anything, Ed,” Dr. Hughes said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the whole world saw that kiss.”

Eddie blushed and shoved a strand of hair in front of his face even though Dr. Hughes couldn’t see him.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Forgot about that little tidbit?” Dr. Hughes asked, slyly.

“It was a really good kiss,” he murmured.

Dr. Hughes laughed again. “Fair enough. Tell Steve good luck for me.”

“Will do.”

Eddie nearly dropped his phone when Steve came out. It was not the Steve he knew. The man in front of him oozed confidence and charm. The man who would be king.

He trotted up to him and licked his lips. “You don’t have to do this. You know you’re better than he is.”

Steve smirked. “Oh I do, but he doesn’t.”

Eddie huffed a laugh and helped him get all his hair under the cap. Then they walked over to the starting blocks. There was space between the two that Billy and he would use. It looked as though they were taking this very seriously.

“Butterfly?” Billy sneered. “I want to beat you at your best.”

“Butterfly it is,” Steve said with a nod. He pulled his goggles on and Billy pretended to rush him, but Steve didn’t even flinch. “I’ve faced scarier things than you in the last four years, you’re nothing.”

He turned on his heel and got up on the starting block. Billy did the same, without the swagger from before. Eddie would swear for years, he saw sweat bead on Billy’s temples as they waited for the horn.

Then it went off. They both dived into the water. And instantly, Eddie could tell the difference. Not just in form, but style too.

They watched and waited as they did their laps. Steve keeping a body’s length between Billy and him. Then it was the last lap and Steve surged ahead, outstripping Billy even further.

Steve tapped the plate well before Billy did and yanked off his goggles, whooping and cheering.

“Oh my god!” Chrissy screamed.

“Steve look up!” Robin called out.

At first Eddie didn’t understand what she was screaming about. Then he spotted it. “Steve, baby. I need you to look at your time.”

Steve looked at the judges first who were in shock. Then he looked over at Billy who looked completely devastated. He finally looked up at the time clock. A new world record.

“It can’t be counted because it wasn’t an official race,” Marie said. “But if you can replicated it, you have to have to come back to the sport. Especially with a time like that.”

“Hell yeah!” Steve cheered, pulling himself out of the pool. “I’m back, baby!”

Eddie rushed over and kissed him senseless the moment he was on his feet.

“Mr. Harrington there is the small matter of being Mr. Munson’s coach,” Theodore said, pained.

Robin raised her hand. “Hold on, what is the biggest concern with an athlete/coach relationship?”

The two judges exchanged glances.

“The power imbalance,” Marie said. “And especially considering the large gap between their ages it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But if we take into consideration Steve’s trauma and phobias,” Robin continued, “it wouldn’t be an imbalance.”

The judges didn’t look sure, especially after that performance.

“Trauma can crop back up at any time,” Robin said, “so this doesn’t mean he’s fixed.”

“Rob!” Steve chuckled. “There’s an easier way to do this, without upsetting these good people.”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Huh?”

“You coach us both!” he said with a laugh. “If we’re peers then there can’t be a power imbalance at all!”

“Oh!”

Everyone laughed.

~

Joyce handed Robin a box in front of Max, Eddie, and Steve. She opened the box and inside was a coach’s jacket with BUCKLEY in silver and black bold letters. She tried to hold back tears as Steve helped her put it on.

“You earned it,” he whispered, before going and standing next to Eddie.

“Just one more thing before you get started,” Joyce said with a smile. “Robin has decided to also have an assistant coach. May I introduce you to Coach Cunningham.”

Chrissy stepped out of the women’s locker room with a smile and shy little wave.

“I trust there won’t be any difficulties?” Joyce asked with a raised eyebrow.

Everyone shook their heads no.

Eddie put his arm around her shoulders. “So what made you decide to become a coach?”

“I decided I wasn’t cut out for the competition racket,” she said with a grin. “Billy showed me that.”

Eddie nodded.

“Plus there’s the fact that there are no rules against dating a fellow coach.”

Eddie barked out a laugh as Robin turned bright, bright red.

Oh yeah, Chrissy was going to fit in just fine.

