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beans-in-soup · 30 days

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Baby i need more pervert vox, your so good at writing him, just please, take my soul and let me live in glory!

PHOTOSHOOT PT.2

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Warnings: cursing?, explicit sexual content, DUBCON/NONCON (for reference I don’t condone any of these acts IRL) fondling, Somno, use of Y/n, Vox is a gaslighting master, p in V, unprotected, spanking, blood, Vox powers off!!

Syno: Vox (your fellow Vee) is a massive pervert towards you pt.2

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It made him laugh, the way you’d wake up in the morning and immediately begin complaining about the new found bruises around your body, especially on your chest from how hard his claws had been poking into them while he was fondling you.

Your whines about the pain also got him going a little, just the thought that he left those marks on you and you had not the faintest idea.

He’d put on his key fake smile and completely assure you that it happened yesterday when you tripped and fell, you could’ve sworn that you had caught yourself, but the way Vox was telling you that your chest had hit the floor pretty hard..you just had to believe him, of course..why would he ever lie to you?

He liked that you thought so highly of him that you’d never suspect that it was him, or that he’d even lie to you in such a way because you were such close friends.

That’s why he felt extra guilty about sneaking into your room that night.

—

His clawed hand turns the knob of your door slowly, creaking it open. Seeing you already peacefully sleeping, so sweetly.

He trails his way in, he wants to take it slower with you tonight, instead of just getting into the fun part, he wants to work himself up.

That’s all the more entertaining for him. He sits on your bed, his breathing begins to match your own, watching the rising of your chest as you mewl and shift in your sleep softly.

He smiles at you, genuinely this time, not like the fake ones he’d give you anytime you got in your pretty little head about all your weird injuries.

His hand runs up and down your shoulder feeling the warmth of your skin, he plays with the strap of your white tank-top. And then he places his hand on your chest, cupping your mound and squeezing gently, right on the bruises he left last time.

..”Ow..” His screen glows a much brighter blue, lighting up your features greatly as he hears your voice, you groggily get up.

“..Vox?” you blink in the gleaming light of his face. He tones is down a notch, apologizing quickly.

“What are you doing here?” You yawn out sleepily

“I..Well..I uh..I came to check on you…to see if you were ok..you were uhm..screaming and shifting in your sleep, I think you were having a nightmare.” He lies through his digital teeth.

“..Was I?” You question yourself, you don’t think you were even dreaming? But maybe Vox is right, maybe that’s how you’ve been getting all those bruises, shifting and tossing in bed.

“But..you are ok now, I’m here.” He installs a fake trust in you, he makes you depend on him without you even realizing it..and it works, you truly believe he can help you with anything, his words can cure all your problems.

“..can you stay here with me then..I don’t want to have another bad dream” he grins..,you actually believe him. He nods quickly, and of course sympathetically.

“Of course, what kind of friend would I be if I left you in such a pathetic state.” You are grateful you have such a nice friend like him.

Vox gets comfortable in bed next to you, adjusting himself so you can easily curl up into him. You wrap your arms around his figure and his hands come up to brush your hair.

He could totally take advantage of this, was this the perfect moment he had been waiting for, the perfect moment to pounce?

“..You know..Y/n, I think you’re one of the greatest assets of the V’s.” A compliment from Vox was like a blessing, he only gives compliment to people he thinks truly deserves it. Or to the people he’s trying to manipulate.

“You really think so?” You perk up, Vox knew just when to say the nicest things, just to get his way, and for you it didn’t even have to be nice, he knew how much you seeked validation, that even the smallest compliment would make you ecstatic.

Vox took advantage of that these past weeks, just so he has the opportunity of getting you in this state. He’d purposely find anything wrong with the work that you were doing and point it out, sure it hurt him to see the sad look on your face, but it all went along with his plan, to bring you to your absolute lowest and then skyrocket you back up so you’d feel that only being next to him you’d feel better.

He’d tell the other V’s to purposely pick on you or just leave you out of conversations..but what’s this, then Vox would come up to you, and have a conversation with you. You just thought Vox was so nice, it made you trust him a lot more than you already did.

And that’s exactly what he needed..to strike.

“And you’re beautiful.” Vox pokes your nose as he says this, it makes you blush, had you caught feelings for your best friend?

“..thank you..” You kinda move back away from him a little but he won’t let you slip from his grasp

“Y/n I’ve been thinking. We should team up, make something together, I know that the other V’s are all in different businesses, but..you and me, our things mixed togther would bring a whole new era to hell. Wouldn’t you just love that?” Vox smiles giddily and pinches your cheek.

“Uhm..well, y’know what yeah. It would, that would make me very happy Vox.” You slowly scooch back into him.

“Of course it would baby.” The look in Vox’s eye changes, his body begins to get warmer almost like an overheating device..what’s odd is that so do you, you feel your body warming up and you subconsciously shift your thighs togther.

“Listen, Y/n. You are..so perfect, in everything that you do. You’re so..pretty.” Here comes the praise again, Filling your empty little mind with the thought to do anything that would make Vox happy.

You fall right into his trap, your lips meet his. You pull back surprised at your own action

“Vox..I’m so sorry!” You panic, thinking you made a mistake, Vox just lets out a electronically reverberated chuckle.

Vox just grabs you by your chin and kisses you again, you let out a squeak noise but eventually kiss him back, the kiss than turns into a heated make out, and because of his pushing it includes a lot of tongue.

“You know what would make me so happy baby?” He talks in a different pitched voice, like in the way someone would speak to a pet, and it’s almost as if you are, ready to preform any trick just to get that special treat.

“What Vox, I’ll do anything” Anything? Vox almost snorts, this just all worked out too well.

“Take off these restricting clothes for me, ok baby?” You nod feverishly and sit up to begin taking off your unneeded layers.

Vox tries to act surprised at your gorgeous body, as if this wasn’t something he’s seen everyday.

“So beautiful baby, C’mere.” He roughly tugs you onto his lap. And begins grinding you on top of the stiff bulge in his silk pajama pants that he’s yet to take off.

He also sees that as a power move, that he’s still fully dressed and covered, while you’re just vulnerably naked infront of him. It shows just how much he hold over you, even his dignity.

“Please Vox, please fuck me” Vox just shushes you and goes down to suck on your chest, blue tongue flicking your nipple, and another clawed hand going to tweak with your other one.

His who’s mouth envelopes your boob, suckling on it rather harshly, your soft moans fill his ear, he can’t get enough of them.

He cuts it short to take his cock out, it’s a dark base with a light blue glowing tip, it’s pulsing out a sticky neon liquid from its slit. The sight makes you salivate.

You sink down onto his erection and his face contorts into pleasure, his screen gets brighter, and his body begins to vibrate, as if being a overworked device.

The vibrations are sent straight through his dick and into your gummy walls that are contorting around his cock in ways that he didn’t even imagine

You begin bouncing up and down on his cock, moaning out profanities that Vox was desperate to hear.

“Your such a slut Y/n, really, fucking me like this? What if the others hear us huh?” He ruts up into your warm pussy, your liquids mixing together and trickling down onto your bed sheets, his claws find your hips, and he bounces you up and down on his cock quicker, almost as if you weigh nothing, like your just a toy, a simple pocket pussy that is his to use.

“Vox~ I’m sorry” you so pathetic you’re even apologizing for your slutty behavior.

“It’s ok baby, you’re such a good girl.” He loves switching it up on you, going from attacking you to praising you like you are everything to him..and you kinda are..he just doesn’t know how to show it.

His cock forces it ways through your gummy walls and they are forced to take shape around him, make him the perfect fit and stretch to perfection.

“Oh fuck, your pussy was made for me baby.” He groans out as his heels dig into the bed as he begins to relentlessly pound into you from under you.

Your chest moves with the sheer velocity he’s pounding into you at, the vibrations from his body getting much stronger at this furious workout, a digital sweat trickles down his screen, as he furiously pounds into your pussy like a sex toy.

“Vox! Vox!” His name begins to pour out of your mouth unwillingly like a symphony

“Fuck, already dick drunk baby?” He scoffs as his hand goes to spank your ass harshly, loving the way your skin feels against his palm, he rubs your as and even claws into it enough to draw blood as he uses your pussy for his own pleasure

“I’ve been waiting to go this for years” he moans out, you think nothing of that statement with how caught up on his dick you are.

“Vox gonna-“ you whimper out and the vibrations from his dick and the ruthless pounding of his cock send you over the edge, you pathetically whine out, and your whole body spasms as if your were short circuiting just like him.

“Fuck, cumming already baby, how fucking pathetic are you, was I that good for you to be cumming so soon?” He scoffs at you and the mix of degradation and your tiredness and just pure overstimulation on how he hasn’t stopped his pace, catches up with you and tears begin pouring down your face.

“Haha, oh poor baby, come here honey, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry.” his lips find yours again as you both begin to feverishly grind against eachother and shove your tongues down each others throats. He even pulls his tongue out of your mouth for a second, just to get a taste of the salty tears streaming down your face.

As he begins getting closer to his edge his claws dig into your skin harsher, drawing more blood, and he begins letting out spurts of electricity from everywhere, the electricity zaps you in short counts. It tingles your skin and leaves you with an itch deep inside your blood stream, it makes you feel all vibratory inside as the electricity pulses through you, his screen begins to glitch as well

And as he comes to a finish, blue sticky strings of cum painting your insides with his seed, his screen goes blank.

