#late night thoughts go brrrrr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratshaws · 2 years

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goodness gracious 18. brb x oc

a/n: ey yo, hi guys. I'm still a bit.......iffy? But I managed to finish the chapter :) i hope you guys like it! idk if the next one will be posted tomorrow since im still trying to figure out what to do with myself but!! ill let you guys know.

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: feelings make these two go BRRRRR

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey

The sun didn’t even peek its way out of the sky when Rooster was there, already suited up, sitting on a bench inside the base with his eyes looking down to the floor. In between his fingers a silver ring was turned this way and that, the pad of his thumb touching the curved indentations of the elvish script on it. He just turned the ring over and over, before one of his hands went up to rub his face, setting it in front of his mouth to support his head while his elbow was on his knee.

Yesterday was one of the best and worst days he had in a while. The best because he spent the whole day with Beatrice, not only because of the amazing sex, but mostly because she was such a lovely person to spend time with but it was the worst because he had to take her home late at night, hugging her tightly and promising to contact her however he could, whenever he could and it pained him seeing her worried eyes look up at him.But she smiled and said ‘I know you will’.

His drive back home was the longest, he probably stopped at least twice to regain his bearings, breathing in deeply with his head leaning on the back of the car rest. His apartment felt so empty, her smell still lingered everywhere and her ring weighed tons inside his jeans’ pocket, so much he felt its weight pull him down to sit on his couch where he stayed, in the dark, for a few minutes.

Not so different from his current position right now. Except the ring was in his palm, clenched tightly in fear it could slip away and roll somewhere where he could no longer find it. He didn’t notice a figure approaching him, stopping just a few meters away, looking at him. Pete watched Rooster stay in that position for half a minute before he got closer, “Rooster.” the younger pilot blinked in surprise, dropping his hand from his face to meet the origin of the voice.

“Hey,Mav.” he says then,running his fingers on his mustache “Didn’t see you there.”

“I know, you seemed to be lost in thought.” Pete smiles, walking over to sit down next to Bradley on the bench, his elbows on his knees just like Rooster was, “Nervous?” Rooster shakes his head, his hands returning to play with the ring, which calls Mav’s attention, “What’s that?”

“Beatrice’s ring.” he replies quietly, “She gave it to me.”

“Did she?”

“So I wouldn’t…forget her and to bring me good luck and safety.” He repeats her words with a bit of a heavy heart, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. Maverick moves his eyes from the young Bradshaw to the ring, then back to Bradley. He looks worried.

“That’s very sweet of her.” Bradley chuckles, dropping his head forward, “Did I say something funny?”

“No, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a smile, “That’s the thing you know? She’s sweet. She’s so sweet, it’s almost unreal that someone like her exists.” Bradley licks his lips, curling both of them into his mouth as he looks to the orange coming up in the horizon, shaking his head diminutively “I–I just can’t wrap my head around it, around her, around someone so amazing falling into my life like that.”

Maverick’s smile widens and he drops his head, then looks to the opposite side of Bradley to hide it, knowing the young man would probably think he’s teasing him. He knew from the other pilots that Bradley was absolutely whipped for Beatrice even before the two started dating, that he wanted to go slow to not scare her away. He never really had a moment to chat with Beatrice besides the usual greeting at the bar, but he did notice she seemed to be a very sweet girl with how she acted.

Rooster not getting how he could get someone like that made him chuckle under his breath, then looking up at the sky with the thought ‘Goose, your son is more like you than I thought’ in his head. He still remembered when Goose started dating Carole and how terrified he’d get sometimes. It was hilarious and wholesome at the same time. He looked down to the ring, the sun peeking on the sky shone enough light to show that the ring had something written on it, “What’s that?”

Bradley looks down at the ring, wetting his lips and holding it up for Pete to see, “It’s a quote.”

“I don’t think I recognize the language.”

“It’s elvish.” Bradley replies, sending a look to Pete who just appears amazed and confused, so he chuckles “Yeah, I had the same reaction, it’s from Lord of the Rings. It’s one of her favorite books.” he looks down fondly, remembering the first time she showed him she was slightly buzzed and giggly, wearing that fairy dress that only made him fall for her even harder. Maverick continued looking, then arched his eyebrows for the younger pilot to tell him what it meant, “May it be a light for you in the dark places, when all the other lights go out.”

Maverick couldn’t help the smile on his face, “That’s a very nice quote, Brad.” he says, “It’ll definitely help you out there.”

“She believes in me, so much Mav.” he blurts out quietly, “She never got mad when I said I had to go for so long. She said she was upset, but she wasn’t angry at me, she– fuck.” he rubs his face with both of his hands, keeping them there for a while longer, then dragging them to interlace below his chin, “No one ever made me feel like she does, how do you– you know?” he gestures at nothing, his palms open “How is she just the sweetest, kindest person on this planet? How? How is she so understanding?”

Maverick looked up when Rooster stood to his feet, pacing in the small area with his hands on his hips, then dragged them up to his hair to run his fingers through the sandy strands, “You seem conflicted,” Pete mentioned, the young Bradshaw tossed his head back with a sigh, “Talk to me Rooster.”

“I think I love her Mav.” he says, genuinely, with his eyes not meeting Pete, his hands back on his hips as if he wanted to hold himself upright. Maverick blinked, but kept quiet, so quiet Rooster had to look at him, “You…aren’t you going to say something?”

“Like what?”

Rooster makes a noise, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know? That this is crazy? That’s been only a month and how the hell am I in love with her? That it makes no sense?”

But Maverick just purses his lips, then shakes his head, “I don’t think it's crazy.”

“It’s been one month,Mav. One.”

“Some people fall in love in less than a month.” While Pete didn’t elaborate, he had a feeling he was talking about his parents. Bradley just sighed, one of his hands coming up to rub over his face. He questioned himself if it wasn’t just his brain playing tricks on him because he hasn’t had a serious relationship in years and he was nothing but touch-starved for attention, but that made a bitter taste come up to his mouth. It wasn’t that, he wasn’t so cruel to the point he’d keep this going if it was.

His heart just felt like it was on fire, like the type of fire that doesn’t burn but it’s very warm, coating whatever surface with flames that never spread. He thought he fell in love once when he was fourteen and he had a crush on a girl from his Chemistry class, but obviously it was puppy love and nothing else. It passed as soon as the year turned and he found out she had moved out. But with Beatrice it was different. This past month has been the best he had in a long while. He had so much fun with her, she was so genuinely kind and understanding he almost felt like it was a dream.

Maybe she was a fairy who put a love spell on him. One he didn’t really want to get rid of. He just couldn’t figure out if this was good or bad. Of course being in love is fine, but would she be okay with it? It was one month and here he was being deployed, he’d be away for two months and then what? He should just tell her? He even voiced the question out of Mav, who infuriatingly still had that knowing smile on his face, “It’s one thing to look forward to, isn’t it?”

Rooster didn’t know if he should be happy or worried about that idea. So he just huffed out a tired breath, clenching the ring in his hand before he slipped out his dog tags. Mav looked interested when he unclipped the latch and slid the ring through it, it’s weight making it hit the dog tags with a soft metallic sound. He then put them back on, hiding it underneath his suit “It’ll be safer then.” he replied to Mav’s unsaid question.

The older pilot just chuckled, standing to his feet with a grunt, his joints cracking just a bit. He then patted the younger pilot on the shoulder fondly, squeezing his shoulder for good measure, “It will.” he looked up at the sky seeing the sun was finally higher, “Come on, we need to get ready.” then he led the younger Bradshaw forward, still keeping his hand on his shoulder.

Most Mondays after she helped Penny and Shells check the bar, she’d go to her therapy session. Honestly she was extremely thankful for it being so quick, her anxiety had been spiking since she woke up and sent Bradley a message of ‘stay safe!I’ll see you when you come back!’’ and almost wrote the L word out to him, but chose to send him a smiling emoji instead. She freaked out so much she dropped her phone and curled into a ball against her bed’s headboard, looking at the small device as if it was a wild animal she had to hide from.

She bounced her leg nervously while waiting for the time of her session, sitting on the navy blue chairs with her hands between her legs, clenching her bag strap. She took in deep breaths, feeling her heart about to burst out of her chest, trying to not look down her phone so if the numbers changed yet again. It wasn’t long until the divorced husband who had been coming before her for months left the door behind the receptionist desk that she stood to her feet. She could hear the heels hitting the wooden floors and a kind face appearing on the doorway, “Hello Beatrice.” Dr. Varma says when she meets the young woman, the crinkles in her eyes getting more prominent when she smiles, “Come on in.”

Beatrice nods with a quiet thank you, following the older woman through a hallway decorated with pictures of landscapes, until they reach another door. Dr.Varma opened it for her, smiling so the brunette could walk in first, sitting down on the black pleather chairs in front of the doctor’s desk, much like always. Dr.Varma fixed her dark gray colored suit, then her hair before she took her place in front of Beatrice.

With her hands interlaced, her wedding band glinting with the light of the room, she supported herself on the desk with a kind grin, “How are you today,Beatrice?” she questions, still keeping her eyes on the young woman.

“I…I’ve been having some anxious thoughts today.” Beatrice chuckled weakly “Um…you remember my boyfriend,right? Bradley.”

“Yes, I do.” she says softly, “You two completed a month haven’t you?” the girl nods, “Congratulations, Beatrice.”

“Thank you…um…he was deployed today.” she muttered, looking up to her therapist to check her reaction. But like always, Dr. Lakshmi Varma just kept her face positively neutral, her light brown eyes held nothing malicious in them. Instead she moved her gaze away for a minute to grab the leather journal where she kept notes of all her patients from its drawer under her desk top, slipping on her dark rimmed glasses.

“That must be hard, Beatrice,” the therapist says, clicking the button on her pen to write something down then looking back up, “How long will he be gone?”

“Two months.”

“I see.” the knuckles of the hand not holding the pen supported her chin “It’s quite some time.” the brunette nods quietly, so Dr.Varma looks down at her journal to scribble a note “Is that the reason for your anxious thoughts?”

“Kind of.” her therapist stops writing to pay attention to her ,”I…I almost sent him an I love you text.” she whispers like it's shameful, wringing her hands together so tight her knuckles crack. Dr.Varma again shows no negative reaction, she just looks to the side as if she’s thinking then writes more stuff down, “I shouldn’t, right? It’s one month…a-and he’s going to be gone for two months! Like, it’s crazy.”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Huh?”

“Why is it crazy to say you are in love?”

The green eyed brunette just parts her lips that move without words coming out, until they finally do, “Because it’s too soon, right? It’s too soon a-and if I do, he’ll think I’m desperate o-or trying to hold him back or–” she gestured wildly with her hands, one thing she does when the nerves would get too much for her to bear just in her mind. “Plus, what if it distracts him? I don’t know what he’ll do! What if he gets the text and doesn’t see something–”

“Beatrice,” Dr.Varma cuts her gently, “You are overthinking again. Remember what we talked about overthinking?”

Beatrice lowered her gaze, leaning back onto her chair, “That it’s just the brain adding more information to anxious thoughts…”

“Exactly.” The doctor gives her a smile, dropping the pen to the side to interlace her fingers on top of the open journal, “Ever since you told me you two are in a relationship I’ve seen you come with several doubts about yourself and your part when it comes to being a couple. Has Bradley complained about you?” Beatrice shook her head, “Was he vocal about not wishing to continue in the relationship with you?” again she shakes her head negatively, “From what you’ve told me, you two have been going quite strong, Bradley has been nothing but supportive of you and has shown interest in you multiple times.”

Beatrice’s face heats up as she remembers their weekend together, “Yeah…”

“So, why is it odd to think you are in love? Sure, it is a short time, but I wouldn’t say it is a bad thing.” Dr.Varma smiles warmly, “Love is one of the strongest emotions in the universe Beatrice, it could come fast and sometimes unannounced. Sometimes it takes you years to say you love your partner, sometimes it takes just a couple of weeks. What do you feel when you are with Bradley?”

Beatrice inhaled deeply, her chest expanding as she tried to think, “I feel…I feel like…I feel like I’m dancing on clouds.” she whispers with a soft smile, one her therapist reciprocates, “I feel like I’m dreaming, like it’s so good and so real and he’s so sweet to me. He’s so…so sweet to me, he looks at me like I’m the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and nothing else matters. He is...caring and he worries, he wants to know if I’m okay with certain things, he likes when I share my interests, he likes me for me. He’s–” her breathing catches in her throat and her eyes sting, “He’s not ashamed of me.”

Dr.Varma grabs a box of tissues, pulling out a couple to hand over to her young patient, who sniffles quietly while dabbing the paper under her eyes, “Of course not, you are a lovely person, Beatrice.” the brunette stopped flinching over compliments in the months they’ve been having their sessions together, which makes Dr.Varma smile in relief, “Bradley is very lucky to have you…we both know that your past relationship wasn’t good. But you should be open minded when it comes to Bradley. He’s not Eric, Beatrice.”

She frowns at the mention of her ex’s name, but her therapist is right, “He really isn’t.” Eric never did half of the things Bradley did, always looking bored or disinterested whenever she shared things about her favorite hobbies. He didn’t even care when she told him she was painting a picture for his mother for her birthday, only saying it’d be better to buy her a purse or something instead.

