#i only realized how funny it would be if i switched their positions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyeyesnof4ce · 2 years

Text

Forbearance

Matt Murdock x f!reader

(gif by @briefcasejuice)

Summary: Separation due to work can prove more complicated than Matt thought

WC: 4k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, mean dom!matt, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), cum, spanking, choking, angst with no comfort, matt's ever present guilt (MDNI)

A/N: This has little to no plot, practically dom!matt in his final form and was created from a ramble that I couldn’t not write a full length about. Sorry if this is on the heavier side (read the warnings again, i hope its concise enough), otherwise, enjoy.

Read on AO3 Masterlist

The days and days compounded into short term contact, the only way you two were intimate was when you would awake in each other's arms. Until the duties of life called, slumping out of bed and away from the warmth;lingering kisses and intertwined fingers. This phase would come and go, yet every time they passed it felt like it lasted an eternity. You wanted nothing more than to keep him longer than those short mornings or silent nights would allow.

While waiting for his return from work one night, you conjured up a plan to pull him away from whatever his mind was fixated on. To draw the attention back to you.

“Hey, you” Ushering out of the bedroom, you greeted Matt as he set his coat on the rack. Your hands were interlocked neatly behind your back, puffing your chest out to align with your thoughts. The thoughts of irrefutable plot.

It took him a moment to register your little squeak, those seconds before the acknowledgement giving you just enough clue into how distracted Matt was with work. At least that’s what you thought it to be.

A faint smile would reveal itself. “Hi” He affirmed while loosening the tie that seemed to strangle his neck all day.

Despite that smile dissolving very quickly, it didn’t deter you from keeping the light tone you attempted to sway him with.

“How was work, honey?” You made your way to the couch and took a quiet seat. After kicking off his shoes, he promptly came around the corner straight to the fridge.

“Uneventful” He muttered before popping the already condensating beer open. He took a couple chugs before stopping, exasperating himself in the process.Once collected, he finally picked up on what you were wearing. You’d been home for over an hour so you had time to change out of your work clothes and in something comfortable. And boy, was it comfortable.

You’d picked out one of your favorite oversized shirts, and decided to ditch shorts, silk underwear being the only thing adorning your bottom half. Not that you wearing his clothes was anything new, but Matt equated a connection between whenever you’d be wearing one of his things…and when you wanted attention. Matt knew you knew just how unique both of your scents mixing was for him, a concoction that created a chain reaction in his body. As that realization dawned on him, the grip around the beer got tighter, now aware of the tone of the room.

It was then when you initiated the next step, acting as if nothing was awry or off.

“You must be tired…” you uttered, looking back at him, still in criss-cross on the couch.

The faint rumble of a yawn rose in you, seizing the opportunity to use it for a more lackadaisical effect. Your arms came up in a high stretch, Matt hearing the little tut of your mouth as it widened. Even going as far as accentuating a sigh after you were done. Those silent noises were a second thing you knew bothered Matt, it tapped him into your soft nature, innocent if you will.

Matt was in the middle of another swig before he responded.

“Not…really, no” He didn’t mean for that to come out slow, but it did;he was too occupied with your sigh, soaking in just how coy yet meticulous your actions were. It aroused suspicion in him.

“Well, you look exhausted”

He scoffed, thinking it was funny for a moment until he realized what you were doing next.

Body switching positions, you engaged in another form of distraction. Arching on the couch now, you began your “search” for something wedged between the cushions. All you felt was crumbs and dirt, yet you had to sell that this item was so goddamn important that you were on your hands and knees beckoning after it. Putting on a broadway show for Matt’s senses, so to speak.

Despite knowing Matt wasn’t dumb, you carried on, continuous grunts and sighs letting him know you were begging for him to ask just what you were searching for. It let him know just how fucking desperate you were for his touch. That was the whole point of this, truthfully, it was purely metaphorical, and Matt knew. Your ass up in the air was sending him over that edge, the heat signature coupled with your tiny grunts and breaths you knew only he could hear. The sound your skin made as the fabric of his shirt slid across it, you were dangling your body in front of him and it was incredulous. Matt was damned if he didn’t do something to stop the utter sin of you parading yourself in such a way that was disrespectful.

Christ, he felt disrespected in a way, that you didn’t beckon for his attention, but rather prod at his inability to ask for something. The fact that you knew his selfless behavior well enough to plot something like that, sneering at that weakness he possessed. Matt was terrible at putting himself first, so this situation was one of extremity, he had to do something to protect that fragile piece inside him. He hated that you knew his intricate ins and outs.

He took yet another rushed swig before he cleared his throat, this revelation proving confining, making his chest feel tight. The walls were caving in on his conscience, he had to do something about your so matter-of-fact attitude, roping his sexual tension in twine laced with his greatest flaw.

Matt feebled over to the couch, and if not for your positioning, you’d be able to see the begrudging look on his face. A look riddled with annoyance yet a modicum of curiosity

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” It came out more as a statement than a question, a heavy sigh headlining its arrival. He took one more long sip from the dripping bottle before setting it down on the table.

You sprung a shit-eating grin, heart beat teeming in your chest. “Oh nothing I can look for it myself”’ you squeaked, unmoving while your right arm felt around the couch.

Coming up behind you, his hands made their entrance in the equation, placing them firmly at the small of your waist.

“I think you need my help, don’t you think?” he flashes a sign of a smile as your body jolts. The quiver of your skin at his contact and sudden pounding heart clarifies his theory that you’re doing it all on purpose;he fell right into your trap and was soaking that prospect up.

Stopping your ‘search’, you remained silent, thoughts racing on where to lead next.

That would be duly interrupted when Matt drew a sharp inhale. His left hand met your ass cheek, with just enough force to make you gasp, back arching further. Your plan to get him where you wanted met with Matt’s frustration went farther than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?” An air of fright juxtaposed your body language, making Matt grin all the harder. You were scared of that force, Matt having opened up something inside him that he revered whenever it arose. Looking back at him, you were studying the way that wicked smile lowered into a flat expression.

“I could ask you the same thing” He coldly murmured, lip stroking along his top teeth to let you know he was calculating his next steps, where to steer that anger bubbling inside him. Matt was feeling a mixture of embarrassed yet defensive. This newfound chagrin coupled with his frustration was dangerous

He hated the way your scent got stronger after the slap, arousal lingering in his nose in a way that sent his blood raging. Your response to his aggression only amplified the thoughts in his head. He was stiffer than any earthly words would express, the belt around his hips beginning to feel suffocating.

Despite being frightened by the way you received such actions, you didn’t want to stop the act. Matt made it clear there were no longer any boundaries, you wanted to see how far it could go.

“I told you, I don’t need your help, Matthew” you got up and away from his grasp, stumbling a little as you steadied your wobbling legs. You prayed that he’d take the sign,”take your chance, Matthew, get me” you thought. Oh, you’d wished you didn’t say that to yourself.

He’s taken aback by your attempt to walk off, but oh, you wouldn’t get a pass that easily.

“Not after making me do that” Matt iterated in his head. As if your innocent attempt to pull him away from work made him act on the intrusive thoughts that built up due to not having you for so long.

You only made it a couple steps before Matt grabbed you by the arm with force, making you wince.

“No, sweetheart, I think you do” he whispered in your ear, the tickle of his breath coupled with the fear coursing through your veins made you triple in vivification. You were definitely in for it now.

That was when he hoisted you up by the legs, throwing you over his shoulder so fast it only instilled more panic in you.

Matt seldom divulged how he’d behave once in the streets, the rage that cascaded out of him, or the strength he possessed. He swore to himself he wouldn’t expose that cunning power to you, much less in the bed. But there was always room for surprises.

“You’re so annoying, y’know that?” he grimaced under his breath, the tone making you question if he really meant it, or he was just too far in his pent-up stupor to notice. While saying goodbye to the living room and welcoming the bedroom door frame, you didn't know if you should be ecstatic at the success of your little plot.

No amount of thought prepared you for the force at which he flung you back down on the bed. With a grunt he practically threw you, letting gravity do the work. Slightly winded, you gazed up at him and he was unrecognizable. The Matt that was ambling around the kitchen earlier was not there anymore. His pink lips were flat, nostrils flaring, and some sort of vengeance in his eyes.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” He nods, hands stroking his belt to let you know, even if you did already, that the confines of the fabric against his cock was wildly uncomfortable. Biting his lip and sighing, Matt used all his patience to wait for your answer. With your breath steadying a bit, you tried not to give into his intimidating demeanor.

“...still don’t know what you mean, Matty” Your legs idled with a slight tremor, distracted by the way Matt began to undo his tie, throwing it off to the side as he started on the buttons shortly after. He scoffed accompanied by a head shake. Once his torso was revealed, with a sheen of sweat already decorating his muscles, he climbed between you as he rid his hands of the shirt. Freed now, they came under your arms, Matt closing the space in by capturing your entire mouth in one flex of his jaw.

He’s livid at the way you groan into the kiss, affirming to himself that you’ll keep feigning ignorance until you were given what you wanted. Those wandering hands of yours told a different story though, that you were tired of pretending you didn’t want every single shred of Matt’s power being put to good use.

“You know exactly–” *kiss* “--what you’re doing” *kiss*

He’s leaving harsh kisses on your neck that make your skin pulse with every suck, if you weren’t already whiplashed by his weight pinning you. Your legs were facing the air because of his knee positioning, hands roaming Matt’s now bare back, his muscles tensing under your fingers.

You grin before mumbling “...show me what I did then” knowing it would send him impossibly further over the edge, and it does. It scared you that you didn’t want to stop.

Matt bites down on your neck suddenly, growling ever so faintly as he pulls up and away.

“I’ll fucking show you–” He barks, grabbing your legs hard, beginning to flip you over before you can steady yourself with your arms. Your face slams against the duvet as the sting of his force registers, his hands now reaching for your hips to drag them backward to the edge of the bed.

Ripping your panties right down your thighs, he answers the unmistakable call, clit swollen and ready for attention. Matt wastes no time getting on his knees, delving nose first into your hole. The very point of his tongue catches your clit, swiping up and down deliciously, pulling whimpers from you faster than you could’ve prepared. Lips coming down on it with a hard suck, a languid yet unapologetic moan erupted from your mouth, face still pressed on the bed trying your best not to squirm. Matt held you firmly as those vulgar sounds coming from both you and his ministrations caused him to tut his hips, erection begging for a reprieve.

Luckily for him, he knew just when you were on the brink.

Alternating between licking and sucking, Matt could hear the rush of blood collecting in your stomach, if your desperate mewls and fists grabbing at the sheets weren’t enough of an indicator. With that, he pulled away after a particularly harsh suck, the squelch permeating in his ears, until it was replaced with your pleas to continue.

“Ah ah–stay there” Matt knew you’d try to wiggle out of position, so he made sure to keep a grip on either of your hips to reassure you this was far from over.

A drawn out whine would earn you another slap on the ass, harder than the one on the couch.

“I’ll have you how I’ll have you…” He whispered, brows downturned. Those couple words brought the fright back to your being, reminded that you awoke something in him, not knowing if you should feel ashamed or exhilarated.

You were concerned by the way it made you wetter, and Matt noticed too. His chest was heaving and he was done waiting to have you. Not even stopping to wonder how he let it go this far.

Matt didn’t even bother taking his pants off, he gets to loosening the belt that seemed to cement itself to his waist, and nudges them down just enough for some relief.

You knew what he was doing and it made you all the more anticipate, afraid that you would beg to see his cock go free, the way it effortlessly sprung out. The tip was already coated with pre-cum, the cold air making Matt strangle a moan. With one hand on your hip and the other urgently fisting himself, Matt taunted you with his deliberate words.

“You need me…you need me so bad, huh–?"

He’d rather force you to admit it than admit to himself that he needed you, that he needed to do a better job at being less selfless. Matt needed to know that he had a purpose, and it was to pleasure you. Give you all of him.

“--answer me!” He purposefully paused just to listen to your powerless whining before barking at you again.