You take a moment to breathe

“…..Vox..?” You almost whimper out as you get off his dick, did you..break him?

Suddenly his screen comes back..he blinks.

“Woah..that was amazing baby, we should do that more often.” He grins and chuckles genuinely this time.

“..Are you asking me to be your girlfriend!!” You get so incredibly giddy

“Uh..yeah kid why not” you’re so happy that you dont care how off put he is by actually dating, he’s not used to it..he usually just..fucks and then goes..but..yeah, he can get used to being called your boyfriend.

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Thank you guys for all the support, I love you guys. And I’m trying to get as many reqs as I can!!! Pls be patient😞🙏🏼🙏🏼🫶🏼🎀

#smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox smut #hazbin hotel vvv #the v’s

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ourserendipity · 1 month

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A dimly lit room for the lonely two

(Aventurine x memokeeper!fem!reader)

Aventurine's POV

Ah yes, sunlight. Since when did he ever truly felt the embrace of dawn? The warm light promised to him by his sister, by the only one he has left; now vanished under the falling drops of suffering and agony. It had been a long time, years even ever since it all happened; the day of reckoning if you would call it that. Painful as it may be, one could not dwell in the past that much longer, for it will only break the will and soul of man, bit by bit. And in doing so, that also meant for him leaving the place called 'home'; one that used to be surrounded by lush fields accompanied by the joys of his kind, now all but a bygone memory.

Sitting on his lavish couch at the local bar in Penacony, he scans his surroundings; still the same as ever. Not a single thing had changed, so much as he remembers: The blinding lights, endless banquets of mindless entertainment to feed the masses, and most importantly of all: the alcohol. He admits that he doesn't enjoy the taste of it and yet here he is, drinking all of it in full glory as if it's the only sustenance he needs. Strangely enough, he feels as if he's content living this way; roaming planet after planet to collect the debt of those who sold their souls to the IPC for some quick cash, not like he's going to complain or anything. Gambling too is one of the reasons why he still lives to this very day, it's pretty much his whole ordeal at this point: either you go big or you go home, and it seems like he's not backing down on any games any time soon. And one of those games, one that he especially looks forward to playing: is you, a memokeeper. Though to be honest, he's more interested in getting your attention rather than to just simply snoop information about you; he has the connections to do that easily. And what do you know, one thing led to another and now, he's finally close to you; enough for him to engage and to capture you in his silly little games. But to his surprise, it seems that you know him more than he thought you would.

The feeling of being trapped in someone else's fingertips, oh how he remembers; the fear and anxiety it brings to a poor child, and how it teaches them to live by it, hoping to one day get rid of it. But he never did, instead, he'd rather bury it deeper, only to be replaced by his insatiable hunger for thrill. One would think that it's his way to escape his own harsh reality, and truth be told: it is his only way, no other choice would suffice. But somehow, it doesn't feel like what he's used to: it's rather.... soothing, calming even. He couldn't fathom to understand how a mere stranger could do something like this. Perhaps it's your powers that made him feel vulnerable and oh so weak, yet it could also be fate that tied you to him altogether, all for this one fateful encounter. And to him, he wouldn't change it one bit.

And now here he is, dancing with you in this dimly lit room, hands intertwined at each other, bodies a few inches apart. His eyes couldn't get enough of your own; and he never will be satisfied. Your gaze of awe as you lead him in this dance ever so softly, tranced at the murky abyss that he had willingly reopened just for you to see, is something he thought he would ever do, especially to the likes of you. Strange it may be, he couldn't be bothered by it, in fact, he feels lighter now, elated even. He had finally felt the return of daw creep up to skin, sending shivers down to his spine as the two of you spin around, arms that would shortly depart and link back to each other made him feel something; it made him feel that he is something. It felt as if he had his own worth; one that could not compare to the unsurmountable riches of the IPC nor the undeniable powers held by his cornerstone. To him, he would forever cherish this moment, unchanged; even if it meant for him to risk everything he has. For he is like a moth, knowing the dangers of the fiery light and yet achingly yearns for its touch, willing to sacrifice its wings to feel even the tiniest bit of warmth he was never spared his whole life.

But it would seem that all of this would abruptly end; a lie within a dream. The deeper he went to the light, the further he spread his wings to fly farther, only to realize that the light he was chasing was no longer there. Rather, only the shadow remained on its stead, its stature still on the carpeted floor they were both roaming around. After that 'dance' of theirs ended, only did he realize that he was the light all along; all alone in his own little world. This moment would've been everlasting had he not let her be engulfed by his own abyss. Perhaps he should just remain in this dimly lit room for a while, to relish the remaining stains of your shadow he had been looming onto, hoping that he would meet you again, not in this dreamy illusion, but to the reality he wishes to return to; a dimly lit room, just for the lonely two.

(HERE IT IS! SKSJSKKKDKSJAKAUAJWUA I'm sorry it took me a while to finish this, I was still daydreaming about this for like days 😭😭 Anyways, now that I've finished this one, I think I would do an Aventurine x Singer!Fem!reader tho idk if I'll ever do that. If you have any suggestions, feel free to drop some and I'll probably brainrot abt it before fully writing something. ALSO! Thanks for the support y'all 💖💖 I'm still genuinely new to tumblr despite lurking around multiple fandoms silently and honestly, I'm still trying to adjust and to hopefully fully utilize the features tumblr has. So once again, I give y'all my heartfelt thanks for the 100+ notes and to your kindness for reading my brainrot of a work dkjskajaiajaia Love y'all!!)

#aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr fanfic

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 1 month

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Pining Katsuki | BKDK Headcannon 💚💥

It's 3am and Katsuki can't sleep.

He's thinking back to training earlier, when the two were sparring in one of the school's gyms. Izuku had tripped backwards over some debris from one of Katsuki's explosions. In a rush, Katsuki reached forward and caught Izuku around the waist.

Time had seemed to slow down. Katsuki remembers that he had instinctually wrapped an arm behind Izuku's head to cushion the fall. When they had hit the ground, Katsuki felt the hard impact on his arm and elbow, but luckily Izuku was safe and sound - wrapped in his embrace.

They had stared at each other for a moment - nose to nose. Izuku's face burned brightly - his adorable freckles lost in his flushed cheeks.

"Hey guys - get a room!" Denki called out from the sidelines, breaking the moment of tension. Katsuki roughly disentangled himself from Izuku, shoving his green haired classmate away, as he had stumbled to get to his feet.

"Watch it, Deku! Pro Heroes can't be clumsy as hell." He scowled, waiting for Izuku to get to his feet so they could resume their mock fight.

"Thanks for catching me, Kacchan!" Izuku had sputtered out, getting to shakily to his feet and starting to power up again.

Katsuki had ultimately won the fight.

He turned over the moment again in his mind - the way his hand had felt gripping Izuku's slim waist. The way tucking Izuku into his chest had felt so natural as they were falling.

Now, in his dorm room in the middle of the night, his face burns hot as he thinks about laying over his childhood friend - nose to nose in the heat of battle. What would have happened if he would have...

Katsuki shakes the thought from his mind before it can fully form. He whips out his cell phone and quickly opens up one of Izuku's social media pages. He does this every once and a while - when his feelings are all mixed up and he can't decide if he likes Izuku, or if he hates him. He likes scrolling through Izuku's Instagram page the most. He always rolls his eyes as he types in his classmate's IG handle - AllMight89. "So lame, Deku." He whispers under his breath as the page loads onto his phone screen.

Katsuki starts to scroll through image after image of Izuku. There are so many photos from the past year at UA - pictures of Izuku with classmates and Pros. Katsuki scrolls back a few months to one of his favorite pictures - a close up of Izuku at the beginning of the Sports Festival after he had won the obstacle course.

He loves the way Izuku's face shines with pride as he looks out into the stadium full of people, basking in the glory of his win. His curly green hair is absolutely wild and his UA uniform is charred from navigating the minefield. He looks so...goddamn heroic. Looking at this picture makes Katsuki's heart squeeze in a way he doesn't like.

When he's too tired and can't police his thoughts, he imagines Izuku looking at him that way - proud, exhilarated. What would it be like, to be the sole focus of his friend's intense gaze? To have it be just the two of them, alone. Would the world fall away? Would all of the unspoken things that Katsuki wished he could say come tumbling out of his mouth? Would he be able to apologize to Izuku for all of the goddamn bullying he had subjected his friend to in order to hide his terrifyingly intense feelings? He wonders if Izuku knew how he felt...could he ever forgive him?

Katsuki keeps scrolling through the page. Every once and a while, he clicks on an image to expand it and see Izuku's bright face as it takes up the length of his phone screen. He does this for a bit, zoning out as he clicks through the images. He's pulled from his mindless scrolling when his phone buzzes with a new text...

...It's from Izuku.

Katsuki checks the time - 3:45am. Why would Deku possibly be awake at this hour!? He hastily clicks open the text to read -

Um Kacchan - why did you just like one of my photos from 8 months ago on Instagram?

Katsuki's heart plummets. The hell? Hastily, he scrolls back up on the Izuku's profile grid. His eyes dart across the screen until he finds it. There - he's accidentally hearted a picture of Izuku celebrating his last birthday with his mother. The image is sweet - Izuku is blowing out a cake full of candles as his mother looks on with pride. They are both adorned in triangular All Might party hats. Just a few minutes earlier, Katsuki had thumbed through the picture and briefly smiled at the look of joy on Izuku's face. Now he looked down at his phone screen in abject horror at the tiny pink heart his tired fingers had accidentally awarded to the image.

DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT

Hastily, he unlikes the image - but it's too late! The damage has been done. He thinks the best way to get through this is to deny everything.

The hell you talking about nerd? Leave me alone it's 4 fuckin' AM.

Katsuki's rolls over in bed, panicking as he sees the three dots pop up on the screen to indicate that Izuku is typing. An image appears on the screen - a screenshot of an Instagram alert "Katsuki99 liked your photo."

"SHIT!" Katsuki yells out angrily, tossing his phone to the ground. He doesn't know what to do. He's embarrassed and mad and secretly happy that Izuku has texted him in the early morning when the rest of their class is no doubt asleep.

He sits in his bed, glaring at his phone that is now laying on the carpeted floor, abandoned. What the hell should he do!?

Suddenly, the phone screen lights up, casting a fuzzy glow in the pitch black room. Katsuki scrambles out of his nest of blankets and drops to the ground, grabbing the device up in shaky hands.

It's not a text this time, but an Instagram alert.

"AllMight89 liked your photo."

Fingers quaking, Katsuki clicks the alert and it takes him to Instagram. A few moments later, he sees that Izuku has liked one of his own posts from earlier in the year. It's a photo of Katsuki standing in front of UA on one of his first days of school. He's staring down the camera - mean mugging in his brand new school uniform. The caption simply says "Pro Hero in the Making."

Katsuki remembers making the post - he had been so excited to put on his crisp new uniform and to start taking classes at his dream school. He had made his mother take the photo, happy in the moment even as she roasted him for having such a nasty look on his face.

Katsuki clicks back to his alerts. AllMight89 liked your photo. His chest fills with warmth at the statement. His phone buzzes with a new text - from Izuku again.

That's my favorite photo of you.

Katsuki's heart does double time in his chest as he stares at the message. He has no idea what to do or say. After a few agonizing moments, he taps a hasty reply back.

He types out "You damn nerd." But what he means is: "I love you."

Izuku doesn't reply, and Katsuki is unable to get a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.

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ironstrange1991 · 8 months

Text

Caught

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The reader has a fantasy she never told Stephen about, but that changes when she is caught with her hands inside her pants.

Word Count: 3,6k

Warnings: SMUT: Strong masturbation kink, female and male masturbation, mentions of pornography, oral sex with male receiving, deep throat, cum fetich.

A/N: By now everyone must have realized that I like this kink because I've written it at least three times already, but I'm not going to apologize for that. Anyway, enjoy your reading!

Your fingers slid in and out of your pussy at a lazy pace while your eyes were glued to your cell phone screen.

It should have just been a boring Monday afternoon, but you arrived home early from work, took a shower and with a mischievous smile decided to venture onto Pornhub looking for the same type of video that always made you cum very quickly. Too fast sometimes.

You spent a good few minutes watching and working yourself up to make the sensation last longer, but when you finally allowed yourself to lower your hand between your legs you were completely wet. It was the effect those videos had on you.

You were always looking for men who had the same body type as Stephen and recording frames that always cut their faces. They were always sitting or standing jerking off in front of the camera. They were usually short videos, two or three minutes that had the power to bring multiple orgasms out of you and the reason was simple: in your mind it was always Stephen.

You always had the fantasy of seeing Stephen masturbating, but of course you never had the courage to say that to him. The closest you came to fulfilling this fantasy was one day when you got home from work and was going into the bathroom when heard him jerking off inside.

You still remembered the feeling between your legs. How you were paralyzed, your ear glued to the door to hear all the noises he made. It was one of the most erotic moments of your life, but it ended there, you never managed to tell him what you heard, much less tell him that you wanted to see him doing it.

So you threw yourself into the Pornhub videos, looking for something in each of them that would convince your brain that it was Stephen doing that and mainly that it was you he was thinking about when he came.

You let a loud moan escape your lips as you surrendered to the pleasure building and building inside you, the knot in your stomach threatening to break. You were so close and so lost in your own fantasy that your eyes closed, no longer needing the stimulation of the video to get there because before your closed eyes was Stephen in all his glory smirking at you and cumming, ropes of cum spurting from his cock head and splashing all over his stomach.

That was always the final trigger that took you to paradise and you were almost there, almost there when you were surprised by a baritone voice.

"So this is what you do when you're home alone."

You don't know what you did faster, whether it was turning off the cell phone screen or taking your hands out of your panties. Your face got so hot it felt like it was on fire and you hid it in your hands wishing a hole would open up and you could hide inside and never be found again.

You heard a low chuckle and the sound of boots and then felt the bed dipping next to you. Stephen held your hands, moving them away from your face and making you look at him.

"You should be working." You whispered mortified.

He smirked, "So should you, but it looks like you found another more interesting activity to do this afternoon, didn't you?"

You felt a new wave of heat invading your cheeks and warming down your neck.

"And now I'm feeling terribly guilty because it feels like I interrupted what was going to be a very intense orgasm." He teased trying to contain a giggle.

"I... missed you and I was bored. I'm sorry." You finally managed to say.

Stephen cupped your cheek and stroked it with his thumb. "You look even more beautiful with your cheeks red like that, you know that? There's no need to apologize, sweetheart. I do that too. More than I'd like to admit."

Yeah, you knew that. That was precisely the whole point, wasn’t it?

You nodded, feeling your body relax a little and your clit pulsing demanding the orgasm you promised and didn't deliver.

Stephen leaned forward to kiss you. His lips were slightly salty, he was sweaty, but you didn't mind at all. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you let out a little moan, parting your lips so he could slide his tongue into your mouth, capturing your tongue and sucking it in a passionate kiss.

You let yourself melt into his kiss, feeling his hand slide down your arm slowly only realizing what he was really doing when he took your cell phone from your hand and broke the kiss giggling.

"Stephen, no..."

"Let's see what got you so worked up." He announced pressing the side button on your cell phone and you sighed in relief watching him frown when he saw the screen locked.

"Finger." He demanded.

You crossed your arms decidedly.

Stephen smirked, amused by the whole situation. "I can force you to cooperate or you can be good and I'll help you get that orgasm you've been so beautifully seeking."

He winked at you and you let out an irritated huff "It's not fair!"

He chuckled "You know what's not fair? Me working my ass off and you touching yourself in my bed."

"Our bed" You corrected.

He smiled openly, extending his hand, palm facing up. "Finger."

You sighed, stretching out your finger. He held it and quickly unlocked your cell phone. You closed your eyes completely mortified when you heard the moans and wet noises coming from the device. You couldn't stand to look at Stephen, no matter what expressions were on his face.

Stephen let out a low whistle "You are dirty."

You allowed yourself to open one eye to peek at what he was doing. He was scrolling through your online history. "I think we have a masturbation kink here, sweetheart. When were you going to tell me about it?"

You sighed, reaching out your hand "If you're done, I want my phone back."

He smirked handing it back to you.

"I'll understand if you're mad at me." You said, turning off your phone screen and sitting crisscrossed on the bed. "But I swear I don't do that all the time. I'm not addicted to porn or anything like that." You explained yourself, looking at your hands.

Stephen held your hand. "Look at me. Not for a moment did I think you were. And I don't mind if you watch porn every now and then. It's normal, sweetheart, we all do it from time to time."

You looked at him curiously. "You do?"

He smirked. "Sometimes. Would you like to know what I usually see?"

You felt your cheeks getting hot again, but you nodded.

"Blowjobs. Most of the time the ones that end in deep throat. You know I love it because I already told you that."

You nodded biting the inside of your cheek. "The videos... you just watch them or... you imagine yourself participating."

Stephen smirked, probably realizing you were jealous. "I imagine it's you doing those things to me."

You felt your stomach getting pleasantly weird at that revelation.

"May I ask what you were thinking just now when you were watching that video?" He asked.

You found yourself playing with his fingers between your hands, squeezing them and rolling them between your fingers.

"It's always you." You muttered. "I always imagine it's you doing that... for me."

Stephen shifted in bed as if his pants had suddenly become uncomfortable. "Is that what you want? See me jerk off?"

You nodded shyly.

He reached down between your legs and pulled your shorts and panties to the side, dipping his finger in your folds and sighing heavily. "You're so fucking wet..."

You moved your hips subtly against his finger, which made him groan and pull you to his lips, capturing your lips in a devastating kiss. He sank two fingers inside you and began to slowly finger you, eliciting a moan from your lips.

"Stephen...need you." You confessed on his lips.

He smirked pulling away, with a quick movement of his fingers he closed and locked the bedroom door. He stood up next to the bed and began to undress. First the boots, then the top of his robes. He unbuckled his belt and ran his thumbs over the waistband of his pants, slowly lowering them and kicking them into a pile on the floor.

Your eyes were fixed on the outline of his cock inside his white boxer briefs. He was so big. Stephen didn't miss anything to the actors in those videos you watched. In fact, he was bigger than most of them.

He finally pulled down his underwear and kicked them into the pile. His cock was fully erect, curved deliciously towards his abdomen. That was, you thought, the most erotic vision you could conjure in your mind and yet nothing you had imagined resembled reality. Your mouth was open in a big O.

"Want to see me pumping my cock for you? You'll have to say, sweetheart."

You swallowed thickly watching him hold his cock by the base pointing it at you provocatively. He ran a finger along the slit collecting a drop of precum.

"You are so beautiful." That was all you could think of saying.