She made the terrible mistake of saying she loved him weeks before she found out about his cheating, he replied so happily she believed him. But it was all a ruse so she wouldn’t figure out about him and the one of many girls he was sleeping with. She did, eventually, with the thought if she loved him harder he wouldn’t leave. Didn’t work out in the end, obviously, but at least she came out stronger than before…still dealing with fears of rejection and not knowing how to deal if the L word ever happened to her again. Which was what happened right now.

“Did you tell your family yet?” Dr.Varma asked once she noticed the girl calmed down, “You told me how you were trying to find out how to tell them.”

“I didn’t.” she sniffs, folding the damp tissue in her hand, “I plan to…I might go from the easiest ones to the hardest. So…Guillermo and my parents will be last.” she hoped it would at least. She did promise Leo to talk to them soon after all.

“Who’s the first on the list?”

Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, “Sabrina. She lives in Boston but I can call her, then Marina, Michael and then the final heads of the Hydra.” she sighs, wrapping the tissue around her index finger, thankful there were only tears in there, “I’m just scared of them not liking him…or being like ‘oh so he’s Navy? How do you know if he won’t cheat on you when he’s away?’ you know? Those things.” she frowns even more, “Which is kind of a bullshit statement ‘cause my uncle Roberto was in the army and they don’t say those things about him.”

“Beatrice,” Dr.Varma begins, giving her a look with a little smile. Beatrice falters, looking at her hands.

“Overthinking again?” the therapist nods, “I just can’t help it when it comes to my family, you know? I told you how they are, how overprotective they can be…I’m just going to do my best to tell them about Brad and…make them see how much I care for him.” the L word went up to her throat, but she didn’t say it.

Dr.Varma just grins, writing down more things in her journal “I’m sure you’ll do great.” Beatrice wished she had that confidence within herself more often, just like her therapist does to her. “Please let me know next week if it goes well, will you?”

“Yeah, I promise.” Bea smiles. It wasn’t long until her session was over and Beatrice left the building, walking to her Subaru with the cellphone in her hand. Bradley still hadn’t seen her message and she tried not to worry, he did say little to no contact after all, plus, he’d be fine. He wasn’t alone, he had others with him! So they’d all be fine!

While walking to her car, she frowned when she saw the scratch on the back door, sighing thinking she couldn’t just send it to be repaired again. Maybe she should just sell it and use the money to get a new car, because there was no way she’d be able to pay for yet another repair even if it was superficial. Mr.Guzman did tell her after all…maybe she should focus on that to pass the time too. It's definitely helpful.

Once she got back home, she decided she shouldn’t stall any more when talking to her siblings. It was three in the afternoon, which meant Sabrina was home already from school. She sits down on her couch, with Jojo placing her head on her lap as she types a message to her sister.

Beatrice (15:13)

Hey, Bri? You home? I kinda wanted to talk to you.

Brina (15:20)

Yeah! Sure sis! Give me a second. Is Video okay?

Beatrice (15:21)

Yeah, sure.

Beatrice sucks in a deep breath, waiting for the video call to happen. Her phone vibrates after a few seconds, then she sees her sister’s face on the screen, swiping to accept the call, “Hi Bri. Sorry to bother you today.”

“It’s fine! It’s been so long since we talked, I would have found time anyway.” her sister fixed her glasses over her eyes, smiling brightly at Beatrice through her screen.

Sabrina was the only one in the family to have their father’s deep black hair, she looked a lot like him too, much like Guillermo did. Her jawline was a bit sharper with her cheekbones high and angular, her lips full like all of their siblings but her eyes were big just like their mom. She never knew if Sabrina’s eyes were hazel or green, they always seemed to change color every time she took a closer look.

Her oldest sister was moving around her kitchen, the sound of liquid filling a cup breaking the short lived silence, “So, what did you want to talk about?” Sabrina questions, lifting the 1# Teacher mug to her lips to sip her coffee.

Beatrice licked her lips, it was now or never, “I’m dating someone.” she expected her sister to spit out the drink, but she didn’t, she just lifted her eyebrows with the mug still on her lips, “H-His name is Bradley, he’s an aviator.”

Sabrina lowers the mug to look deep into her sister’s eyes, then smiles, giving her a shrug, “Okay!”

“...o-okay?”

“Um, yeah?” Sabrina laughs, walking out of her kitchen to her living room, “Never thought you’d go for the Navy type but considering where you are now I’m not surprised.” she sighs while sitting down on her couch, combing her hair away from her face. It takes a few seconds for Beatrice to get rid of her shock, but once she does she’s all smiles, telling Sabrina all about Bradley and how they met.

Her sister was extremely supportive, just like Leo was, even telling her she’d visit whenever he was back so they could meet. They spent a good while talking, Sabrina telling her how her kids were too, how Josh was already going to start college next year, William started to play for the football team and Trevor joined the band. They were all so much older now, Beatrice remembered holding them up as babies when she was young herself.

Sabrina was very happy for her, even telling her to not worry and if she needed she’d vouch for her alongside Leo because of Bradley. She said that ever since she moved out of the house, their parents seemed to mellow a bit more - only to go ‘yikes’ when Bea told her about Guillermo’s trip from New York just to check on her.

“Either way, you got my support.”

“Thanks, Bri.”

Sabrina’s eyes soften behind the lens of her glasses, “You look happy,Bea. I haven’t seen you with such a good look in your eyes for a while.”

It’s what love does, a voice that eerily resembled her nonna’s thick accent said in her head, but she ignored it, just smiling back at her sister, “Thanks Bri…I’ll let you get back to it okay?”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon then?”

“Yeah! Bye Bri!”

“Bye, Little Bitty!”

She dropped the hand holding the phone to her lap, like it weighed so much she couldn’t keep it upright, then leaned her head back on the couch to let out a deep sigh of relief, “Two down…five left.” she whispered to herself, hoping the next conversations would go just as smoothly as this one did.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

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chaotic-orphan · 11 months

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Heroic Betrayal, part 3:

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 here

This series has got my brain going brrrrr, don’t know if that’s necessarily a good thing or not but we love some old good fashioned betrayed Hero Whump

*~*~*~*~*

The next thing hero remembered they were in a cell on a bed, the cuffs still firmly around their wrists. They didn’t remember how they got there, or where they were, something Hero could no doubt credit to Rivet.

So much for not using their power on me.

They were thankful Rivet had left them with their scabbard, still wrapped tight and reassuring around their chest, strapped to their back. They could grab their daggers anytime.

As soon as they took these stupid handcuffs off, they thought mulishly, staring down at their trapped hands balanced in between their bent knees.

There was a door opening somewhere nearby and Hero raised their head to look at the cell bars, waiting for whoever it was to come gloat.

Somewhere, in the dark side of their mind, a sad, quiet voice wanted nothing more than to see Rivet’s stupid face on the other side of the door.

Instead, it was Villain who appeared. Hero struggled to keep their face neutral. They didn’t want to show Villain what impact they had had on them. Villain and their stupid fucking shadows. So Hero fixed Villain with a bored stare, resting their head back against the cold wall.

“Miss me?” Hero asked, wanting to celebrate that their voice didn’t betray them. Unlike Rivet.

Villain just stared, cocking a brow at Hero. Then the shadows slipped from their palms and under their clothes, slowly, dreadfully slowly, dripping, slithering along the ground and through the bars of the cell. Hero’s heart hammered against their chest, but they forced themselves not to move. Not to react. That’s what Villain wanted, for them to scream and cry.

Fine. Maybe they would, but Villain would damn fucking sure have to work for them.

“If you want to give me a hug, Villain you can come in here and do it yourself.”

“Cute,” said Villain, cocking their head to the side, a smile slipping onto their face. “But I think I’ll leave that for Rivet.”

Hero’s heart panged at that, and they hated themselves for it. They shouldn’t be sad. They should be angry. Pissed off, but their stupid little heart ached at the mention of Rivet and they couldn’t fight the feeling.

“What was it like?” Villain asked, leaning their hands through the bars and clasping them together. Their eyes shining with malice, “realising your best friend and greatest ally was all lies. Did it hurt? I bet it hurt.”

“Ehh. You win some, you lose some,” Hero shrugged, subtly retracting their feet to their chest to evade the shadowy claws that were crawling up the bed.

“Ah. You seem more confident than before. Have time to process it all? Compartmentalise? Is that what they taught you during Hero training? Maybe I’ll ask Rivet…”

Hero smiled, the result humourless and wan. “You do that.”

The cold was the first sign that the shadows were on them. A hand wrapped around Hero’s ankle, slowly pulling their leg down. “What about you?” Hero asked, wanting to take their focus off the shadows pulling at them.

Villain’s eyebrows raised in question. “What about me?”

“You must have missed him,” hero continued, nonchalant. “I mean, when Rivet was pretending to be my friend. The late nights, the early mornings. The stakeouts… we got close. Maybe they were lying to me about being a Villain and a traitor, but still… all that time they spent with me they weren’t with you. How does that feel?”

Villain didn’t answer. Instead they drew their arm back sharply and the shadows yanked Hero down the bed, struggling against air and nothing and without their powers Hero could do nothing as they kept dragging Hero towards the bars where Villain stood.

“You’re not worth the effort,” Villain spat as they reached up and pressed their actual cold hand to Hero’s throat, keeping their chin up and forcing them to look into Villain’s cool eyes, burning with an old kind of hatred.

“Mmm,” Hero said, clearing their throat with a slight cough that highlighted Villain’s hands on their throat. “Maybe you should ask Rive—“

Villain cut Hero off by squeezing their throat against their hand. Hero pulled back, but it was as if a wall was behind them squishing them towards the bars, to Villain’s hand and their unyielding grip. Hero couldn’t even use their hands that were squished between their rib cage and the iron bars of the cell.

Eventually Villain let go and Hero pushed back a little, gasping in lungfuls of air. “I don’t even know what he see in you,” Villain hissed and Hero looked up through their lashes, still wheezing for oxygen and said: “my devil may care charm, perhaps.”

A hand gripped the back of Hero’s head and slammed their nose into the bars in front of them suddenly. A loud resounding crunched echoed through Hero’s head, along with their cry of pain and then the warm blood started flowing down their nose and lips, dripping passed their chin and onto their shirt.

“Motherfucker,” Hero gasped out. Then their head was shoved down again and Hero cried out in pain, the impact hitting their bridge square and causing the blood to gush, some going down the back of their throat and Hero coughed, the taste of iron staining their mouth. Enraged Hero spit some of the blood into Villain’s stupid, smirking face.

Villain smiled and it seemed to suck all confidence from Hero’s very soul. A smile so dark it strikes fear straight to Hero’s heart.

“Ah. I see now what he likes about you. You look perfect when you’re bleeding and scared.”

Hero couldn’t help themselves as the words spilled from their mouth: “you creep. At least buy me dinner first.”

Then Hero was forced onto their knees by the shadows holding them, Villain’s hand on their chin, tilting their head side to side, examining it. Hero tried to push back, to stand up, to do anything. But the shadows kept them exactly how Villain wanted them.

“There. Beautiful,” Villain said. Their blood was dripping onto Villain’s hands but they didn’t seem to care. Hero sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and choked on some of the blood, sputtering slightly. Villain’s eyes seared into Hero’s soul, watching them struggle and revelling in it. They pressed their hand that was soaked in Hero’s blood to Hero’s cheek, wiping the remnants on Hero before straightening up properly.

Villain released them and Hero fell to all fours, coughing out the blood onto the concrete floor. Painting the grey a deep red. When Hero looked up again Villain was gone, but the fear they had trapped in Hero’s chest was still very much there.

Lingering.

Hero retreated to the back wall of the cell, sitting on the cot again and resting their head back against the wall, waiting for the blood to stop falling and cursing themselves.

What kind of idiot were they? To be stuck here. They should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain. They were just going to rough Villain up a bit, get some information on Other Villain’s whereabouts so they could beat them to a pulp for even touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Rivet…

Their Rivet was the one who put Sidekick in the medbay for days.

Sidekick, who was still in the medbay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

They don’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding and was now just dry and sticky on their face.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Rivet standing on the other side of the cell.

“Fuck off, Riv. I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Rivet came into their line of sight, concern drawing their features together.

How many times had they had that same concern? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie— hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole in the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t ask it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Rivet sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer hands going to inspect the damage. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Rivet,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Rivet stared, eyes sad as they said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it,” Rivet began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through their nose, hand running through their hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Rivet’s own words against him. Rivet had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Rivet’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Rivet, please.”

Rivet’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted and Hero sat back against the wall again. “Yeah. We’re friends,” hero deadpanned.

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Rivet sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes, scoffing, but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Rivet to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—“

“Let’s just go.”

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bikerjongho · 2 years

Text

set the bar | choi jongho

genre: realistic fiction, romance

pairing: gn!reader x biker!jongho

description: Y/N’s attraction for the biker gang leader Jongho gets in the way of the friendship they have with surfers, but what’s the harm in a little bit of flirting?

word count: 2.6k

warnings: suggestive comments (once)

author’s note: jongho leather jacket brain go beep boop brrrrr. jongho beep boop brrrrrr

taglist: @itsapapisongo @mangomingki @irehlevant @blueprint-han @doievoir @bvlnoriyas

There had been many times in Y/N’s life when they had to put on a mask to hide their true intentions. When they had stolen an entire case of sticky notes from their art teacher in middle school, they had stayed after school to help her look for them even though they were safe inside their backpack. When Y/N had snuck out of the house to go to a party and came back late at night, they told their flamed parents that they had been at the library studying for a test. The next day, they aced the exam.

