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pedgito · 1 year

Note

YAY i’m so glad you’re writing again, i’ve missed it!! can i request some sweet and maybe kinda mischievous/giggly smut with eddie?

a/n: i have released myself from horny fic jail to bring you whatever this is, surely a mess. i'm slowly writing other fics but i needed to get back in my eddie groove. thank you for this!

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab!reader, unprotected sex, face sitting, light dom/sub (barely, if any), multiple orgasms

word count: 2k

Eddie’s fingers are dancing around the edge of your collar, cotton shirt worn with age and fraying in random places. He’s rubbing it between his fingers, flipping it over to watch it fall back into place, silent aside from the occasional huff of laughter that escapes him when he catches you looking at him.

He enjoys this—the times in between, the before, the after. The small moments of vulnerability when it’s just you and him and your breathing. He’s managed to rid you of your jeans, his own too, your legs slotted securely around his hips and his lap turning into a makeshift seat.

He’s maneuvered himself against the wall behind his bed, legs angled up to act as a support for your back as the hand that isn’t currently fiddling with your shirt is rubbing a gentle pattern up your leg, rings catching on the material of your underwear with each glide upwards.

“What’s going on up there?” You ask playfully, tapping a soft finger against the center of his forehead. Eddie glances your way, eyes angled up slightly—menacingly, with a grin to match.

“Don’t think I forgot about this morning.” Eddie responds, a softness to his tone that was unsettling, almost as if he’s speaking on a topic he loved, addressing the situation with ease.

This morning. Front seat. A hopeful quickie cut short by the sound of the school bell cutting through the silence. Eddie begged for a moment longer, but letting your grades suffer on the account of being late? You just wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, it was his fault you were running late, therefore the punishment had been dealt. But now, it was coming back to bite you.

“You are—“ The words die out on a squeal, his fingers digging into your sides until you’re keeling over, begging for mercy from the relentless tickling.

“Say it,” Eddie goaded, peeking up from where he had his face buried against your clothed chest, curls hanging in his face from how messy his hair had become during the short wrestle, “what am I?”

A list compiled in your head.

Funny. Caring. Obnoxious in the most loving way and a bunch of different traits that ultimately came back to the same point. But, the only thing that popped into your brain was—

“Ridiculous.”

Eddie nods, almost like he expected it.

“Go on.” He encourages.

“Selfish.”

It’s a total lie.

He responds all the same, but the difference is the fingertips gliding along the column of your throat, a delicate glide as his touch tickles until it’s in a firm grasp under your jaw. He’s not squeezing or taunting, just holding. It feels like a caress, but the look on his face says otherwise.

“Infuriating.” You breathe out, eyes flicking up toward the ceilings as you bare your neck and there it is—the small force of pressure you were waiting for.

“Right.” Eddie nods calmly, palm shifting out behind him as support as he leans forward, legs falling as he forces you backwards an inch, slotting your cunt directly over the hard line of his cock, constrained by the tight material of his boxers.

He repeats the three words calmly, punctuating them each with a kiss to the line of your throat as he ascends, stopping by his thumb, whispering a haughty, “Let’s see if I can change that.”

Eddie constantly lived his life in extremes. High highs, low lows, never settling on middle ground until he met you. He was teasing you, taunting you, mostly for your own pleasure but especially for his.

And he could admit that he was selfish when he wanted to be, but never with you. The words stung and ignited a fire, determined to change your mind.

His free hand curls a finger around the material clinging to your hip, teasing the soft skin underneath.

“Take these off for me?”

What an asinine question.

He releases his hold on you, watching you teeter from side to side as you shimmy the clothing down your hips, your legs, the material catching on your ankle in a way that has you giggling awkwardly. Eddie’s kind enough to lend a hand, his own laugh escaping as he reaches and discards them for you.

It’s worse this way, not providing the friction you so desperately crave. Skin to skin.

Eddie’s playing the long game.

“Go ahead,” Eddie encourages, “seeing as I’m selfish.”

“I was joking—“ You know it. He knows it.

“Ah ah,” He chided, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His dragging a full once over, thumb digging into the curve of your hip bones. He guides you forward gently, a tantalizing and teasing glide.

“Take what you need, baby.” His teeth peek through his grin, eyes crinkling in a way that had your insides fluttering. “I mean, unless…you’d rather I be selfish.”

You huff a breath through your nose, letting out a small yelp when Eddie jerks you forward roughly, expanding on the already growing wet patch on the front of his boxers.

“Go on,” He breathes, eyes slowly traversing to connect with your own, “touch me.”

It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, your hands slipping under his waistband, cupping him with a gentler hand than he expects before pulling him out with ease, shifting his boxers just far enough out of the way that they won’t be a nuisance and you’re slipping him inside you with no preparation.

It wasn’t like you needed it. You molded to him like the final piece of a puzzle, nothing but a soft release of breath shared between you both as you rock until you’re fully seated, hands pressed flat against his stomach for support, having shoved him down on his back with a force that has him laughing through a gruff expletive.

“Fuck,” He chuckles, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

This. You. All of it.

You nod knowingly, mouth hanging open in a quiet moan as your hips find a rhythm, alternating between a slow rock that catches your clit in a perfect pressure until Eddie gets slightly impatient, aiding in a subtle bounce until your ass is slapping against the front of his thighs at a hurried pace.

And it still isn’t enough, your body burning with desire. Your top comes off in haste, tangling with the shirt as Eddie slowly the pace for a moment, the material flying somewhere in the room haphazardly, a soft noise as it hits the floor and your fingers are struggling with the straps of your bra when it’s finally unclasped, all twisted up on the right side—your patience was wearing thin.

Eddie’s nose wrinkles in amusement, coming to an abrupt halt when he can’t watch you suffer any longer.

“Easy, easy.” He comforts you, amusement evident in his tone and face. He was enjoying this far too much. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“You say that about all of them.”

He can’t disagree.

“Because it’s true.” Eddie says defensively, “Every single one.”

You roll your eyes playfully, groaning when you resume the determined roll of your hips, clenching around the girth of him with every squeeze to your thigh, hips, watching as he falls apart beneath you so beautifully.

“That’s it,” He praises, eyes squeezed shut to focus, staving off the orgasm creeping up on him, “that’s good—so good, baby.”

Your head drops back, rhythm thrown out the window as you move wildly, aided by the unpredictable thrusts of Eddie’s hips. It’s the perfect view of your chest, the stretch of your body as you lean back in pleasure, moans following from your lips like a wave, gradually rising in volume.

“Always fuckin’ good for me,” Eddie admits, “shit—perfect. God, I can’t—“

“I can stop if—” You attempt, but god forbid Eddie let that happen.

“Don’t you dare,” He quickly deters you, “wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it.”

He’s still reeling from the morning high, cut too short and he feels like he’s ripping at the seams now, grabbing and panting into whatever bare skin he could reach as his thrusts falter, leaning up and pulling you toward him in the same motion, arms draping over his shoulders as he releases with a groan he’s been holding back, the tip of his nose running along your collarbone as he huffs in exhaustion, quickly dissolving into a laugh that turns into a full on giggle-fest, satiated by his own orgasm but feeling so giddy he can’t hold back.

And it’s infectious, your own soft laughs following as he pulls back enough to catch the blissful smile on your face, earlier conversations and arguments forgotten.

Eddie, however, is still very determined to prove you wrong.