“Yesmatthewpleaseplease!--” You abandoned any and all wit left in you, wanting nothing more than to feel nothing at all, nothing but his strength and girth. It didn’t take much to surrender to someone as domineering as Matt, his charm and debauched looks reeling you in, letting him pull you apart and assemble you together again and again.

With that, he crowded over you, hand on your waist guiding your pelvis upward. Taking the liberty of grabbing a pillow and stationing it under your chest, you waited for his go ahead.

“Stay still f’me, sweetheart–yes”

It took no effort to slide into you, curses already falling from his still glistening lips;you were incredibly tight, walls clenching around his cock immediately. A soft gasp riddled with satisfaction was all Matt needed to know before he began, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your side. It seemed out of character, but Matt knew he didn’t need permission to start, you’d been yearning for him for too long to slow this down any longer. He ran the narrative that you needed him more than he needed you.

Before you knew it, Matt set a pace that returned the fire to your being, tension rebuilding itself quicker this time. Your contented moans of bliss were what Matt singled out in his brain, that and the sound your cunt made every time he pummeled his cock deeper in you. His own grunts soon met the frequency of yours, chasing his release right after you.

The way his hips jutted showed utter depravity, but it didn’t come close to his words.

“Take it like a good girl–yes–yes” His exhales got sharper and sharper, quickening breaths letting you know he wouldn’t last long. Your moans were gritty, almost bordering on painful, but Matt was in no position to guide you through the absolute beating that is taking his cock. You were all his in this very moment, he could care less about soothing you. He thought back to your measly method to tempt him, only fueling the beating he gave your cunt in the same position you were waving it in front of him earlier. That thought boosted the intensity of his wicked grins, the true face of the devil inside him.

Those tiny babbles of confirmation gave you all the strength left to ride out until the end, your back and pelvis beginning to ache from sitting this way for so long.

“C’mere–” Matt tested your capability to arch further, pulling you shoulder upward then switching his grip to your neck suddenly with a grunt. Your arms barely adjusted in time, crying out to express the multiple changes, most notably the way Matt tucked his fingers into your flesh. He always shied away from outright choking, telling you and himself that it wasn’t him, yet Matt didn’t see a single thing wrong with it right now. It felt natural, almost instinctual. You were his, his to give any and all affection, even if it was pain-inducing.

“Y’like it when I dog-fuck you, hm?—fuck” Matt’s teeth gritted so rough he felt it in his skull.

God, you loathed the way he’d taunt you with speaking, knowing absolutely nothing would be coming out except for hoarse, broken up whimpers. The way your back ached meant shit in comparison to the force at which he fucked you, warmth comforting you in such a filthy way. That’s just what soothed you, not his absent words that were usually present.

Matt closed the space between you, resting his body almost plank-like, alternating between squeezing your neck or clutching your head as his thrusts only got more vigorous, making sure he was giving you all of him. Every last inch before the floodgates came. Tears inevitably blurred your vision, his name coming out in slurred, condensed sobs as your head was against the pillow.

Words completely failed you at this point, the knot came undone with another minute, Matt’s animalistic grunts doing it for you. You unraveled upon hearing and feeling him enjoy you, finally getting that release he so desperately needed. A release that dissolved those devilish thoughts in his head, or so he thought.

Matt had devolved into a sack of flour once he met his climax, not even checking if you came because he knew it was fruitless. He’d never once failed to bring you to completion. Your walls fluttered as he fucked his cum into you, Matt’s hips stuttering as your moans melded together like one dying symphony.

His world was spinning, it took him a couple moments before he caught onto the salt in the air; the taste of your fresh tears. Your breathing was yet to steady, limbs weak as your bottom half was still stuck in its place. Matt noted your heart beat barely slowed, still drumming aggressively as you laid there obviously stuck in thought. The heat dispersing in you was a sensation now bittersweet.

Matt pulled out of you slowly, his sensitive cock twitching upon inching out of you one last time. The room quickly stopped whirling and he was aware of your state, your pelvis giving out once absent of his grip. With your legs sliding down to the bed and your body thudding against it, you exhaled sharply, staring to the right side of the room. The burgundy bricks were the only thing you could focus on as your body went limp, racking your brain about how Matt just made you feel.

He quickly got off his knees, moving to sit at the edge of the bed just next to your feet, pulling his pants back up.

You waited for his caress which still hadn’t come, alarming you even further. Suddenly your brain connected to its tired limbs, rolling yourself over and covering up with the already messy duvet.

Gazing over at Matt, you questioned the way his hands laid limp as his elbows rested on his knees. His body language was nothing short of cold, that realization making you feel emptier than words could express. Not to mention the after effect of events transpired, the heat in between you fully slipping away, with nothing to calm your afflicted body.

But those physicalities couldn’t hold a candle to the emotional turmoil Matt now faced. It was impending the second his high was over and the warmth of your body couldn’t blur out what he’d done to you anymore.

“...Matt?” you spoke, with a silence that showed your best attempt to make him feel less guilty than he already did. As if to let him know he hadn’t pulverized you to dust;you were still in one piece, no matter whatever tricks his mind played as he lost himself in you.

You attempted a hand on his shoulder, yet the muscle flexing below it dispelled enough. It spoke for itself, along with his head turning in your direction then shortly back to in its former, facing in between his legs.

It didn’t require doctorate-like skills to see Matt was disgusted with himself, posture slumped as his breathing was labored.

Soon enough, tears pricked back into your eyes. “...you didn’t hurt me, i’m sorry–”

“--don’t–don’t apologize, okay?” Matt paused between those ‘don'ts’ with a pitiful smile, in a way laughing at himself, knowing he should be apologizing. He was fucking this up royally.

“And yes…yes I did–” His head quirked to let you know he felt the ache your body was in, poorly concealed as that’s all he could focus on in this aftermath. It tripled the disdain he felt, knowing he most definitely disregarded you, how he’d lost control. Every hair on his skin stood straight, all surrendering to the plague of his regret, as the words he had the audacity to scare you with replayed over and over.

Matt was beside himself, having ruined you just to prove some point that picked at his most insecure crevices. You’ve amended the time you’ve spent apart, yet, at what cost?

The devil revealed himself, in moments that were only meant for Matt Murdock, that loving interior you knew all too well.

But knowing it well would be the downfall. Did you really know him?

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! feedback, likes and rbs are optional yet appreciated.

taglist (and who might be interested): @briefcasejuice @saintmurd0ck @phoebe-danvers @fulmis @pleasedin @murdocksluvrr @missbeewrites @mindidjarin

(I do not give permission for this or any of my work to be posted elsewhere without my consent)

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock smut #scythe.nsfw #scythe.publishings #matt murdock angst #human disaster matt murdock

1K notes · View notes

obey-me-disaster · 2 years

Note

I really like your writing and Idk if you do this kinda thing for requests but I was wondering if you could do something similar to the body swap headcannons you did a bit ago but who's swapped with who is changed like mc getting body swapped with Lucifer

I don't mind doing this sort of thing so don't worry ^-^

Here is part 1 for those who are curious!

Demon brothers x gn!MC

The Demon Brothers Swap Bodies part 2

It's been a while since the whole body switch curse. After the witch has been dealt with everything went back to normal, or as normal as things can be in Hell.

What the brothers take into account, was that the witch's coven was out for revenge, and what better way to take revenge than to cast the same body swap spell once again.

After the curse was casted, the witches went into hiding and waited for the chaos to begin.

Lucifer -> MC's body

He felt something was off about his body, but when he tried to move around he found out he was restricted by someone...or rather held down.

After a lot of turning he realized he was sandwiched between the twins. When he started to call out to them and explain themselves he noticed that something was wrong with his voice. That was the moment when the realization dawned on him.

Least to say, all the brothers were woken up by an angry 'MC' gathering all of them in the living room.

The whole affair was more then frustrating to him, seeing as he was way weaker than usual. He didn't have access to MC's pacts and some of their magic, so he was in a rather powerless position. His only saving grace was that he didn't need to deal with his sin for a while, which he didn't realize how much it affected him.

His overworking tendencies don't work as well as usual since he is in a human's body. He would have probably enjoyed it more, but he got no time to rest with the amount of work he has while in a weaker body.

After the whole incident is up he will make sure that MC gets all the rest they need. While he knew that humans were physically weaker, he didn't realize how big the gap was...and in how much danger he has put them through at the begging of the exchange.

Mammon -> Beelzebub's body

He was woken by an angry MC screaming at him. He was too busy with figuring out what he did wrong that he didn't realize right away that he was in a different body.

He didn't know what it was worse. That he, in a way, cuddled up to Lucifer for who knows how long or that MC apparently had a sleep over with the twins. He honestly didn't know who to be angry at, since everyone's bodies are mixed up, so he decided to pout in the corner.

His only saving grace when it comes to dealing with the sin of gluttony, was the fact that it's pretty similar to his own sin. Sure, he did devour everything sight, but he is also one of the brothers with the best self control when he wants so the situation wasn't as hard to control after a while...he just hopes Asmo won't question where some of his make up disappeared.

Throws a fit that MC switched bodies with another one of his brothers. It does not last for long until he realizes in whose body they are in. He will use this opportunity to get his debts paid off. Lucifer is in a human's body, so he can't do anything to him this time.

Leviathan -> Satan's body

He got so scared when 'MC' started to scream at him, he fell off his bed and a bookshelf also fell on him. He didn't know what was more confusing, the fact that he was buried in books or the fact that he was sleeping in a bed??

All of his envy and self loathing transformed into pure rage. He doesn't know how to control his anger, so out of fear of taking his frustration out on his beloved figurines, he refuses to go into his room.

His brothers had to put a silencing spell on him due to the amount of screaming from losing in video games. Funny enough, he doesn't really take his anger out on others. He is always on the verge of summoning Lotan tho. He tries summon him for moral support more than anything.

He still tried to avoid social situations, but since he is in Satan's body, the demon with connections everywhere, he can't avoid them. It's like hell for him. Pure torture. He NEEDS to recharge his social batteries. He can't deal with all of that.

Satan -> Leviathan's body

His woke up with both a back and a neck pain from sleeping in a literal bathtub. He really didn't appreciate being woken up by an angry 'MC'.

He got even more angry...actually no...jealous when he found out that Lucifer was in their body. Instead of getting angry he would get envious. He was so glad that he was good at hiding his usual sin, so it was hard for others to fully know what he was feeling from looking at him. But on the inside? He was envious to the point of anger. He never realized until that point how close the two sins are tied to each other.

Will use the fact that MC is in Lucifer's body to pull so many pranks. So many embarrassing photos and videos to be used for later some sent to Diavolo and the best part? Lucifer couldn't do anything, he was human.

The whole switching body is a drag, having to deal with a different sin is shit, but all the pranks opportunities make it almost worth it.

Asmodeus -> Belphegor's body

He was so whiny about being screamed at the first thing in the morning. Especially that his body refused to listen to him. His mind doesn't really process things at that moment. He just sees 'MC' and snuggles up to them. It takes more screaming from Lucifer for him to actually wake up.

He is horrified by the state Belphegor is in. With great effort he resists the sin of sloth and uses any and all skin care routine he knows. Same goes for hair. By the time Belphie will get his body back, it will feel like new...someone does need to check on Asmo from time to time tho...he might fall asleep in the bathtub and drown.

He might or might not try to set up Belphie with some his succubus friends he has while he is in his body...Belphie might have to stop him.

He tries to fit the sin of sloth so hard just so he can go shopping and partying it's funny. He also makes Belphegor keep up the appearances so his fans wouldn't suspect anything happened.

Beelzebub -> Mammon's body

He woke up to an angry MC screaming at him and not being in his arms...it would be an understatement to say he was not in a happy mood.

On one hand doesn't have to fight with his hunger all the time, which is nice, but on the other hand he steals everything that catches his eye without realizing. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just hides in a place only he knows of.