In many ways, it was Y/N’s reputation of being a responsible person that allowed them to get away with so many things like this – they were the last person anyone would suspect of doing any awful deeds. That was what made them so good at being bad. But sometimes, the mask to hide their intentions was used for things that weren’t tangible, but it was the same practice as any of their capers. They had to put that mask to good use when Jongho walked into the bar where they worked.

Y/N was laughing with surfer friends and passing out drinks to customers when he walked through the door in all of his leathered glory. They made eye contact and Y/N flushed, both out of fear and attraction. They had never interacted with both their surfer friends and Jongho at the same time. Their friends had a different reaction.

“Oh, wonderful,” Beth groaned, sitting at a large table on the opposite side of the entrance to the bar. “Him. This just ruined my night.”

“For real,” Y/N laughed while making ferocious eye contact with Jongho. He noticed, and they minutely tilted their head toward their surfer friends and gave a stiff smile. Jongho’s eyes widened, but the mild panic disappeared as quick as it came, and he seated himself at the front of the bar and tossed his leather jacket off, then turned to where they were standing. Y/N realized what he was doing.

Almost like he knew what was going through their head, Mingi echoed their thoughts. “Well, have fun serving him,” he said with genuine sorrow, and the surfers’ nods around him echoed the feeling in his voice.

“It’s my job after all,” Y/N shrugged and gave a meek smile to Beth, who was glaring at Jongho’s back. “See you later.”

“Let me know if he bothers you,” Yunho said to them seriously and Y/N tried their best to sigh with relief.

“Thank you,” they said, but their words weren’t genuine. They walked towards the bar table with a little too much glee in their step.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N said, schooling their face into a scowl when all they wanted to do was smile. “Don’t mind my face. I know my friends are staring at me.”

Jongho understood their cues immediately and smirked. “I wanted to see you, Y/N.”

“I didn’t know I’d see you today,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass and wiping it clean with a cloth. “I wanted to see you, too. This is a treat.” The truth of the matter was that Y/N had seen Jongho just last night. They had seen a lot of him then. Now, with clothes on, there was less to admire, but it pleased them nonetheless that he had gone out of his way to come to the bar. The only issue was their surfer friends that were watching them like hawks as if Jongho would suddenly leap over the bar table and throttle them.

If he was affected by their words, he didn’t show it through his face. Though, by the way that he adjusted himself in his seat, throwing his arms to the table and giving them a warm smile, he was clearly out for a kill because he knew what they liked. Y/N pretended like they didn’t notice his hulking biceps or his gorgeous facial structure as he raked a hand through his red hair.

“Jongho,” Y/N hissed, turning away. “We’re in public.”

“And I’m not allowed to stretch?” Jongho smiled, raising his arms for a stretch. The sleeves of his black shirt slid down with the stretch. Y/N looked very intently at a saltshaker on the table beside him. “Y/N, I’m just existing.”

“And your existence hurts me,” Y/N said and pulled out their notepad to take his order. They pretended he didn’t have arms. That made them feel better.

The face Jongho put on was pure arrogance as he put his arms down and folded them across his chest, signaling that he had completed whatever goal he had in his head. The move only highlighted his muscles. “I know.”

While Y/N jotted down his order, they tried their best to imitate discomfort for their surfer friends that were watching. Although they weren’t a couple, they very well could have been because of their mutual feelings and genuine chemistry. The only block to their relationship was Y/N’s reluctance to leave their surfer friends. Luckily, Jongho found pleasure in keeping their relationship down low. There was something dastardly about secret love, and he thrived in it.

As Y/N gave Jongho’s order to the cook and started on his drink, they glanced over at their surfer friends. To their dismay, their eyes were all on them. It made sense – Jongho was someone that they all hated, and they assumed that all of them wanted to get up and hurt him had the environment been right. Instead, it was all a standoff. Y/N looked back to Jongho and saw his eyes on them. Their stomach tightened.

“Jongho,” Y/N said, coming to the counter, “don’t pay attention to them.”

“They’re paying attention to me,” Jongho said, not looking back at them. His cold glare irked them, both because they didn’t think the surfers needed attention, and also it wasn’t worth it for him to do so.

“And they’re not worth your attention,” Y/N said, waving a hand in front of him. “Pay attention,” they said with no real intent for romance or teasing, “to me.”

Jongho finally released his gaze from the surfers to look at them. His eyebrows raised as he looked them up and down slowly. He smiled. “All right.”

And they really felt his eyes on them. They had been making his drink while they talked, but now that he was looking at them they could barely concentrate. Idly, they wondered if there were any stray hairs or blemishes on their face.

“Okay, never mind, I literally cannot concentrate,” and they could only hear him chuckle because they refused to look up and see the blatant satisfied look on his face from their comment.

In the corner of their eye, there was movement from the other side of the restaurant. Y/N’s stomach lurched – Yunho was on his way towards them with resolve in his eyes. “Oh my God,” Y/N whispered and hoped Jongho would see him and realize what was going on before he got to them.

And Yunho was there in a flash. He glowered over Jongho and leaned against the counter of the bar while he folded his arms. Y/N imagined his height came in use right now, he looked intimidating and terrifying over Jongho. Then, he lost the scariness of himself as he looked up at Y/N with kindness in his eyes.

“Is he bothering you, Y/N?” Yunho said softly, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” Y/N said too quickly, smiling as they finished up Jongho’s drink and slid it over to him. He caught it with one hand and was looking at Yunho with mild amusement. Perhaps he thrived in Y/N’s answer to Yunho like he was pleased that they did not resent him like a majority of the people currently in the restaurant.

“We were just talking, don’t worry,” Y/N said. “He’s not scary to me.” They said this to remind Yunho of their neutrality, but Y/N realized the implication of their words only after they had said them.

In the corner of their eye, Jongho was using all of his willpower to remain in a neutral expression, but they could still see hints of a laugh threatening to overtake it.

If Yunho caught a whiff of their attitude towards Jongho, he didn’t say anything about it. Y/N assumed he was too wrapped up in his own dislike for Jongho to notice Y/N’s more than friendly nature to him. He looked at Jongho, then Y/N, then back to Jongho before sighing. “Just wave to me if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course,” Y/N said, smiling at him. “Thanks for caring. I have other orders to do though.” They laughed a bit and waved him goodbye, even though they didn’t have any in actuality.

“So you don’t think I’m scary?” Jongho said immediately after Yunho had left, his eyes sparkling. He leaned off of the stool he was sitting on to get closer to Y/N and smirked. “Hm, you’re fearless. That’s attractive, you know.”

Y/N glared at him while a blush formed on their cheeks. “No, you’re not scary,” they said, turning away from him briefly to give themself a moment to collect themself.

“Then what am I to you?” Jongho continued, eternally riveted and not lowering himself back onto his stool. He took a dubious sip of his drink.

“You certainly look scary,” Y/N said and opened their mouth to continue.

“Good to know,” Jongho mused.

Y/N glared at him. He smiled. “You look scary,” they continued. “And I guess it would be strange if you didn’t. But I’ve known you and I’ve seen you in private, you’re not scary at all. You’re a bit of a softie.”

“Because I like you,” Jongho said, and Y/N shrugged. They both knew that already.

“Yeah?” They said, “I didn’t notice.”

Jongho readjusted himself on the counter. He was painfully close to them now, so close that he could have taken their hand and kissed it had he so desired. But instead of the flirty look in his eyes, there was something darker in them now.

“I’ve hurt people before,” Jongho said, not losing eye contact with them. “That's not scary to you?”

Y/N looked over at the surfers, who were now laughing with each other. “They’ve hurt people too,” they said. “That’s the nature of a feud like this, isn’t it?”

“But it’s not scary to you?” Jongho asked again with an urgency to his voice, like he needed to hear a certain answer from them. Y/N looked at him dead in the eyes. They saw something in there that they hadn’t seen a minute ago.

“No,” they said finally. “It’s what you have to do to make your opinion seen. It doesn’t define you or make me think less of you. It’s just something you have to do.” They believed what they said was truthful, but it was also hard to tell the complete truth when a face as handsome as Jongho’s was looking at them so intently. Truthfully, Y/N was neutral for a reason because they hated the conflict. But getting to know Jongho, from his favorite foods to how much he loved his family to how passionate he was to how his lips felt on them, they knew that even something as awful as murder was not so black and white. The intention of it mattered, and the person behind it mattered. They knew that the bikers weren’t good, but the surfers also weren’t the angels that they painted themselves to be. They were just better at hiding it.

Y/N knew what was coming next. “So then be my lover, Y/N,” Jongho said. “Because you’re right. Most people aren’t as wise as you are, they look at everything at face value. You don’t hate me, you like me, and I like you. Doesn’t it just make sense?”

Y/N was silent, and Jongho noticed that. He rephrased his words. “But it’s always your choice,” he said. “I don’t want to force you to date me, and I know you care about your surfer friends. It’s not an easy choice to make.”

It’s not an easy choice because dating you would be an enormous and public spectacle, Y/N wanted to say, but Jongho knew that already. They had tossed around this conversation so many times in the past.

But at the same time, what they had said was truthful. They didn’t see him as a terrible person, and they wanted to be with him so badly. There was just a surfboard-sized block in-between them, and Y/N didn’t have enough strength to break their hearts just yet.

“It’s not,” Y/N said finally. “And it’s a no,” they said, and they watched his face fall. “But,” they said slowly, “your persistence in my life is something that certainly is coercing and convincing me to say something different.”

Y/N pulled out a slip of paper from their pocket and scribbled something onto it with the cheap ballpoint pen behind their ear. They slid it over to him. Jongho took it, and his eyes widened when he registered what it was.

“That’s my apartment,” they said. “I’m not affiliated with either side, but I suppose I am affiliated with you. If you need any help,” they said, “you can come to me, and I will try my best to help. Because you’re right,” they said, glimmering. “I do like you. More than I’d like to admit. Congratulations.”

Jongho, who had maintained a cool aura the entire time he was in the bar, broke into a painfully cute smile at those words. “I’m a little nuisance in your life,” he teased. “You can’t rid me from your mind.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N smiled. They looked over at the surfers. “I’d give you a kiss, but there are surfers around.” Jongho began to stand from his seat, and Y/N shook their head. “And wouldn’t it be suspicious if we both went into the back room together?” They clarified, raising their eyebrows.

They tapped at the piece of paper they had given him. “Come and meet me tonight, we can talk then. Or not do any talking at all.”

There was a fire in his eyes now, and a smirk tickled his lips. Y/N could see the essence of a biker leader in him, more clearly than they had seen this entire evening. “I’ll make you mine at some point or another, Y/N,” he said, nodding his head. “Trust me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Y/N smiled, their eyes lingering on him for a little too long, his doing the same. “Now get out of my bar before I carry you out myself.”

“I’d like that,” Jongho said, but he stood up anyway and put his jacket back on. He gave them one last smile, a smile that made their heart hurt. “I’ll see you tonight, then,” he whispered with a glimmer in his eyes. He used a moment to brush his hair back, looking at Y/N for any sign of being flustered. they had lost their shield to his charms long ago. Satisfied, he left the restaurant in a flurry of leather, bright hair, and allure that left Y/N at the bar, missing him dearly.

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sakis-sweets · 2 years

Note

The same anon for the Uekiya x Taro ship just head canons would do mb having late night 3AM thoughts. </3

ohhhhhh ok yes in that case! happy to do it! so taro x uekiya if it were m/m and then if it were w/w? OK! (I don't know if this counts as headcanons but I'm trying-)

M/M

The leader of the gardening club being a man would help normalize men being interested in girly things like flowers (conservative school go brrrrr) so Taro would probably join the gardening club

Uekiya and Taro would quickly get along since they both end up taking care of the other clubmates and end up becoming known as the club's two older brothers

Common sentiments are "man it's so unfortunate that you're both guys otherwise you'd be soulmates!" And then they go "haha yeah" but in actuality they're freaking out but also very happy

Initially they both got lots of confessions but they started slowing down since they rejected all of them

People started to joke that they were dating each other, and behind closed doors, they were

Uekiya makes Taro feel like he can be himself, Taro makes Uekiya feel like he has someone he can rely on and be weak around

The two remain together (assuming Ayano isn't around) and eventually come out after Akademi and get married in a botanical garden using books (gardening guides and Taro's favorite novels) as centerpieces

W/W

Taeko (that's Taro!) feels pressured to join a club and joins the gardening club since there is no literature club

Despite her inherent displeasure at being forced to join a club, Uekiya does her best to make Taeko feel welcome and happy so Taeko quickly gets used to the idea

Uekiya plans outings for the entire club to integrate Taeko into their friend circle and Taeko grows a deep respect for and admiration of Uekiya

It takes a year for Taeko to realize that her feelings are romantic attraction and she isn't able to confess her feelings until graduation

Uekiya is EXTREMELY flustered and surprised by this confession, but she's never seen Taeko advocate so strongly for herself and something she wanted, so she promises to think about it and give Taeko an answer later

Uekiya thinks about Taeko and how much she's grown over their time at Akademi and has become more sociable and more eager to offer help and be part of a team effort and Uekiya strongly admires Taeko's ability and willingness to grow and change

Uekiya also decides that Taeko is extremely beautiful and then agrees to go out with Taeko and they keep their relationship pretty low key and secret for the first year of uni but then they have to come public once the two of them propose to each other (they both bought rings and tried to propose at the same time)

Everyone is SHOCKED but then super happy and supportive!