He’s got his hands around your thighs before you can second guess yourself, hauling you up and over his chest, legs barricaded around his arms, knees pressed gently against the curve of his shoulder as he grins at you.

It’s so devious it has you clenching around nothing but the slow drip of his cum as it threatens to slip out of you. His fingers press inside you gently, eyebrows furrowing at the sensation.

“Didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, huh?” Eddie teases, “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

For one, you knew he wouldn’t let up until he was satisfied, giving you as many orgasms as you could handle until you were begging for a break.

The word was silly in hindsight, a freudian slip that managed to tick Eddie off just enough.

Selfish. Oh, he would show you.

Your answer never comes, silenced by the wet, warm press of his tongue over your clit as his fingers moved inside of you, a dueling pace between rhythms that had you thankful Eddie was experienced enough to manage them separately, so effortlessly. He liked to hum a particular song in his head, which he’d admitted once, but he’s never clued you in to what it actually was.

It has you snorting behind your hand that night, muffling the laugh that slips past your lips. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest and that’s exactly why you’re so amused.

It doesn’t take long either, fingers snagged tight around the curls at the crown of his head as you rock against his face, savoring the tiny grunts he releases, a sign that he enjoyed it just as much. You come with a sharp gasp, hips lifting up just enough that Eddie squeezes tight, not letting you wander far.

“Feeling okay?” Eddie asks after a moment, feeling your body settle.

“Yeah, yeah,” You respond shakily, “point proven, we’re even.”

“Oh…no,” Eddie argues playfully, “not even remotely close.”

You counter a look of disbelief, yelping when he shifts you suddenly and an arm is enveloping your waist to battle your current position and tucking you under him, a rough and calloused hand slapping at your thigh gently as he hikes it over his hip, a dull ache compared to the shaking, spasming muscles in your legs.

“I’m thinkin’ one, two—”

“Two?” Your eyes grow comically wide.

“Maybe three.” Eddie adds.

“Eddie.”

He knows it, that tone.

“Swear you didn’t mean it?” Eddie asks, pressing a quick kiss between the valley of your chest, eyes flicking up at you, all soft and resembling a sad puppy.

“Swear.”

But, it doesn’t stop him from pulling another orgasm out of you, along with another of his own as he finds himself back inside of you, lazily guiding you both to that point.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #and now i will disappear into my wips for pedro

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eyobis-andthe-bunnycats · 1 year

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Hey I love you! Since my buns were so well received last year, I’m rereleasing them at a larger size. Show off your Aromantic Spectrum Pride with a rabbit, convenient for this year of the rabbit too!

[ID Start: Four icons of various aromantic spectrum identities’ flags all with “aro-spec as heck” curving around a binkying dark brown dutch rabbit. First is the Aro-spec flag: green, light green, off-white, light navy, navy. Second is Aro Ace; orange, yellow, white, light blue, blue. Third is Allo Aro; green, light green, white, light yellow, yellow. Fourth is the Aromantic flag: dark green, light green, white, grey, black. /End ID.]

Free to use! No need to credit but you can if you want. This link will take you to the Non-SAM, Loveless, Demi, and Grey Aro flags. This one is for Aro-flux, fray, orchid, and cupio! And this one for akio/lith, aego, abro, and angled aro ace. More to come throughout ASAW 2023. DM or send an Ask for an aro flag request!

#pride flags #free pride icons #aromantic #aromantic spectrum #ASAW #rabbits #alloaro #aroace #image description #b-k describes #aro-spec as heck

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itneedsmoregays · 3 months

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A very Happy Valentine's Day to any ace, aro, aroace, gray, demi, cupio, abro, quio, placio, akoi, fray and everyone else on the asexual/aromantic spectrum reading this!

Maybe we don't love in the "normal" way, but we're not lonely or broken or cold unfeeling robots. We still love in our own way and are worthy of love!

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monarch-of-jack · 3 months

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I might be the only one here. But the reason I feel conflicted when I see people shipping and sexualizing Aspec characters, is because I don't trust most of you to be respectful about it. Not to mention some of you straight up arent.

Yes, Aspecs are an incredibly diverse group of people. I KNOW. I've been in their circles for well over 10 years. But do you all really care about that?

If you don't, then you're really just using it as an excuse to ignore their identities.

Let me make it very clear that I support exploring ALL the nuanced ways that someone can be Aspec. We are so much more varied than just sex-repulsed Aces and romance-repulsed Aros. (Though those are still valid experiences, don't shit on them!)

There are Allosexual Aromantics. There are Alloromantic Asexuals. Aspecs in Queerplatonic Relationships. Grey-Aspecs, Demi-Aspecs, Oriented AroAces, Cupio-, Flux-, Lith-, Fray-, Recipro- Aego-, and a million other types of Aspecs. It's a huge spectrum.

And orientation doesn't equal action. There are sex/romance favorable Aspecs. There are kinky & kink favorable Aspecs. Aces that have and have had sex for whatever reason. Aros that are and have been in romantic relationships for whatever reason. Maybe they felt pressured. Maybe they were experimenting. Maybe they were still finding themselves. Maybe they were forced. Maybe they do it for their partner. Maybe they do it for money or their image. Maybe they just like it despite lacking attraction. Aspecs are people. They are all different and all equally valid in how they live their lives.

A character being Aspec literally just means they're lacking attraction in one way or another. So there's still endless possibilities in creating canon and fanon for them.

But are most of you really shipping characters like Alastor, Peridot, Jughead and co. as Aspecs, or are you looking for excuses to disregard their identity?

Have you actually educated yourself about their identities so you can portrait them accurately and respectfully? Are you infantilizing and patronizing them or make them act stupid? Do you make them pitiful, antisocial, or 'difficult to deal with'? Are you arguing with Aspec people when they point out something is problematic? Are you accepting input from Aspec people? Do you explain that you're shipping/sexualizing that Aspec character because of your specific headcanon or AU? Do you get angry if you have to clarify that after the fact? If you as an Allo, ship or sexualize Aspec characters, do you really do it with them still being Aspec?

The thing is, you can. But a lot of you don't. And that's why Aspec people react defensifely.

We have little to no representation in the media as it is. And yet you're annoyed when we ask you not to diminish or erase their identities.

I want to see Aspecs in all kinds of situations and with all sorts of preferences. But way too many of you are ready to shit on Aspec identities to get your fanon out.