Steve grabbed his arm. “Come on, I’ll race you to the pool!”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed and laughed, all the while Steve took off running. He shook his head and chased his boyfriend to the pool.

Thank god for Jim Hopper.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[honey-bell-aint-well]

How would Fresh react if a host he possessed, who knew what he was, wasn't resisting that much because they understood his situation and couldn't blame him, I mean he has to do that to live, and instead asked him to at least not drain them whole and leave them before they become unrecoverable, like that would be fair cause both of them deserve to live, and also just being very miserable and hurting and sad and silently begging for comfort and the same understanding they gave to him while they give him the saddest kicked puppy look in the mindscape/their imagination, ideally wanting to share control or at least for Fresh to occasionally humor them and listen to music or consume fiction they like, but doubting that would ever happen, and generally just hoping for Fresh to not be unnecessarily cruel?

First of all: Thank you for asking me a question about Fresh! Now I get to ramble >:3

Second: Interesting question. For the host it would be terrible, and I question why they would be so ready to hand their life over to someone else. Do they not have family or friends, are they not invested in their own life? Why? Are they a host by force or were they manipulated into it? Or did they give themselves up willingly? If it's the latter, then why?

Fresh probably wouldn't give them acknowledgement. He doesn't have the capacity to care about them, and he thinks of hosts as just tools. He wouldn't be cruel to them, because why unnecessarily hurt a body he's using? He doesn't want to feel pain.

But he canonically does enjoy it when the person he's possessing feels pain from him feeding on their soul. A quote from CQ: "In honesty, he’s just being sadistic and enjoys gaining control over others, especially if he tricked them beforehand. Possessing a crowd of people and making them do what he wants, just makes HIM happy. And by ‘happy’ I do mean his extremely numb, limited view on it."

But if he possesses them AFTER the Loveball? If he becomes capable of guilt, I think he'd still ignore their pleas, but this time out of a sense of self-preservation rather than indifference. I think he'd start to hate himself for it, but would be unable to even comprehend giving up the safety of having a host. His drive for survival is extremely strong. I think he can survive outside of a host, but his parasite form is very weak. I think he'd consider having a host to be necessary.

I also think he'd still be sadistic and enjoy their pain, but the enjoyment would be pretty soured by all of his new negative emotions.

I think, out of guilt, he'd let the host listen to songs and read fiction [as long as it isn't inappropriate. If it is then he'd censor it]. He'd probably do it very rarely though, and he'd be mad at himself for doing so. He's not used to guilt, and he doesn't understand why he's doing these things even though it doesn't benefit him. [Clarification: He'd be confused, but he'd default to anger because he's really bad at dealing with his emotions].

Over time as he feels more, he might begin to consider them more than just a tool. At that point, I think the guilt would be so strong that he'd feel physically sick. I don't know what he would do in that case.

And then there's the whole Loveball existential crisis. That definitely factors into this, but I'm not exactly sure how. He'd definitely keep trying to appear as his usual radical self, no matter how he feels. He might not succeed sometimes though, because having your entire worldview flipped.. that has the tendency of affecting people and how they interact with the world around them.

Thank you for asking! :D

[vodika-vibes]

We Belong To Each Other

Summary: Boba returns from a long job, and his first visit is to you.

Pairing: ROTJ Boba Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1817

Warnings: Smut, Boba is possessive, but so is the reader, hints of a breeding kink sorta, Reader is a stripper

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my Thanksgiving Spite Smut story! Is there better smut out there? Probably! But this one is mine! I hope you all like it! And tagging @dreamie411 because you tagged me in something about this last night.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

The music thrums loudly through the club. You can feel the bass down to your bones even though you’re not on the stage. Your set has already been completed, so technically, you could go home for the night.

But something is encouraging you to stay.

So here you are, sitting in the dressing room with your feet propped up on your vanity, your painted toes bouncing in time with the beat of the music while you doom scroll on your comm.

You haven’t even bothered to remove your makeup or change out of the lingerie you had been dancing in earlier. This is partly due to laziness but mostly because you saw something interesting on your comm and got distracted.

The tempo of the music speeds up, and absently, you uncross and then recross your legs, your bouncing foot speeding up to keep time with the music. Honestly, the music is so loud you can’t even tell what song is playing, though the beat feels familiar.