He has to deal with all the witches and debt collectors that come after Mammon's ass. He never realized how bad his brother's situation was and he starts feeling kind of bad for Mammon.

He takes it upon himself to protect Lucifer while he is in MC's body...which from the outside it just looks like Mammon being protective of MC. So people outside of HOL don't really see the difference at first. Only when Beel returns stuff he stole while in Mammon's body do people start questioning the situation

Belphegor -> Asmodeus's body

He hated the situation for so many reasons:

He wasn't cuddling MC anymore

'MC' was screaming at him

It's actually Lucifer in MC's body

He woke up in his brother's body, a brother that sleeps naked (Beel had to deal with the same shit with Mammon's body)

He had to stop Asmo from doing dumb stuff while in his body. He also had to put up with his nagging. He didn't even know so many types of skin care even existed...

He also refused to pay any attention to the sin of lust for the most part. Just full on ignore it.

At least he got a lot of dirt on Lucifer during this whole situation. At least something good came out of this whole situation.

He also refused to talk about the unholy amount of demons that tried to sleep with him.

Mc -> Lucifer's body

They woke up tired, with a headache and a nasty back pain by the screaming of their own body. MC couldn't function until they got at least a cup of coffee...didn't matter if they liked it before or not. Lucifer's body NEEDS IT

This whole situation is hilarious. They are suddenly one of the strongest demons in the whole Devildom?? They are so taking advantage of that.

Both to get dirt on him and to actually make it rest. After a full blown photo and video session sponsored by Diavolo they went to have a self care session Lucifer's body needed it. Eating proper meals, drinking more water instead of coffee, taking some relaxing walks and most importantly, sleeping.

They might or might have not fooled around with his powers. Just a bit...and destroyed a mountain...no one needs to know about that one. They might have just realized that Lucifer went really easy on them in the past...

No one even wants to begin about an overly proud MC. They were happy that MC was finally not shy about boasting about their power....if only they weren't in Lucifer's body.

532 notes · View notes

urfavoritedcwhore · 9 days

Text

henry winter as your secret boyfriend//headcannons//some sexual

he hates being late, and hates even more when you make him late.

let’s you smoke his cigarettes with no fuss.

he’s beat up a guy at a party for bumping into you once.

he knows that your smart, but refuses to admit it.

constantly tells you things in latin you don’t understand.

he finds it extremely unattractive when you swear, but also a bit cute when you do it out of excitement.

he holds your hand under your desks in greek class if he thinks your having a bad day.

will often talk in french to you in front of the others if he’s trying to have a private conversation with you.

“y/n, ai-je laissé ma ceinture dans ton dortoir la dernière fois que je suis venu ?” “je ne sais pas Henry, tu peux vérifier ce soir lors de ta visite”

he’s endured many days of watching Richard flirt with you

he’s always getting mad and saying your flirting back when all your doing is being polite.

switches from english to greek when he’s speaking with you drunk, and never realizes it.

you think it’s incredibly funny

julian is the only person who knows about your relationship.

you would tell the others, if you thought it wouldn’t make things super awkward.

francis walked in on you two once having a romantic dinner at henry’s apartment, but was too drunk to realize what was going on.

bunny constantly jokes about how henry can’t get women to you.

when you two are alone he’s constantly holding your hand, your waist, your face, or just simply cuddling with you.

he tells you everyday that your the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

nsfw headcannons:

this man is a top, no doubt about it.

he’s usually gentle with you, but if you piss him off, you’re getting badly punished.

once you were acting extra bratty with him at dinner with all the others around.

you weren’t allowed to cum for a week after that😔

he’s a boob guy

if he’s feeling extra spicy, he’ll play with you under the table at charles and camilas weekly dinners.

“y/n, why are you squirming so much?” “sorry camila i- *fake cough to cover up a moan* im just feeling a little hot.”

he never looks at you while he’s doing this. just continues his conversation and eats his dinner with an expressionless face.

has tied you up before and overstimulated you for hours, just because you said that he was too gentlemen like in bed.

“do you still think i’m too much of a gentleman darling?�� “oh, looks like someone can’t speak. are you gonna say your safe word?”.

you never say your safe word.

he smokes and shares his cigarette with you while you two are in missionary.

missionary is his favorite position when he’s being gentle. he likes to be able to watch your face when you cum and feel you moaning into his mouth while he fucks you.

when he’s not being gentle, your legs WILL be on top of his shoulders. he likes knowing that you’re completely at his mercy and can push your legs backwards and slide you off his dick if he doesn’t want you to cum.

you two used protection for the first few times you slept together, but he took you to the gynecologist and paid for you to get an implant after you both tried it raw for the once and loved it.

you’ve woken up a million times to him touching you as he’s reading a book. (don’t worry you talked about it before and consented to it)

he doesn’t look up from his book until he feels you tightening around his fingers and knows your about to cum.

he moans especially loud when he’s drunk.

he loves to praise you.

“look at you, taking all of me like a good girl.” “you think you can cum for me one more time darling? ohh good job baby”

after sex he’s always gonna fix himself, and you, a glass of scotch before getting back in bed and reading to you until you fall asleep.

#henry winter image #henry winter fanfic #henry winter #henry winter smut #henry winter headcannons #henry winter hc #the secret history smut #tsh smut #tsh #the secret history #the secret history donna tartt #donna tartt books #richard papen #camila macaulay #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #bunny corcoran #edmund corcoran

26 notes · View notes

hom3landr · 1 year

Text

Martyr Complex

18+

CW: CNC and Painplay

Homelander x Supe Reader

“If you were in my position, what would you do to you?”

You asked for this. That’s what you tell yourself as you sit alone in the pitch black room. Your wrists ache from where they’ve been tied to the chair, some special Vought invention wrapped around your wrists to suppress your abilities. All the buzz that normally overwhelms your mind is eerily silent. Everything you feel is you. Which means you’ll have no edge when he finally comes to you.

You test your restraints but they remain as unyielding as ever despite your superhuman strength. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in this cell. You’re pretty sure it’s been over an hour but time seems to move funny in the dark. You’re sure he’s laughing as he watches you squirm. For all his power, he loves to play mind games, loves to pick away at someone till they are weak and exposed. You’re a perfect target.

Heavy footsteps echo outside the door and your body breaks out into a cold sweat. Your suit sticks uncomfortably to your damp skin and it only adds to the sensation of being trapped. You hadn’t expected to be so rattled but the reality of everything makes you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.

You asked for this

You wince in pain as the door opens, causing the room to be flooded by the residual fluorescent light of the hallway. Your eyes need a moment to adjust so all you’re able to make out is a menacing blur in the doorway. You don’t need to make out any features to know exactly who decided to join. Homelander has finally arrived.

The anxiety from before remains but the sight of Homelander’s stern face and rigid posture cause heat to pool between your legs. It’s a confusing juxtaposition and your body doesn’t know whether to attempt an escape or beckon him closer. Not that you’re currently able to do either. You’re chained and entirely at his mercy…if someone like him even has mercy. He tilts his head appraisingly and you try to swallow past the ever-growing lump in your throat.

He’s terrifying.

He raps sharply on the edge of the doorframe three times and that’s when you know the game has begun.

He flips a switch, lighting up the room with more of that fluorescent glare. The room is plain and the white walls give it a clinical atmosphere that sets you on edge. Your eyes are finally starting to properly adjust but you think you’d prefer the comfort of the dark. At least then you wouldn’t be able to see the cold way he stares at you, as though you’re simply an annoying rock in his shoe. You feel so small in his presence. With your mental powers dimmed, you only have your strength to protect you. You know that won’t be enough. You grasp the icy metal arms of the chair you’re bound to until you feel it start to give under your fingers. It’s not enough to release you but the effort helps steady your mind. You desperately need some stability now that he’s closing the both of you off from the outside world. The gentle thud of the door closing causes you to jolt slightly.

“Fancy seeing you here!” He exclaims with a smile that bares a little too much fang for your comfort. He’s talking to you like he just ran into you on the street. It’s scarier than if he went right into the meat of things. He’s pacing around the chair, causing you to twist painfully if you want to keep him in your field of vision. Who knows what he’ll do when he’s out of your sight.

“It’s such a coincidence. It’s not like you had Noir shove my head in a bag and hide me away or anything.” You spit out. You’ll play the game. You’ve come this far, even though the way his cheek twitches makes your chest tight.

“I just brought you here to have a little chat. Teammate to teammate. After all, It’s my job as your captain to make sure your performance is satisfactory and I’m sorry to say, you’ve fallen just short of the finish line” He tuts at you like a disappointed parent.

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve done wrong or do you wanna continue to play coy?” You shift in your seat as you try to ignore the anxious flutters in your stomach from being the focus of his undivided attention. There’s an intensity to him that makes even casual exchanges feel charged and this is far from casual. You’re at his mercy and you both know it.

“I hand picked you for the Seven. Did you know that? You had such…promise. I’m reluctant to admit it but we’ve had some weak links make it into the Seven. But you…you were supposed to be different.” He finally settles behind you, resting his hands heavy on your shoulders. “I mean…your powers?! Being able to predict everything that will happen within a short timespan? Pretty useful if you ask me.”

“Yet I’m still tied to a chair.” You grumble, looking down at the innocuous silver bands that have robbed you of your ability to know what’s coming. You’re unnerved that Vought either had them laying around or Homelander got them specially made. Neither of those options are reassuring.

“Look, nobody is perfect. Except maybe me but certainly not someone like you. I expect a few mistakes now and then but leaking confidential information?” His grip on your shoulders tightens as he lectures you. You’d have bruises if you weren’t a supe. Now that you know the angle he’s going with, it’s easier to relax into the role. The anxiety is still there but you have your bearings

“I didn’t leak shit!” You reply angrily, trying not to flinch away from him when he leans down. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body and you break out into goosebumps. There’s always been something about his scent that makes you feel a little wobbly. You remember your first meeting where he shook your hand and the subtle smell of his cologne made your knees shake. The sudden shock of arousal amidst the nervous pounding of your heart makes you lightheaded.

“Watch your language, Dear. You don’t want me to lose my temper.” He practically growls in your ear. The most delicious chill goes down your spine and some of your initial terror is being replaced by the hot aching pulse between your legs. Not knowing what’s coming next is freeing even while you’re still restrained. It’s like the first time Homelander took you flying.

“I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that. So just get on with torture. You won’t get anything out of me!” You snarl at him. He stiffens and you brace yourself for what comes next. You’re surprised when he chuckles darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. One gloved hand leaves your shoulder to wrap around your throat from behind, he’s not cutting off your air yet but the pressure makes you dizzy regardless. Your nipples perk up under the thin white spandex of your suit and there is no way that he doesn’t notice.

“I think I will. I think you’ll be begging to reveal all your dirty little secrets once I’m done with you.” He growls.

Your stomach drops like you’d just crested the hill of a rollercoaster. He’s scary. He’s scary and it almost scares you with how much you like it. You find yourself taking deeper breaths, just to feel the press of his hand. You almost forget that you’re here to play a role.

“Do it then. Get fucking creative because I can’t tell you things I don’t know.” You retort. His grip on your throat doesn’t tighten but he adjusts so his thumb is pressed directly over your pulse. It’s a silent reminder of how truly vulnerable you are, he doesn’t need to use strength when simply the knowledge of his power is enough to set your heart pounding. His other hand finally leaves your shoulder to roughly pinch your hardened nipple. You squeal at the unexpected assault and flush when you feel the way your suit now clings to your needy cunt.

“You asked for it, I don’t want to hear you whining later when my creativity is too much for you” He’s fucking purring while you’re squirming and dripping all over the shiny metal of the chair you’re bound to.

He leans down once more to nip at your pulse, making sure you feel the graze of his teeth against the tender skin. He’s starving for it. He can’t fucking wait to show you just what he’s capable of.

“Tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do to you?”

You know exactly what you’d do.

“Spank me and send me to bed without supper.” You scoff, despite the way that you’re trembling. He snorts, nuzzling against your temple as if he wasn’t already scheming about how to punish you. He rubs gentle circles around your still tender nipple.