I could go on for days about this. But the fact that some of you will get angy that I even made this post is exactly what I'm talking about.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #asexual #aromantic #aroace #aspec #jughead #riverdale #peridot #steven universe #demisexual #greysexual #demiromantic #greyromantic #aspec community #aspec pride

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isa-ghost · 1 month

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was reading through your q!phil hc masterpost and was wondering if you could add any of your codebreakers/etoilza headcanons into the fray…? :3

YESSSS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK THIS LONG TO GET ASKED /LH

qPhil headcanons masterlist

RESTATES for my and your convenience (heads up, there are suggestive/mildly explicit mentions!!):

--He's FWB with Etoiles. Extremely QPR, Etoiles is an aro king --He and Phil started out as friends and that has Barely changed if at all, but sparring matches get a little too homoerotic sometimes and neither of them can resist the other when they're popping off extra hard. Things have. Escalated a few times. If yknow what I mean. Of all Phil's harem members polycule partners, he & Etoiles have absolutely ZERO emotional investment in the Spicy(tm) things they do together. It's simply a very intimate way of showing each other their respect & admiration for the other. What they have going on is a "*spanks you* good game, let's hit the showers team" kinda deal. They're the type of mfs to finish in bed then shake hands like "gg." Casual sex is >>>> to these two, but it happens waaay less between them than it did Phil & Fit, Fitza was habitual (pre-Pac). Codebreakers is a once in a while thing --Etoiles has 100% asked Phil who fucks the best out of the polycule bc like everything else, it's a competition & he Must win, he Must have the best dick game. This amuses Phil very much --Phil is attracted to Etoiles the same way he's attracted to Fit, HOWEVER, the reasoning is different. Etoiles has raw skill and talent, but it's the way he wields it and demonstrates it that makes Phil wanna act up. Also Etoiles is fucking hilarious. Who can resist a good sense of humor? Those dramatics make Phil swoon --Etoiles is one of the people who is best at catching Phil's Tells for when something is wrong --Etoiles is one of few people who can convince (or goad) Phil into doing something he normally wouldn't, especially if he's drunk --Speaking of Phil being drunk around Etoiles, the way he can still absolutely body someone or snipe smth from miles away makes Etoiles want to kiss him stupid --Etoiles left a scar on Phil's back during Purgatory when he killed him Day 1. Phil didn't know for the longest time, but it took him a while to show him his wings after that. --Phil was genuinely afraid of Etoiles (& Fit) for a while after Purgatory --Sometimes Phil's laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles. --Phil goes back and forth on gifting one of his shed feathers to Etoiles --Technically all of the Polycule vs Ender King hcs apply to Etoiles in some way --Phil could listen to Etoiles teach him about French culture for hours

And now the new stuff :D

Etoiles's dramatics can get Phil in tears laughing. His sides and stomach will hurt before it's over, and Etoiles can go on for MINUTES. Sometimes he'll keep going purely because it has Phil dying so hard and he loves seeing what a kick Phil gets out of it

Etoiles is (playfully) salty that Phil is such a My Kids Come First kinda guy bc GOD does he want Phil to be down to do dangerous pvp and dungeon busting shit without the "euuu we gotta make sure it's safe" aspect more often. He wants that Angel of Death. Etoiles is the #1 Dadza (Derogatory) islander /lh

See, Fitza is more explicit and deadass about their,, Time together. Codebreakers is more subtle. Yknow that "media literacy is knowing when something that isn't gay sex is gay sex" post? That's Codebreakers. Sparring, dungeon busting, whatever high-risk high-exertion thing they're doing together. That.

It should go without saying how down Etoiles would be to throw hands with Ender King. It would be the most exhilarating fight he's ever had

Phil's still lowkey lost about the whole resistance thing. And schedules lately have not been kind to the two of them, so he hasn't had a chance to talk about it with Etoiles as extensively about it as he'd like to

Btw he's secretly concerned as hell smth bad is gonna happen to Etoiles if more of his body becomes corrupted by code :)

They 100% refer back to the time Etoiles said this regularly, and similar things like it. The same can be said for Fitza but my god the extent to which these two are more than willing to kill for each other. OUGH.

Phil does not realize how much pent up stress and emotion he can vent out via sparring or hitting something really fucking hard. Etoiles is going to fix that one day.

Phil's Etoiles impression has made Etoiles attempt to learn how to mimic Phil in retaliation but he cannot for the life of him get the hang of Phil's fuckass accent. Geordies stay winning to this man's dismay

Etoiles is frustratingly yet fascinatingly hard for Phil to clock sometimes. It's difficult to gauge exactly how he's feeling or what he's thinking. And yet as inconvenient that can be sometimes, something about it is incredibly attractive to Phil at the same time. Which is funny because unpredictability is usually not something his survivalist brain would like. Something about how he trusts Etoiles and therefore his being a wildcard is not so scary,,

Etoiles 🤝🏻 Chayanne - Wanting Phil to take them on a flight

I don't know if I'd call Etoiles an anarchist the same way I would Phil, but either way he is SO DOWN to fuck with the Feds if it entails any kind of pvp or the need to be geared up

Ok listen I have to call back to the gay sex subtext thing. Things that are more sex than gay sex to Codebreakers: Sparring, adrenaline, battles of wit, flexing powerful gear, thinking too much about what an absolute potential killing machine the other is, watching one another be in The Zone during a fight

Phil has more physical strength than skill with weapons and Etoiles has more skill with weapons than physical strength. Ok now imagine that while they're in a 2v# fight

I would not put it past Etoiles to pull a Missa and say smth wildly out of pocket and suggestive so fast in French that Phil doesn't catch it.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qphil headcanons #qsmp etoiles #q!etoiles #etoiles #codebreakers #qsmp codebreakers #q!codebreakers

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megalony · 9 months

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We're Occupied

This is a new Jonah Hauer-King imagine, requested by the lovely @daydreamerwithnohobbies I hope this is okay for you. Thank you for everyone with the kind messages, I'm thrilled so many of you are enjoying my Jonah stories. Any requests are great to keep me inspired.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys @luna2034

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) never thought a new dress would rile up the jealous side in Jonah. But it does. And the party suddenly gets very interesting.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a few seconds, maybe minutes, (Y/n) leaned in the doorway to the bathroom that was only partially open, allowing her half a glance at her partner hidden away inside.

Even a partial sideways glimpse of him told (Y/n) all she needed to know; he looked good.

The black button up shirt he was wearing was a little too small for him now but he somehow made a tight fit look stylish, desirable even. especially with the first three buttons undone to allow his arms to actually move. (Y/n) thought he would have matched the shirt with a pair of high-waisted trousers, give off the smart but sexy vibe since they were going out to a party. Instead, he'd decided on an old black pair of jeans that were frayed completely around the ankles and almost bare at the knees. They made him look even better.

The cherry on top of the cake was the leather jacket though, that he was currently slipping over his arms. (Y/n) hadn't seen him wear it very often and he was the type of person to get very flustered and hot very easily so he didn't wear jackets. He had them hooked over one shoulder so if (Y/n) got cold, she had something to wear to keep warm.

Looking at him right now, (Y/n) almost felt like drooling. The last bit of effort was pushing his shortened curls further back on his head and he was ready to dazzle.

A whisp of hair in the mirror caught Jonah's attention but when he spun round towards the doorway, the flash disappeared around the corner.

With a crinkling smile that revealed his hidden dimples, he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and left the bathroom, slowly walking back to the bedroom where he knew (Y/n) had scampered back off to. Jonah thought it was cute when she watched him get ready, it was like a calming mechanism or a fascination to her and it always made his heart jump.

"That's new… you sure you're going with that one?" Jonah's voice was careful, no hint of condescending but there was something traced in his voice that made (Y/n) shiver when she turned round.

Feral.

Rabid, dark eyes.

Clenched fists to remain in control.

This reaction was miles better than (Y/n) had hoped for, it was unexpected but very much welcomed.

She'd never worn this dress before and if she was being honest, she wasn't sure about wearing it tonight, but Jonah's reaction boosted her confidence enough to make her smile brightly at him.

It had thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders, connecting down to a very low cut, V-neck dress that just about covered her cleaveage enough to not be classed as exposing. It was covered in silver sequins that glistened in the light and looked like a heart shape covering her chest but it was so low that (Y/n) couldn't wear a bra, not even a strapless one because it would show up. The back of the dress was a lot lower than her shoulders, it started halfway down her back so a bra was definitely out of the question.