You’ve probably danced to it before.

Just as you’re starting to consider getting up and changing into regular clothes, there’s a knock on the door. You’re not even able to call out for identification before the door swings open and a very familiar man steps into your make-up room.

If you had to describe Boba Fett, you’d use a phrase from one of your favorite trashy romance novels. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. And, for some reason, he only has eyes for you.

A grin slides across your face as you drop your comm on the vanity and stretch out luxuriously as you kick your vanity so that you’re facing him properly, “Boba Fett,”

He removes his helmet and sets it on a side table that’s covered in the make-up you didn’t use today, and his dark eyes drag down your body. “Your clothes match my armor, Princess.” He sounds smug.

You wave your hand to brush his comment aside, “Wholly unintentional, I assure you. As it happens, I look amazing in dark green.”

“You won’t get an argument from me,” Boba agrees as he steps further into your dressing room before he shuts and locks the door behind him. “And, based on how some of the men watching you dance acted, I bet they agree too.”

You tilt your head, your hair tumbling over your shoulder, “You watched me dance?”

“Why so surprised? You know I like watching you.” Boba leans over you, resting his hands on the arms of your chair, a small smirk on his handsome face. 

“Hm,” You lightly drag your bare toes up the outside plate of his thigh armor, as ever his armor is cool to the touch, “You do, but you usually like watching me when there’s not an audience.”

You watch his gaze drop to your leg, before he replies, “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Your movements pause, “And? What did you think?”

“Fishing for compliments, Princess?”

You flash him the most innocent look that you can muster, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

He chuckles and you shiver at the sound, “I think,” Boba murmurs, his voice becomes a pleasing rumble, and you don’t bother to hide your appreciative sigh, “if I were a less confident man, I might take issue with so many men lusting over you.”

“You’re that confident, are you?” you ask as you lightly tap his chest plate with one perfectly manicured fingernail. 

The smug expression returns, “They can look, Princess, but I’m the only one allowed to touch.”

A feeling of fondness wells in your chest, and you smile at him, “Speaking of touch, Boba, are you ever going to take your armor off?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

A laugh slips from your lips as you drop your feet to the floor so you’re able to stand. Boba moves, just enough, that you’re able to stand. But he’s still pressed in your space.

Not that you mind, being close to Boba is one of your favorite things.

Swiftly, and with familiar ease, you pop the seals of his armor and set each piece on a nearby table. It’s not ideal, if he had waited for you at your house, he would have been able to store his armor on a stand, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

You start with his arms, shoulders, and chest, and then slowly move down his body so that, by the time you’re finished, you’re sitting on your knees in front of him. 

You can tell that he’s already aroused, his compression suit does little to hide his erection after all. And, if you were a betting woman, you’d bet that he’s been hard since he saw you dance.

The idea sends a thrill through you.

The idea that you have that much power of a man as strong as Boba is, frankly, incredibly arousing. 

Lazily, you trail a finger down his, still-covered, cock. “Is all this for me?”

“Would you prefer if it was for someone else?” Boba asks as he settles a hand in your hair.

“Mm, no. I’m not much for sharing.”

“Greedy.” He sounds pleased at your admission though. Which is fair, you suppose, when he makes similar comments you’re just as pleased. 

You hook your fingers around the waist of his pants and tug them down just enough that his cock bounces free. You intend to take him in your mouth, it’s been too long since you’ve been able to taste him. Far too long since he’s fisted his hands in your hair and fucked your face as though you existed for his pleasure alone.

But you only manage to lick the head of his cock, before he’s pulling you off of him and hauling you to your feet.

You stare at him, absolutely bewildered, “Since when do you not like getting head?” You demand, a pout forming on your lips.

He doesn’t answer as he effortlessly moves you over to the couch, and starts tugging your bra and panty set off. It’s only once you’re properly naked, and stretched out on the couch, that he answers you, “I have something different in mind.”

Your pout grows, and he chuckles, “Will you stop pouting at me if I promise to fuck your face before the night ends?”

“I s’pose.”