He smirked proudly, "Yeah? Is that why you want to see me jerk off? Come on, take those clothes off, let me see you too."

You obeyed, taking off your blouse and unclasping your bra. You knelt on the bed to pull down your shorts and panties and sat back kicking them to the floor.

"Beautiful." He praised. He went to the bedside table and opened one of the drawers, taking out a bottle of lube and pouring some of the liquid into one of his hands and taking it to his cock, spreading it all over his length and making a delicious wet noise in the process. That noise, you loved that noise.

You bit your bottom lip feeling how your clit was swollen, pulsing and demanding for attention.

"Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. I'll sit here..." He said, sitting down in one of the two armchairs next to the fireplace. "And you're going to keep your eyes fixed on me. Okay? Isn't that what you wanted?"

You nodded watching him circle his fingers around the tip and finally start to stroke his cock up and down with more force. He let out a moan and closed his eyes for a second letting himself be carried away by the moment, but then he opened them staring at you and as if that wasn't enough he smiled the most beautiful and charming smile.

You still couldn't believe that this was really happening. Maybe you had falling asleep after cumming and were actually dreaming. It was the only possible explanation, but it was still not consistent. None of your dreams were so vivid and real.

You watched as he slowly slid his hand up and down, with the other hand he massaged his balls and without giving much thought to it, your hand slid between your legs, but as soon as you noticed what you were doing, you took it out of there feeling the heat rising to your face again.

"It's okay, you can touch yourself while you watch. Pick up where you left off, sweetheart."

You chewed on your lip feeling a little insecure, but you did as he said and slid your fingers between your folds feeling the pleasure run through your body like an electric current. You let out a low moan and Stephen nodded encouraging you to continue. You stuck two fingers inside and started fucking yourself on them at a steady pace, your eyes glued to Stephen.

You could say that you had seen a fair amount of cocks in your life, both in real life and on videos, but none were as beautiful as Stephen's. In fact, you never really thought the male member was beautiful until you held Stephen's in your hands and it wasn't just because it was his. Stephen's cock was big, much bigger than the average size, it was thick too and had a perfect curvature that pointed towards his abdomen, the head was fat and pink and there were veins around the entire length that were as beautiful and attractive as the veins in his arms and hands.

Stephen moaned, increasing his pace, his eyes on you all the time, to the way your fingers were going in and out your pussy, which at that point was dripping wet, making an squelching noise.

"Fuck sweetheart, you drive me crazy, you know that? Just imagining all the times you touched yourself thinking about this..." His voice was cut off by another loud moan.

He held his cock by the base proudly. "See how it's pulsing. I want to be inside you so badly." He let out another moan.

You loved the sounds Stephen made when he was making love, his baritone voice seemed made exactly for those sounds. That added to the sounds his hand made while pumping his cock was so devilishly arousing that you could feel yourself being pushed quickly over the edge.

Stephen could clearly see that happening. The rise and fall of your chest quickening with your hard breathing.

"You're loving this, aren't you, my love?"

You nodded vehemently and totally unable to contain your moans, you moaned louder increasing the rhythm of your fingers searching for your sweet release.

"Slow down, sweetheart. You don't want to cum before me, do you?" There was a certain pride in his voice that was extremely arousing. He was loving it, as much or even more than you, yet you wondered how he managed to keep his voice steady when he was clearly as close as you were.

You moaned softly feeling your body practically there and this time you didn't have enough strength to stop.

"I don't want to stop now, Steph. I want to cum."

Stephen smirked "Yeah? Then cum for me, love. Show me how much you're enjoying watching me jerk off."

He kept his pace fast and intense and you let yourself be carried away by the feeling that grew inside your stomach. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you wanted more than just your fingers to satisfy you, but you knew they would be enough when you had that sight in front of you as stimulation.

You bit your bottom lip to hold back a loud moan at which Stephen tsked.

"Don't hold back, you can be loud. I love hearing you, sweetheart."

You moaned outrageously loud, giving in to your orgasm and your entire body began to shake, you closed your eyes, your mouth went agape.

"That's right. Beautiful. You did it so perfectly for me." Stephen praised.

When you opened your eyes your cheeks were hot and you could feel all the courage draining away, but Stephen wasn't ready to let go of the moment you shared, not yet.

He smiled devilishly at you holding his cock by the base. It was red and pulsing, the veins dilated by the flow of blood showing just how close he was to his own release.

"Come here, I want you to come closer."

You forced your legs to obey you, which was not an easy task, and stood up, walking slowly to the armchair. He reached out a hand to you and you took it.

"Get on your knees for me." He instructed.

You did as he asked and were ready to take him in your hands when he gently pulled them away.

"You're just going to watch, sweetheart. I'm going to do all the work exactly how you always wanted to see."

You nibbled on your bottom lip nodding and watched as he resumed stroking his cock up and down slowly and then increased the pace again. One hand firmly on the base, the other pumping quickly.

"Tell me, is this how you always imagined it?"

You nodded unable to say anything. He moaned surrendering to the pleasure.

"You're so fucking dirty... and I love you for that, you know? I've never had a woman make me so crazy about her."

You let out a low involuntary moan in response which made him smirk.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

You allowed yourself to look away from his cock to look into his eyes quickly.

“I want you to cum for me.”

He started to move his hips involuntarily against his fist and you knew he was close.

"Do you want to take it in your mouth?" He asked breathlessly.

You knew that was what he wanted, but you shook your head.

"No? I know. You want to see it happening, don't you?"

You bit your lip hard and nodded. You loved when Stephen talked to you like that. His baritone voice whispered to you in that sexy way of when he was close to his climax.

Stephen managed to chuckle between his moans that were quickly escalating to groans and grunts.

"So don't take your eyes off me... I'm so fucking close."

You smiled victoriously, determined to push him to get there.

"Come for me, Stephen. I want to see you cum... all over your stomach." You gave him your best baby girl look.

And so he did. Stephen let out an almost animalistic groan and began to cum. Ropes of his thick and white cum spurted from his cock head onto his abdomen, splashing down his stomach and making a delicious mess just like you always imagined.

The sight made your mouth water. It was no secret to you that you had a certain fascination with cum, unlike many women, you weren't disgusted by it, you loved the smell and especially the taste of it on your tongue and that's why you grabbed his cock and sucked the tip to collect the last drops of cum that dripped from his slit.

Stephen moaned in surprise, but leaned both arms on the armchair and lolled his head back, surrendering to the delicious afterglow with a heavy sigh.

The taste of his cum on your tongue made you want more of it, so you dedicated yourself to cleaning up the whole mess with your tongue. Licking his abdomen and stomach and sucking up the small puddles of cum, scooping some with your fingers and sucking on them, enjoying it as if you were tasting the best of desserts.

"Oh fuck, sweetheart... this is so fucking hot!"

You chuckled, finishing your work and placing a kiss on the tip of his cock and allowing yourself to look at him.

"Your cum taste so good." You confessed.

He chuckled moaning as you stroked him lightly. You didn't expect him to get hard so quickly again, but you could feel him growing in your hand.

He held your face firmly between both of his hands and leaned in to kiss you quickly. "Look what you do to me! Why don't you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth now, uh?"

You nodded obediently opening your mouth for him. He grabbed his cock, gave it a couple of jerks and stuck it in your mouth, pressing it against the wall of your cheek, teasing you.

"This warm little mouth is so delicious, love, but I want your throat. Tell me I can fuck your throat."

He took his cock out of your mouth to let you respond.

"Yes. You know I like it too."

He smirked "Yeah? You're such a dirty little girl. Like to see me jerk off, Like to get your throat fucked. What did I do to deserve you?"

You bit your bottom lip. "You are the great Doctor Strange. Any woman in the world would want to have her throat fucked by your cock, Stephen."

"Yeah?" He caressed your face, holding his cock by the base and you opened your mouth obediently without him even having to ask. He shoved his cock down your throat groaning loud.

"But there's only one woman I want and that's you, sweetheart. Only you."

You felt your heart swelling with those words, but you focused on relaxing your throat and letting him fuck it at his pace, fast and hard as he always did.

He didn't last long, he never lasted long when he fucked your throat, it was his weak point. He held your head in place and continued thrusting up until he was out of breath and emptied himself down your throat.

"Oh shit... so. fucking. good." He finished punctuating his words with three last thrusts and then let go of your head and allowed you to take him out of your mouth.

He caressed your cheek gently and smiled the sweetest, most beautiful smile in the world. "And to think I only went back to the Sanctum to get a relic that Wong asked for."

You giggled getting up and sitting on his lap. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to his lips and kissed you softly.

"Promise me you'll tell me whenever there's anything you want to do in bed or in any other circumstances. You know you can talk to me. About anything."

You nodded "I promise."

He pinched your cheek teasingly and then sighed. "I need to go now. Wong is probably wondering why I'm taking so long. He'll end up coming after me. You know what he's like."

You nodded, holding his face in your hands. "I love you."

You kissed him again.

"I love you too, Sweetheart. More than anything."

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vibratingskull · 7 months

Note

Hello! 👋 I have a request if you don't mind. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 Thrawn x f!reader reunion sex. F!reader was with Morgan, Bylan, Shin, and Sabine in finding Thrawn cause that's her man and she misses him and when they reunite, they have passionate alone time together 😏

Mmmmmmmmh 😋 smexy times with Thrawn, you have such good tastes anon. Plus Lars interpretation is DOING THINGS to me 😩🥵

Thrawnxf!reader

tag : reunion sex, cunnilingus, p in v sex, she/her reader and a bit of fluff

“What was first just a dream has become a frightening reality for those who may oppose us.” He casually says, closing the gap between him and the group with his signature smirk.