“That’s what you want? You want Daddy to spank you? Hmmm. I’m sorry, I just don’t trust you to be a good girl while I put you over my knee. Any other suggestions? I’m all ears.” He chuckles while your own ears go up flames at his bold statement. He’d never called himself that before and it makes you feel all hazy and uprooted.

“I thought you were going to be creative? It looks like I’m doing all the work.” Your voice trembles more than you’d like. He doesn’t answer right away, he just hums as he continues to toy with your nipple. His hand finally leaves your throat, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear almost tenderly.

“Did you know that historically when children were naughty, it was common to make them pick their own switches for their punishment? See, it wasn’t the punishment itself that was anything novel. It was the anticipation of being complicit in your own destruction. So you will tell me how you should be punished and when you’re begging for mercy, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” His voice lowers to a growl and fuck, You really underestimate how clever Homelander can be when he really sets his mind to something. You don’t have to look at him to picture the smug curve of his lips and the dark twinkle in his eye.

FUCK

You’re gonna have to choose, aren’t you?

“I want you to spank me” You spit out through gritted teeth. Shame twists in your gut despite the fact that he’s definitely spanked you before. But something about this feels different…dirty.

He hums, taking a moment to straighten up. Every slow footstep as he walks around to the front has you fighting the urge to flinch. He stops, arms held imposingly behind his back, erection straining against suit, and softly smiles as he takes in your vulnerable state. Despite still being fully clothed, you’re still completely bare before him. People joke that they feel like someone is undressing them with their eyes, but Homelander literally can.

“Are you sure? I think you can do better than that” He clicks his tongue as he looks down his nose at you. You swallow thickly.

“Please, I want you to spank me. I…I want you to spank till I behave.” You plead, face all prickly and hot. You cringe at your own begging, especially when Homelander throws his head back with a throaty laugh. You don’t miss the way his cock twitches at your pleading. He’s practically bursting at the seams but he seems perfectly content to drag out your humiliation.

“You’re gonna have to ask really nicely if this is what you want.” He smirks, eyes roaming your body. “How can I trust you to behave when you can’t even remember your manners?”

You flinch once you realize what he’s getting at. You test your restraints one more time but once more all it proves is that you are helpless to his whims.

“I want Daddy to spank me” You whisper, the heat building low and syrupy in your stomach. There’s a dark twinkle in his eye that twists your insides into knots. It’s the same one he has before he fucks someone over. It’s the same one he has when the person on the other end should expect to have a very bad time.

Fuck

You chose wrong

You resist the urge to flinch when he cocks his head. You reach for your powers, desperate to feel that familiar warning prickle, that peek into the future that allows you to stay ahead of any opponent. Instead, there’s just ominous silence and that ever present aching throb between your legs. It’s both freeing and smothering at once. The cold metal suppressing your powers is both torture and salvation. Homelander is the cruel judge who will decide which way the scale will lean. You’re the sacrificial lamb, your weeping cunt anointing the altar upon which your fate will be sealed.

“Thaaaaat’s better.” He croons, his voice soft and condescending…and poisonous. “Only I think you forgot one teeny tiny detail. I don’t trust you to be a good girl while I put you over my knee. So I guess this will just have to do”

Before you have time to process his reply, he crouches and rips a hole in the crotch of your suit with all the effort of someone tearing wrapping paper off of a present. You gasp as the cold air hits your wet, vulnerable, sensitive cunt that is now the focus of his conniving gaze. Your breath starts to catch in your chest with every exhale. You can’t squirm. You can’t hide yourself from him. Time slows to a stop and when Homelander finally moves, it seems to happen in slow motion as he raises his hand.

SLAP

You wail

He brings his gloved hand down once more upon your smarting clit and the sound it makes is obscene. The hot burning sting only increases as he presses his palm against you, the leather soft as you sob at the intensity of the sensation. You know he’s holding back his strength but it doesn’t feel like it. His strikes were ruthless and calculated. You struggle to catch your breath as he pulls back to administer another harsh slap.

“Awwww I made you cry…and here I thought you wanted me to get creative.” He chuckles at the tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. He’s so mean as he gives you exactly what you asked for. After all, it’s not his fault you didn’t specify where you wanted him to spank you.

The most humiliating part of this whole ordeal is not the indignity of the act but rather how each strike sounds more and more wet. Despite the pain, your clit is swollen and desperate under his touch, craving anything he is willing to give you. He alternates between short precise attacks on your clit and open palm smacks on your dripping hole. He chuckles at the way you start to lean into the pain despite how red and inflamed your cunt has become.

One spank, not even a particularly ruthless one, pushes you to your breaking point and you come, writhing helplessly in your bonds. It hurts so bad but fuck. There is a nasty part of you that loves being used like this. You’ve forgotten that you’re playing a game, too strung out on his touch.

You’re pulled out of your haze by Homelander holding his hand in front of your face. The leather is dripping and despite how far gone you are, your face still burns sharp and hot at the pure obscenity of it. Homelander’s cheeks are the tiniest bit flushed but you know better than to assume it’s out of exertion. He’s feeding off of you, soaking in your pleasure like a drug. It belongs to him and he thrives on that ownership. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already come in his pants just from spanking you.

“You’ve made a mess. Clean. It. Up.” He demands, pressing his wet palm to your mouth until you begin to lick your own come off his hand. You close your eyes as you taste yourself, whining pitifully. You’re so engrossed by your task that you don’t see the way his eyelids flutter as he fights to stay in control instead of ravishing you the way he wants. He can tell by the way that your eyes have glazed over that you’ve long lost sight of the role you’re supposed to be playing. It’s unprofessional but he supposes that he can indulge you. He’ll just have to make sure to give you a few acting lessons before Vought inevitably gives you a film of your own.

He taps your cheek roughly three times. You blink hazily as you are distracted from your task.

“How are you holding up Champ? We’re just getting started” His smirk is wicked but his eyes are serious. He waits for you to get your bearings and makes sure your eyes have regained a bit of focus before he raises his eyebrow in an unspoken question. You aren’t quite capable of coherent speech yet but you tap your foot three times in reply. He nods and just like that, the game is back on.

“I’m not…” You have to take a pause as your mouth catches up to your brain. He’s giving you a breather but his expression tells you he’s far from finished. “I’m not telling you anything.” You hiss.

He smiles, in the way that a chimpanzee bares its teeth as a sign of aggression. Isn’t that fitting?

“Whoah Kiddo! I gotta say, I can respect the can-do attitude. It’s that gumption that made me want you for the Seven. The fact that you turned into such a disappointment truly breaks my heart.” His voice drops to a low growl as he unbuckles his belt with a loud clink. “Well if you don’t feel like talking…I’ll just have to find another use for that mouth.”

He pushes his pants down just far enough to free his swollen cock. It’s dripping and flushed painfully red. He bounces slightly on his heels in anticipation of finally giving the poor thing some attention. He was hard from the start but seeing, hearing, smelling you come was almost too much for him. But despite your own growing hunger, you clamp your mouth shut and glare at him.

He clicks his tongue at you before reaching out to pinch your nose, patient enough to wait till you had no choice but to gasp desperately for air. He gives you a second of reprieve before shoving his cock into your open mouth. He’s very aware of how much you can take and he groans as he slides himself into your throat. He nestles your nose against the hair at the base of his cock, luxuriating in the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around his cock. You’re well and truly trapped. You can’t even grasp onto him for leverage as he begins to throughly fuck your face. He’s not gentle. He doesn’t ease you into it. He’s going to give you exactly what you asked for when you approached him with this depraved little game. After all, he’s The Homelander, isn’t he supposed to serve the people?

A thin line of spit connects your mouth to his cock when he pulls out, and your face is on fire at how lewd you know that you look. He swipes it with his thumb before sucking the saliva off his glove with a satisfied grunt.

“Y’know, all this effort has caused me to work up an appetite.” He smirks before effortly breaking the bonds that held you confined to the chair. You bolt, dashing for the door in a mad effort to free yourself. But you only have half a second of hope before he wraps his arm around your waist and yanks you back against his unyielding body. You squirm but you can’t escape as he rips the rest of your suit into tatters. He cruelly pinches your nipple before shoving you to the floor and crawling over you.

His balls rest heavily on your forehead, still slick from the mess you made with his cock down your throat. He doesn’t have to force your mouth open, one slow lick to your raw clit has you groaning, his cock slipping back in as easy as anything. You have no choice but to take what he gives you, head firmly bracketed between his thighs.

Homelander is ruthless with his mouth, sucking your swollen aching folds until you’re practically screaming around his cock. It hurts but you can’t help but melt into the wet heat of his mouth as it both soothes and ignites. You come against his tongue before you can even comprehend doing it but he doesn’t skip a beat, driving you further and further into insanity as he feasts on you. He groans at the taste and you can feel him throb ominously against your tongue. You gag wetly around him and he shudders, nipping at your thighs as he fights to regain control. He’s close but he refuses to give you a reprieve until he makes you come again.

You wrap your arms around his waist, needing that support as he fucks you stupid. You come again, feeling him smile around your throbbing clit as he continues to suck rudely on the swollen bud. It addles something in your brain and when Homelander comes, it doesn’t even register that he’s so far down your throat you can’t even taste it. You come again and even while riding his own waves of pleasure, he can’t help but giggle at how thoroughly you belong to him.

He holds himself there, despite the orgasm beginning to fade into overstimulation. He only retreats when he hears three quiet raps against the floor. He sits up, softening cock leaving your lips as you cough wetly. You look thoroughly used and debauched. He watches you closely but you haven’t said the word yet. So he waits.

Your voice is raspy when you repeat your safeword, signaling the game has officially run its course.

Homelander takes quick action, scooping you up into his arms. He quickly grabs a blanket that you just now notice was folded up in the corner. He wraps you up tight, the soft fabric both comforts and conceals you from any eyes that might spy the two of you as Homelander carries you back to his penthouse. A warm feeling blooms in his chest as you snuggle into him, dispelling some of the building anxiety that maybe he went too far. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead as he opens his door with one hand. There is a nervous energy to him that you know won’t truly fade until you’ve assured him that you enjoyed every single thing he did to you.

He lays you on the bed, uncaring if you dirty the sheets. He quickly unlocks the metal around your wrists that suppress your powers and you sigh at the returning buzz. People think you can see the future but that’s not true. You are simply capable of processing vast amounts of surrounding data at once in order to make accurate predictions about what will happen next. In fact, you can feel the warmth of his hands several moments before he rubs the stiff muscles of your neck. You can hear his voice rumble seconds before the words leave his lips. It’s comforting but also what drove you to this point.

Once upon a time, Homelander was the one person you couldn’t predict. He was intimidating and exciting. Your life was mind numbingly boring until he came along. So maybe you became a little obsessed with him. You adored not being able to predict what would come next. But you fell hard and so did he, and with love came understanding, with understanding came knowing, and with knowing came the buzz. You don’t regret the loss of novelty but you couldn’t help but miss the thrill. So you asked for it back and he gave it in spades.

Now the buzz is a soothing comfort as he rubs away your aches. If you happen to foresee some cuddles and sweet talk in your future? Well, who are you to complain about that?

#homelander #x reader #homelander x reader #You ever have the writer version of post nut clarity?#supe!reader #definitely the longest thing I’ve ever written #and it’s pure FILTH

272 notes · View notes

moralesmilesanhour · 11 months

Note

after seeing the Star Wars x atsv drawing I think it would be cool if you wrote miles x reader but Star Wars themed. :) if you can. Maybe they like play fight with lightsabers even though that probs wouldn’t end well

star wars au!miles x reader

A/N: warning. i do not know how sword fights of any kind work...but i don't think the star wars films do either lmao so bare with me please <3 also Miles is a bit more...rambunctious? in this one than I usually write him? so enjoy that maybe

(he may also be a little OP here ngl JUST A LITTLE but I still feel like this is at least somewhat in-character).

semi-inspired by that training scene between anakin and obi-wan!