They live an eco-friendly lifestyle with lots of plants and bookshelves and they also knit/crochet

#yandere simulator #yansim #taro yamada #uekiya engeika #taro x uekiya #taeko yamada #genderbend

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raggyanni · 2 years

Text

{-I hate the past. I hate it.-}

TW: Trauma, Hospital, and panic

(OCEAN ANGST ON TUMBLR GO BRRRRR)

The choir was stood around the choir practice room for the first time since the accident.

They had a new choir conductor, since late Father Markus passed away the same day as the accident. Father Virgil was his name.

There he was, sat by the piano, playing hallelujah and having the choir sing along.

55 minutes of harmonies, melody's and singing was honestly making the six teenagers feel better. The choir brought this found family together and they were forever thankful.

"Okay children. Before you leave for home, I was given Father Markus's song book and he had a song called Fall fair circled. Could we sing that one?"

The choir fell quiet. That was the last song they sang before the incident, however, the group quietly nodded.

The five minutes were tense. They sang great, but that song reminded them all of the day they thought they died.

(OCEANS POV)

I was fine.

Yeah. I was fine.

When we walked out of practice, I ran to the car. Memories of that night came flooding back to my head.

I was still conscious, thank god. But at the same time, I wished I was passed out. I was in so much pain, and it felt like there were doctors everywhere.

I remember Noel and Constance were in the same room as me. Ricky, Mischa and Penny were in a critical condition and were in other rooms.

One day I woke up to Constance crying and pointing at the window to a load of doctors running to Penny's room.

I hated every minute of the hospital. Every minute of it.

(Penny's POV)

There was something wrong with Ocean. She was sat next to me. She looked on the brink of tears. "Are you okay?" I whispered. Ocean flinched, as if she was dragged back to reality. She looked at me, and broke down crying.

Constance pulled over immediately. Mischa pulled her into a hug, the tiny red head in his arms. I held her hand and was rubbing her thumb back and forth.

Noel was patting her back, repeating, "You're okay, you're alright." Constance opened the side door and sat next to Ocean, still crying into Mischa's shoulders. "Ocean? Hey Ocean, What's happening?" She asked. "That damn song. The song he had us sing, it brought back everything." Ocean mumbled.

"Ocean, You should have told us. We would have explained to him everything." I said.

"I know. I'm so sorry." Ocean apologized. "It's fine. Wanna go back to my house instead?" Constance asked. "Yes, yes please." Ocean said.

#fanfic #ride the cyclone #ocean o'connell rosenberg #ricky potts #penny lamb #mischa bachinski #noel gruber #constance blackwood #hospital #crying #c #ocean angst

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starlightaxolotl · 2 years

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Late night brainworms go brrrrr

Anyways have this

⭐️🌹⭐️

“I don’t understand why you—you thought this was appropriate? God, no wonder the bonds don’t start appearing until we’re sixteen, you’re an absolute idiot—“

“I just thought—“

“No, you didn’t! You didn’t think! I was fine when they were someone far away—when the rose bloomed and I read into every meaning—when they were someone akin to the stars we carried together—and you just—you brought them into my life. You brought me photos and letters and—and their life! Without ANY regard for what that could do to me! Why—why would you prove to me what color this rose is supposed to be??“

#I probably will never write this story but I love this conversation snippet #I think well intentioned soulmate angst is delightful #I still think protag and their soulmate are aro technically #it feels nice to my brain #I know what color the rose is #there’s a second flower but that’s surprise angst that will help me later #I can’t sleep

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lividmorris · 8 months

Text

Spawns-

I just wanted to show you guys my sketchbook that y’all have seen some of the doodles from that I’ve done 💪✨

I decorated it with stickers today so it don’t look as plain either 💃✨ it’s got 50 pages in it and I’m almost done after an entire month (I started this one on Aug 17th)

Yes I was a fan of NijiSanji for a bit of time, I watch clips here and there but I’m not in that fandom(?) anymore… also I don’t play Honkai Star Rail really 😀

I just got the stickers at a con cause it was a gacha thing, and I’m a sucker for gachas

Anywayssssss, I think after preorders close and we ship everything out we might take a break from doing ‘fandom’ art for a bit, since I gotta finish commissions still 😅 so more art streams probably? We shall see

That’s it thouuuu, if you guys have any questions about anything feel free to ask!!

#crimart #sketchbook #rambles #late night thoughts go brrrrr #ask me anything #doodles #nijisanji #honkai star rail #demon slayer #boba tea #squishmallow

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you-may-call-me-meme · 3 years

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f-future moa...... 😳

#big thanks to @/compoundhero for the idEA BY DRAWING POST GRAD HARU!!! AAAAAAA #Y'ALL ALREADY KNOW IM A HUGE SUCKER FOR FUTURE AUS SO I COULDN'T GET THE THOUGHT OUT OF MY HEAD 🙈🙈🙈#pro hero Moa makes my brain go BRRRRR I NEEDED TO DOODLE IT OKAY #gal ends up with alot of scars as the result of her temper #BY THE FUTURE HER TEMPER EVENS OUT MORE #so by the time she makes her hero debut this powerhouse of a tiny sheep can use use her powers much more wisely :)#or.....less impulsively #bnha oc comeback #oc: moa #bnha oc #late night posting again but thats okay brainrot is strong #no thoughts just oc doodles #ill do koneko soon!! i gotta figure out his hero costuME FIRST

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specialgrades · 3 years

Text

unclean. kai chisaki.

big brother!overhaul x bottom!reader

wc: 1.7k

summary: clean freak kai only ever wants one mess: the one he turns his innocent baby brother into with his cock.

warnings: incest, somnophilia, noncon/dubcon, watersports, overstimulation, kai’s a creep, innocence/corruption kink, creampie, jealous kai

a/n: overhaul has me feeling some type of WAY bro,,, first bottom fic i’m finally being true to myself B) corruption kink go brrrrr also the banner sucks lol

in a world full of disease and disgust, kai found solace in very few things. from his gloves and mask to protect him from any disgusting thing that threatened to touch him, to his cute little brother.

kai never thought of people as clean or pure. it was almost unheard of to hear people and those words in the same positive sentence. but here he was, losing his wits over his baby brother. losing his mind over how innocent (Y/N) was. his anger bubbled up whenever someone threatened to spoil the innocence his sweet little (Y/N) held. so why was he so eager to do it himself?

you had very little understanding of the adult world. your parents learned the hard way with kai of what that can do to someone. they entrusted kai to keep you safe most of the time; oh how much of a mistake that was now.

the mistake started off innocently. kai would help you with damn near everything like he always did. he loved picking out outfits for you, loved helping you bathe and make sure any dirt or grime from this disgusting world didn’t leave a mark on your perfect body. he wanted you to stay this cute, innocent little boy he always knew you as. he never realized how his late nights spent sneaking in your room could be damaging that facade.

like everything else, it started off innocent. he’d check up on you, making sure you never had nightmares. he slowly became addicted to watching you sleep. how could you possibly get even more pure? kai didn’t know, what he did know was that it slowly turned into something else. he started examining your body for any signs of impurity, his gloved hands running along the planes of your torso. one day he took off a glove, and almost creamed himself feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. out of everything in this world, you were the only thing he wanted to touch.

he especially loved doing this after he bathed you, feeling his handiwork for himself. he originally would never go beyond what was already bare; his need to feel every inch of your angelic form grew too much to handle. his hands tugging down those cute little shorts he bought you to sleep in. he’d seen you naked plenty of times, and helped you groom yourself too. none of that prepared him for how soft you looked.

he wondered what sounds you’d make when he helped you feel good. he’s helped you with so many other things, why wouldn’t you trust him to make you feel good? he felt his cock harden in his pants as he continued to imagine. your cute little sounds and facial expressions; would you try to move away from him or would you push against him?

that was the first time he jacked off purely to the thought of you. his sweet baby brother, how could he not? he went back to his own room to do so, groaning your name as he fisted his cock.

you were none the wiser. the next morning greeting him like you always did- with a soft peck over his mask. you were cautious with him in that sense, and to that he was grateful. his tired eyes followed you as you pranced to the kitchen, giving mom and dad hugs. kai’s ego swelled at the thought that he was the only one you gave those sweet kisses to. he wanted to make sure he was always the only one you did such with.

this went on. he’d sneak into your room, examining your body and having to make a b-line to his room to rid himself of those fantasies of you. soon just visualizing became boring, and now he’s removed the b-line to his room.

he thanked whatever god he could that you weren’t easily disturbed in your sleep. just touching you while he jerked his cock was enough to send him over the edge very quickly. slowly but surely he started to lose care, no longer being careful. it escalated so much to the point that he would now straddle your chest. the first time he did it he made a mistake and came on your face. a deep groan left his chest before he realized what happened. part of him wanted to leave it there, but how could he corrupt you like that? in time, he thought, as he used a washcloth to wipe his cum off your rosy cheeks.

it was the last straw when you came home talking about a boy you met at college. he was charming, catering to you. kai’s blood boiled. how dare someone else go after whats his? as per usual, kai had almost no trouble showing the anger this new information made him feel.

kai wanted to keep you to himself. mold your insides to his cock and his cock alone. his own brother, he wanted to ruin your innocence for himself.

that night when he snuck into your room, he got bold. straddling your thighs, he fished out his cock and yours. your dick was dwarfed by his and he loved it. his large, ungloved hand wrapped around the two shafts, slowly moving. he felt you twitch to life, squirming slightly in your sleep. he bucked his hips into his hand, moaning at the feeling of your little cock against his. your precum mixing with his made him feel filthy in the best way. his stamina was so much better than yours, while he was chasing his orgasm you came. he would not of noticed you came if he didn’t hear your quiet whimpers as you did. you still didn’t wake up.

kai wondered what more he could get away with. he pulled away, settling in between your legs. as he spread them, his cock twitched. your puffy, untouched hole on display for him. his gloved fingers poked at it, feeling the resistance. you squirmed away from him, already overwhelmed by the first orgasm. he slowly pushed one finger past the ring of muscle. you whimpered more, still sleeping. if he knew how heavy of a sleeper you were, he would’ve done this earlier. your body felt so warm, practically sucking his finger in more. he pumped it in and out, searching for your prostate each time. he added more fingers until your cock chubbed up again, finally pulling away.

he debated if he should do this or not. officially take your innocence away from you? as long as he was the one doing it, he was more than okay.

even after being stretched out a little, kai could barely fit the tip inside. you stirred more as he pushed in, finally getting the head past that ring of muscle. he groaned, positive this was heaven. he slowly pushed all the way inside, watching a bulge in your tummy form as he did. when he bottomed out, he could’ve sworn he saw you blink.

“fuck, you feel so good, angel. like yer made for my cock.” he muttered before starting to move. he had no way to gauge if he was hurting you, so he just went with what he thought was right. his mission to rearrange your insides woke you up, finally.

“n-nni-chan~!” you gasped, sleepy eyes staring up at kai. he got this far, he wasn’t stopping now. “shh, little one. let nii-chan make you feel good.” you shook your head, weakly trying to push him away. “it hurts, kai! hurts!” you never used his name. always nii-chan. he halted his hips, leaning down to you. “only for a little bit, baby. i promise it’ll feel better soon.” you shook your head as he resumed, still trying to push him away. your eyes filled with tears.

your nii-chan would never hurt you on purpose, right? of course he wouldn’t. then why did it hurt, so good?

your cries of pain turned into ones of pleasure slowly. you didn’t understand this feeling, and why your penis was hard and leaking. did you pee? you didn’t know, you just knew that the pain from earlier was gone.

“see? told you. i’d never hurt you, angel.” he kissed your forehead, wiping away your tears. his thrusts picked up and you cried out a lot louder than he wanted. his hand flew over your mouth. “shit, quieter, baby.” you nodded and he removed his hand, moving it down to press on the bulge in your tummy. your garbled whines when he did were music to his ears. “feel that, baby? nii-chan’s making you feel good right here.” you whimpered, pushing back onto his cock every time he pulled back. this side of you was new, and kai loved it.

“nii-chan, i- i’m gonna pee!” you warned. he shushed you. “‘s not pee, baby. something much better.” he moved his hand down further to jack you off in time with his thrusts. you bit your lip to quiet your moans as you came. you expected him to stop after that, but he kept going. and going. and going.

kai was holding out for as long as he could. who knew if he’d get to do this again? he had to make it last. even if that meant overstimulating his baby brother.

your cock weakly let out a few more spurts of cum. the constant pressure on your prostate was making it hard not to cum. you kept orgasming even after there was nothing left, your sensitive virgin body not used to this amount of stimulation.

“mmmph~ i-i can’t! no more, nii-chan!” you cried. your body was in overdrive, and you were certain another wave of whatever that feeling was would kill you.

it didn’t; what it did do was make you make an even bigger mess. so overstimulated on your nii-chan’s cock and with nothing left to offer, you pissed yourself. you cried out as you did before passing out. that was the last straw for kai, and he pushed his hips flushed against yours before cumming. he looked down at the mess you made- the only mess he enjoyed. he hesitated pulling out, grunting when his cum flowed out of your used hole.

he made a sneaky exit to get a washcloth to clean you up, remove any evidence to your parents that he just defiled his sweet baby brother.

kai couldn’t wait to do it again, and again.