There was a thick black ribbon around the waist, tied in an elegant bow at the back and then the lower part of the dress was a few, very thin laced material layers bunched together that twirled outwards when she spun round. It didn't even touch her knees, it stopped halfway down her thighs.

The dress, all in all, wasn't exactly revealing, but it wasn't concealing either. The perfect combination to make Jonah drool and other people stare without being given too much to look at.

(Y/n) had curled her hair and pinned half of it back with a bow clip to match the bow around her waist. She thought she looked lovely and by the look in her boyfriend's eyes, he thought the same.

Jonah subconsciously licked his lips when (Y/n) smiled at him in a way that made his knees go weak.

Her pretty, crimson painted lips looked so devilish and edible and inviting and it was giving him a problem. A big problem.

Something akin to a growl left his lips at the sight of that smile. She smiled in such a sickly sweet way, as if she had no idea what he meant or what kind of reaction she was getting from him. She looked so innocent, stood there in front of him, in front of the mirror, too pure and innocent to understand just what she was doing to him and what she would do to everyone else when they arrived at the party.

But in truth it was the exact opposite, she knew what was going to happen, it was crystal clear and written in stone how this night was going to play out.

Jonah didn't say that he didn't like the dress, he couldn't say he didn't like the dress, which was entirely the point. The loved it on her frame in a way that was enchanting to him but Jonah didn't want anyone else to fall under the spell (Y/n) was casting on him. It was too tempting; she was too tempting to him in that dress.

"I thought you'd like it. We should go or we'll end up being late."

(Y/n) took a lasting look in the mirror but she could still see Jonah in the corner of the mirror, drinking in her image like he'd been dehydrated all his life. She hadn't bothered with much make up, she never really did and the dress was enough all on its own.

She approached Jonah with an added air of caution. It had taken them both long enough to get ready and they didn't have much time to get to the party before people would notice they weren't there. If she flaunted herself too much or said the wrong thing, they wouldn't be leaving the bedroom at all tonight.

She tried to keep a thin wall of space between them but when Jonah's hands easily found her hips, he reeled her in like a fish on a hook and he didn't even have to try. Her hands found his chest that was becoming strained against his already too small shirt that was ready to pop. His breaths were slow, calculated, deep. Cunning.

"I think it's my new favourite, but I'm not sharing with anyone else." There was a daring glimmer in Jonah's eyes that demanded control of a situation he had no grasp on.

He loved every aspect of (Y/n), every scar on her body, every hair on her head and every laugh held within her chest. But he wasn't so good when others started to notice her too. If she gained such a reaction out of him, what would it do to anyone else who saw her tonight? Jonah didn't want to think what would go through their heads once they saw (Y/n) and he didn't want anyone to think the kind of things he did when he looked at her.

He could already feel the little demon sitting on his shoulder, spilling words and taunts into his ear like poison dripping through to his brain.

It was so tempting to pick her up and throw her down on the bed and announce that they weren't going anywhere tonight. Jonah could have hours of fun right here, right now by ripping that dress to the floor and replacing it with the bedsheets.

They didn't have to go out.

“Who says you have to share?” Her voice came out small and sweet. It almost felt like a game.

(Y/n) knew the limits, she knew how far she could taunt, tease and push Jonah until he walked over the edge and everything changed. She knew how to rile him up without trying and it was already starting.

There was a jealous streak woven into Jonah's DNA. He would never admit it was there, he would never let it show around or in front of anyone else, but (Y/n) knew it was there and she knew when it showed in his words and his actions. It wasn't a dark or tormenting trait but it was a powering trait that boarded on sexy when he got riled.

Daring to lift up onto her tiptoes just a little, (Y/n) let her lips hover barely an inch away from his neck right over his throbbing pulse that was beating so fast, so hard just to try and catch her lips. She barely managed to press an open, wet kiss on his skin beneath his ear before a hand suddenly grasped her chin. Fingers pressed firmly into her skin and her head was tilted up to meet his hardening gaze that cut straight down to her stomach.

"I mean it, I don't share. And we could just stay here," His lips grazed the edge of her ear and sent lightning striking down to her knees. "The bed is right there,"

(Y/n) turned her head to the right until their eyes met, not realising she was biting down on her lip until Jonah's thumb hooked over her lower lip and pulled it free. His offer was tempting, it took every ounce of strength she held deep inside of her not to give in and let him back her up on the bed and pin her own for the rest of the night.

A small kiss to his lips only made him growl and (Y/n) realised she was starting to wind him up than calm him down; it wouldn't be a good idea to play this close with fire.

"Come on, don't want to be late, do we?"

This was going to be a long and interesting night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His grip on his glass was tight, so tight in fact that just a little more pressure would have his fingers splintering through the glass and spread shards along with his cocktail all over the floor.

Jonah couldn't keep track nor concentration on the conversation flowing through the room when (Y/n) was stood so close to him like this. She was stood by his side, her hip pushing into his leg where he was sat on the bar stool in the crowded kitchen. If he really wanted to, he could pull her over and perch her on his lap. But he didn't. He couldn't handle any more proximity when they were in public because he wouldn't be able to control himself.

He didn't know who was talking anymore or what they were talking about, the voices were just background static blending in with the music that was pounding through his head.

He wanted to go home.

They had been here nearly two hours already and it was two hours too long.

Never before had a dress had such an effect on him like this one and he didn't like it, not one bit. That dress needed to be on the bedroom floor and they needed to be at home, away from people that were turning his brain to mush and the alcohol that was making him buzz to the point he could barely sit still anymore.

When (Y/n) looped her arm around the back of his neck and shoulders, it brought Jonah out of the trance he had fallen into and a smile flooded his face when he looked over at her. She wasn't really listening either, he could see it in her eyes, this conversation was boring her as well.

Switching his glass to his other hand, Jonah swooped his right arm around her and pulled her closer until she was leaning on his chest to steady herself and stay upright. He could see the sparkle twinkling in her eyes when his fingertips smoothed over the back of her thigh like he was writing a secret message to her that no one else could see.

He let his fingers stay there for a while, staying light as a feather over her skin, not applying any pressure at all so the touch was soothing and comforting. He waited until her attention tried to go back to the conversation to move his fingers under the hem of her dress and hold the top of her thigh, just below her underwear.

That got her attention.

The pads of his fingers pressed firmer into her soft flesh, squeezing and occasionally pinching to gain the right reaction. A hitched breath, a tightening hand on his shoulder, her lips pressing into his hair so she didn't make a sound anyone else would hear.

Even when (Y/n) moved to stand between his legs, his hand stayed where it was, even wandering beneath her underwear when he got a surge of adrenaline from her smile.

Both (Y/n)'s arms looped around the back of his neck loosely and she watched his neck muscles tense when she scratched at the small hairs in the middle of his neck. It made him pinch her bum in response but he didn't say a word, just kept his lips pressed together and narrow eyes that watched her closely.

Her chest pressed up against his and she leaned her weight onto him, letting him hold her up and keep her steady. Even sitting down on a bar stool like this, Jonah still looked tall, (Y/n) was barely higher than him standing between his legs like this. But she took the opportunity to kiss his temple, gasping when her nose buried in his hair when he dipped his head down suddenly. His lips latched onto her skin between the low V neckline of her dress and she knew she could feel his teeth nipping at her skin.