"I almost had it!"

Miles' voice echoed as he paced around the now-empty training room. You leaned against a wall, watching him with an amused grin. "I swear, bro, Pav tripped me 'cuz he knew I was about to beat him."

"I'm a little more concerned that you let a rookie catch you lackin' like that," you laughed. "He's been here, what, like six months?"

Miles spun around to face you with his arms crossed, though there was no malice in his expression. "And you been here what, three years? But I still whoop yo' ass every time we duel."

You tilted your head. "Is that a challenge, Morales?"

That tell-tale grin spread across his features - the same one that made an appearance whenever he was the only youngling in the classroom with his hand raised.

"I dunno, Y/N. Is it?"

You got off the wall and stepped slowly toward the center of the room.

Unhooking the hilt of your lightsaber from your belt, you replied, "I needed a little dummy practice."

The saber hummed to life as soon as you toggled the switch, its blade glowing a brilliant blue as you began to circle your opponent.

Miles did the same, only he tossed the hilt in his hand like a drumstick first, flipping the switch using the Force instead for added showmanship before getting into position. His blade shone a vital green.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

He lunged into action as soon as the words left his mouth, swinging with gusto. His lightsaber crashed against yours, already having been raised in defense. You pushed him a couple feet away with a grunt.

"Miles, you're too-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Miles began swinging wildly with rapid rotations of his arm, and you were parrying several attacks on either side of you. Just as he was about to deliver a finishing blow, you got down and slid across the smooth floor beneath his arm to create more distance, and leapt to your feet once more.

"You're too aggressive," you said breathlessly as he began to circle you this time. "You're gonna tire yourself out, lose stamina. Lose accuracy, too."

Miles snorted.

"You sure it's me who needs stamina?"

He punctuated the sentence with a quick spin of his blade before attacking again. But this time, you ducked and it sliced empty air.

Once on the ground, you tried shooting out a leg and swinging it, but you were not as quick as Pavitr. Miles hopped over it with ease.

"Worth a shot," you grunted as you got rose up again and parried another attack.

"Oh, you think you funny, now?"

While he was distracted, you stepped forward and swung with all your might, knocking Miles' lightsaber out of his hand and sending it flying to the other side of the room. He promptly lost his balance and fell backward. When he remained there, nearly out of breath, you smiled triumphantly.

"Yup."

The smile soon fell from your face when you realized that Miles did not say 'yield'.

"Well I'm about to be hilarious."

He kicked his leg in a circle just as you had, forcing you to stay on defense and back away. This gave him ample time to get back on his feet.

You raised your arm in an attempt to attack, but Miles grabbed your wrist and stopped it mid-air. Like a ballroom dance, he used it to spin around and elbowed you in the lower back with enough force to shove you, but not enough for it to hurt. Caught by surprise, you couldn't turn to face him in time.

Your lightsaber was ripped out of your hand by the Force. Miles caught it, and suddenly your own blade was at your neck before you could blink.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Y/N."

His warm breath hit your ear as he spoke. There was a smile in his words, reassuring you that he meant no real harm.

He deactivated the weapon, and pressed the hilt back into your palm. You turned to face him, thoroughly impressed.

"Shit, Morales, why can't you do that in training? They probably would've moved you up a level already!"

No longer in battle mode, Miles sheepishly scratched the nape of his neck. "I dunno, might get into trouble for that one."

"You're still too aggressive, though," you remarked, re-attaching the hilt of your lightsaber to your belt. "No defense whatsoever."

Miles rolled his eyes and started to make his way towards the training room's entrance with you following close behind.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just sayin' that 'cuz you lost!"

"I won until you decided to play dirty! Not very Jedi-like of you, Morales."

"Tell me about what Jedi do and don't do when you can lift a plate off the table."

"...Touche."

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales fic #atsv x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour #requests

54 notes · View notes

darklordofthesimp · 2 years

Note

König wished he had never met birdy; he knows they both would’ve been happier that way, she wouldn’t have the memories of him violently rearranging her skull haunting her every night, and hell, he wouldn’t have to deal with the nightmares and the guilt of what he’s done, the pain of loving someone who hates him.

So yes, he wishes he’d never met her.

Rather funny then, that when she publicly announced her plan to leave 141 he felt as though he’d been shot through the heart. He’d managed to hold his tongue as the rest of the team raged, switching rapidly between begging and demanding that she stay. As she left to speak with price about the transfer and könig caught her in the hall with a simple question; why? When she answered with the rather vitriolic declaration that she couldn’t stand having to constantly be around him anymore, and that he should be happy that he gets to have her position back that he stole from her… to say that he didn’t take it well would be an understatement. She marched off as he stood stock still in shock, only fully processing everything once she had faded from view- he felt like he’d been carved open and left for the buzzards. Pure agony of his heart ripping itself into shreds, panic setting in at the thought of her being gone. How was he going to live without keeping an eye on her? How was he supposed to sleep not knowing if she’d be better or worse without him and the rest of the team looking out for her? The reality of her not only detesting him enough to request a transfer, but that she loathed him enough to leave her position and friends behind so long as she could get away from him- it hurt beyond anything he had experienced in his life, a serious contender for the moment he had realized the enemy sniper he had mutilated wasn’t an enemy. He could hardly keep himself from hyperventilating as he slid down the wall, feeling that he might puke if the vertigo gets any worse. The desperation setting in made his eyes burn with tears, he was strongly tempted to chase her down, beg on his hands and knees if necessary to convince her to stay, the tears finally falling with the realization his self pity would only make her hate him more. He wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her unconcealed disgust leveled at him as he offered his heart on a platter, he already like his rib cage was caving in on itself. He sat against the wall trying not make any noise as he slipped into hysterics, afraid that without birdy this hollow grief might consume him entirely. Cupid seems to have a sick sense of humor, the arrows have impaled him but not so much as nicked her.

Yes, sometimes König wishes that he’d never met birdy.

*I hope this came out good, I put it down in my notes and ended up accidentally deleting it just as I was going to copy it into your asks and I had to rewrite it 😭 I love the one sided love trope, it hurts so good, so uh, ig this is my contribution*

THE LAST LINE LITERSLLY GUTTED ME. THATS THE ENERGY WE NEED IN THIS HOUSEHOLD. I CANNOT BREATHE THAT LITERALLY SUCKER PUNCHED THE FUCK OUT OF ME.

One sided enemies to lovers trope is just wikwow2hoe2hw9eoslwks

Honestly it's the perfect angst generator and every single touch is so sweet and supercharged and I fucking cannot wait to write more and see your thoughts and see you guys write more snippets to add to the lore ughhhhhh

You are so fucking talented.

#the dark lord has talented followers #könig x reader #cod mw2 x reader

324 notes · View notes

egg-emperor · 5 months

Note

You say you love "dark evil" Eggman but I do want to know, do you prefer Eggman as a goofy man with very evil tendencies, or a sadistic villain whose "goofiness" comes from how he can chew the scenery?

Both! Eggman has that perfect balance of humor and seriousness in his evil and his personality in general. He's a funny goofy guy with fun interests that are commonly considered childish interests and he can also act like a stubborn rude bratty attention seeking manchild. Which isn't separate from his evil, it's a part of it, considering he specifically takes it to dangerous and evil degrees.

But he can also be very serious, threatening, dark and more mature in his evil too when he's in more angry and violent mode. It really adds to the impact when the switch can suddenly flip from the one to the other which is why I think it's important for him to have both. Both are just as prominent, valuable and entertaining and make Eggman who he is and such a threat.

Or he can be both at once which is a big favorite of mine. He's the kind of guy who can do the darkest most serious dark and disturbing evil acts with a wide smile on his face and have a silly cheery demeanor and laugh, joke and tease while he subjects others to horror and pain. It makes him very creepy and scary with his unpredictability as his positive demeanor doesn't equal safety.

He's been shown to have dark humor and a sadistic side with the joy, passion and amusement he can express during his evil, the ways he's acted with amusement towards attempted/expected murder of Sonic and Tails, the way he acknowledges, jokes, and details all the gruesome deaths that visitors can meet in Eggmanland/Interstellar Park, etc. I love the balance of evil and funny.

Like the way he acts all jolly, silly, playful, and cheeky can seem like a huge contrast of demeanor against his actions at first. But it becomes clear he's fully acknowledging and embracing his evil and having a great time. So then it's like oh god wait it's in a deranged depraved way! And you realize just how scary and dangerous he is like this with a big eerie grin on his face and laughter.

It also pairs great with the way he has fun silly childish interests of theme parks, circuses, carnivals, toys, etc but with a deeply disturbing deadly twist. The happy, fun, colorful aesthetic in stark contrast to the evil of the intended danger and death. Where they can meet a gruesome demise in such a happy looking place, what's destined as happy dreamland is really a brutal nightmare.

This page actually summed it up really well for the games too.

Very similar to what's intended to go down in Eggmanland and the Interstellar Park in the games, by his own emphasis, boasting, and taunting over PAs. Meeting the most painful, disturbing, brutal demise in exciting, colorful, fun areas of play and amusement. You'll be lured in only to find that it's really for your horror, fear and death and his fun and amusement in the most twisted ways.

The same works for the sudden change in demeanor he can have between jolly and silly to deeply serious and threatening. Being the former mostly by default, you don't expect the latter and it adds fear and impact. But the combination is really even scarier when it's obvious he's enjoying this in a sadistic way, so you know there's no stopping him or changing his mind!

It also makes for many disturbing creative scenarios of combining these fun happy colorful "childish" places or activities with the most horrifying death, pain, and suffering. People would never expect such things to happen in a setting typically associated with innocence and joy, or through actions of playfulness as he treats it like a game and like playing with toys that he's going to break.

Things that are supposed to be safe and fun for everyone become extremely dangerous and deadly. It doesn't just have to be rides, it can be other gruesome but creative forms of death while he acts like an excited park owner, enthusiastic announcer on a TV show, a jolly ringmaster of a circus, etc, making a show and mockery of them and their demise and having a blast performing.

Evil doesn't have to consist of acting like a constant stereotypical hyper serious grimdark villain. I think Eggman is most terrifying and entertaining when his worst and darkest evil comes from the combination of silliness and goofiness he usually has by default in general, with the evil twisted humor and sadism that he can show while committing his most terrible evil at the same time.

If they perish they have to experience their last moments in fear, pain, and mockery as he turns their demise into a twisted spectacle of his twisted selfish entertainment. But if they were to survive, they'd live with the trauma of having a typically innocent setting tainted. And the sadistic smile, laughter and jolly demeanor that he displayed most throughout would haunt them.

He's capable of both and that's so fun with so much potential, I looove it 💜

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #eggman is evil #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #my post

21 notes · View notes

the-baby-lasagna-blog · 3 months

Text

We Won This Together - a Baby Lasagna fanfic

Who: Baby Lasagna / Marko Purisic Request: i would like to ask you if you could do a enemies to friends to lovers fanfic about Marko x female reader. Like the reader is representing Switzerland (sorry Nemo- is till love him 🫶🏽) and both her and Marko are always high on the odds. Like one day it is her song and the other day it is marko’s the first and so on. They always have a small competition going on between them. And for example during the finale she would look at marko and wink at him every time Switzerland got 12 points. And even during free time between the semifinals and final they would always tease each other and so on. Like even the journalists would always ask them questions about each other and they would answer with full of sass. Requested by: @wife-of-jonathan-kent Word count: 1277 Warnings: none

With the bookmakers there had only ever been two songs which were tipped to win the Eurovision Song Contest this year: yours and Marko's. Both of you were participating with similar types of songs: rock genre, sung in English, and both containing a piece of dance that was already being mimicked everywhere. Every day it differed who was leading the polls, you or him.

You had met Marko a few times before the Eurovision, back when he was playing guitar for the band Manntra. Somehow, you had had the feeling he didn't really like you. He didn't speak much and kept mostly to himself, so you weren't quite sure what to think of him either.