#✏️ ; works.#kai chisaki #overhaul #overhaul x male reader #dark content #dark male reader #dark male reader smut #male reader smut #cw: incest #cw: somnophilia #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon #bnha x male reader #bnha smut #dark bnha

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

carnival date night with peter thoughts go brrrrr

Today is Sappy Sunday! send me the sweetest, fluffiest ideas you've got :)

he takes you up onto the ferris wheel because he wants you to get scared and hold his hand and then he realizes that without his suit and webs for protection he's really scared of heights :(

Peter scooted closer to you in the cabin, eyes locked nervously on the horizon. You passed your cotton candy from the hand closest to him to the hand furthest from him, using your previously occupied hand to grab Peter's own.

The touch broke him out of his fearful trance, and he glanced down at your interlocked hands in surprise. It appeared as though your mission to distract him had been successful, as a bright red blush spread across his cheeks like wildfire. You offered him a bite of your cotton candy and he pulled a few strands out, popping them in his mouth and smiling when the strawberry flavor hit his tongue. You giggled at his reaction, his lips now the same color as his cheeks, both stained a delicate pink.

You leaned over in the gondola slowly, letting your face hover only inches apart from Peter's. He became deadly silent, eyes fluttering back and forth between your lips and your eyes, which were gazing into his. You slowly closed the gap between the two of you, gently pressing your lips against his and tasting the sweet strawberry candy on his mouth. You grinned into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup his jaw, leaning further forwards and sliding slowly across the bench.

Eventually you had him pinned against the wall of the gondola, realizing too late that all you needed was a little momentum for the cart to begin swinging. You couldn't pull back in time, and the ferris wheel started up again, knocking you out of the silent reverie you'd been in.

You squealed, gripping Peter's hand tightly as your gondola swung, "Peter, isn't this fun?"

"Yeah," Peter's face drained of its color, his hand growing sweaty in your grip, "So fun."

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shiggyscumrag · 3 years

Text

First Time?

Just another drabble post because late night thoughts go brrrrr...brain no think, only smut. okay welp it turned into a full on fic skdmndsn-

Blunt nails raking down your back as you fuck into him so nicely. You weren't being to harsh on him, since it was his first time of course. Always so stubborn to give it a try, no matter how much you begged. One day he finally broke, agreeing to try your newest fantasy that would end up to please him the best~

Katsuki was usually the top in your relationship, and he never left you unsatisfied. Always made you cum as many times as you wanted, listened to you and your needs, and gave all your kinks a try. Except there was exception for one. A kink that he wasn't to found of. Pegging.

He never really thought about being fucked himself, usually only thinking about being the one fucking, not the other way around. Katsuki has never experienced anything anuly on himself. He is well versed on anything and all butt play, but pegging never intrigued him.

Katsuki knew you had your needs and is more than willing to fill them. However, when he found out you wanted to try and top HIM, he was not having it.

It wasn't that it made him feel inmasculine or inferior, he has just never experienced anything on himself like that before. It was scary. Of course he would never admit that he was slightly nervous and a teeny weeny bit afraid. Afraid that that ass would get ripped open and that you would break him beyond repair. The great Katsuki Bakugou is never afraid. So that's when he decided to say fuck it and gave in.

Slobber now drooling from his stuck out tongue dripping onto the bed, face down ass up getting railed to all hell. Blunt nails digging into his palm as little sparks went off here and there. His broken whiney moans echoing in the room, mixed beautifully with the very lewd squelching noises of his ass being wrecked.

Pulling him up suddenly by his hair had Katsukj hissing from pure pleasurable bliss. You hit that wonderful spot so good from this angle making his moans more desperate and high pitched. Like a little bitch in heat.

"How you doing baby boy? Master makin' you feel good?" You teased, licking a stripe up his ear then nibbling at the lobe. Letting out a strangled mewl he shook his head yes desperately while pushing his hips farther back to meet yours with every deep thrust.

You smacked his ass, unsatisfied with his answer, or lack there of. "Words you nasty slutty bastard." You spit.

"F-feels good! Really, really good!" He sputtered out, his body shaking barely able to hold himself up. You let go of his hair and gently threw his body forward to fall once again against the cum, drool, a s sweat covered bed.

"Tell when your gonna cum, okay puppy?"

"Yes master!" He cried out, tears streaming down his face. A pretty blush pink painted across his face and down his neck to the top of his chest. His little blonde chest hair stuck to his chest from sweat and drool.

Pumping in and out of him fast and hard, punding him farther and farther into the bed, as you stretch his cute little hole wrecking it beyond repair just as you hoped. All your fantasies coming true, you promised to yourself you would make this as pleasurable for Katsuki. It looks like you were doing just that.

You bent down and wrapped your hand around to his front. You start by lightly squeezing his balls, which earned a needy moan. Then you slowly made your way up from the base all the way up his shaft to his leaking tip to swipe your thumb through the slit to gather some pre. You find his vermillion eyes looking up at you as you take your pre covered thumb into your mouth. You moaned at the taste making Katsukj whine.

"Taste so good baby!" You cooed bending down once again placing a kiss on his slightly red shoulder. A bite mark left right where you kissed from earlier on in the night.

"M' gonna cum soon." He whimpered out, a blissed out look on his face. You can see his muscles tensing under you.

"I'll tell you when you can cum, got it slut?" You spit at him.

"Yes, master!" He pouted. His voice was slowly going more hoarse after every moan that came out. "Master?" He begged.

"Yes puppy?" You questioned, continuing to plow him into the spoiled sheets.

"Please play with my cock! Felt so good, please master, please!" He begged, more tears forming at his waterline waiting to fall over the edge into a full fledged sob.

You simply chuckled bending down to kiss up his back to his shoulder, kissing the bite mark right next to it. Suddenly Katsuki felt a wave of pleasure rush over him. Now he finally let that guy wrenching sob break free. Your hand wrapped around his cock pumping him hard and fast as uli fucked him near death.

"AH FUCK IM GONNA CUM- SHIT, AH FUCK-" cutting himself off as he started sobbing into the blanket.

"Go ahead puppy." You cooed, he could feel your wide smile against him as you kissed all his scars lining his back. With that he let it all go with one loud cry and a slight jerk of his hips. Pouring out his load from your hand onto the sheets below.

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bobathots · 3 years

Text

smokescreen

i wrote the first draft of this in a lust-fueled haze in less than 24 hours a few weeks ago and then i watched a movie where tem was just absolutely off the rails h word and my brain went “haha smoking kink go brrrrr again” so literally this is just an excuse for boba to smoke. @jon favreau give him a cigarette u coward mob boss! boba/female reader. smut 18+ ~10k tags: pwp, smoking, oral sex, shotgunning, at one point u give boba a blowjob while he smokes also on ao3

He wasn’t expecting anyone — or at least, he wasn’t expecting you , that much was clear from his body language. You weren’t even sure it was him until you got close enough to see the dim streetlamp cast a familiar shadow across his face, until you could make out his staple leather jacket wrapped around his form. The tip of his cigarette stood out cherry-red in the evening light, hanging loosely between his index and middle finger. He tensed and turned his head as you approached.

“Boba!” You kept your voice light and even; you didn’t know how to talk to the man at work, much less in a situation like this. You hadn’t exactly expected to come across him in the middle of the night, in a dark alley situated neighborhoods away from where you both worked. But, then again, it wasn’t as if this was part of your normal schedule.

He dipped his head toward you in greeting, then brought his hand up to his face to take a drag from his cigarette. Your gaze remained transfixed on the motion, how he rested his index finger on his tip lip while his hand remained splayed, as if he was trying to hide the action. You spoke before you could think, the words tumbling out of your mouth, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

His inhale sounded like a sigh. Dropping his hand back to his side, he courteously turned his head away from you and exhaled billows of ash-grey smoke from his mouth. “Meant to keep it that way, too.” Oh. You winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head as if to waive away your concerns. “Don’t. I’m the one smoking outside in public.”

“At midnight,” you added, knowing that he probably chose this time and place specifically for privacy. Privacy that you were now infringing upon.

“...At midnight,” he echoed, the beginnings of a wry smirk on his lips.

The conversation died out there, but you remained standing next to him, casting your gaze out onto the buildings. Distantly, you could make out drunken conversations from the surrounding busy streets so filled with nightlife, mixed with the occasional prickle of Boba puffing his cigarette. A cool breeze swept through the leaves and across your skin, causing goosebumps to pimple out in response. You hugged yourself tightly, palms wrapped around your bare arms, as if you could chase away the evening chill.

“Speaking of midnight —” You glanced back at Boba; he pinched the end of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger and dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot with his heel, “— you shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

“It’s not so bad in this part of town.” It felt weird having your boss express concern for you, as subtle as it was, even if it was in his nature to take care of his own , as he put it. You figured you were more like a blimp on his radar; it wasn’t like you were a crucial employee. You hardly ever needed to interact with him at work. “The streets are always lit,” you continued, “and always crowded.”

“Right. Which is why you decided to go down a dark alley in the middle of the night.”

Heat rose to your face. “Because I thought I saw you!”

He let out a sound which might have been a chuckle — god, it was so hard to tell with him — and he pushed off the building he had been leaning against. “Let me walk you home, then. An apology for causing you to make a stupid decision.”

You can’t tell if he’s being mean on purpose, but regardless, you didn’t want to impose on him. “Boba, it’s okay, there’s no —”

“Start walking,” he ordered. His voice was stern, commanding; the tone he took when giving instructions at work, and that meant there was no room for argument, no wiggle room to barter or bargain. The words yes, sir sat on your tongue, burgeoning with desire, but you swallowed them down back to the pit of your stomach where they belonged.

Another breeze blew in. You shivered, both from the temperature and from Boba’s intense presence, but finally nodded in acquiescence. “It’s not far,” you assured him, turning to walk back the way you came. “Maybe like five minutes or so.” Then, something heavy and warm draped itself over your shoulders and you paused, turning back once more to look at Boba.

A now jacket-less Boba.

“I...oh. Um. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” He kept walking the direction you set out, leaving you to play catch-up. You took a moment to slide your arms through the sleeves, and it thrilled you to find out just how much extra fabric hung past your hands. Even bunching it up at the wrists caused it to slide down from how loose the jacket sat on your body, so you simply clutched the hems in your palms to keep the fabric from slipping over your fingertips. The rest of it draped over you, his frame much larger than yours, and you felt weirdly protected in his jacket. It smelled like leather and faintly of cigarette smoke, but most importantly it smelled like him, a scent you had no other words for. It was the same smell that lingered in his office long after he’d left, something masculine and oddly comforting. Wearing your boss’ jacket was like being wrapped in a second-hand hug, and you were ashamed to admit how much you liked the idea.

You had to do a little jog to catch up to Boba. Maybe it was the night air, or maybe it was the fact that you had genuine one-on-one time with the man you’d been admiring for so long, but you were suddenly emboldened to nose into his personal life. “So...am I allowed to ask why you don’t smoke with the others?” The “others” you referred to were a sizable group of Boba’s underlings that you often noticed smoking together by the backdoor.

“Not a social smoker.”

You wouldn’t call Boba a social anything , to be honest. “Okay, so why not in your office? I mean, you spend a lot of time alone there anyway.” You would have remembered if he kept an ashtray or a pack of cigarettes anywhere visible, and his office never smelled like smoke.

Silence stretched out between you. You thought maybe he was done with your invasive line of questioning — after all, this was the first “real” conversation you had had with him that didn’t involve work-related topics — but he spoke up after an elongated pause.

“It’s a nasty habit I can’t kick. I try not to indulge if I can help it.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Boba almost sounded embarrassed at having a vice. “My turn to ask a question.”

“Hm?”

“There a reason you’re leading me through back alleys instead of taking the main streets?” He cast a sidelong glance at you, and even with the glint from the streetlamps you couldn’t place whatever subtle emotion danced in his gaze.

“Oh, uhm. It’s just a faster shortcut,” you said, hesitating despite your honesty. “I...normally don’t feel safe enough to do this at night, but…” The implied since you’re here hung heavy in the air between you. You drew his jacket tighter around your body, relishing in the shield it provided against the chilly evening air.

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Boba lapsed into silence beside you. You lead him around a corner and stopped at the base of a sloping hill, turning to face him. “Um, the house I’m renting is just up the road from here,” you started, nerves sitting at the base of your chest. The thought of Boba — your boss , who you were crushing on hard — knowing where you lived? It was almost too much to bear, because you were certain you’d do something stupid like invite him in for a drink, which would naturally lead to you into shamelessly begging him to do unspeakable things to you. You couldn’t.

Instead, you shrugged off his jacket, internally mourning the loss of warmth and security it radiated. “Thanks again. And thanks for walking me home.”

Boba acknowledged you with a slight dip of his head as he pulled his jacket back around his own shoulders. You gave him what you hoped was a natural and normal smile that didn’t let your nervousness show, and turned to walk up the long sidewalk that led to your ramshackle house.

His gaze burned on your back the entire time, only letting up when you unlocked the door and stepped inside the safety of your home.

The second time had to have been a coincidence, an alignment of your schedules, because you found him at the exact same spot at the exact same time a week later. The only difference was that this time, he was grinding out a cigarette and raising a zippo to light another in the same moment.

You never took him for a chainsmoker.

“Boba —”

“What did I say about walking alone at night?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, necessarily, but neither was it condescending or patronizing. It was almost concerned, if you could call it that.