Two could play Jonah's game.

He pulled up for air as if he'd been submerged deep below the ocean but the dazed look in his eyes and the goofy smile on his face made (Y/n)'s knees go weak. It was a look that could get him anything he wanted and he knew it.

"Are you ready to go home?" His words were quiet, (Y/n) had to read his lips to understand what he was asking her and with her hooded lashes, gentle curved smile and breathless chest, she almost agreed. Almost.

Jonah leaned back a little further, tempting fate when (Y/n) leaned too because if he went back any further and lost control, they would both topple to the floor. He straightened his chest and tensed his back to keep them both at a slanted but upright position while he waited for the answer he was hoping would be a yes. In fact, he was certain it would be a yes when he felt her hand move from his neck to rest on his thigh and her nails scratched into his jeans like she wanted to rip them off then and there.

(Y/n) watched him raise his glass to his grinning lips, she saw his teeth graze the rim of the glass like he was about to bite it as he took a large gulp of whatever cocktail he had been given.

Then she moved her hand up to his crotch.

It was unexpected.

With her body leaned into his and one arm around his neck, no one could see the subtle movement that gave Jonah an electric shock. The martini trickled down his lips towards his chin and made him swallow prematurely until he was spluttering into his empty glass that had tipped down his shirt, trying to hide his coughing.

"Just a little longer baby."

As soon as he stopped coughing, he felt a butterfly kiss dropping to his lips before all the touch was gone completely and he was sat watching in awe and anger as (Y/n) turned away. Her hips swayed as she glided from the kitchen, curls bouncing over her shoulders.

She left him. She left him sat there, flustered, his shirt drenched in alcohol, his chest heaving from coughing and a rush of blood and a problem in his crotch.

That wasn't fair.

After two more drinks that managed to get into his system rather than down his shirt, Jonah had had enough of this party.

His eyes had been locked on (Y/n) all night, even after she caused problems and left him hanging on by a single thread about to snap. So when she excused herself from a group near the back doors and made her way towards the hallway, he figured she was going up to the bathroom.

He downed the remnants of whiskey in his glass, ran a hand over his face to shake off the disgruntled feeling and headed towards the stairs. Two could play this game and he was going to make damn sure he won.

There were three people waiting in the hallway outside the bathroom when he reached the top of the stairs which told Jonah (Y/n) was already in the bathroom. An air of confidence surrounded him when he leaned up against the wall beside the bathroom door. He had one foot pressed up against the wall and both arms crossed over his chest with his head tilted back like he was staring up at the ceiling, waiting to see the stars.

Shaking her hands to rid the excess droplets of water, (Y/n) rubbed her hands over her arms quickly before she opened the bathroom door.

Not a moment sooner, before she managed to take one step out of the room, a hand dug into the door like claws scratching into the wood for leverage. Fear rippled down (Y/n)'s spine until a familiar flop of hair came into view and those dark eyes she had been staring into all night appeared before her.

"Hey mate! There's a queue here."

With one hand on the door and the other suddenly on (Y/n)'s hip, she realised Jonah meant business and she wouldn't be leaving the bathroom just yet. The poor man seemingly desperate for relief was going to have to look elsewhere as Jonah stepped into the room, blocking (Y/n)'s view out and anyone's creeping view of her.

"And we're occupied." That was the only explination Jonah was willing to give before he shoved the door closed and fumbled around behind him to find the lock so he didn't have to tear his gaze away from (Y/n).

(Y/n) didn't know what to do with herself now.

She had suceeded in what she wanted to do tonight; she had wound Jonah up well and truly past the point of no return. Something she had never done before and never thought about until recently.

Her hands rubbed over her exposed thighs to dismiss the excess energy rippling through her blood and give her something to do while she waited. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for or what Jonah was waiting for but she wanted him to make the first move, whatever that may be. He had pushed in here for a reason but now they were alone, enclosed in a cramped space together, all he did was stare at her.

His eyes bore into hers, searching for something in the darkness of her pupils while one corner of his lip twitched, desperate to curve into a smile but his face wouldn't allow it. Not yet.

"Do you like winding me up?"

Finally, he spoke. His question was off putting because he spoke so calmly as if he was asking her for a cigarette or for her favourite movie. It contrasted greatly to the fire burning in his eyes.

He reached out carefully, calculated, to brush a curl away from her cheek and back behind her ear where it had been earlier. As he did so, the tip of his fingers grazed over her neck before his hand moved round to cup the back of her neck. His hold wasn't tight or dangerous or threatening but it was empowering and bold. The smooth pad of his thumb grazed down the middle of her throat, rubbing against the lump that was forming as she debated how to answer when he was touching her like this.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The response angered him, she could tell. It infuriated him because she sounded so sincere as if she truly didn’t understand why he was so het up. Confusion feigned on her features as her doe eyes stared up into his own.

“Don’t play with me sweetheart. I asked you a question.”

His words were having a bad effect, but his hands were having an even worse effect. (Y/n) could feel his fingers digging sensationally into the back of her neck while his free hand was delicate and light as he toyed with the strap of her dress. He hooked a finger under the thin strap and with a simple flick of his wrist, the strap fell down her arm and loosened the shape and protection of her dress across her cleavage.

“Yes.”

“Thought so.” He seemed to be talking to himself more than responding to her.

Jonah's eyes weren't boring into her own anymore, he was concentrating on her dress that was slowly sliding down and watching how (Y/n) shifted her weight from one foot to the other in anticipation.

"You know, this would look a lot better on the floor."

A shiver bolted down (Y/n)'s spine and shot down to the tips of her fingers when it registered what he'd said. Was he being serious? There was a queue for the bathroom and if people couldn't get in, they were going to go and complain until someone was banging on the door demanding for them to finish up and get out. They'd get caught, people would find out. People would wonder where they had slipped off to and they couldn't go to another party without people watching them closely, wondering if they were going to find a room to cop off in.

The thought was exhilarating and it seemed to send Jonah into a thrill. They had never done this before, he had never suggested something like this before.

Before he had the chance to mess with her other strap and completely strip her then and there, (Y/n) trailed her fingers down his chest that was sticky and glued to his shirt from the spilled drink. She didn't have to look down to be able to pop all the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders until it was clinging onto his arms by the elbows.

It freed up a lot of skin, a lot of grounds for (Y/n) to cover and as soon as her lips connected to his collar bone, she felt his breathing change. She parted her lips and grazed her teeth against his skin, making a marked trail over the top of his chest and up the side of his neck, sucking a bruise as she went along.

The touch caused him to react, his fingers suddenly dug into her neck and his other hand left her dress to squeeze her hip bruisingly when he felt her biting down on his jaw.

"Oh, I don't think so."

(Y/n) gasped when he pounced.

In less than a second he'd pushed her back into the sink that dug into her lower back just above her hips, but not for long. Both Jonah's hands moved to her thighs and in a swift movement he lifted her up and sat her down on the edge of the sink, stealing her breath away as he did so.

She didn't make a fuss when his hands curled around her knees and slowly parted them so he could fit between her legs and press up against her.

"You made me spill my drink and gave me a bit of a problem out there. I'm not letting you get away with that."

"Never dreamed you would."

(Y/n) hooked her hand around his neck and pulled him close enough so she could reach out and take his lower lip between her teeth. A small tug had him groaning but sucking on his lip had him growling like a beast about to snap.