But your opinion on him changed rather quickly when you got to know him better during the Eurovision. In the days leading up to the big final, the whole world seemed to go crazy for both your songs, and the media wanted nothing more than to get the two of you together for interviews.

That was how you learned that Marko's behavior, which you had interpreted as hateful and rude, was in fact caused by his shyness and lack of confidence. You were the complete opposite of that: outgoing, strong-minded yet bubbly, and not backing down from any challenge. You realized that his behavior towards you before, was probably because he was somewhat intimidated by the whirlwind that was you.

Slowly, Marko started to open up to you, and you got to know the other side of him. The side that was joking, rather cheeky and funny, and the two of you were getting closer.

---

Today was the big day: the final. Both you and Marko had performed rather early in the show, and now began the long wait in the green room. Your delegation and Marko's were assigned booths next to each other, so you chatted happily with him all during the evening.

"According to the last polls, you're back on top," Marko winked. "For now," you teased, "but I know you can have me switching on positions at any moment." Marko mulled over your words, whilst frowning at the big screen which showed the live show. "I might," he finally grinned, "but maybe I like you on top."

You nearly spit out the sip of water you had just taken. "Mr. Purisic!" You laughed. "Go wash that mouth." He chuckled cheekily. The shy, silent Marko of earlier in the week had disappeared completely, and you were glad to see he apparently felt confident and safe around you now. And you had to admit: maybe you felt some things for him as well.

Your conversation was cut short by the results ceremony starting. "Good luck." You winked at Marko before returning to your own entourage. "You, too," Marko answered sincerely. "May one of us win."

---

The results ceremony was a rollercoaster. Just as with the bookmakers, you and Marko were constantly switching for the number one and two position. Every country was either giving their 12 points to you or him, and the difference in points between the both of you was only marginal.

Even though nerves coursed through your body, and you were sure Marko's as well, you and Marko started a running gag. Each time one of you got the 12 points, you made a joking or teasing gesture to the other one. It went from a wink to a hand kiss, and from a thumbs up to the sign of the horns. Each gesture was met with loud cheers from the crowd, who had fully fallen for the obvious connection between you and Marko by now.

After all the jury votes had been announced, the difference between you and Marko was only 20 points. Right now, you were in the lead, but everything was still possible with the televotes still to be announced.

As was to be expected, you and Marko were the last two to receive your televotes. The show's presenters were building up the tension, and you actually feared you might faint from the nerves.

You startled slightly when someone suddenly grabbed your hand. It was Marko. Probably against every regulation, he had sat down next to you in your country's booth. "We've done this together so far," he chuckled. You felt his hand tremble around yours, and you knew he was just as nervous as you were. The beads of sweat standing out on his forehead betrayed the downright panic going on in his head. You couldn't blame him, you were feeling the exact same thing.

"And the winner is..." This was the moment. It was either you or Marko, and, frankly, you were happy with either result. It was far more than you had expected anyway, so you would gladly take a second place as well. Marko's hand tightened around yours. He gave you a terrified smile as you looked at him, a look, you were sure, was mirrored on your face.

"The winner is..." The presenters were making you wait for it. You and Marko both squeezed each other's hands half to mush with nerves. And just when you thought you were going to pass out with the tension, the presenters suddenly exclaimed the result.

"Switzerland is the winner!"

It didn't immediately land with you. You heard the words, saw them on the big screen, but somehow they didn't make sense yet. Marko was the first to wrap his arms around you, hug you and congratulate you, before he retreated and left you to celebrate with your team.

Everything was a blur after that. Every person you came across congratulated you, as you went back out on stage to accept the trophy and make a short speech. The winning performance of your song you gave wasn't even an active memory. You sang and performed completely on auto-pilot whilst in your head you were still coming to terms with what had just happened.

Only when you stepped off the stage, clutching the trophy in your hands, was when the rollercoaster of emotions of the past weeks finally came out. Everything you had ever worked so hard for, suddenly burst out of you in a waterfall of tears.

There you stood, backstage, crying into your hands covering your face, with loads of crew still hurrying around you.

"Hey." You felt arms snake around you and pull you into a warm, loving hug. You half-opened your eyes and immediately recognized the white lace of Marko's costume.

Marko gently held you in his arms as you now buried your face into his shoulder and continued sobbing. "I'm sorry I beat you," you sniffled. Marko's chest shook under your face with his rumbling laughter. "No, no," he said softly, "I'm glad I lost to you."

You slowly lifted your head to look at him. Your make-up was all smudged from crying. "Nice look," Marko teased. You laughed, trying to undo some of the damage with your sleeve. "Jerk."

"But I mean it." Marko's tone turned sincere. "I don't mind losing to you." He slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed you protectively against his side. "Maybe we can agree that we won this together?" You suggested with a grin. "I like that." Marko smirked happily.

There was a moment of hesitation on his face, before he slowly leaned in to give you a kiss. He went slow enough that you could have protested at any moment, but you weren't even thinking about it.

Marko released the kiss, but kept his face close to yours, looking deeply into your eyes. "Because, let's face it," he grinned, "I might not have won Eurovision, but I surely won something else."

If you would like to make a request for a fanfic, you can do so through my Ask Box. Please do read this post, to see some topics I won't write about.

#baby lasagna #baby lasagna fanfiction #marko purišić #marko purisic fanfiction #marko purisic fanfic #marko purisic #tblbwriting

16 notes · View notes

tartrazeen · 1 year

Text

You know what usually isn't left at a crime scene?

Pets.

You know what CyberLife has on guard duty at their warehouses?

Dogs.

You know how Connor absolutely lies about liking dogs to Hank in a forced attempt at building positive rapport, because he only mentions them after having in-person data-mined the guy for possible interests, and would've said 'hamsters' instead of dogs if that'd been the fur he found? And then how he breaks into Hank's house, sees Sumo, and so absolutely and utterly loses his shit that he faceplants inside, immediately switching to "omg please don't kill me 😭" mode? And then how Sumo doesn't attack him either way, and Connor has the option to go over to Sumo chilling in the corner and pet him, and is like, "Hm, this dog is nice 🤔"?

I think Connor has only ever had one of two experiences with dogs before that:

He's never met one before at all

He has met dogs, and they're the ones that CyberLife uses to guard their shit

In other words, I think Sumo is the first dog Connor's encountered that wasn't immediately set on ripping him apart. And while I agree his instability is from that standard "🤔 hm, maybe I like dogs after all" feeling...

... it's interesting to consider Sumo might be his first opportunity to challenge any of his preconstructed (😏) notions ever.

He's done his 'homework' on Hank by this point, and knows who the man is. He knows everything there is to know about these 'deviants,' too. He hasn't had the confrontations with a deviant that make him second-guess himself yet, as even letting Rupert go in order to save Hank is arguably following instructions to prioritize human life (which doesn't hold up to what he's designed for, but certainly doesn't lead to any existential epiphanies).

It's nice thinking that one of the early, tiny steps towards Deviant!Connor realizing CyberLife lied to him, used him, weaponized him against people... is that they also inadvertently lied to him about dogs exclusively being threats. And only through total chance did he stumble across someone with a dog that just wanted to boof at him and go get kibble like, "ya he's fine, leave hank there, he'll get up eventually."

It's even better when you realize Connor's attempt at - uh... 'firmly reasoning' with Sumo was to appeal to the dog's inherent state of protectiveness and fierce loyalty towards his owner. Y'know, guarding him. Like dogs were bred to do.

How funny would it be if part of Connor's relief/shock over Sumo shuffling away was 'cause Connor thought, "You're not gonna rip my face off? Bad dog 😠"?

Followed by, "Hm. 🤔 Maybe not all dogs do that." (Instability ^)

Bonus: the real big-brained take is to say Connor did like dogs when he said that to Hank, but only 'cause he thought all dogs were like CyberLife's loyal, murder machines - like him. 😌

Bonus-Bonus: did you forget hank had a dog wtf dude u even analyzed the type of dog it was, that's the shit we should be making fun of u for, not just the faceplanting (but still continue to make fun of him for that as well lmao)

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh connor #my stuff #good job tartra

64 notes · View notes

anxious-witch · 9 months

Text

What a year, huh? We all know I have to be emotional on tumblr.com whenever the opportunity arises because that's one way I allow myself to have an emotional catharsis (for legal reasons this a joke)

In all seriousness though, this year has been a lot for me. Both in a good and bad sense, but Käärijä and Joker Out improved it significantly. And more importantly, their fandoms. (More inder the cut bc this is long af)

I have never really been someone who knows anything about the artists' whose music I listened to. Before this, I don't think I ever listened to a full album of someone, just random songs that I liked. Finding stuff from personal life of bands/musicians I liked usually made me depressed so I didn't bother.

Then, ESC 2023. happened. I frankly have no idea what flipped the switch in my head. Bojere interactions? The way people on tumblr were so welcoming even back when I was mostly posting about Let 3 and Käärijä only? I don't know, I only know that we are here now, regardless.

Another thing about me is that I used to be very pessimistic person. Likez genuinely. I have been "unofficially"(long story) diagnosed with depression and anxiety since I was 11, which is over a decade now. I always had a lot of bad experiences with people and really awful trust issues. I have been doing better for some time now, but it is very hard to let go of the feeling of pessimism and helplessness. In a world where awful things happen every second, what can I possibly do that would change anything?

Then ESC happened. Käärijä lost and I thought "another injustice that will never be corrected". Except, instead of feeling defeated, everyone just loved him more. In those weeks after and later on months, all I have seen had been unrelenting love and acceptance of Jere. Reminding him that despite not winning Eurovision, he is our winner and we'll forever think of him as such. Jere who has a wonderfully belly and strong thighs and is short and by no means is he conventional in any sense. And people loved him not despite all that but because all that. Because we all found ways to relate to him, or to what he went through.

His story of almost dying and still getting where he did only served to highlight that more. Because of he did it, why can't we get to what we want? Why can't I? It shifted my whole perspective.

Then, Joker Out. It is so, so funny to me how I barely paid any attention to them during ESC, except for bojere interactions and was dragged in it by the shared fandom, when now I post most about them.

But yes, JO. A band from Slovenia that while tehnically isn't Balkan, felt so close to me. Like they could understand all the things I kept to myself because of where I was. And then they showed me there is still hope.

I have never seen a band from around here take a pride flag on the stage. Never. I know it's a thing, especially abroad, but God I have never seen that happen here. And with how much love they always took it! That's...wow. It gave me hope that not only is it possible for injustices to be corrected, but that ot's possible to do it even in the environment I'm in.

And then...the Virtual Letters Project happened. Or well positive confessions that @spockowhales turned into Virtual Letters Project.

That's when I knew it's truly possible. I have seen tumblr posts, yes. But getting stuff so directly addressed about or to JO made me realize how much of a "wave" they all created. So many people said they helped them with their depression, with viewing their world differentky with meeting new peoplez with daring to do something new.

I have no words to describe how much that meant to me and I really hope that when they read those letters, they understood the impact they had.

But even that aside, I want to thank everyone in this fandom. People I have talked to, people I have interacted with it any way, through replies, reblogs, likes, anon asks. I appreciate every single one of you for helping create such a wonderful space. We had our ups and downs in the fandom, but we are all here because we love these fandoms, these people so much to keep talking about it even months after.

Thank you and I wish everyone here a wonderful New Year with even more laugh, love and positivity ❤️ have a good one

#rio rambles #käärijä #joker out #man this is so long but I couldn't stop myself #rio writes a love letter to jere JO and the fandom in general I guess lmao

32 notes · View notes

saradika · 1 year

Text

— WASTELAND, BABY

viii. you’ll gaze unafraid, as they sob from the city roofs

[masterlist] | [part vii]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 5k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes (violence & death), angst, feelings, miscommunication, mentions of birth control, outdoor/semi-public sex, PiV, fingering, creampie, use of weapons

a/n: if you missed my poll, I realized that I liked sen’ika (little bird) more as a nickname instead of little one/ad’ika. I’ve made some edits and will be using it moving forward!