“Good girl,” He pulls away from you for long enough to pull his clothes off, and he tosses his flight suit somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to admire him. He really is gorgeous, though he seems to have several new scars that he didn’t have last time.

You’re not able to admire him for long though, as he moves to your side, flips you on your stomach, and tugs on your hips so that you’re sitting up on your knees, but your face is still pressed into the cushion. 

This is Boba’s favorite position as it allows him all the control over your body as he desires, not to mention he can reach all of his favorite parts of your body like this.

And it doesn’t leave him feeling emotionally vulnerable like missionary or when you ride him. 

It’s fine, though. You really like this position too.

A needy whine falls from you as his fingers, rough and calloused from years of Bounty Hunting, slide against your already wet pussy and press against your clit.

“Already wet, Princess?” There’s something light in his voice even as he presses a little harder against your clit, “Did dancing get you all worked up?”

You shake your head against the couch, “Was you,” You whine, “You know that, Boba—”

His fingers move away from your clit to press inside you, and you gasp as he expertly finds that spot inside you that makes you clench around his fingers. 

But he doesn’t continue that long for either, making you release a frustrated noise, “Boba, stop teasing—”

He presses his chest against your back and you can feel his teeth against your shoulder, you feel the minor pain that comes with him biting you, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sensation of him roughly thrusting his cock deep inside you. 

Then he stops moving, either to allow you to adjust to him being inside you, or because he likes the way that you feel around him, you’re not sure. But either way, when you squirm under him, wordlessly trying to get him to move, he just grips your hips firmly.

“Did I say you could move, Princess?” 

You whine, “Can’t help it, you feel so good,” Your words are half gasped out as you try to keep yourself from squirming. You don’t do a good job, as his hand lands firmly on your ass, making you yelp.

Boba then slowly massages the bruise that you’re sure is forming from his hand, “Would you like to know my plan, Princess?”

You nod mutely.

Normally, Boba would make you verbalize your wants, but he’s apparently feeling merciful today as he just lightly rocks his hips against you. “I’m going to fuck you in here,” He starts, “And I’m going to fill your pretty pussy with my cum.”

Your body heats at his words, and he chuckles as you clench around him.

“After that,” Boba drags his hand up your spine, “I’m going to dress you back in that pretty lingerie you were wearing, and we’re going back to my ship. And then I’m going to fuck your pretty face.” His fingers brush against your cheek and then slide into your mouth as he starts a hard, but slow, pace. Almost pulling his cock out of you before thrusting back in.

Obediently, and without him asking, you suck on his fingers, flicking your tongue against them the same way you would with his cock. 

Boba groans in approval before he continues, “Then, Princess, I’m going to fuck you over and over. Until you’re stuffed with my cum and you can’t walk.” The hand still on your hip glides across your skin until it’s pressed against your lower stomach.

A whimper falls from you as you try to rock your hips back to meet his, wanting him to move faster or harder or both. The slow pace is driving you insane, which, you figure absently, is his goal.

Boba lightly bites your earlobe, “You are mine, Princess.” His voice is a low growl, “And if I have to fuck a baby into you to make sure everyone knows it, then I’m happy to do it.”

You stash his words in the back of your mind to think on later, and so you can talk to him about them later. You just hope that you’ll remember after he finishes fucking your brains out.

Not that it matters, in the end.

Boba is yours, just as much as you are his. And heaven help anyone foolish enough to stand between you.

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[astraearinehart]

──the older blonde could not help but laugh a little at the comment about the twins; she may just getting to know them, but she could already tell they were quite lively, joyful, and possessed a very vivid imagination, so their thinking of the glasses as a toy wouldn’t be surprising. “well, good thing they are smart then,” she smiled, gaze drifting to the babies for a moment and then back to her daughter again. “I suppose they will let me know if they are struggling with something…” or, more like, she hoped they wouldn’t and wouldn’t just go into a crying fit and a temper tantrum that she would have no idea how to deal with —it was no lie she did not possess the tools to be a very attentive mother, even though all evidence suggested that she would do a better job at being a grandma than she did with being a mom to Liz. and aside of spending time with them and Liz, she also liked getting to know things about them, even little things, and now being given the opportunity to spend more time with them a bond, she enjoyed this conversation. when the topic shifted to her own family, however, she felt a little emotional speaking of her older brother, even if she did not show it.