In retaliation, Jonah grabbed both straps of her dress and wrenched them down to her hips in a flash, exposing her chest to the cold air and his darkening eyes. His brows raised at her gasp and his grin- somewhat morphed by (Y/n)'s teeth- turned crooked and devouring as he punctured his fingers into her hips.

"You know there's a queue outside?" Word were mumbled between kisses, desperate wet lips parting and touching again, devouring and consuming with eagerness that radiated around the room.

His temple pressed down against hers but he couldn't help himself from laughing. (Y/n) was so nervous about people finding out or banging on the door an interrupting them, but it didn't stop her hands from finding the buckle of his belt and undoing it.

"Relax, we've got time."

"But-"

"Shh. You're mine now."

#jonah x reader #jonah imagine #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king #imagine

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firbetmakes · 11 months

Text

Ready for Your Morning Coffee?

First up for introductions is the Aroace Barista! They make the best lattes in the business and always have a smile on their face (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

I based their outfit off a Tarte au Citron (lemon tart) which was so much fun to try and interpret. Lots of fun messing around the colours with this doggo.

Aroace: Someone who has a low or absent romantic and sexual attraction to others

Pride Art Tag - Challenge｜Poster ｜Aroace｜Aro｜Ace｜Aspec｜Agen｜Flux｜Fray｜Litho｜Recip

#aspec pride #pride month #digital art #aroace #furry #lgbtqia #artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #aspectrum #aro #anthro #ace #wolf #animal #oc #original character #illustration #lgbt #queer

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saradika · 10 months

Text

— WASTELAND, BABY

v. you are unbreaking, though quaking

[masterlist] | [part iv]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 4.2k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, mentions of violence & wounds, guns & weapon training, flirting during said training, mild body horror (descriptions of Fennec’s injury and modifications)

The meeting of a new friend, a very interesting lesson, and an afternoon spent lending a hand.

It's not long before you're taking Boba up on his offer.

A chance meeting in the marketplace - a dip of your head from across an aisle as you pass by. He's deep in conversation with a shop owner, a glint from the sun catching on the dark visor as his head tilts in your direction.

All it takes is two beckoning fingers for you to abandon your plans, veering off the path to wait quizzically next to him. Wondering if he had some task for you, something you needed to run to the Mandalorian, or Fennec.

"I was going to see her." He tells you, cryptically - as the conversation quickly wraps up, "I was hoping to run into you. Would you like to come?"

Your brain trips helplessly over his words - a little jolt as you remember, “Oh! Yes, please.”

With a nod, you're following after him. Back through the streets, though you circle around the tall set of stairs to an entrance in the back.

Entering the Palace at the ground level - winding your way inside an refurbished underground parking garage, until you're arriving at a set of metal double-doors, tightly bolted shut.

Boba pauses then, as you hover at his shoulder.

Removing his helmet to clip it to his belt, his gaze shifting your way. Thinking for a moment, before he retrieves a bundle of cloth from the bag that hangs from a shoulder - passing it to you.

You frown, as it unfolds. A soft and worn black shirt - long sleeves and fraying at the edges.

"Put this on. I thought perhaps, if your smell was familiar, she might be more comfortable." He explains.

Understanding dawns, and you resist the urge to bring the shirt - his shirt - to your nose and inhale.

"Of course." You murmur - slipping it over your head, pushing the sleeves up your arms.

"You ready?" He asks, and you just miss the slow sweep of his eyes as you tuck the edge of the shirt into the waistband of your trousers.

The nerves are still rattling around in your chest, but you nod, "Yes."

He unlocks the doors with a key from one of his pouches, a press of a bare thumb to the pad bolted on the wall. The doors are thick - grinding and loud as they open inwards, gradually letting in light.

Walking in confidently, as you trail just behind. Shoulders hunched, your heartbeat skyrocketing as you see the swish of something large and shadowed. A skittering of stones and sand shifting with the weight of a heavy foot.

One step, and then another. The arc of light from the opened door spilling out, slowly revealing the creature as she moves closer. A rumble of a deep growl that has your chest pressing into his arm, the sound of a nose snuffling.

The growl pitches up, and then it's moving. Covering the ground faster than you thought possible, as your fingers dig into the canvas covering his bicep.

Your breath catches in your throat as it lopes forward on four legs. Thrusting itself into that light - and all you can see is the snarl of sharp teeth, curling horns, it's gray, leathery skin.

You can't help it - your head presses into his shoulder as your eyes shut. Reading about them wasn't the same as seeing. Even though time has passed in the now, there were just some things your mind hasn't managed to wrap around.

Like 9-foot tall beasts that could almost swallow you whole.

Hot breath washes over you, an inhale as she sniffs both you and Boba. He coos at her, his body shifting as his other arm raises, stroking the bridge of her nose.

Your eyes peek open, then. Seeing the way her eyes shut, the low rumble as she pushes into his touch. They way he smiles like a proud father has your grip loosing, and then he's curling an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Muchi, I've brought a friend today." His voice is low and soothing, "She wanted to meet you."

His head tilts towards you, taking on a quieter tone, "Are you doing alright?"

Heat rises in your neck, curling up to your cheeks as you squeak, "Just fine."

He laughs, that grip around you tightening. The touch on her nose changes to a scratching at her jaw, as she rumbles again.

"You’re a good girl. Aren't you?"

You never thought you'd be jealous of a deathclaw, but his praise does something to you. Suddenly aware of how he's holding you, how your hand splays across the armor covering his chest.

It takes all your strength to drag your eyes away from him. Up to her, to actually take her in under the flickering bulb above.

She's fascinating, something like awe settling over you now - like the time you had seen the life-like model of a tyrannosaurus rex at the museum. Marveling over her size, even as she crouches to lower her head to his level.

A shift of her feet brings you down to her claws - each one long, deadly sharp.

Still an apex predator, even here.

"Would you like to touch her?" He asks, and your eyes are widening.

"Do you think she will let me?"

"She will." His head cocks to the side, "Do you trust me?"

You do. You nod.

Boba's hand takes yours, mapping your fingers. Carefully and slowly bring it up to her muzzle, patting your fingers against her cheek - just under a bright, golden eye.

Muchi makes another noise at that. It sounds almost happy, and you find yourself smiling. Fingers gently petting the rough skin, her eyes shutting in what you think is contentedness.

Your opinion of her swift rises.

"She's beautiful." You breathe, your smile widening, "Is she... is she happy, here?"

The room extends into darkness. Transformed from a storage space for machinery into something akin to outside. Large boulders, a scattering of small shrubs.

When you look at him, he's always watching you. A flicker of his expression as he masks the hint of tenderness, but it still lingers with his smile.

"She is. They prefer darkness and quiet for their nests." He explains, "Sometimes at night I take her out to roam. She takes direction well enough."

The arm stays carefully wrapped around you. Keeping you close, selfishly, protectively. Only stepping away from when she becomes restless, a swishing of her tail as she noses at his bag - smelling the food tucked inside.

Chasing after the pieces he throws, as his rumbling laugh brightens the space.

Yours, soon joining.

Time ticks away - and when you finally leave, you don't think to offer to give his shirt back.

And he doesn't ask, either.

Your days in Mos Espa continue to pass - each one bleeding into the next. You have been feeling a little more grounded each day, getting used to the routines.