So funny how life in the Wasteland can bleed from bliss to terror in a matter of days.

"Come on."

You're unable to help the swoop in your stomach of excitement when you hear his voice.

Interrupting your concentration as you work on the rusting, sky-blue box of the radio tower. Working the thick switch up and down, waiting for a green light that doesn't appear.

You've been trying not to look too eager, in the days that have passed since that night. Trying not to follow Boba Fett around like a lost puppy.

Stick to the work that needs done. Plenty of crops to plant in the newly-tilled field. Your back still twinges from two days ago, when you had spent half of it bent over, pushing tato seeds into the dirt.

Thinking it would be a good way to focus your energy, but the mindlessness of the activity only led your own to wander. Like it had, for days now.

Remembering the feel of his lips. The way he touched you - a gentle sweep of his thumb before he was pulling you to meet him. The drag of his cock, how he knew just what to do to make you come.

It was distracting, to be certain.

The storm that blew through yesterday should have been a respite. A relief in the much-need nourishment for the fields, all those acres of dirt and dust.

An afternoon spent huddled beneath hanging, blinking bulbs. Engrossing yourself in the stories and small talk to keep your eyes and mind from wandering and wondering.

Wishing for a hand to curl around a wrist - pull you into a dark corner. Never happening, with how small the quarters were, how thin the walls were with the town crowded into the cantina, the shop next door.

Your thoughts come back into focus with the heavy click as you move the switch to the "off" position. Wiping your hands on your pants as you turn fully around. To where he's standing.

"We need to check the perimeter after the storm, make sure the fences are sound." He says, by way of greeting. "Think it would be a good experience for you to accompany me."

A twinge of disappointment twists with curiosity. A quick nod as you pack up your things, a furtive moment of trying to tidy your clothes before you're walking beside him, out towards the edge of town.

Those silent seconds make you wonder what his intentions are. A hope that his thoughts align with yours, an excuse to sneak away.

But the sun hangs high overhead - the afternoon breezy. A perfect one for work, and so again - you're left feeling lost.

The buildings shrink as you walk, following down that dirt path. Past the acres of fields, the occasional stop as Boba checks on the work, offers advice. Each word received with their full attention - something you notice with a small, tender smile.

Trying to keep back, to wait - but you're pulled in with the occasional "what do you think?" or "wouldn't you say so?". That attention is mirrored, when you finally find your tongue.

A warmth settles over you that has little to do with the sun. Wrapping around you as the fence line comes into view. Where he stops, gloved fingers checking the fence ties. A little bag of clipped wires passed your way, as he shows you how to fix the ones ripped loose from the wind.

The little spark of hope in your stomach fades, as you realize you're actually there to do work. Wondering if you did something wrong. If that night had been a one-time thing, and you had misunderstood.

Worried that just maybe… he wished he hadn’t.

Such a thought threatens to stagger you, but you still try to make the most of the afternoon as you work your way down the line. You’d gotten good at compartmentalizing - saving your thoughts until you were alone.

Taking the moments as they come - no excuses needed to be made as your eyes trace the sharp curves of his helmet, when he's explaining something.

Or when you need to step closer - both sets of hands needed to wrangle the thick branch off the top, where the metal dips under the weight.

Time ticking by, until you're further out than you've been. The path opposite than the wooded one that winds around the river.

Here, it's scattered trees and broken roads. The ground littered with thick brush - the curve of hills and a mountain lining the horizon. An inorganic splash of a long-abandoned gas station marring the view.

A pair of old, rusting cars rest against the fence here. Faded shades of red and stained yellow under the years of sun and rain and snow.

Your fingers tap on the broken headlights, the spider-web cracks across the thick lens. A lean of your hip as you peer into the interior through the windshield, but it's already been stripped bare.

Boba is watching, when you turn back. Close enough where you can see the chips in his painted armor, the small dent in his helmet. The twist of a torso as he’s turned half-way from you - facing back towards the road to town.

Or, at least, you think he is - his expression and words shrouded by the mask. Both a defense and an offense. Protecting him, while enhancing his sight. All the better to keep an eye out for anything or anyone approaching.

A necessity, but you can't help but miss the feeling of his eyes on yours. You wonder if you'd be able to read him better, even with the serious tilt of his eyebrows, the grit of his jaw.

The lingering of a moment, and you begin to step away - to move around the car, to check the fence there.

His voice halts you, the low buzz of it through his helmet.

“I can see you thinking, sen’ika.” He tells you, and you can’t help the small smile at that, “I wish to know what’s been on your mind.”

You try to find his eyes behind the visor, as a heat licks up your spine, to burn in your cheeks. What haven’t you thought about?

Replaying those moments spent together in a slow loop. The brush of his lips on your shoulder and that small bit of softness, when he could have been all hard edges.

After a moment, you swallow - finding your thoughts and your voice, “I’d like to know the same, of you. And I suppose… I am wondering what we’re doing out here.”

His helmet tilts as he hums. So broad in his armor as he turns fully your way, and you think his gaze is fixed on you, now.

Arms cross over his chest, as he picks at part of your answer, “Is that all?”

You both know it isn’t. He must be teasing, because surely he must know how he’s become a fixture in your mind.

“No,” Your head shakes, as he moves closer. Hands bracing against the curved edge of the hood for balance, as he crowds your space, “I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.”

His thighs almost brush yours, and you find yourself pushing yourself up, until you’re sitting. Knees spreading as he fills the space, the sun glinting off his visor as his head tips towards yours.

“And what about that night has been on your mind?” Boba’s voice is a low rasp through the helmet, thrilling you.

Hand bracing on the hood on either side on your hips. Leaning further into your space as your thighs shift wider, making room for him.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying to think. Finding it hard to do so, now. “Um, you.”

He laughs - a short, rough buzz of a sound.

“Be more specific, princess.”

You shift, hopeful and eager and nervous under his gaze - all the feelings swirling together, “I‘ve thinking about how good you felt.”

“A shared sentiment.” Boba’s fingers shift, touching down on your hips, tracing feather-light patterns on your thighs, “Anything else?”

There’s the shift of his feet, leaving smallest gap between you. It would be easy to close it, with a roll of your hips, and you wonder if he’s waiting for you to do so.

A moment of wonder, as you realize that there may be more that overlaps between you than you thought. The distance of those last few days merely the beginning of learning a dance that neither of you know.

So you close that gap. First with your words. The flicker of confidence bolstered by his - the way he curves over you, the movement intimate and pointed.

“Plenty more.” Your teeth press into your lower lip as you smile, “I was hoping you’d come find me again.”

“Did you, now?” He husks, just as you shift. A roll of his hips as he meets you, as you lean back onto your elbows.

Rocking him against your core, your knees pressing against into his hips, leaving your feet to dangle. Fully seated on the hood now, the metal sun-warmed against your back, through the thin layer of your shirt.

His hands curve against your waist, the slight pull as he starts a slow grind. Pleasure sparking through you with the pinch of his grip, how it’s soothed when he’s pressed flush against you.

“Mhmm.” You sigh - the words coming easier now, with the reciprocation of touch, “But I was worried you regretted it.”

There’s a sound like a growl, a sharp rut of his hips. Holding you against the place where his flightsuit has begun to tent, a hand bracing near your ribs as he leans over you.

“The only thing I regret, princess, is waiting so long.” He husks, as you blink up at him, “If we were back in Mos Espa, I’d take my time.”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, a little buck of your hips as a soft moan escapes your lips.

“You came so quickly on my tongue. I’d like to see how many I could pull from you.” He sighs, a little tug to your hip to pull you closer, “That’s what’s been on my mind.”

There’s a little shiver, in spite of the heat. Your brains going blank except for the thought of him - the imagined grandeur of his space in Mos Espa. The prospect of hours spent in his company, alone and stripped bare.

In another time you might have been embarrassed by his words, if not for the tinge of pride in his voice. You’d been sated, exhausted, last time. The promise of more had you eager, squirming.

“Please.” You manage, the sound a soft gasp in the miles of deserted landscape.

The hand on your hip curves beneath your thigh - running down. Past your knee as he hoists your leg up, until your boot rests on the curve of the fender.

Fingers plucking at the laces, working it off one foot before he starts on the other. Methodic in his movements, while you’re grasping at your belt. The clink of metal as you pull it open, the pop of a button as your hips lift - pushing the fabric down.

Your layers pool at his feet, a hand pushing up the edge of his helmet so he can tear the gloves off with his teeth. Bare hands trace up your thighs after, a fingertip tracing over your mound as he gives the hem of your shirt a tug.

“This too. It was too dark to see you, last time.”

The shirt is tugged off, stuffed beneath your shoulders. Your bra lost somewhere on the hood, as he finally gets you bare - the sun warming your skin.

“Will I get to see you?” You ask, as his fingers split - tracing down either side of your slit.

One of them nudging at you, splitting you then - a rough groan when he meet slick flesh.

“Another time.” He grits out, and you think you understand.

Boba can keep you safe, his helmet sending an alert from anyone approaching. If he were to be as bare as you, that guarantee would disappear.

Any disappointment disappears as two thick fingers sink into you. Stretching you open as you cry out - you hand rising to muffle the sound.

They fill you, the slightest flex you can feel, before he’s slowly beginning to pump them. That pressure transforming as he learns from this new angle how to crook them, until he can feel you clenching around him like before.

Leaving your own hands to wander. Letting you tug and pull at his layers until you find the buttons and zippers. Letting your fingers brush hot, swollen flesh as you lean up on a elbow to draw him out.

The flex of his hips seating him against the curve of your thigh, his cock heavy where it rests against you, arcing towards your stomach.

His head is tipped down, and from this angle you can just get a glimpse of the reflection of his fingers pumping into you. How they shine when he pulls them back, only to sink deep, stroke against that spot.

It has you aching - that eagerness spreading through you again. Fingers tracing over his cock until you’re wrapped around him. The squeeze of your fist as he rocks into your touch, his breath heavy through his helmet.

You’re sure he wants to make you come on his fingers, but you’ve been waiting for four days.

It has you nudging at him again, angling his cock to slide against the swollen bud of your clit, before letting it bump up against his fingers.

“Is there something you want, sen’ika?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, just as he his fingers drag against you.

The groan of his name is your answer, a needy jerk of your hips as he eases from you, the same hand wrapping around his cock.

A catching of the hand that rests on the hood of the car. Dragging it to the place on your hip that now matches his - his fingers denting soft flesh, feeling the implant beneath.

Fennec had all but crowed when you had stumbled home the next morning. Leaving you with a puzzle to put together - a reference to your first day that you hadn’t understood, something about how she should have known he was lying.

A poorly suppressed smile and a roll of eyes. Your worry that she disapproved mending as she let you crush her fingers in yours at the clinic the following day. But not before she reminded you what she had told you.

That is why you had tried to protect your heart. Your meager line of defense cracking at his touch now, with the growl in his throat as the pad of his thumb presses down again.

“You want me to fuck you properly, is that it?” Boba rasps, with a stroke of his cock, “Fill you, like I had wanted?”

There would be murmurs after - a check that you really had wanted to do this. An assurance you didn’t need to, but in this moment there are few thoughts in either of your heads.

“Yes,” You breath, with a slow drag of your eyes - lifting from his hand to his helmet, “Please-”

The sound of your words still hang in the air as his cock passes over your slick skin. Tapping against your clit before dropping, a shift of his hips as the presses against your opening.

A rough, drawn-out “fuck” as he sinks an inch into your warmth, and then another. Your thighs squeezing his hips as his helmet tips down, to watch you take him.

So different from this angle, this time. Even as covered as he is, you can see the rise of his barrel chest with his breath. The bare patch of skin where his suit opens - dark curls at the base as he splits you open.

Hands hook under your knees, hoisting your thighs up to wrap around his waist. Spreading you open - your heels pressing against him, urging him deeper.