“he was…kind,” a smile formed on her lips. “he was always looking out for me,” she added after a short pause. losing him had been more painful to her than her own injuries and trauma after the incident. “he protected me, gave me advice, but never tried to control me…we were actually very close. I adore him,” this time her smile was a little sad as she spoke the last words. thinking of him, there were things she would have done differently if she could turn back time, especially when it came to telling him about how her life had been back in the States. “I regret never telling him about you…” she admitted, “because we had no secrets between us, I could always tell him everything.” a barely audible sigh fell from her lips and she cleared her throat, sifted her gaze from her cup of coffee back to her daughter with a small, melancholic smile. “I think you would have loved him if you were given the chance to meet him,” a beat, “and he would have loved you, too.” and the thought bothered her a little, she had never given him the chance to be an uncle to her daughter, knowing he would have liked that and this was never going to happen now.

hearing Liz speak about Claude, Stella simply nodded in understanding; she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by discussing him and what had happened on that evening, she would respect her wish and would drop the matter. However, she also wondered if she had spoken to Luke, if he had mentioned anything to her and she wouldn’t want to say anything at present to her daughter, but she also didn’t want her to think she intentionally withheld that from her either. “so how have you been? aside from what happened…” she opted to ask instead.

⸻ The next question was surprising for her, nobody ever asked her it. It isn't so obvious the colorblindness of the twins, either way. It is not like is it written on their heads. It is something that can be noticed living with them. ❛ No. I never thought of the glasses. I don't know if they're truly accurate, but before that… I couldn't afford it. I wouldn't only buy one for them, I would need two for them. They wouldn't share if I got only one for them. Besides, they're too little for now. I don't know how they feel about having to use glasses. They would think it is a toy. ❜ They always think everything is a toy, they like to make a mess. She gave attention to her mother as the twins were fully entertained with themselves. ❛ Good. ❜ A beat, after that, promising no broken limbs. Her grey-bluish hues met the blue eyes of her mother and remained in silence when she spoke about her father. If her twins weren't so attached to their grandfather, she would prohibit him from seeing them as well. Claude was in their life since day one, being sort of the only male figure in their life until Alex returned to her life again. He watched them born, honestly, she didn't know what would be of her if she hadn't the support of her father on the day they were born. With all his flaws and betrayal, he did something right at least once in his life.

The younger Aussie, observed her mother talking about her uncles. She nodded when she spoke about which parents are her favorite. ❛ Was your brother fun? ❜ She inquired wanting to know the temper of her family she never met. Elizabeth didn't know anything other than having an aunt and uncle on Claude's side of the family ( his family is a topic he hasn't spoken about to anyone rarely to his own wife ). Stella? She is getting to know her now. ⏤ Upon the inevitable question about her father, Liz sighs deeply thinking once or twice before responding. The younger Aussie knew that her mother would be curious to know how was the situation between her and her husband.

❛ I haven't talked to him since Thanksgiving, and I do not wish to see him now. This is why I am at Alex's place. He can see his grandchildren, but only because they've been very attached to him since they were born. ❜ She reasoning her mother. Her father did a lot of terrible things and somewhat she managed to forgive him but now? It was so hard. ❛ I don't want to talk about Claude. ❜ When she is mad she calls her father by his name. She knew she was the one that brought up the topic.

[nixotinix]

so me and my best friend (@brovotics-art) were watching some episodes of MHG3 when we got to the episode with Heath's dad (who is NOT. HADES. you cannot convince me otherwise) and we got to thinking about my headcanon for g3 that Holt's dad would be Beelzebub and it got us thinking. we thought huh does every god from every pantheon exist in the monster high universe and we decided yes.

so UUHHHH HEADCANON. jesus christ went to monster high. but like nobody cared about the shit he said since there were all these other gods so he went to the human world instead. and there's also a set of triplets that still go to monster high their names are the father the son and the holy spirit thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[the-meme-monarch]