You straighten your back, gulping, your heart beating at 100 miles per hour.

Finally.

After ten years.

You can see him in all his glory.

Thrawn…

Your heart screams to throw yourself at him, everyone be damned, but it is a bad idea. None of them are aware of your relationship with Thrawn, you took great care in hiding that from them. This info is too sensitive to be known by anyone. Morgan would have tried to get rid of you if she knew, her thirst for power and glory pushing her to follow and obey Thrawn in all matters, but she’s not without deviances and you don’t trust her enough, Thrawn didn’t trust her enough either to reveal your relationship to her back in the Empire.

But you, you know her.

She always struck you as an odd choice for Thrawn to take as a protégé… She always lacked the genius he saw in Vanto and Faro, maybe it’s her undying loyalty that resembles obsession that pleased him? You doubt it. He surely only took her under his wings to know more about the Force and fight the jedis more efficiently.

“Great mothers, I salute you. Soon we should all escape this exile thanks to the help of Morgan Elsbeth.”

Oh that voice… so soft and melodic like in your memories. How much you yearned to hear it again. It makes you want to run into his arms and hug him tightly, to jump in his embrace and kiss him deeply.

But that would be stupidly dangerous. Elsbeth is too savage and you don’t feel those… Great Mothers. Something tells you they are the kind to exploit any weakness.

The discussion continues while your eyes remain on your man, your treasure, your cha’cah… He’s old. He seems tired and weary, his uniform is patched up. The weight of years really makes itself felt despite his haughty demeanor.

But to you he’s never been so handsome.

Nothing could compare to him and the moment of your reunion.

This instant is magic, timeless. A fairy tale. You feel light bubbles in your stomach. But you have one lingering fear…

“And you are?” he asks Baylan, clasping his hand behind his back as you remember him doing.

“Mercenaries” Morgan explains “Baylan Skoll, and his apprentice Shin Hati.” She presents them, they bow lightly to him, remaining humble. “And (Y/n)(F/n), but I think you already know her.”

You take a step forward and bow respectfully to him, a sour taste in your mouth. What if his sentiment faded during this ten years exile? What if he found comfort in the arms of one of his stormtroopers? What if you’re just too old for him now?

You look into his eyes as you raise back your head, he glares back at you with a light grin.

“I do remember. We used to work closely to defeat the enemy of the Empire together.”

“Indeed, Grand Admiral.” You nod humbly.

Oh to be close, you were close. As close as you can be. He takes his time to gauge you up and down with his little grin before turning back to Baylan.

“Then you must be General Baylan Skoll, of the Jedi order.”

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

You're fidgeting your fingers, laying on the bed.

You can’t sleep.

You’re well awake under the covers, eyes fixated on the stone ceiling of the cold room, mulling over your situation.

You find him! A hunt of ten years just ended, and you hoped for… more? Just after finishing the presentations Thrawn and Morgan locked themself in a room to strategize your next moves. Baylan, Shin and you were left arms dangling without anything to do. You tried to access the Chimaera to visit your old room but the captain, Enoch, stopped you and escorted you back to the stone citadel without a word.

You’re not welcome in the Chimaera anymore it seems.

Are your fears correct?

Did he find someone else?

You sigh deeply, turning in the cover again.You try not to think too much about it, you wished you could ask him for an explanation but each time you tried to enter the room a soldier stopped you. And you don’t think he would have appreciated to be disturbed in his brainstorming session for heart matters.

You bite your lips, feeling tears building behind your eyes. Even after ten years that still hurts like hell. You hoped for an explosive reunion, but you got a nod and a grin before getting ignored and relegated to a goon status. If only you could just cross path with him in the corridors, just one discussion to clear the air and know your situation for certain, if only-

You hear knocks at your door.

You raise your head. It’s almost 3am, who would come at this hour?

“Coming!” You shout, praying for it not to be Enoch with bad news.

You open your door to Thrawn, hands behind his back, and a serious gaze.

“Oh…” That’s all you can say, you thought he was already sleeping.

Apparently the session with Morgan only ended moments ago.

“May I enter?” he politely asks.

You step to the side, signaling him your permission. He enters slowly, like he’s discovering the room. You close the door and cross your arms, as much to protect you from the cold than to protect yourself from what he could throw at you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, a little anxious.

He spins on himself, turning to you.

“Nothing is wrong, dear. Nothing has ever been this brighter in ten years.”

You smile a bit, nodding.

“Yeah, I guess finally seeing your rescue group must lift a heavy weight off your shoulders.”

“It is true. But I was not referring to that.” he counters. “Approach.”

You tilt your head, walking toward him. He extends his hand to you and you take it, wondering what he wants. He inspects your left hand and a smile graces his lips.

“You are still wearing your wedding ring.” you think you hear some relief in his tone but you can’t be sure.

“Yes. I kept it for all those years.” you admit.

“Does it still have value in your eyes?” he asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?” you frown.

“Your ring. Does it still hold any meaning to your heart?” he demands with gleaming eyes.

After a hesitation you nod.

“Yes. Yes it does.”

He looks into your eyes, as to see if you were lying and sighs of relief.

“You ease my heart.” he takes his left hand from behind his back into your hand, revealing his own ring “I kept mine too. It reminded me of you everyday.” He kisses your hand reverently.

You observe his ring on his finger, feeling your heart dilating with relief.

He didn’t forget you…

“Thank Maker.” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Cha’cah.” you reopen your eyes, feeling his warm palms on your cheek “I am blissful to see you. I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you too.” you throw yourself in his arms, circling him tightly.

He squeezes you against his heart, kissing the top of your head.

“I am here, cha’cah. And I am not going anywhere this time.”

You raise your gaze to meet his, full of hope.

“You promise?” you hear your voice crack “I already lost you once, I won’t survive losing you a second time.”

“I promise cha’cah. From now on we will remain together, fight together, rule together…” he tries to appease you.

“I don’t care about ruling anybody, it’s you that I want!” You bury yourself against him, digging your nails in the fabric of his white uniform like he would evaporate. You don’t care about any powers, all you came here for is to bring him home, you will think about power after.

“You are right as always. I am sorry. This is the most important.” He murmurs as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent.

He looms over you with his height, shielding you with his large shoulders. You start hearing a faint purr as he breathes in your musk.

“You smell lovely.” he finally says after a minute of silence.

“Yeah right!” you giggle “I’m sweaty and there aren't any showers here.”

“Well it is lovely nonetheless.” He inhales again with a growl of satisfaction “It is doing things to me…” he sighs deeply satisfied.

He starts kissing your exposed neck as you chuckle.

“Doing things to you? What happened to my unshakable Grand Admiral?”

“Maybe the unshakable Grand Admiral would like to revel in your delights.” he says lowly, pushing you gently against a wall.

You’re pressed between the cold stone and the large wall that is his chest, he kisses your neck, your jaw, stops to devour you with his red gaze and finally kisses your lips. You close your eyes to savor it, opening your mouth to let him enter. His tongue passes past your lips to hug and dance with yours. You moan against his soft lips, indulging yourself in the languorous kiss. His purr grows louder, a hand in your hair to press your lips against his, his other hand snakes its way in your back to pull your body against his. You circle his shoulders with your arm, a hand passing in his hair, dishevelling him. The kiss became heavy and feverish, his hands sliding under your shirt, caressing your bare skin with his warm palm. You part with him to start unbuttoning his jacket with haste, barely containing your desire to simply tear it apart to gain access to his body. Thrawn chuckles darkly.

“I do not remember you so hasty.”

“We didn’t have 10 years to compensate.” you counter, you wince because a stupid button refuses to open.

He kisses your forehead tenderly and opens it for you, taking his sweet time deliberately.

“I don’t wanna play tonight.” you say between a plea and an order.

“You are right, this is cruel of me.”

He finishes to open his jacket at a more acceptable pace and take it off, leaving himself in his signature black tank top.

“Maker, your taste in fashion hasn't evolved in ten years.” you giggle.

He sighs and tackles your feet. You yelp in surprise, losing your balance but he catches you with expert hands and carries you bridal style to your basic bed. He lays you down, looming over you like a predator and kisses you again, pulling your shirt over your breast and sliding your bra under it to expose your sensitive tits. He lapps them avidly, licks across the mount and sucks them like he would gulp down a treat, groping them with his large warm hands. You whimper and arch your back under his ministrations, how right does it feel to feel him on you again…

He kisses your tit and passes to the other, giving it the same treatment while massaging the first one. Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you feel your pussy starting to leak with your slick and soaking your undergarment. You want his lips and hands everywhere on you at the same time, you want to feel the weight of his body on yours, pining you into place, you want him deep inside you.

“Hurry… Please hurry…” you whimper as his tongue works on your nipple.

“No.'' He berates you gently “I have been deprived of you for so long, let me enjoy it as I please.” He slowly trails his way down your stomach with his tongue, leaving a trail of fresh saliva from your breast to your tummy. He reaches the hem of your pants and takes a good lick at your venus mons with the flat of his tongue. He kisses it swiftly and opens your pants with deft hands.

“First, let me indulge myself in my favorite treat.” he says with a short breath, a rare visible sign of his excitement.