Your hand claps against your mouth, when he buries himself. The ragged sound of your moan muffled - the end breaking free as he lets go of a thigh to pull at your wrist.

Dragging you fingers down between your thighs, hand mapping yours until your fingers are pressing against your clit.

“None of that,” It’s a command, as his hand hoisting your leg up again, so he can grind himself deeper. “I want you to give me everything.”

You realize that is why he’s brought you so far out here. Doing the work that needed to be done along the way out of necessity, but the intent has always been there.

He wanted to hear every sound. See every movement you hadn’t been able to make, pinned against the table like you had been.

You both begin to move at the same time. The piston of his hips matching the circle of your fingers. A shallow drag of his cock as he pulls back, the sweet pleasure when he thrusts deep again.

There’s a freedom in the seclusion. In knowing that you’re safe here - the chance of being stumbled upon unlikely.

That knot loosening in your chest, the threads of propriety from an age long ago starting to fray. Close to snapping with the miles of armor - the slick-sounding snap of his hips as you take him, again and again.

A lewdness in the way you’re bared under the sun, him with so many layers. It’s a near-manifestation of all your late-night dreaming. Better than any of them, with the low rumble of his groans, the way his cock fills you so perfectly.

It has you letting your moans loose, as your head tips back against the hood. Leaning into the winding press of your fingers, your thighs inching further apart so he can drive deeper.

A shallow rock of your hips, as you move to meet him. A winding, building pressure in your belly - stoked by the memories of last time, the known pleasure of your own touch.

“Just look at you,” He groans, the grip on your legs tightening. Pushing a thigh back towards your chest, opening you up further, “Fucking perfect, you know that?”

His praise steals your breath, an accelerant to your pleasure. A whimper as his fingers sweep against your skin, your own hand wandering - cupping a breast. Tugging at a nipple, as the other works between your thighs.

The sight has him groaning - a sharp grunt accentuating the sharp punch of his cock.

Last time, he had held out. The low light an aid as he made you come on his tongue, before fucking you with his cock. His thoughts swirling since then, days of desire mounting in his mind, a foreplay that has a the pressure building, threatening to break.

“Where do you want it, princess?” Boba’s voice is rough, as if he’s barely holding himself back, “You still want me to fill that pretty cunt of yours?”

You’re so close you can taste it. The circle of your fingers speeding up, three pressing down against your clit as you moan.

Nodding, as you beg, “Yes. Yes, in me-”

The words petering out to soft sounds - the catching of your breath and whining whimpers with each breath. His thrusts speeding up to match yours, as you careen towards the edge.

“Come for me, and I will.” The encouragement shoots through you, straight down to that throbbing point between your thighs, “I can feel how close you are, want to feel you again.”

You can hear his words, but they slowly turn to static. A chain-reaction that starts at the tips of your fingers, swooping low in your belly to radiate outwards. Your orgasm crashing over you - Boba’s groan a rough, low thing as you pulse around him, his name pitched high on your lips.

A sharp grin, hidden behind a mask as he watches - a slow sweep that always returns to your face, catching every detail.

“That’s it, little bird. Let me hear you sing.”

His voice low and rough as he fucks you through it, chasing his own end. Unable and unwilling to edge himself any longer - not with the way you wrap around him, so tight and warm.

Then, his head is tipping back with his snarl. Giving you a peek of his neck, the column of his throat above his cowl. It’s not his face, something you long to see - to watch, as he falls apart, but it’s still him. Still something to cherish.

You can watch how his fingers dent your skin - the tight grip as he tugs you to meet the shallow pump of his hips as he spills into you.

Pushing himself deep, grinding as you milk the last of his spend from him. Your own orgasm still fluttering in your belly, down your limbs.

Slowly, you come back down.

There’s the sticky dampness of sweat on your skin. A hand curled around and a splayed palm against your back. Close to an embrace, with how close he is - still connected, because he hasn’t moved away.

A slow roll of clouds above, pale against a bright blue sky. Any thoughts gone from your head, leaving you blissful and boneless.

Things will never be perfect, not after what happened.

But as Boba leans over you - fingers tugging up the edge of his helmet just enough to let his lips press against yours…

You think this has to be pretty close.

Sweat beads at the base of your neck, as you crouch in the fields. Tying the twisting, curling vines of the Tatos to the makeshift trellis. Row, after row - enlisting some of the older children to help.

Giving them something to do, as they run back and forth between you and the plants. Getting more string, trying to get you distracted so you'll chat.

They've grown on you, a little bit. The tatos, that is. The weird flavor and texture - you've learned you can't afford to be picky anymore. And mixed in a stew, it's not so bad.

It reminds you of how others had done the same. How Mos Espa had become a place of familiarly and comfort. The roads and paths and people here ones you now know.

Your own little field, tucked away in your heart - carefully tended. Strengthened since the afternoon with Boba after the storm, that stolen moment in the open fields.

It had led to others. Another morning where he met you before sunrise for your shift. An evening, where you found your bedroll tucked next to his. An arm draped across your waist as you sleep.

Small steps, but just like these seeds - they will grow, with time and with tenderness.

A loud, piercing wail slices through the air, then - cutting your moment of reverie short.

It’s the first time you've heard the siren, other than the quick test that had you all clapping your hands over your ears. A looping warble that has the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

It has you straightening up, as the fear flickers in your chest. Scanning the horizon for trouble, following the mechanical chatter of the defense turret, as its muzzle swivels.

There's something shimmering, just beyond the chain-link fences. Dark and swaying against the hills behind, as your hand comes up to shield your eyes.

Growing bigger with each step. Coming towards you.

The attack that the Oasis has been anticipating - finally arriving.

"Get inside." Your words come out weak - trying to keep an eye on both the figures, and the kids. Trying again, sharper and louder this time, as the siren continues, "Get inside, now!"

They scatter. Scurrying as the settlers race out to meet the incoming storm, spilling from the houses as others are swept up inside.

Still some ways behind you - you've been moving outwards for most of the afternoon. Closer to the edge of town, than where they are gathering.

As the siren dies out, there's a roar.

Inhuman, in the deep, drawn-out rumble. You're trapped in place, as if the vines themselves have twisted around your own legs.

Unable to tear your eyes away from the beings that have now reached the fence - fanning out.

Tall.

You can tell, even from here. Broader than any human - thick arms clutching guns and long, wooden boards riddled with nails.

You've never seen one in person, but the name springs to your mind instantly.

/Super Mutants./

Humans that had been twisted by a virus, fed to them by the military. An experiment gone wrong, when they turned out more cruel than a super soldier should be.

You found seven in all, already clawing at the chain link. Clutching at rusted pipes, boards riddled with nails.

The metal bends, warping under the strength of their hands.

There's the popping of bullets, though you can't tell which way they're going. A voice yelling in your mind to do something - to run. But you still can't seem to move.

You should head back. Barricade yourself inside until it's late. Managing a glance over your shoulder - seeing the much smaller figures still weaving through the rows.

Turning back just in time to see the gates split open, and fall.

Raiders slowly pour from the hills behind - remoras, following in the wake of the sharks. Ready to snap up anything missed, anything left behind. More in number - close to a dozen, fanning out with their weapons raised and waiting.

It throws you back to that first week, after you left the vault. The paralyzing fear rendering you mute, though your thoughts echo endlessly.

Run. Don't just stand there. Do something.

But… you're not alone this time.

You've grown. You've practiced.

And maybe this time, you can do it.

It feels like it takes ages, but your hand moves down to the holster at your waist. Unclipping the pistol, the heaviness bringing you back down to reality.

Shaking in your grip as you bring it up, the movement familiar from the weeks of training.

Strength comes back, as your feet plant in the soil. Steeling your nerves, because you’ve got something to protect now.

Someone.

Boba is out there, somewhere. If you can take one down, then that’s one less that might run into him. One less that could hurt someone else in the village. A life you could save.

Your finger is on the trigger, an eye closing as you hear your name cut across the wind.

Unable to help but look, with the slightest twist of your head. Where he appears - barreling towards the settlement, from the far edge of the perimeter. Drawn by the sounds of the siren, the shouts that have filled the air.

His power armor sits near the middle of town, on that yellow, rusted hanger. It's close to equal distance from where you are. If he gets to it, the battle would tip heavily in the town’s favor.

You smile. He has to make it.

And you could buy him time.

Turning back, you take a breath - and fire.

The shot strikes the Mutant’s shoulder, but he keeps coming. Your finger pulls - again, and again. Striking arm and the chest, but never slowing. A tremble in your arms, eyes fixed on the massive figure still thunders towards you.

The tiny bit of confidence swept away - devoured again by fear. Acutely aware of how different this was than your practice, so unprepared by their speed and the twist in your stomach.

Wishing desperately you didn't have to do this.

Your hands are clammy with sweat, your heels pressing into the ground as you inhale a breath. Trying, again.

Remembering the way Boba had moved you, those little nudges and encouraging murmurs. Holding your breath - aiming for his head, as you fire.

The Mutant pitches forward with your shot, his snarl cut off as he chokes on the sound. Crashing to the ground, tearing up the tatos as he rolls, only to fall still a moment later.

There's a ragged stab of relief in your chest. Before the terror licks at you again, as you realize there is another, following in his wake.

Fingers fumbling as you try to reload, but you know you won't have time. Wishing you had something more on you, but that crowbar is back in Mos Espa, and your little, rusted trowel would do nothing.

You make for the fallen Super Mutant - thinking you can scoop up the pipe it was carrying. Eyes meeting burning, red ones at the second races towards you, his fingers curled around a board that seems longer than you are tall. The beating of your heart drowns out the sound of its snarl, as his arms raise.

No more than a few yards from you now, as you duck down - your fingers fanning out as you frantically reach.

Never expecting the hand that curls around your wrist, instead.

The sharp tug throws you off balance, as you're pushed backwards, and then down. The world tilting as you land hard in the dirt between the trellises, that iron grip still holding on.

Faded brown and blues bleeding into shades of green.

There's the twist of a torso, as he moves between you and the Super Mutant. A gauntlet rising to catch the heavy, downward swing of the board.

Boba snarls at the impact, the sound through the helmet sending a chill up your spine. The echoing crack as the wood shatters - his fingers letting go as he twists his rifle around.

Firing, before you can blink. Stepping to the slide to avoid a swinging fist, before he's burying a hidden blade into the Mutant’s belly.

Only when it falls does he turn, though his attention fixes behind you - a beckoning curl of fingers at the footsteps that approach, before he's pulling the blade free to finish the job.

“Charon.” Boba barks, “Get her out of here.”

With your mind the mess it is, it takes a moment to realize he means to send you away. To stay alone on the front lines, as the Raiders pour in.

"What?" You're finally finding your voice - crying out as you stagger to your feet, "No!"

Your face is reflected in the dark gleam in his visor when he turns. Tracks of tears running down your cheeks that you hadn't even realized have fallen.

Searching for his eyes beneath, as that moment holds for a second that feels like it stretches longer. Unable to bear the thought of leaving him.

The moment breaks as a hand fists in your shirt, yanking you around. Loosening just enough to wrap around your bicep as Charon urges you back towards the town. Boba’s name bursts from your lips, a ragged plea.

It goes all but ignored. The smallest tilt of a helmet, one last glance your way, before he's sheathing the blade. Reloading with a sharp flick of his wrist.

Your begging turns towards Charon, but his face stays resolute as he hauls you towards the boarded-up houses.

"I do as I am bidden."

Your feet dig into the ground, but he is stronger - forcing you to take one step, and then another.

Dragging up dust that swirls around you, as each one pulls you further away from the battle.

Further away from him.

sen’ika - little bird

Thank you for reading 💚 part ix will be out thursday, the 27th!

(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @ri-a-rose, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ray-rook, @dumfanting, @bedky, @thirsty-boba-fett-posts, @dukeoftheblackstar, @lifelikefae, @pentaghasm, @izbelross, @margowritesthings)

#boba fett x you #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett smut #boba fett imagine

66 notes · View notes