“I only have the same excuses as last time,” you admitted. He made that noise again, the little huff you’d taken to mean he’s amused, and your chest did a funny little skip in response.

“Means I’m responsible for walking you home again, then.”

“I - no! Not if it’s some sort of imposition. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of that, kid. But,” he paused to inhale, and deeply: his chest visibly expanded to fill out whatever room was left in his leather jacket, and he held it there for a beat, savoring the burn, before he breathed out in one fell swoop. “I’d like to see you safe with my own eyes.”

The white smoke obscured his gaze for just that moment, and all you could see was the bright burning end of his cigarette like a wine stain on a white tablecloth, like a gunshot wound through a white shirt.

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Boba.”

Something like gratitude settled over your shoulders, but there was also something else there, something you didn’t know how to describe. It meant enough to your lovesick heart to know that he cared , at least in some capacity, about your well-being. Enough to walk you home twice .

Even when Boba looked away, gaze on some distant point down the alley, you couldn’t keep your eyes from him. He looked so good , so imposing at all times, and the cigarette only helped add to his appeal. He was every bit like an intimidating mob boss, like he might decide to put his cigarette out on some thug’s eye for mouthing off — and you were only a little ashamed to say that the mental picture made you want to squirm.

At the same time, you could tell there was a different edge to him tonight. Something more coiled and tense, like he had a bundle of energy he needed to burn off and burning a cigarette was the closest he could come.

If he had been savoring it that first night, he was flat out devouring it now. It was aggressive, in a way; how he’d barely let his lungs take in a full breath of oxygen before he filled them with nicotine and tar again.

“You smoke?”

His voice startled you from your thoughts, bringing you clear back to the current moment. “N-no. Why?”

“You keep staring. Made me wonder if you wanted a puff.” He had caught you red-handed in your shameless oogling, and you supposed you should’ve felt embarrassed, but you were too enraptured with the way he spoke with his cigarette hanging from his lips, how the smoke leaked out in little wisps with every word. Deftly, he thumbed the filter to flick ash from the butt and immediately brought it back to his lips again. Your eyes followed every movement. “But it’s a good thing. Don’t start.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” you said, which was the truth — the truth that existed before you knew Boba was a smoker, anyway. It wasn’t like you had a craving to smoke for smoking’s sake. Instead, you wanted to taste from the same filter that sat in Boba’s mouth, imagining it stained with the imprint of his lips; you wanted to inhale the same smoke that he exhaled and pretend that you were sharing breaths like lovers, or fuckbuddies; you wanted to kiss him and taste the nicotine on his tongue —

— but he was your boss, and a good deal older than you, and he’d never be interested in the first place. Instead, you had resigned yourself to watching him in the act with the hopes that you didn’t give off creepy vibes and that he’d fire you. It’d be best if you could turn your mind away from more unsavory thoughts, you decided. You would rather be a friend to him than someone he cast aside. You figured his stress came from the current negotiations between him and a potential business partner, but said partner was well-established in this area and, to the best of your knowledge, kept raising their “prices.” You didn’t know much about it because it simply wasn’t your job to know, but word did get around. “Are the talks not going well?”

He let out a derisive snort. “Hardly.” He exhaled and smoke escaped through his nostrils, giving him the momentary impression of a dragon. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“It’s just…” You paused to search for the right words. “You seem very stressed. I thought it might be because of that.”

Boba grunted in response. He held his little nub of a cigarette between forefinger and thumb as the smoldering end continued to eat away at the filter. For a moment, it seemed like he was honestly considering trying to finish it off, but then he breathed out a quiet sigh and tossed the butt to the ground.

“....So it’s a stress thing, then, huh? The reason you smoke?”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his full weight against the building behind him. “Supposed to be,” he answered. “But then I got addicted.”

“You picked up smoking to cope with stress?” You couldn’t keep the incredulity out of your voice if you tried. Your response to stress was just to cry, something arguably way healthier than what Boba was currently doing.

He breathed in deep, then out, and caught the tail-end of a worrisome cough as he exhaled. “Stress used to make me angry,” he explained, taking a moment to clear his throat. “When I was younger, I picked a lot of unnecessary fights, broke a lot of bones.”

“Yours?”

“And others’.” You didn’t miss the uneven slant of his mouth, the slight grin he wore at the admission, as if he was proud . “But it was a dangerous outlet, so I found something else.”

“Like smoking is any less dangerous,” you pointed out.

“A cigarette kills slower than a bullet, kid. And besides, you’re...what, half my age? Maybe more?” He lifted himself off the building and beckoned you to follow him with a jerk of his head. “I’ve been smoking longer than you’ve been alive. There weren’t many other options beside violence or drugs when I was younger.” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry,” you said lamely, not really knowing how else to respond. “Don’t be.”

He was leading you home, you realized with a start, both amazed and terrified that he remembered the route you showed him exactly once. As you walked, you stayed close to his side; the evening was no less chilly, and even though you were wearing a thin windbreaker of your own, you were still cold. Boba radiated body heat, and you tried to soak up some of his without being in direct contact with him.

“You don’t look stressed,” you offered after a minute of companionable silence.

He turned to look at you fully, an obvious cue to continue, but his unwavering attention made you nervous, and you started to blabber. “I-I mean, like… just in case you were worried that you were projecting the wrong image. Whenever I see you on base I just think you look so cool and intimidating, so even if these talks are stressing you out, it doesn’t show, and you still look as powerful and scary as ever, and so —”

“Thanks.” His voice made you shut up instantly , though there was no harshness or anger behind his tone. You were glad that he stopped your rambling; you were certain that if you had continued, you would’ve said something you couldn’t come back from.

You stopped at the same place last time, at the base of the hill, and turned to Boba with a slight smile. “Well, thanks again —”

“No, kid.” His hand fell to the small of your back, so big and solid and warm , and for a moment your brain short circuited as you tried to process the contact. “I said I wanted to see you safe with my own eyes. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Uhh, y-yeah, okay. Yeah. Good. Sounds good to me.” To your surprise, as you started walking again, Boba’s hand remained a constant on your back. Were he any closer, you could pretend he had his arm slung around your waist as if he were a lover, or your boyfriend, your partner — but, desperately, you attempted to put a stop to those thoughts. They were all fantasies, anyway, unreachable things that you were never meant to hope for.

You stopped in front of your house steps. They were shoddy and showed more tear than wear, and the building clearly needed some love and care. It was, however, home , for the foreseeable future.

“Um, this is me,” you said awkwardly. Boba’s hand finally fell from your back, unfortunately not stopping anywhere on the way down, and he glanced up to take in the state of the building. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not — his expression was virtually unreadable — and you didn’t want to imagine what he was thinking, or what information he could extrapolate about you based on your residence. “I wanted to say thanks for walking me home. Again.”

“You shouldn’t be walking alone in the first place,” he said in lieu of acceptance, his brows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“I know, I know, just —” You shuffled awkwardly, half-wanting him to leave, half-wanting to invite him to stay. “Thanks.” You hoped it was obvious that you weren’t just thanking him for seeing you home, but for sharing pieces of himself with you, for allowing you to see the bits of himself he never showed at work.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to look you over, top-to-bottom. He dipped his chin slightly in response. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he was gone, the phantom touch of his hand hot and heavy on your back.

You formed a ritual together after that.

You’d meet him at the same place every week, always around midnight, and he’d smoke while you had an easy conversation. He smoked depending on his mood: sometimes, it was just one cigarette, enjoyed slowly, the stick held between his fingers more often than his mouth. Other times, he’d smoke multiple in quick succession, never more than three, but always with a sense of quiet urgency, like he wanted to finish them as fast as possible. He’d usually smoke them down to nothing, too, leaving barely anything left to count as litter.

Consequently, you grew closer to him than your schedule at work would ever have allowed. Some nights, the conversation would stick to work or work-adjacent topics. Other nights, you’d talk about more personal things, like when Boba revealed how his father died and you stepped in to overshare about your own sob-story childhood — but no matter the topic, there was a general acknowledgement that your relationship had Shifted, with a capital s . The dynamic between you two was no longer strictly boss and employee, but neither was it just a friendship. It was something precarious, dangling over the edge, desperate for something to disrupt it.

And you were desperate to keep it there. Sure, Boba had gotten a little more physical with you in the sense that he always had a hand or an arm touching you as he took you home, and maybe he gave you his jacket more often than not these chilly evenings, but otherwise he was still...Boba. Still kind of hard to read, still a little emotionally closed off, and most definitely not into you. It sucked, but you had learned to be content with the crumbs you got, and it came with the added bonus of having a secret together that no one else at work knew about. It wasn’t scandalous, or taboo, but it definitely felt a little gratifying knowing that you got to see a side of the boss that most everyone else wouldn’t know existed.

Your weekly meeting was a ritual. A sacred thing.

Until it wasn’t.

One night, Boba simply wasn’t there .

His silhouette was missing . There was no figure leaning against the building, there was no cherry-red glow of cigarette embers, there was no one.

You checked your phone: just a little past midnight. Was he sick? Or busy? He had your number for work-related reasons, so surely he would have texted you if —

But why would he? It wasn’t like this was anything serious , right? It wasn’t a meeting he needed to cancel, or a failed date you could excuse your way out of. This was just… a thing . A repeated thing with a date and a time and a place, sure, but…

Nonetheless, you found yourself drawn to your phone, the screen casting a soft blue glow across your face as you waited for a notification to pop up over your messaging app. You wouldn’t call yourself a romantic, but surely expecting a courtesy message wasn’t beyond whatever little ritual you had going on, right? At least, as your employer, he could treat it like —

A hand grabbed your shoulder. On reflex, you twisted around and flailed your arm wildly, hoping to hit whatever would-be assailant in a place that would hurt.

He caught the fist you carelessly slung in one broad hand, his fingers wrapped around your wrist tight to hold it in place.

“ Boba! ” you gasped, both relieved and irritated at the same time. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He let your hand slide from his grasp, and if you were in the right mind to pay attention, you would have noticed how he purposefully let his fingertips ghost longer on your skin, how they ran from your wrist to fingers instead of dropping away outright. “Don’t stand oblivious in an alley. At least keep moving if you’re alone.”

You slid your phone back into your front pocket. “I was waiting for you . I didn’t think you were coming.”

At that, he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Wasn’t aware I could be late.”

And, well — he was right. This was his thing, after all, his late-night smoke break that he just happened to be so kind as to let you participate as a spectator. Of course he could change his mind, of course he wouldn’t think to let you know. It was your fault for getting attached and thinking it was something more —

“You should stop walking alone so late at night.” Boba was close , you realized. The brief panic earlier had drawn you two together and you hadn’t parted very far, your chests merely inches from each other. It was closer than you had ever been to him before, at least face-to-face, and as a consequence he spoke quieter, his voice coming out as more of a husky rumble than an actual vocalization.

“I’ll stop when you stop smoking,” you countered, your mind too focused on your proximity to Boba to filter your words properly. You were worried he might pick up the true meaning, that it was the act of Boba smoking that lured you to him each week, but instead he huffed out a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that, princess.”

Princess . That was... oh . It sounded like a proper pet name, and the realization made a rush of heat go to your face.

“P-princess?” you finally squeaked out. “Really?”

“You’re spoiled often enough,” Boba said plainly, though the hint of a grin pulling at his lips made you realize he was teasing you.

Something overwhelmingly warm and pleasant tugged at your heart, replacing practically every negative feeling you’d experienced in the past ten minutes. “I’m spoiled, huh? How am I spoiled?”

“You usually get what you want.”

You hummed at that, trying to think of something he might be referencing. He didn’t interact with you much at work, and typically it was usually the opposite in your experience. “I don’t think so,” you finally said, drawing up blanks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Oh.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he kept up with the ritual for your sake. Maybe he didn’t smoke at the same time and at the same place on a weekly basis, but instead decided to show up because you expected him there. Because that made sense.

Guilt ate at your heart, replaced quickly by a sense of affection.

It meant he enjoyed your talks, then, right? That he at least enjoyed your company? You couldn’t think of anyone he might just hang out with other than Fennec, and even then, you couldn’t picture him going through the trouble of all of this just to talk with her.

“Boba…” Tentatively, you reached out and placed your palms against his chest, looking up at him. He smelled like leather and smoke and himself , and you were so close that if you wanted, you could… you could….

Thunder crackled sharply overhead, and you jumped back in pure surprise. Boba’s hands came to settle around your elbows, keeping you from fully peeling away.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed. Ozone filled your nose — the threat of rain.

“Didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight,” Boba admitted, and the change in weather made disappointment surge through your veins. You doubted he was the type to enjoy smoking while soaking wet, meaning you’d likely have to call it quits for tonight.

Unless…

“You could…” Oh, god. You already knew that the offer would be a mistake, but you swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. “You could smoke. In my house. If you wanna.”

He regarded you quietly. “If I want, huh?”

“I-if you want,” you repeated. “But would a ‘please’ help influence your decision?”

“No.” And oh, that made your heart drop in your chest — but then he curled a finger under your chin and applied enough pressure to keep you gazing up at him. “But I want to hear one anyway.”

You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. There was something in his eyes that had you absolutely mesmerized , something burning like the smoldering end of a cigarette. God , you wanted to fucking kiss him. “Will you please come to my house?”

His lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk that bordered on a grin. The way he allowed you to see a flash of teeth seemed almost predatory , and it made you want to run away, or run toward him. “I’m not in the mood to get soaked,” he finally said. “Let’s go.”

You thought he would pull away from you entirely, leave you wanting and waiting, but instead his arm curled itself around your waist to pull you against the warmth of his side. The gesture was so obviously possessive that it made your heart swoon . You tentatively leaned into him, a hand braced on his chest, but he took your weight easily, as if it were nothing.

The walk to your house was usually a quick affair, a five minute walk at most . Yet, now it felt like you were getting there at a snail’s pace, your body and brain hyperaware of your surroundings, dragging the walk out into one long punishment. Boba’s hand had slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin and it burned with promise. His body was so warm, and so solid, and he smelled so good that you just wanted to bury your face in his chest and just breathe.

To anyone else, you would’ve looked like a typical drunk couple enjoying the evening together. You were invisible, and that knowledge made you almost giddy . He was no longer your boss and you weren’t his employee. The circumstances of your relationship didn’t matter, and for a moment you could pretend that you two were just —

Well, that you two were something together. Something with a future.

Too held up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the pebble in your path, and you caught your foot on it and stumbled. Boba’s arms wrapped around you before you could pitch forward and he dragged you up to hold you against his chest, one strong arm braced around your middle. “Easy.”

His lips were right by your ear, so close that his voice had come out as barely more than a low rumble. You instinctively tensed in his arms, one hand resting atop his own, and turned your head back to look at him.

Christ , you were impossibly close. The angle meant that there were scant few inches separating you from him, and that a small adjustment would be enough to allow your lips to brush his, to allow you to have a taste of him that you’ve craved these past few months —

Thunder boomed overhead and you startled in his arms, enough so that you jerked away from him. You gave a nervous laugh moreso to assure him that nothing was actually wrong than anything else. The first few fat drops of rain splattered your skin, shockingly cold, and you both looked up at the sky in unison.

“We’d better hurry,” you suggested, knowing how easily torrential rain began in storms like these.

You reached for his hand this time, settling your small hand in the palm of his own, but it was Boba that pulled you along to your house with a renewed sense of urgency as rain began to darken the concrete in small splotches. The clouds threatened to open up and drench you both, but there was something a little more primal in the way he handled you, like it wasn’t just the rain on his mind.

By the time you reached the steps leading up to your door, he was practically manhandling you up them, and instead of allowing you to stop and fish your keys from your pockets, he kept himself in your space, crowding into you, forcing you back against your door. He braced an arm over your head, the other settling on your hip, and when he pressed his knee between your thighs you parted your legs willingly for him.

Boba stared at you. Water droplets dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, shining dimly in your porch light. The same light reflected warmly in his brown eyes, eyes normally so hard and closed off, but soft for you , like he was sharing a secret, like he was barring some hidden part of himself just for you. Only you.

His thumb skimmed your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, drawing slow and smooth circles that didn’t match the intensity of his gaze or the way your heart pounded in your chest. When he swallowed, you watched how his adam’s apple bobbed and longed to put your mouth there, to feel the motion against your lips.

“You gonna invite me inside?”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to give him a snarky reply for all but forcing you up your stairs, or call him something that involved the words cheeky and asshole — but his breath kept ghosting tantalizingly across your lips and his damned smirk was so attractive and you felt like you had been waiting for this for literal years, desire and want and longing all bound up fit to bursting in your chest. “Only if you kiss me,” you challenged breathlessly.

Boba surged forward, hands sliding to cup your face between his broad and calloused palms, and he kissed you with more teeth than lips, something ferocious and desperate . His knee slotted itself higher between your thighs, purposefully rubbing against your center, and you moaned into his mouth, clutching desperately at his wrists. Against the awning, the spattering of rain turned quickly into a flood and for a moment you couldn’t differentiate between it and the blood rushing in your ears.

You never thought you’d find the taste of cigarettes appealing, but you did — at least, you liked them combined with whatever it was Boba tasted like. Maybe it was your attraction to him warping your senses but you couldn’t get enough. You licked into his mouth, sucked lightly on his tongue, teased his lip with your teeth — literally anything to keep him pressed against you.

His hands left your face which made the chilly air feel all the more cold against your cheeks. Instead, they ran down the length of your torso, mapping out the curves and planes of your body. You arched willingly into his hands as they reached around to your backside, sliding into the pockets of your jeans —

— only to be met with disappointment when you heard the jangle of your keys as he pulled them from your pocket. “Could’ve — asked ,” you managed between breathless kisses. Boba hummed into your mouth as he reached for the doorknob to your side. Reluctantly, he pulled away just long enough to slot the key correctly into the lock, and you busied yourself with tasting the expanse of skin on his throat that the new angle provided.

One hand still remained cupping your ass, and you squeaked when he suddenly grabbed a handful and squeezed. As he turned the doorhandle, he used his hand to pull your weight forward against him so that you wouldn’t fall backward into your house, which had the added advantage of pressing your chest to his.

“C’mon,” he murmured lowly, playfully swatting your ass. “Inside.”

You barely registered the sound of your keys hitting your tiled floor as he ushered you indoors, because the moment you both were safely inside you fell on him again, lip-to-lip, hands trying to work off his leather jacket. He took the hint and shed it quickly, letting it fall to the floor, and immediately he urged off your own shirt, breaking away from you long enough to pull the fabric up over your head.

His hands felt so big against your body like they were everywhere, his rough palms a stark contrast against your smooth skin. He thumbed just under your breastband, one hand settled on your back to keep your pelvis pressed to him as his other hand groped your chest over your bra, rough and demanding, and you whined into his mouth. The pleasure threatened to sweep your thoughts away, to turn you mindless and dumb and completely receptive to his whims. You turned your head away from his lips, trying to find the words to speak as he continued to grab handfuls of your flesh. “Boba —” you started, cutting off abruptly with a whine as he teethed at the delicate skin of your neck, each nibble a promise of a later bruise. “W-wait, Boba, I thought you came here to smoke?”

In an instant, his hands fell to his sides, leaving you completely untouched. If you weren’t keyed up and desperate, you might’ve appreciated the gesture, but now it just left you feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. He looked down at you in concern, brows slightly furrowed, but all you could focus on were his lips . They were slick with saliva, kiss-swollen, and you felt a twinge of regret that you had pulled away at all.

“....Do you not want —”

“No! No, I do, I just thought that maybe, y’know…” You gave him a sheepish grin, aware of how hot your face felt. “I thought that maybe you could...do both?”

Concern gave way to slight confusion, then he chuckled in amusement. “I should have guessed.” Boba reached back into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes and carefully shook one free. “You have a thing for smoking, huh?”

“No!” It was a gut-response to deny; smoking was gross . It was yucky . It did awful things to people’s bodies and it stained clothes and fingers and yet — “Or at least, I didn’t,” you amended, voice softening. “Not until I saw you that night.”

He paused, lighter halfway to his mouth. The cigarette dangled attractively from his lips. “You should have better taste.”

You choked on nothing. “Wh — you should have better stress relievers!” “Are you offering?”

That made you stop, heat rising to your face at the implication. Sure, you wanted him — but the thought of being his little toy , someone he came to when he needed a quick fuck to ease his frustrations — you liked the thought of it a little too much. Boba was smirking at you, but he seemed to understand to leave well enough alone, at least for now.

There was a flash of light, steel hitting flint, and then the familiar smell of smoke filled the air, more potent in your tiny house. He motioned his head toward your couch as he breathed out a mouthful of smoke. “Go sit.”

The command was almost unneeded; Boba practically steered you there himself, hot on your heels, his hand right back on your lower back like it belonged there. You settled yourself on the cushions, half expecting him to sit beside you, or maybe cover your body with his own — but when he sunk to his knees in front of you, nerves bubbled up in your stomach.

“Oh, Boba, I’ve never...No one has...gone down on me before.”

He grunted, deft fingertips already at the button of your jeans. “Don’t see how that impacts me.” You raised your hips to help as he tugged at the hem of one pantleg, and he slid your jeans off in one smooth movement. He placed your legs over his shoulders and jerked you forward so your ass was off the couch, hips suspended in midair by his arms hooked underneath your thighs. It left you trapped and pinned in place, your back slouched awkwardly against the back of the couch. He puffed on his cigarette before transferring it between his first two fingers, the burning tip pointed away from you as he gripped your thigh. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke, “Unless you want me to stop?”

You shook your head, and whatever nervous thoughts you had about tasting or smelling weird, or not looking the way he expected, or not being groomed the way he liked instantly left as Boba ran the flat of his tongue against your clothed cunt, so hot even through the fabric of your panties, and you jerked your hips both in surprise and want .

“Be still ,” he growled, so close that you felt his breath against your center. “I don’t want to burn you.”

“You won’t,” you breathed. You trusted him not to even accidentally harm you, like accident wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Instead, you felt his arms clamp down on you harder, giving you even less potential wiggle room than before.

A moment later, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking broad stripes against your panties. It felt good even without direct contact; you had never had someone’s mouth on you before, and it had been a long time since you had anything but your hand to pleasure yourself with.

“You’re already so wet.” He turned his attention to your inner thighs, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. His free hand rubbed you through your panties, spreading your slick into the fabric, and you moaned . “Is it because of me, or are you just excited?”

“You. It’s you.” He hooked his thumb under the edges of your panties and pulled the fabric away from your crotch, exposing your heated core. Your breath came in short puffs as he finally touched you, skin against skin, his thumb dipping into your folds to collect your slick on his fingertip. “I’ve — thought about this for so long.” “About me eating you out?” You were so wet; you could see how your juices glistened on his thumb as he brought it to his mouth, letting his tongue loll out lewdly as he licked your taste clean from his finger. You whined at that sight alone and imagined his tongue tasting you for real, imagined how wet and hot it would feel against your bare cunt. He brought that same hand down onto the meat of your thigh, slapping you light enough to get your attention but not enough to leave a lasting sting. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“About this,” you repeated, as if it clarified anything. “About you. About — Boba, please —” You tried arching your hips off the couch to tempt him, tried to explain without words what you wanted as your voice died off into a needy whine.

His hand returned to your cunt, fingertips grazing over your clit through your panties. They were so soaked with his spit and your slick that it was barely a barrier at all, made translucent by all the fluids. “Don’t make me guess what you want,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Frustrated, you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “It’s embarrassing to say it.”

“It’s embarrassing, huh?” Boba teased the edge of your underwear, flicking it against your skin as a reminder that his fingers were right there , that you could have what you were desperate for if you only asked. “Is it embarrassing if I say that I love how you taste?”

“Boba….” you whined weakly.

“I want to taste more of you,” he murmured, voice growing husky. He nosed against your clothed mound, breath fanning hotly against your core. “I want to bury my tongue in your little cunt and take everything from you. I want you to come undone on my mouth, princess.” He pressed an oddly-sweet kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering on your skin. “But I can’t unless you tell me what you want.”

You felt hot and extremely bothered by the casual way he said those things, how he just uttered his desires as if they were nothing. It wasn’t embarrassing to ask him to eat you out, but you found it embarrassing that you wanted it. You swallowed thickly, and when you finally looked out from under your hands you found Boba looking up at you through hooded eyes, just waiting. Watching.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please eat me out.”

“ That ’s it." In a blatant show of strength he ripped your panties right from your hips, tearing the cloth with one strong pull. You didn’t even have time to articulate a response, because a second later his mouth was on your bare pussy, his tongue eagerly lapping up the liquid that glistened on your folds.

“ Boba! ” You jerked hard in his grasp but he pinned you down with his hands alone, his grip on your thighs so tight you knew that there would be ten marks in the shape of his fingers the next morning. He was relentless, lapping and slurping at your cunt like a man starved, and the sounds were so lewd and so pornographic that you’d have found them gross were you not so aroused.

You wanted to snap your thighs closed and rut against his mouth so bad , but his hold on you was unforgiving. He kept you spread and held in place, completely at his mercy as he licked and sucked and devoured you. Little gasps and moans kept escaping your lips, mixed in with mindless repetitions of Boba and please and yes, yes, like that. This was the loudest you had ever been; months of pent-up desire and sexual frustration had you quickly approaching an orgasm, vastly helped by Boba’s skillful tongue. The urge sat heavy in your gut and only grew with each passing second until you were frantically trying to grind into him, hips moving minutely in his iron grip.

And then he began to pull away. Your hand shot out to grab the back of his head to hold him in place, a desperate whine leaving your throat. “No! No, Boba, please, I’m so close, please —”

“Shhh.” He turned his head to place a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Relax, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His assurances were enough to cause you to let go, and he rewarded you by peppering more gentle kisses to your slicked skin. “You got an ashtray?”

You had to think through the haze of want that clouded your thoughts. “A... huh? Why?”

“Don’t want to burn you.” He motioned toward the cone of ash on his cigarette, which had been steadily burning the whole time his mouth was on you. Carefully, he unwound his arms from around you and you slumped, boneless, back into the couch. “Unless you want me to use the carpet?”

“N-no, god, my landlord would kill me.” You spotted an old mug sitting on the endtable right next to the couch and reached for it, almost spilling the scant liquid left inside as you haphazardly handed it to Boba. “Use this.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he flicked the excess into the mug and then brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. You watched the fabric of his shirt stretch across his chest as he breathed in, how his shoulders seemed to broaden with the action. When he exhaled, he blew from the side of his mouth, keeping the smoke from reaching your face.