You try to raise your bust on your elbow to have a better view when he slides your panties to the side to gain access to your wet cunny. He blows on it lightly, letting the cold hair hit your sensitive bud. You whine, your pussy demanding attention urgently. He chuckles and kisses your pussy lips before taking a fat sloppy lick with the flat of his tongue. You throw your head backward with a moan as he licks and laps you thoroughly, he focuses on your clit, sucking it and flicking his tongue, giving it extra intention, eating you out as good as you remember him doing. Maker, in ten years he didn’t lose his touch, you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. He looks straight into your eyes as he does it, unashamed, growling like a carnivore feasting on its prey. You inadvertently squeeze his head in the spasm of your thighs, his large hands come part them wide open to give him better access. You flush deeply, taking shallow breath you feel yourself trembling terribly as pleasure waves spread through your veins. He continues to tease you like a hungry man, unbothered by your trembling limbs locking his head in its place. The waves grow furious and you come on his face. You let yourself fall on the mattress, tired and ashamed.

“I’m sorry…” you whine between two gasps.

“Never apologize for that. It is exactly what I wanted and you delivered splendidly.” he purrs, working his tongue on your fold. Drinking your slick, he parts your folds and enters you and tonguefuck you thoroughly, darting and caressing your gummy spot so deliciously.

You didn’t know any other man during those ten years, you stayed faithful to him and rarely took the matter in your own hands because you were so busy working to get him back. Those ten years of abstinence got you so sensitive that one orgasm already took a toll on your delicate pussy. You grip his hair and face, trying to pull him off you but he doesn’t budge, remaining firmly in place.

“Thrawn… please…” you try.

“That is it. Call my name cha’cah, do not hesitate to scream it as you cum.” he coos, his swollen lips working on yours all puffy and soft.

You try to wiggle out of his grip but he holds down your hips firmly with a growl of disapprobation, warning you to never deprive him of your cunny. He purposely makes the most obscenes sounds to get you hot and bothered, to let you know that it is because of you he behaves like a rabid animal in heat, that he tossed both of your dignities to indulge in the sinful pleasures of the flesh. You moan under his skillful tongue, you are hypersensitive and already sore, how could you take another orgasm without shattering in a million pieces? Your pussy clench painfully over his tongue, you feel your muscles gorging themself with hot blood and puffing up.

“I missed that pussy.” He groans “You have no idea how much. Ten years without it was torture.”

“It… It wasn’t funny without you either.” you breathe.

“We will make up for it tonight, cha’cah. Do not worry about that.”

Oh you don’t worry about that, you worry about your spasming cunt. You feel your heart beating at max speed, ready to spring out of your ribcage. You feel your own blood beat furiously down in your core.

You come again, a powerful orgasm that tenses up all your muscles. You squirt in his mouth as you land on the mattress with a “oof”.

“Prodigious, cha’cah! You have done it!” He praises you, you can hear the warmth and the satisfaction in his voice and deep purr as he licks his lips hungrily. Thrawn adorns a smug smirk of making you cum two times. He kisses your clit and looms over you again, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He places himself between your legs, raising up on his knees to take off his shirt and open his pants. You wearily push yourself in a sitting position to get rid of all your clothes sticky and full of sweat. You help him with his pants, seeing the bulge in the tight fabric. It must be painful for him, you think. He frees his erection and you take it in your hand, stroking it lazily and kissing its head. You lick his blue girth from the base to the tip, peppering kisses here and there. He inhales deeply, his head back, caressing your cheek. you take him in your mouth and circle his crown with your tongue. It is warm and heavy in your mouth, it makes you drool. You taste the saltiness of his pre-cum. You start bobbing your head when he gently pulls you off. You look at him without understanding, pouting like a child who just got denied a tasty candy.

“What you are doing with your mouth is delightful, cha’cah. But I want my cock inside your pussy as soon as possible.” He rasps.

You open your eyes wide.

In your pussy? No way.

You’re already so sore, he can’t be serious.

“Thrawn…” you whine “I can’t take another one…”

He gently pushes you back on the mattress, following you with a smirk.

“Of course you can, cha’cah. You are a big girl, you can take it and more. I trust you.” he licks and kisses your neck, weighing heavy on your more petite figure. You feel so safe under his warm, hot body.

He circles your waist with his arms and rolls on the side, pulling you on top of him.

“Ride me, my love. Take control.” He instructs.

You feel his dick poking at the plumpness of your ass, hard as a rock. You cry, your legs are already trembling, you don’t know if you can even ride him properly. You sigh and tiredly raise from your laying position to grasp him and align him with your sex. You ease yourself slowly on him, opening your mouth round at the full sensation.

Maker, he’s big! You forgot how much.

You’re stuffed to the brim, you can’t take more. His hands come caressing your waist to ease your muscles.

“You are doing great, cha’cah. Ride me as you please, what you want I will give.” He praises you.

You rise up and go down slowly, letting your slick act as a lubricant and it’s hardly a luxury given his girth. You breathe deeply through your nose and continue to ride him slowly, making circling motion with your hips. He can reach every spot with ease, you feel his tip brushing your cervix, deep inside you. You moan his name pathetically, your legs are barely working and you have difficulty raising your own weight on his shaft.

“Maker, were you always so tight?” he gasps with gleaming eyes.

You ride him sloppily as best you can, with Thrawn seizing your waist to help your motion, caressing you with his thumbs. He starts rutting into you delicately, but you can feel his eagerness bubbling under his skin. Despite that he respects the pace you choose.

When you reach the end of your rope you fall on him, gasping for air. He hugs you tight, kissing the top of your head while rutting deep inside you, one hand between your two bodies to caress your clit. You can’t move anymore, you really should work on your stamina, you think with a tired smile, letting him work. Your sore pussy is stretched to the max, your pussylips are all swollen and your abused clit is all puffy and nervous. You feel your inner muscle working to welcome his cock deep inside you, so much you feel waves in your stomach. His veiny shaft stretches you deliciously.

“Can I take the lead?” He softly asks.

You nod with a mumble, exhausted.

He makes you roll swiftly, getting on top of you again and installs a breakneck pace all of the sudden. He knocks the air out of your lungs, hitting your cervix with ease.

“Ha! Thrawn!” You manage to speak between two powerful thrusts.

“Hold on to me, cha’cah.” He indicates, panting, pressing himself against you and merely suffocating you.

Your head hits the headboard repeatedly, as you hold on to Thrawn for dear life. The scent of sex and his musk makes your head spin and the obscene noises of flesh hitting flesh resonate in the bedroom in an obsessing fashion. You gasp and mewls and whimper and sob, digging your nails in his large shoulders, his imposing figure shielding you completely. You let your gaze travel south and see how his cock disappears inside your body, a creamy O at the base of his shaft.

He rolls his hips like a jackhammer, pushing you into the mattress like it was nothing. You fear the bed will break, it’s clearly not made to bear such activities.

“It is so good, cha’cah. It is better than in my memories. Is it good for you too?” he asks, biting your lower lips.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you can only chant.

He plunges into you with force, at this point you’re more of a fleshlight he uses than an active participant. But you’re so exhausted, and the pleasure you feel is so great it stiffen your limbs, preventing you from moving. You feel your poor pussy getting abused, hit repeatedly by his mighty hips.

Despite his age, he really still got it.

It transports you back in time, with your younger self making love all night long, with him nuzzling against you, begging for another round while you just layed barely moving from exhaustion. In some way it is still the same, your older self just lasted less time.

You feel your pussy clenching on his cock again, and you just know you completely soaked up the sheets. You feel your slick and his pre-cum leaking of your cunny, running along your tight ass.

He holds your cheek tenderly and kisses you feverishly, muffling your mewls with his soft lips. His tongue comes to hug yours, languidly.

You cry his name as you cum again, seeing stars behind your closed eyes, tensing around his dick like it is trying to hold it deep inside, he kisses your cheek, purring loudly, clearly satisfied by his work.

His hips start jerking and moving erratically until he freezes, completely contracted, spurting long hot ribbons of seed in you. Your pussy milks him dry for all his worth.

He peppers your face with kisses, as you try to get back your breath.

“Can I remain inside? I want to enjoy you as long as I can.” he whispers in your ear.

You slowly nod, repressing a yawn.

He slides on the side, hugging you tight. You snuggle against him, your head against his beating heart.

“It was grandiose, was it not, cha’cah?” he kisses your forehead “I could go for another round if you wish?”

You hide your face in his chest with a pathetic whine.

“Alright.” He chuckles, “as you wish, my love."

You remain silent for long minutes, only listening to each other breathing. You draw circle on his wide chest with the tip of your finger before taking the floor.

"You're gonna find it stupid, but I was afraid you'd find someone else." You let out.

"Nobody could have taken your place, you are unique in my heart." Thrawn whispers back.

"Yet when Enoch refused me access to the Chimaera I thought our time was over." You turn your head to meet his gaze.

His hand comes grazing your cheek.

"I had to do… reforms to keep my troops alive. It was not against you. I will warn Enoch to give you free access to the ship first thing in the morning." He comforts you.

You pull the cover a bit over the both of you, thinking.

"I don't like Morgan." you let out "I don't trust her."

"Me neither. But she is a necessary evil to my plans."

"Necessary to the point of isolating yourself with her for hours?"

He gives you a sidelong glance with a smirk.

"Did you become jealous during those ten years?" he asks, amused.

"Yes, terribly. I want to know what you do with her." you demand.