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7nKFrtqBip3WqGsKbtx69XhyITLtkS4j&si=CTMZcFHY1rlvQoDy

youtube wanted to hide one of dippers guide to the unexplained and most all of mabel’s guides to Other Things from me, AND THEN after saving this playlist it tried to hide It from me so I’m sharing them here for also anyone who might like to see them all. i didn’t even KNOW abt the gideon letters or the puppet ones. thank you to this person for the playlist

[arttsuka]

Draw Banda (Bill Cipher possessing Wanda Maximoff (mcu, specifically the Multiverse of Madness 616 Wanda/Scarlet Witch not 838 Wanda)

And

Merman Deadpool and Human Wolverine

Based on the infamous blobfish

[geminixevans-stan]

Honestly you deserve the worst karma ever. Idc who you are but you need to get your head out your ass and get off this site. To try and pressure her for finishing her fics where there are multiple writers who have done the same lets me know you think writers are pack mules.

Furthermore, bitch if you want a fic finished so bad get your lazy ass up, actually think for yourself for once and write your own shit. But you can’t do that because you’re a tired ass, lazy ass, unoriginal ass bitch. You want to pressure bones but in reality your life is so fucked up that all you can do is be a scary bitch behind anonymous. You don’t possess an 1/8 of the talent that she has and you thought it was okay to try to scare her with AI finishing her fics?

How would you like it if I used ai or other powers to find out who you really are. How about we do that so we can see what scary bitch is hiding behind these fucked up asks.

Bitch you better go back to the colonizing side of tumblr and leave her tf alone. The nerve of you mfs for rushing writers as if they don’t have lives. The nerve of you to think you’re entitled to something that doesn’t belong to you.

You bitches have completely lost the plot and I hope in some miraculous way everything that you use just goes the fuck away. Like I hope you get banned from everything you like. You don’t deserve to have anything nice because you’re a scary thieving ass bitch. So the next time you want to threaten her over her own work remember this: You still won’t get what you want.

hey nonnie, with love, please choke. to death. sincerely, me ❤️

p.s. i mean it. ❤️

[malk-with-tea]

James Deen we were rooting for you

[alexcutecolly]

i started feeling better but now i have a cold n it sucks!! but happy to hear you’re doing better n not so stressed!! uuu I would love some healing time napping in there while he goes about his day or sleeping while laying on his belly with no one else knowing! were small enough that no one would probably see us in him anyway but his uniform is also rly big so there’s no worries and we’re all his ❤️

intestines in safe stuff are super underrated to me cuz its like the same nice pressure of being swallowed but way way longer and v.olo can talk during this one! n he could say how much he trusts us to go into a sensitive spot like that and how he loves the feeling and rubs where we are sometimes tracing our path into his lower belly uuuuu I want him to rly enjoy us in there!!

I wanna be teleported out before it gets to the weird point but theres hours of time before that happrns cuz its slow and long and its so relaxing being gently squeezed around deep in him and knowing its totally safe for us and rly enjoyable for him >w<

uuu hed be surprised how much he likes us in there when we get swallowed the first time! and when we calm down a little bit and get used to where we are n what happened we see its kinda nice in here and V.olo gently presses on his stomach to see if were ok and uuuuu he’s so kind with us!! ❤️

omg yes we spend so much free time just talking and relaxing with him and his team and our mons can play together!! n maybe V.olo holds on to our po.keba.lls and takes care of our team while were in his belly so they get to know him and its like one big happy group!! a pile of us and him and both our mons while we relax and chat abiut ruins after we’re let out and unshrunk sounds like alot of fun too!

if thats what happens then m.erman v.olo would be super fun to journey with! its like we have a warm personal pool in there safe from cold water and deep ocean pressure and we get to look at what he found later and he gets a partner to talk to and not be alone!! hed ask if we wanna join him to look for artefacts and when we say yes hed get us in his mouth with a quick HOMF and swallow us right down so excitedly cuz he loves spending time with us! omg youre right he’d be so pretty with golden scales!! theyd be rly pretty with his grey eyes