More familiar faces, acquaintances that inch into something more.

You learn the Mandalorian's name. Din. It's gifted to you close to two months after that first walk around the city. Fennec's odd jobs often included ones for him - collecting and pieces that he could use on his own Power Armor set. Trading for fusion cores to power it.

Part of you wondered whether he just grew tired of you calling him Mando all the time, thought he was called that often enough. But eventually, you decided that maybe - just maybe, you were friends.

Perhaps because you bring him snacks, or because you ask him about his foundling. He's opened up a little, since the beginning - sentences growing longer. You can recognize the tilt of his helmet to mean one thing, now. The cock of his hip as he leans, as another.

You pick up things about Fennec, as well.

Right now, you're tying not to look at her hands too often, where they drift to press against her abdomen. The way she seems distracted, her answers coming a little more slowly.

Lingering, after you had dropped off what she had asked for - a small crate of copper, from Goodneighbor - to repair the generators that went down during the last big storm. The first of the shipments exchanged with the new supply line, their courier meeting you just outside Mos Espa.

It had been strange to step outside, through the line of barbed wire and tall, stone walls. Not that you couldn't see it from the windows of the Palace, but just the vastness sprawling in front of you - a reminder that you don't know what the world looks like, anymore.

Eventually, you can't help but ask.

"Are you alright?"

Her face is a swirl of emotions - the briefest flicker of appreciation. Quickly covered with annoyance, not wanting to be fussed over.

Not her style.

"I will be, later." She brushes the question off, but it's half-hearted. A glance outside, checking the angle of the sun for time, as she hands you a stained slip of paper, "I have one last thing. Can you give this to Din? He has something for me, and you're supposed to start training with him."

"Training?" You frown.

"Yes, training." Her smile is small, the slightest curve of your lips, "We all know you don't know how to use that."

The toe of her boot extends, to the holster around your waist. Where the gun from the farmhouse remains, never removed.

You don't even know if it's loaded - you just know that the safety is on, and it's stayed that way. More to blend in, than anything else.

"I think I've been managing okay," You hedge, resisting the urge to fidget with the brass buckle at your waist.

"Mm, well this comes from the boss," Her grin turns sharp, "So you'll have to take it up with him."

Your stomach flips at the reference. It had been hard not to think about him - the night he came to your room. His questions, something about them feeling more pointed than just merely "checking in".

Daydreaming about that stolen moment of time, tucked against him when you had met Muchi. Your brain twisting the moment late at night - making you unsure whether that touch - his shirt - had just been his attempt at comfort and safety, or whether it had something more.

The occasional run-ins after had left you feeling the same. Leaving you wondering if his gaze really did seem more intense, lately. If he had been closing the polite gap that most people held, standing a little closer than you remember he did before.

Each time, you decide that it's just your imagination.

Wishful thinking.

Fennec mistakes your silence for sullenness, her tone softening.

"I think it would be good for you. To know you can defend yourself, if you ever need to."

She's right - you still have dreams about the farmhouse. Waking up with a gasp, brow dotted with sweat. So different than the old dreams - those slow loops you had been stuck in, day after day.

Year after year, more like.

So, you find yourself agreeing - trotting off to the edge of town. Where the group of houses break apart and then fade, where the cobblestone turns to dirt roads. Off to find Din, or so you've been told.

You find him, the sun glinting off the shining silver of his armor. A row of crates lines up to make a barrier, a handful of younglings in the mid to late teens taking turns at the makeshift range, under closer supervision.

A wash of emotions come over you - a sadness that those at such a young an age are learning this. Unable to help the small smile at the way they turn their heads for approval as they hit a target - looking for Din. His soft "good job, kid" that leaves them beaming.

A curl of embarrassment - at having to practice with them, worrying you'll make a fool of yourself.

He sees you coming, a tilt to his head and his hip as he keeps watch. Taking the paper, reading it quickly before tucking it into his bags.

"Was wondering when you'd be sent my way." Din greets you, helmet tilting down as his gloves ghost over the guns resting on the makeshift table. Halting on a long rifle, before passing it over to you.

It's heavy and solid in your arms, as he walks you to the end. Fishing a few bullets out the pouches at his waist, carefully conserved. Scarce in the Wasteland - a reminder to take this seriously.

"This is uh-, a lot bigger than I was expecting," You trail behind him, as he guides you down to the end of the range.

Showing you the basics - where the safety is, how to hold it in your arms, nudging your feet into position.

Your first shot going so far wide that it disappears into the Wasteland. Fingers fumbling as you copy how he ejected the old casing, replacing it with a new one.

Wanting desperately to do well, but it’s hard with him standing at your shoulder. Silent as a statute, but it doesn’t make you feel any less pathetic.

The next round goes just as poorly.

“I’m making you nervous.” He observes, stepping back. Placing a few more bullets on the barrier, “Take some time, get comfortable with the weight, and try again.”

You can breathe again, when he leaves. Hoisting it back into place, peering down the sights.

Barely grazing the upper right corner of the target, but at least you’re hitting something now.

When you look up again, there’s no glint of silver. Replaced with a swatch of green instead, your eyes drawn so easily to it as Boba moves down the line, as Din had.

The younglings settle, with their new teacher. The idle teasing and chatter disappearing as they begin to concentrate.

Rewarded with solemn nods of his head, that they eagerly soak up. Advice taken with wide eyes, their attention transfixed as he crouches - pointing down at the targets.

A clap on the shoulder as their stance is adjusted, something murmured that makes them beam.

When he finally reaches you, you’re realizing you’re been staring this whole time - the rifle dipping down towards the ground, brushing against the grass.

There’s the quirk of his lips as his eyes meet yours, as you smile at him in greeting. But then he’s gesturing with two fingers that point towards you, then flick towards the target.

“Show me.”

Your smile fades, already anticipating missing. Taking your time to line everything up like you did the last time.

The careful pull of a finger, followed by the loud bang - a wince as the stock kicks back against your shoulder.

A mark appears, a clean hole showing just outside the largest red ring.

Your grin appearing again, as his head tilts.

“Not bad,” He says, as he steps closer, “A lucky shot, but you made it.”

Your eyebrows raise, “Lucky?”

“I could see you flinch from here,” His arms cross, as he leans on the barrier. “You closed your eyes, anticipating the recoil.”

You hadn’t even realized you had. Firing was part you disliked the most - the rumble in your hands, the thud of pressure against your shoulder.

“And you’re twisting too much. Here.”

His hands are at your elbows, as he steps behind you. Tucking them closer to you, then gently adjusting your fingers.

So close that it’s hard to concentrate fully, your attention split as his armor presses against your back. Wanting him to stay like that - mourning when he takes a step back to give you room.

“Again.”

You fire. This time it’s lower, closer. The impact not as harsh - and he’s there again, stepping into your space as you both look down to see you’ve hit the third ring from the center.

“I hit it!” You exclaim - missing his smile, as you point excitedly.

“You did.” He nods with approval, “Good girl.”

And god, it’s so different when it’s directed at you.

Before, it had felt like a little jolt to your brain, as silly as that was. Now, goosebumps threaten to prickle down your arms, in spite of the heat. A little hitch of your breath as your heart pounds.

There’s a tug, as he takes the rifle from you. A ghost of his fingers against your hip, the thigh. The sound of a button snapping as he works your pistol from holster, pressing it into your hands, instead.

“Now, this one.”