"We simply planned our next campaign. I would like your opinion on some moves tomorrow, I trust your strategic abilities more than hers." He boops your nose and you wince exaggeratedly.

You remember the long hours you used to spend together, strategizing carefully each move, he asked your advices regularly, taking your opinions and suggestions very seriously despite his genius. You ended up sleeping at your desk several time but he would carry you to your shared bed and hug you tight... Those were simpler, nicer times.

You smile, looking in his magnificent red eyes.

"I love you, Thrawn." you murmur, eyes heavy with sleep.

"I love you, Ch'acah." He kisses your forehead "Sleep well."

@thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @bluechiss

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull #thrawn smut

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mamawasatesttube · 11 months

Note

ooo prompt time!! maybe “if we’re going down, i’m going with you.” or “if you insult them, you insult me.” with timkon?

"This doesn't look great," Kon observes.

Tim lowers his binoculars. The flotilla of invading spacecraft in the valley below are primed to attack the alien village on the other side of the hills within the hour, and help from offworld won't get here until dawn. Which is significantly more than an hour away. The village hardly has anything to call "defenses", and no troops to speak of other than farmers and their kids, untrained and armed with pitchforks.

"Yeah, not great," Tim agrees. It's a pretty apt summary of the situation. Fucking Slag conquerors. "I get the feeling they aren't gonna be interested in baseball this time, either."

Kon snorts. But the levity in his face is belied by the tension running through his body; his shoulders are tight, his jaw squared as he stares down the gentle slope from their hidden observation deck down to the ships. He looks remarkably like Clark when he's serious, when his eyes turn stormy and protective.

Then he turns his gaze to Tim, and an invisible touch ghosts over Tim's lower lip. Tim belatedly realizes he's been biting it so hard he's very close to drawing blood.

"Don't do that," Kon murmurs. The stormy look hasn't diminished, but it's warmer, when he looks at Tim.

"Right." Tim is hard-pressed, just for the most fleeting of moments, not to reach for him; he yearns, for an instant, but he doesn't, because there's work to be done. Like the alien death trap at the bottom of the hill. "Well. I might be able to disrupt their local lcommunications array, if I can just get my hands on one of their computers. That might buy us some time."

Kon nods. "And I can definitely wreck some shit to distract them while you do that."

A brief pause, as they survey the Slag ships. They've got heavy enough artillery that even with Kon's formidable powers, the odds are looking very... not great. A little flutter of anxiety thrums through Tim's stomach, not at the idea of dying here himself (though he doesn't love that either), but at the idea of losing Kon. If he takes it on himself to go out in a blaze of glory and hellfire, just to save one little farming village on a planet far from their own...

As if reading his mind, Kon clears his throat. "Look, Rob... I can just go in and break a lot of shit solo. That'll still probably buy enough time. You don't have to go in on such a risky one with me. I can drop you back at—"

Tim whaps him on the head. "Stop that. You know I'm not hiding and letting you go in alone."

Kon shrugs, a slight, rueful smile playing about his lips. "Hey, worth a shot. Since we're about to get shot at. A lot."

Rolling his eyes, Tim folds his binoculars and clips them back to his belt, then reaches over and takes Kon's hand. "Yeah, well, if you're going down, I'm going with you."

This time, Kon snorts. "And sugar, we're goin' down swingin'," he sings, squeezing Tim's hand.

Tim surprises himself by laughing. Honestly, it shouldn't be a surprise; Kon always makes him laugh, even when he least expects it. "I'll be your number one with a bullet," he sings back. "A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it."

As one, they turn to look back down at the flotilla below. The Slag ships sit ominously on the dark valley floor, a blot of light where none should be.

They better survive this, Tim thinks. It'd be really stupid to die now to a squadron of the same alien conquerors who they beat at baseball years ago.

"You know, I always thought that line was 'a load of god complex'," Kon admits, stroking his chin with his free hand. "Like, the whole thing was a dick joke and a gun thing, and also saying, like, hey, get a load of this guy and his god complex!"

Tim snorts again, unable to stop himself from grinning despite the gravity of it all. "Only you, Kon."

"Fall Out Boy is unintelligible!" Kon defends. His thumb strokes along the base of Tim's, rubbing a circle through his gauntlet, and Tim glances up at him briefly to see him smiling again, though the set of his jaw is no less resolute.

Tim loves him.

"You ready for this, clone boy?" he asks.

"With you at my back?" Kon returns. "Always."

#timkon #sorry im just soooooo thinking about battle couple. they. wah #tim #kon #crimzoncrow #rimi writes

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theship-thewalrus · 2 years

Note

Can you do a sir harwin x fem reader where they were a " thing " but he pulled away bcs of rhaenyra , so she moves on and when he tries to spend time with her again she does everything to stop him and eventually he find her in bed with another??

ser harwin strong x female! reader

pretty much the ask :)

word count: 872 words reading time: about 4 minutes warnings: gets a little steamy at the end but that's it :)

You had no right to be jealous of Rhaenyra, Harwin was not officially yours to love. He never had been yours and he never would be, the pair of you only ever sharing a bed. But you had allowed yourself to believe it was more, that perhaps the couple of you would make it official. For he was so different when it was the pair of you, he was soft and loving. The man often whispers sweet nothings in your ears, gifting you small trinkets, offering you help with whatever you need.

But Rhaenrya was everything you were not, a woman of notice and power, one that commanded the room she was in. You would be lying if you did not say you thought she was beautiful, a stunning glory that inhabits the castle. It was only natural Harwin began to lean towards her, finding him spending more time in her presence. In turn, sacrificing time with you in favour of Rhaenrya. To say such a thing would be an understatement, for this had made it clear what you meant to him. You were nothing but something to pass the time until he found something better.

A part of you did not want to believe it, to think he could discard you so easily. You meant more to him than that. Right? All those moments you shared together, all those words, were they nothing to him? No, they couldn't be. For they meant the world to you. But as you watch him speak lowly to her, the sparing glances to each other. Your brain knew what has happened, no matter how much your heart refuses it to be true.

Eventually, you move on from Harwin, your heart accepting the reality of the situation. When a door is closed a window is opened, Harwin's distance allowed another man to arrive in his place. A simple guard, nothing like the ranks of Harwin. But he was kind and noble, taking note of where you were at times. He reminded you of a puppy in a sense, whenever he saw you his face would seemingly light up. It helped mend your broken heart to see he cared that much for you.

However, like a child whose toy had been taken from them, despite them not playing with it, and given to someone else. Harwin grew jealous seeing you gravitate towards someone else. For now, there was someone else who made you laugh and smile, replacing him in your life like how he replaced you. But Harwin wanted to be the one who walked beside you, whose arm you grabbed, the person you sort out in large gatherings. Yet as he watches you pay no mind to him, he realised he held no such place in your heart.

Thus began the process of rewinning your affection using everything at his disposal to try and do so. But what he learnt you liked no longer seemed to work, no amount of flowers, trinkets, or notes, could wipe the look of disgust from your face when you saw him. However, it worked in making you talk to him, to give him the time of day. The privilege of hearing your voice once more filled his ears.

"(Y/N), I've missed you, I-" Silently you raise your hand to silence him, something he did quickly. It was clear the power had shifted between you, where once he was the more dominating one it was now you. "Harwin, leave me be. I do not want your ridiculous gifts or notes. Whatever we were is no more. Not since you threw me aside like some rubbish." Your words were harsh and biting, making the man sink into himself. You spoke the truth, something you have come to terms with. Yet he still seemed to think differently, to think there was still an inkling of something he could hang onto.

"I did nothing of the sort. Please, listen." But you did not, for you said what you needed. Anything more and you would be wasting your breath and time on someone who no longer mattered to you. Leaving him there to think over what he had done, that maybe it would push him to leave you alone.

But even after countless encounters like that Harwin still believed he could win you back. Hanging onto the memories of the pair of you together, as though the memories alone would pull you back into his embrace. But you were gone, just out of reach. Such an idea only being able to stick in his mind after seeing you with the other man for himself.

He did not mean to walk into such an intimate moment, to see your breast bounce as you rode the man under you. The way your full lips parted as an airy moan left you. To see the man under you looking up at you like you hung the moon and stars themselves. The pair of you have seemingly not noticed him, and continued with your act. Or maybe you had, continuing anyway for you knew this was the only way Harwin would understand you were no longer his.

For you were no one's to own and discard, not Harwin's, not the man under you, no one.

#harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagines #house of the dragon x reader #harwin x reader #hotd imagines #hotd x reader #ser harwin strong x reader

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cuubism · 9 months

Note

here have a random headcanon i like to think/obsess about sometimes: so at their 1489 meeting, the dark stranger's hand is just laying on table and Hob definitely has a fleeting moment of panic/daring where he's like 'should I touch him? can I touch him?? just to make sure he's real and not some fae illusion or passing dream' but holds out because it might turn out to be a fae trap or disappear like a dream (and maybe he doesn't want that???)

fast forward to 2022 when they meet again decades after their usual date and Hob is just desperately trying to keep it cool and casual. He laces his fingers together, trying to relax because he might do something stupid like reach out shake his stranger (his friend!!) or hug him. And if Hob does get close enough, he might do something stupider and you know, kiss this friend of his (!!!) he's been waiting literal years for. as you do.

just Hob with restless hands trying not to be too much. He slips up sometimes. Just little things like fixing or even fiddling with Dream's collar, plucking a wayward leaf from his hair and refluffing it to back artfully messy glory, a admiring sweep over his shoulders and down his sleeves. To Hob's surprise, Dream returns the touches in kind. Fixes a tie that does not pass his friend's standards, tucks a loose strand behind his ear, brief touches on his elbow or knee to silently catch his attention. (and down the line, Dream is the one to reach out to link their fingers together for the first time)

yes ABSOLUTELY I do think hob is the fiddly-est most physically restless person, always fidgeting I'm sure, and it would definitely manifest around Dream, who's so ephemeral and constantly at risk of just disappearing on him.