Which was considerate and all, but… “ Boba .” You stretched your lower half toward him in need, letting your thighs fall open. “Please?”

“You invited me here to smoke,” he reminded, even as his free hand slid up to brush tantalizingly close to your slit. “You gonna make me waste a cigarette?”

“N-no, but…” Tears pricked the back of your eyes; you had been so close , and the longer you went without his mouth on you the more you worried you wouldn’t get to come at all. “ Please .”

Boba flicked ash into the mug again and set it aside on the floor, out of reach of flailing arms and legs. “Spoiled little thing,” he said, so affectionate, and then he was upon you, his head back between your thighs. And, fuck, maybe you were spoiled, but it was his fault for indulging you and giving you an inch so you could take a mile. His tongue just felt so good, and without his arms pinning your legs open you rutted freely into his mouth, moans and pleas rolling off your lips anew.

Boba turned his head to the side as he took another drag from his cigarette, holding the little nub a safe ways away from your skin. He exhaled before he wrapped his mouth around you again, hotter than before, and his lips latched around your clit.

“Fuck!” Pleasure shot up through your spine and you moaned shamelessly, your eyes shutting tightly against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. “Fuck, fuck , Boba, please, oh my god —”

“Gonna come from my mouth alone?” His lips barely left your cunt as he spoke, his hot breath only serving to further tease you. “Wanna come for me, sweet thing?”

“ Yes ,” you hissed. “Yes, Boba, please , wanna come on your tongue —” You weren’t even wholly aware of what you were saying, just babbling mindlessly as he kept torturing your clit with attention. The urge you were chasing earlier came back full-force, leaving you teetering on the edge. “Please, please , Boba, Boba —”

“Then come,” he ordered. “Come for me.”

It might have been his voice, it might have been because his teeth skimmed your clit, but you came and you came hard . You think you screamed, or blacked out, or screamed and then blacked out — and when you finally relaxed, body no long tight and taut, you opened bleary eyes to find Boba’s face still buried between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive pussy in slow, languid movements.

“Boba,” you whimpered, pushing at him weakly. “‘S’too much, please …”

He peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses on the heated skin of your inner thighs as he pulled away, settling back on his knees. To your embarrassment, his mouth and chin shined with your juices; he turned his head to wipe himself clean on the sleeve of his shoulder and replaced his cigarette back between his lips. It was evident he’d enjoyed himself, too, because there was a sizable bulge tenting the fabric of his jeans.

“Hey.” You stretched a leg out, brushing a toe across the top of a clothed thigh. “It’s not fair you’re still dressed. Take off your shirt.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke drifting lazily upward from his mouth. “Take off your bra if you want it to be fair.”

You had completely forgotten that you were still wearing it, and you realized how ridiculous you must look: stripped nude with your bare pussy on display, but still wearing your fucking bra. It wasn’t even cute .

Sitting up, you hesitantly reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but left the cups covering your chest, suddenly very acutely aware of everything: the couch beneath your bare thighs, the drying slick on your skin, Boba’s warm eyes focused intensely on you .

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” Gentle and slow, he reached a hand up and helped ease your bra the rest of the way off your chest. He palmed your bare breast, pebbling your nipple underneath his thumb. “Beautiful.”

You flushed at the compliment but gently pushed his hand away. “Your turn. Fair’s fair.”

He extended his cigarette out to you as he stood up from his knees, and you didn’t miss the quiet noise of exertion he made at the effort. “Hold this.” It was burned down to almost nothing, wasted, but as you took it from his fingers you remembered how often you’d imagined holding the filter between your lips, how often you dreamed of tasting him second-hand.

“Want to try?” He must’ve caught you staring; when you glanced back at him, he was bare-chested, and you marveled at the power that flexed underneath his skin, at the tattoos that spanned his chest and upper arms. You’d have to ask about them later.

“I thought you didn’t want me to start?”

“You’re an adult. I’m saying the offer’s there, if you want.”

You considered it — you really did — but then you thought about how sweeter it would taste coming from his mouth, and you passed it back to him.

“I...can we try something?

The end of it burned red-hot as he inhaled. “What?”

Your earlier shyness came back, your nerves sitting heavy in your chest. “What if...you kissed me, right? But with your mouth full of smoke? And then...y’know….” You wrung your hands in your lap as your confidence died out.

But Boba merely chuckled and took a seat on the couch next to you, the cushions dipping under his weight. “You won’t like it,” he warned.

“I don’t care.” Half-surprised he agreed, and half-giddy with desire, you crawled loose-limbed into his space, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as you settled into him. “If it’s from you, I don’t care.”

You had tucked yourself into his side, but Boba hauled you into his lap instead, swinging your legs across his own. His clothed erection pressed into your hip and you had half a mind to ask if he wanted his pants off, too — but then he grabbed your chin between one large hand and held you in place as he puffed from his cigarette. His lips ghosted across your own, soft and tentative, and then he kissed you for real.

Unlike before, this was gentle and sweet, the slow molding of his mouth to yours, until he urged your lips to part. On instinct, you inhaled, and the smoke that entered your lungs was hot and spicy . You coughed once against his mouth before you had the chance to turn away. Your lungs and throat burned and tears quickly filled your eyes as you coughed away the sensation.

“I told you,” came Boba’s smug reply, and you narrowed your leaking eyes in a glare even as small coughs wracked your body. Gently, he smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “Wanna try again?”

“So you can —” you stopped, coughing, “— laugh at me?”

“Not laughing.” He wiped away some spittle on the side of your mouth. “It’ll be easier if you just hold it in your mouth. Don’t breathe it in.”

You nodded. After he took another drag from his cigarette, well and truly burning it to the filter, he kissed you again. This time, when you felt smoke fill your mouth, you fought off the urge to inhale. It almost tasted sweet beneath the bitter burn. You forced yourself to breathe out, the smoke pouring from between your connected mouths, but despite your best efforts you ended up inhaling a little anyway. You pulled away and coughed to clear your throat.

“Better?

You shook your head. “Not really,” you said sheepishly. “At least I know there’s one fantasy I don’t want to try again.

Boba extinguished the nub of his cigarette between forefinger and thumb and tossed it to the mug he left on the floor. “You fantasized about this?”

“Well, duh.” You sunk down against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as he drew you close. “What else am I supposed to think about at work?”

It was a tease, mostly, but Boba pinched the soft skin of your thigh. “Naughty thing,” he admonished. “I pay you to fantasize, huh?”

“You occupy my thoughts even when I’m off the clock,” you admitted. As you shifted a bit in his lap, his erection pressed into your side, and you remembered another worktime fantasy and spoke before Boba had a chance to reply to your honesty. “Hey, you brought a whole pack with you, right?”

He huffed out a chuckle. “You trying to give me lung cancer?”

“No! No, no, just —” You squirmed. “Do you maybe want a blowjob? While you smoke?”

He answered you by reaching into his back pocket to pull out his lighter and cigarette carton. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“W-well, I mean, I thought you might like it. It’s supposed to be every man’s fantasy, right? A good blowjob and a smoke?” You eased yourself onto your knees before him as he lit up another cigarette, smoothing your hand over his broad thighs.

“Never considered it before,” he said as he began to undo his belt, “but I won’t say no.”

Your deft fingers helped undo the button on his jeans, and you pulled the waistband down just far enough to free his aching cock. “Oh, fuck ,” you breathed. He was big . Bigger than anyone else you’d taken, and you felt a phantom twinge of pain in your jaw just imagining him in your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Boba grinned down at you, his freshly-lit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Oh, he knew he was big. He knew it, and he knew you liked it.

You wrapped your hand around him and almost moaned when you realized you were barely able to touch your thumb to your middle finger around his girth. “Holy fuck , Boba.” You had never wanted to suck a dick as badly as you did now, even if you were questioning how any of it would fit in your mouth. Would he even fit in your cunt? If things escalated to that point, would you be able to take him, or would he just split you in half?

You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together and leaned in, pressing kisses up along his shaft. He smelled good , like musk, like Boba , the scent that you could never name. You parted your lips and dragged the tip of your tongue along his shaft, feather-light, stopping to take his leaking head into your mouth. He tasted salty on your tongue and you braced your hands on his thighs as you leaned in farther, relaxing your throat as his girth stretched you mouth impossibly wide. Already, it was almost too much, your jaw threatening to ache, and you worried you’d have to give him a handjob instead.

“‘Atta girl,” Boba praised, and oh if that didn’t make you feel like you could do anything . He ran a hand through your hair and settled a palm on the top of your head — not pulling, not pushing, but a comforting weight that held promise. Potential.

You pulled off his cock, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes. “You can be mean,” you breathed, cognizant of how his hand tightened in your hair. “It’s okay.”

Boba hummed low in his throat, as if he were considering it. “Some other time,” he promised. “You have to learn to take me. I can’t break you on the first day.”

His words made you whimper automatically with want as your brain immediately filled in the gaps. Boba exhaled a mouthful of smoke around his cigarette and applied a little pressure to the top of your head, encouraging you to bend down again. “C’mon, princess. Take me into your mouth.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could manage as you wrapped your lips around his cock again, sinking down on his length. Despite his size, you wanted to take him deep in your throat and feel his jeans rub against your chin. You tried to relax as much as possible as you sunk lower but he was just too much , and you ended up gagging audibly.

He gave a sharp tug on your hair, pulling you off his cock. “Go easy ,” he stressed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Spit dribbled down your chin. “I want to take all of you,” you whined.

Boba’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb smearing your saliva across your lips. “Be patient. I’m not a small man.”

“You make it sound like I’ll get another chance to do this.”

“You will. If you want.” Ash fell from the end of his cigarette and onto the cushion below, but in that moment you couldn’t care less about your stupid couch. “I’d like to have fun with you again.”

You hid your grin behind kisses as you peppered them along his shaft. “Okay,” you finally said. “Okay, I’ll go easy.” Boba made it sound like you’d have all the time in the world later to train your throat to take his cock — and hopefully there’d be time to train other things, as well.

No longer focused on deepthroating his entire cock, you worked on fitting as much as you could comfortably handle into his mouth and settled into a rhythm as you sucked and licked. You stroked the rest of his shaft with your hand, aided smoothly by your excessive saliva that drooled down his length.

You took a chance to look up at Boba, and found him with his eyes closed, an arm thrown over the back of your couch. The cigarette bobbled in his mouth as he inhaled around it. “ There you go,” he murmured, smoke trailing from his lips. “Just like that. Easy.”

You swallowed around him and his hand tightened in your hair. The taste in your mouth grew saltier with each passing second as his precum leaked from the tip of his cock and mingled with your spit. Boba groaned above you, something guttural and almost primal , and you felt the ache between your own legs grow in response.

“Want my cum, princess?”

Grateful for the chance to give your aching jaw a break, you lifted from his cock and licked a broad stripe up from where your hand had been. “ Yes ,” you plead. “Yes, please, will you come in my mouth?”

“Gonna swallow me, huh?” At your enthusiastic nod, he grinned. “Good girl. My good girl. Scoot back.”

He moved to stand up from the couch and you realized at once what he intended to do as you shifted backwards, sitting pretty on your knees. He towered over you in this position and you couldn’t take your gaze away from him; at this angle, he seemed larger than life, intimidating and scary and huge , and the cherry-red of his cigarette burned brighter than ever.

Boba cupped your jaw in his hand, tugging at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth.” You whined and clutched at the fabric of his pants as you obediently parted your lips, moving your head so that the tip of his cock was pointed at your mouth.

He fisted his cock in one hand, jerking himself hard and fast, and with the other he gripped the back of your hair and held you in place. “Gonna come, princess. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You stretched your tongue out of your mouth as far as it would go, lips parted wide, and stared longingly up at him. Each of his exhales contained a mouthful of smoke, and it gave him the impression of standing in a translucent cloud, the tip of his cigarette standing out amongst the white.

He grunted something unintelligible and you felt something warm and thick land on your cheek. The next one hit your upper lip, and Boba drew you forward so that the head of his cock sat on the tip of your tongue. The rest of his cum landed hot and salty on your tastebuds.

Boba jerked himself from base to tip, coaxing out whatever droplets he could give you. “You look so good,” he murmured, voice husky. “Good girl. Swallow.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide after to show him. His thumb came up and helped guide the mess he left on your face into your waiting mouth, where you sucked his tongue clean each time.

“You did so well,” he praised, and even though your jaw ached and there was a dull throb between your legs, you beamed . You pressed your face into his clothed thigh and sighed happily as he rested a hand in your hair, stroking down the strands he’d mussed earlier. He took his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ashes off into what you hoped was the mug.

A sort of quiet peace settled over you, and even though you were completely nude and it was late and you kind of wanted to invite Boba to stay the night (or forever), you were content to just sit there on your knees as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Besides. He told you there would be a next time — there was no reason to rush.

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #star wars #writing #this is extremely vanilla #i am surprised at how vanilla it is #i mean. theres some other stuff i would have written that wouldve immediately made it not vanilla #but no one ele would be into it but me #and i want my stuff to be read <3 #also i did say its a modern mob au but u can disregard that if u want #theres not like. any actual backstory or plot i just needed a way to have boba smoke actual cigarettes instead of Space Cigarettes #wtf is a death stick. its a cigarette #also i personally dont smoke so if any of the desc seem off like abt taste let me know LMAO im going off of second hand knowledge

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