You look down at it as the flutters in your belly start to wane - your companion from the beginning. One that you know nothing about.

“This one?” You echo.

It’s so much lighter. Stocky, a short barrel and a thick handle - heavy in your hand.

“This is what you’re carrying. You should learn to know it.” He advises, as you look down.

“I don’t even know if it works.” You admit, “I just took it, like you told me to.”

Before you can blink he’s plucking it from your open palm. A quick inspection before his arm extends - the briefest moment before he’s putting a hole through the dead center.

It sends a different kind of thrill through you. Something breathless as you remember just how skilled he is, how this is nothing.

Your eyes are wide as he presses it back into your hands. Fingers lingering, his chest so close to yours as he leans - as all you’re able to do is blink dumbly up at him.

Din appears at his shoulder then, and your eyes drop - stepping back, as you nudge the safety on. Cheeks warming at getting caught, though you remind yourself that there was nothing to catch - he was just helping you.

He passes a small, golden cylinder to Boba, "Just came in, had to go pick it up. Thank you for keeping an eye on things."

"Think nothing of it," The cell is turned around in his hands, checking either side for wear or damage, "She's not happy, we've cut it too close."

There's a sigh, Din folding his arms as you reholster your pistol.

His voice low, not wanting to be overheard, "My contact said there's some Gunners making trouble. Out towards that settlement to the east. They didn't want to move the product until I sent an armed escort.”

A look passes between them, before Boba turns his attention to you, "Do me a favor, sen’ika. Take this to Fennec, she’s in her quarters."

You take the cell from him automatically, a quick look thrown his way for confirmation. Never once have you been in Fennec’s room - she was too private of a person.

But he’s already turned back to Din, and by now you’re used to such a dismissal. Not taking offense - actually appreciating the interruption because it meant that you could breath again.

Trying not to think too much about how his arms fit around you - the “good girl” he had murmured. Curling sweetly on his tongue and making something in your lower belly ache.

The door is shut when you arrive, as you knock on the wooden door. Her room was on the second floor, down the wing from where you’ve heard Boba’s is.

Trying not to think about that, as well - as you wait for her answer. Her voice sounding weaker than usual, as you enter - having to use your shoulder to nudge the heavy door open.

“Was hoping he’d send you,” Fennec grimaces, half-slumped on a couch, tucked off to the side.

The small gun in her hand clattering to the table as you cross the room quickly, lowering to your knees in front of her.

“Stars, are you okay?” The worry is back in full force, catching the sweat on her brow, her pinched expression.

“Yes,” She huffs, her grin grim, “Well, fine enough.”

Growing serious for a moment, “I need you to help me with something, bluebird.”

“Anything.”

There’s a twitch to her lips, at how quickly and genuinely you answer, “Usually Boba does this. But I think you’ll be better suited.”

Her eyes drop to your hands, where they press into the worn fabric of the couch.

Another long moment, and for some reason - you think she might be nervous. Which is laughable, considering everything you know about the assassin.

Never seeming afraid or ruffled by anything.

It makes you want to comfort her. Your voice going low and soothing, like it had years ago - helping your family with their scrapes and bruises, “What can I do?”

“Easier to show you, I think.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, before she pushes herself up to a seated position. Fingers hovering at the dark, thick band at her waist - before she’s tugging it back.

You’re unable to help the small gasp.

Where soft skin should be, there’s a cavern. Filled with bundles of wires and tubes, metal replacing flesh.

“Who did this to you?” You breathe, looking up at her.

Where’s she’s watching, the apprehension more evident. But at your question it eases - a small, rueful smile replacing it.

“Boba did.”

Your heart plummets, fingers curling into fists.

“Easy, bluebird.” She soothes - though you still can’t draw your eyes away, “He saved me.”

That catches your attention, gaze finally lifting to yours.

“I was shot and left to die.” Fennec tells you - her words automatic, practiced. Softening, just a bit, “Boba found me in the Wastelands, and fixed me. Some things had to be replaced, but it was a while ago.”

A pause, as she reiterates, “I’m fine.”

You settle then, the fear and distress easing. Risking another quick glance down, and then away - not wanting to stare.

Realizing your tight grip on the fusion cell, holding it out to her.

“Does this… go in there?” You ask meekly, not sure how else to word it.

She laughs at that - a sigh, as if she’s been holding her breath, “Smart girl.”

Taking it from you, angling some wires out of the way - to where to can see another cell fitted against the metal side.

“The one I have is low. Almost out. It powers a lot of the pieces in here. If it runs out, it will be very painful.” She lets the words hang.

You’re sure it would be more than that. She’s been moving slowly all day, the discomfort evident in her typically-easy tone. One last question works it’s way into your mind.

“Will it hurt you?”

Her jaw grits, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You shift on your knees, focusing on the fitted cell - holding out your hand for the new one.

It’s cool in your grip. You can do this - you’ve gotten good at tinkering since you’ve woken up. Just don’t think about this cell powering the stomach of your boss and friend.

A moment, as you take a breath.

“You can do this.” She tells you.

You nod, “You can, too.”

Trying not to think too deeply about it - about fucking it up - as you reach in. Fingers brushing the curved edge of the cell before they wrap around, gently tugging.

There's sharp hiss of breath through clenched teeth, her body tensing as you tug it free. As the small green bulb attached to the casing dims down to nothing.

Quickly and carefully, you fit the new piece in, nudging it until it clicks back into place.

Both of you taking a breath then, relieved. The cover fitting back into place, as you move to sit on the other edge of the couch instead.

"Fuck, that’s better." She sighs, rubbing at her abdomen. Some of the color coming back into her cheeks, her expression less pained.

But there's something that settles in your heart after - a small ache.

"Fennec." You ask, as her head turns your way, "Were you worried to tell me? About your-"

You search for the words, "…cybernetics?"

She sighs then, easing back against the couch a little more, "Yes, and no. It's not easy, being part synth. There's a lot of distrust in the world, now. Especially if you are... different."

You nod slowly, an edge to your words, "Unfortunately, that sort of thinking isn’t new."

"Then I'm sure you can understand where I was coming from." Fennec answers grimly.

Another silence settling for a moment. Giving you a moment to take in her room - the table just off to the side. The wide bed, set in the middle of the connection room.

Bits of her collections scattered throughout the rooms, her rifle sitting on a long worktable next to the tall windows.

You've come a long way, since you first arrived.

"Well, anytime you need help - you're welcome to my nimble fingers," You smile, holding them up, wiggling them towards her.

She scoffs, hiding the bit of smile. Pushing up then, as you follow. Taking her lead, knowing that if you were in her place, you'd want to rest.

Her voice, halting your steps in the doorway.

"Glad you stuck around, kid."

It's kind, genuine. The unspoken understood - and not just for this. A small offering, something that is not extended often.

The gesture tugs at you.

Making you think about your time here. About Din - his gruff kindness - slowly coaxed out his shell.

The way Boba had looked at you, those weeks before - eyes intense, as if trying to read your mind. The almost vulnerable way he had asked if you were going to leave.

How you hadn't wanted to. Not at all.

You smile.

"I am, too."

sen'ika - little bird

ahh more 👀 feelings 👀 this week (with more to come!) thank you for reading 💚 part v will be out thursday, the 6th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

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#please mind the tags!#boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba Fett x you #boba fett x female reader #fallout au #boba fett imagine

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