Halfsize is so special to me omg!! It’s a lot more effort for him but that means finally getting us down is way more satisfying for him too!! uuuu licking his lips and telling us how pleasantly full he is now and massaging our spot a little as soon as were all the way inside his first stomach just so it’s a little extra comfy for both us and him while he waits uuuuu >w< that sounds rly cute btw id love to hear him humming happily from our new spot in him! We could probably feel him humming and sighing all pleased with this too! uuu him snoozing with a hand over his belly or reading a book until we finally get squished into his tail stomach with a sigh of happiness from him is good too cause he had to work alot to get us down and that has to make him sleepy. and it’s a good thing he’d be solitary cuz then he doesn’t have to get interrupted while he’s enjoying his full belly of his favorite human ❤️ and we get to be in there a long while too getting rested on and rubbed at and a little kiss!!!! >w<

omg omg I’m super duper excited for the new game!! X./Y left a lot of things open and not quite done n the sta.rters didnt get m.egas but this feels like its gonna give it the fixes it needs!! and its a l.egends game and theyre taking their time for it so I’m already rly excited!

- v.olo uwu

I'm alive! Sorry this is a bit late but my mood dropped like crazy this past week 😞 I'm glad to hear you've been doing better! Cold sucks so bad though, hopefully it went away in the meantime! 🥺

Mmmmm I agree! We could totally stay in his belly to heal as he does his errands or takes a nap, it'd be very relaxing and we'd all benefit from it! And it's true, his G.inkgo G.uild uniform can definitely hide us away since it's so cozy and large x3 we're absolutely pretty tiny too, we'd be undetectable basically all the time xD

Ngl, intestines stuff are definitely underrated in vore. Personally I love the thought of travelling through the long tunnel of the small intestine, surrounded by all the villi 🥺👉👈 I'm a big endosoma fan, and simply the idea of exploring someone else's digestive track even on deeper levels makes me very happy xD

So I wouldn't mind if we did this with V.olo's permission lol, he'd probably find it soothing and rub our spot a lot along our way x3 also yeah we'd teleport out before the weird point, but I think being in his intestine would be something very cute, and the squeezing would feel like a hug from him! ❤️

Yeah, his first time eating us would be a bit confusing at the start but then we'd all find ourselves kinda comfortable in the situation 🥺💕 he'd stroke his stomach to reassure us that everything is fine, and that we're perfectly safe inside of him! He's really a kind soul 🥺❤️

Oh I like the idea! We could chill in his belly, maybe to rest after a long day, while he takes care of our p.okemon team as well! They could all play together, he'd give them treats and pets and then the cuddle pile begins xD We'd definitely introduce him to our mons before he eats though, I imagine them going full protective mode if they saw him swallow us down with no context at all xDD and it'd be always lovely to hear him discuss ruins and ancient myths, especially when our beloved p.okemon are there with us!

Omg, now that I think about it, both m.erman!V.olo and n.aga!V.olo sound a bit lonely ;-; the former would be more curious and eager to show us the ancient artefacts he gathered from the bottom of the sea, and take us with him as he talks about them and looks for more 🥺 he knows a good way to keep up safe as he swims underwater, and omgggg, the NOMF as he sends us down would be so adorable!!!

While n.aga!V.olo would relish in spending most of his days on his own, maybe in his cave, if he shared his time and space with us it'd mean we're very special to him! ❤️ Half-sized vore works wonders here, I appreciate when a pred takes longer than usual to gulp down their prey x3 and I bet he'd be so satisfied after we fill his belly! ❤️ He'd definitely lick his lips and he curls up in his coils xD

I imagine he'd be able to send us in his second stomach immediately, but he takes his time to enjoy us in first belly too xD so he doubles the time we get to spend inside of him, hehehe x3 and I bet we'd have even more of his attention, once we've settled in his tail, with all the rubs, the hums and the kisses! x3 that's most likely his favorite spot for us to be, since we're his favorite human 🥺❤️ and we're 100% not coming out for a while xD ❤️ (Mmmmm, I'm definitely not thinking of writing some n.aga!V.olo vore AU rn now, lmao xD)

Oh I had no idea! :O I've only heard people say X./Y are among the worst p.kmn games, I'd love to see what they're gonna include in this new L.egends game! I'm actually intrigued! Plus I liked the combat style and the different gameplay from L.egends: A.rceus, so I can't wait!