What I'm also thinking about now though is what if it WAS a sort of fae trap. What if living things couldn't touch Dream without consequences (or, for that matter, any of the Endless, but thinking about Dream now). Other Endless could touch him, or creatures in the Dreaming, or even living things while they're dreaming, maybe-- but you can't really 'touch' the unconscious. So imagine if there consequences to trying to get too close to Dream in the waking world.

After their reunion Hob tries to squeeze Dream's hand or hug him or something and Dream pulls away (and being Dream, doesn't explain why, so Hob just thinks Dream doesn't want him). Then later Hob dreams of him, and in the dream he does get to hug him, what kind of cruel dream is that? (Still doesn't know what Dream's powers are). He thinks Dream won't show up again after he tried to hug him but Dream comes back for coffee the next week. Hob learned his lesson and doesn't try to touch him, but this time as they're parting Dream sways in towards him like he was about to initiate a hug, then jerks back at the last second and takes his leave abruptly. And that night Hob dreams of his friend cuddling up to him on the couch and tucking his face in against his neck. And so on and so on.

Dream never tells Hob the truth about any of this. Hob's pining horribly over his friend who he keeps having incredibly vivid dreams about--hugging him, holding him, kissing him--but who's only more nervous and standoffish in real life as time goes on. Hob doesn't try to touch him in the waking world again-- until one day Dream shows up to one of their meetings visibly distraught (most likely following some dream where Hob told him he loved him), and Hob can't help himself, he goes over and hugs him.

As to what the consequences of that are... idk 🤷‍♀️, either Hob gets permanently severed from the waking world in some way... or Dream learns that that whole rule was a lie from the start.

#got very off topic.whoops #ask #goldflinches #random dreamling aus i wont write #dreamling headcanons for emotional wellbeing

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thecuriousquest · 7 months

Note

Ooh I saw your post about Levi playing favs so now I would like to request the opposite.

Yandere Levi tries to groom a new cadet but she sees right through him and calls him out on his bullshit. Levi threatens her that if she doesn't submit to him then he will make her life hell. She thinks he is bluffing and just leaves. But then begins the game. She is treated worse than other recruits, forced to work extra hard and long, often punished without any reason, constantly mocked and humiliated, etc. He straight up bullies her and abuses their power dynamic, and as promised, makes her life a living hell. She can't take it anymore and finally breaks. She has no choice but to give in to him. With NSFW please. (Dub con or non con.)

A Good Cadet Follows Orders Part Two

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, dub con (at the end) blow job, whipping, isolation, power dynamic abuse, humiliation, degradation, crying kink, blood, injured reader, issued whipping threat

Checkout my Master List here.

Part One here.

—————————————————————————

“Cadet L/N, mind repeating that?”

You glare at him with clenched fists at your sides. “I said I know what you’re doing. I know you wanted to do ‘extra training’ just so you could cop a feel, and I’m done with it. You’re my captain and only that.”

His chuckle is dark, filled with something bone chilling. Captain Levi stands from his chair, rounding his desk. He stands in front of you, too close for your own comfort.

“Who are you, cadet, to speak to me like this?”

“I’m someone who won’t put up with your bull-“

An obnoxiously loud slap echos through his office, and you gasp, holding your blazing cheek.

“Captain, what the hell?! You can’t do that to me!”

What his heart truly desires, he has the inability to express. What he wants is for you to come to him willingly with open arms, but if he has to threaten you to get you moving, then he’s more than happy to give you some incentive.

“Oh? But I just did. You are nothing more than the shit on my boot. If I want to slap you, then I’ll do it because I can. If I want to grab your hair and whip your ass with my belt, then I fucking will, and you’ll be thankful that I’m even giving you the time of day.”

Fuck, those tears welling up in your eyes look so delicious. He forces his tongue to stay in his mouth so as not to lick his lips.

You push your tears far down, swaying your emotions not to show.

“I’m leaving. You’re not gonna treat me like this. I don’t have to fucking take it.” You throw him a cold shoulder as you turn to leave.

Your hand reaches out for the knob, twisting it in anger.

Before you can open the door, Levi issues you what he deems a warning. “If you take one step out that door, I’ll make your life a living hell. You won’t know mercy until you come to me begging for it on your hands and knees.”

Your spine stiffens in response, and for a moment, for a singular moment, you think, Is he serious?

He can’t have that much power. He’s only the leader of your squadron. What could he possibly do to you? Plus, there are hundreds of other cadets to worry about. He can’t keep tabs on you all the time.

With an air of bravado, you leave in all of your feminine glory with your head held high.

Oh, you have no idea how much fun Levi is going to have breaking you down.

———

During training, Levi purposely uses you as the demonstration for hand to hand combat moves.

“When I place your foot right by hers, it makes it easier to throw her. See?” He throws you over his shoulder, keeping a tight grip on your arm while stepping on your sternum.

You groan quite loudly from the force of the throw.

“That’s why you don’t want your foot too far away. You’ll lose your momentum. Cadet, stand up so I can demonstrate the move again.”

“Captain, I-“

“Now, cadet.”

You lower your eyes and stand up, ready to be thrown a second, third, and fourth time.

You glare daggers at Horse Face when he asks the captain to explain the move one more time because he just “doesn’t understand”.

After training, you just want to bathe and sleep. You’re sore as you trudge back to your quarters, but Levi holds you back.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going? Clean up the ODM gear and training props. Also, you’re on stable duty today, so report there after you’re done cleaning up here.”

Your jaw drops. He has to be joking.

“But, sir, I-“

“You what, cadet? Are you feeling sore and tired?” He walks up to you with his hands behind his back. “I could take the pain away at any moment. You know what you have to do to make that happen.”

Tightening your jaw, you angrily stomp past him and work up another sweat as you clean up the entirety of the training grounds. Your muscles are on fire by the time you get to the stables where you’re forced to shovel horse shit along with several other duties. Your shoulders are screaming at you to stop and take a break, but you’re too stubborn to quit. You can’t imagine yourself getting on your hands and knees for Levi, pleading for him to let you into his pants. You gag at the thought as you fill a mare’s food bin.

You smell like sweat and ass as you wash down the horses, grooming them, wishing you were lucky enough to be able to bathe right now.

———

Just as you finish bathing, you’re about to climb into bed when Mikasa knocks on the door, announcing herself and asking to come in.

You’re about to fucking scream in frustration, but you put on a nice voice. “Come on in. What’s up, Mikasa?”

“I know you’re not in the mood, but Captain Levi wants to see you.”

You feel as though your soul is ready to leave your body, and you redress in a clean uniform as you trudge over to Captain Ackerman’s office.”

You knock politely and enter his office, stiff as a board with exhaustion. “Yes, Captain?” You try to remain polite and civil.

“I want you to polish my boots while I do paper work.”

“After all I did today? Captain, this isn’t fair. You know I just want to go to bed.”

“Whining doesn’t become you, L/N. Get to it unless you want your left cheek to match the right one.”

You don’t want to be slapped again, but you also want to tell him where he can shove his fucking boot. However, maybe, the sooner you do as he asks, the sooner you can go back to bed.

It’s painstaking. He makes you polish his boots until you can fucking see your own face, and you don’t exactly look pretty right now. Your hair is a mess, little beads of sweat have formed on your forehead, and your cheek looks a little swollen.

Still, you sit up on your knees and look up at him. “Is it to your liking, sir?”

He regards you with a salacious smile. “You on your knees before me is what’s to my liking.”

Scoffing at his remark, you stand up and put the towel on his desk. “Can I leave now?”

Levi knows just the thing to say to get even deeper under your skin. He knows the exact thing that will require a lot of arm and shoulder muscle activity. “Clean the bookshelves, and then you’re free to go.”

———

Every ounce of energy is put into cleaning, being humiliated in the training demonstration, and trying to avoid your hawk-like Captain over the next few weeks. It gets to a point where you’re so tired that you can’t seem to fall asleep, always kept awake with his mocking and degrading remarks.

“Brush your fucking hair, cadet. You look like you just have someone head.”

“Wipe that glower off your face before the back of my hand does it for you.”

You keep reliving the time Levi ripped all of the buttons off of your shirt with his sword, opening it up with the sharp tip. He did this right before training, and every single one of your squadron members got a good look at the bra you chose to wear that day.

“Freak accidents will happen like that during sword training. Why don’t you go ask Hanji for a new shirt, L/N?”

His smirk was so fucking smug. You wanted to rip his teeth out one by one and shove them in his eyes.

———

The dining hall is loud with conversation, and you find yourself drawn to the table where Mikasa, Sasha, Eren, and Armin are sitting at. Their table is particularly lively with laughter, something you have been lacking lately. You feel as though your spirits could use some joy, so you sit down next to Sasha. The table suddenly goes very quiet, and you look around at your teammates.

“What? Why did you all stop talking when I sat down?”

Armin fiddles with his fingers as he looks away, and Mikasa speaks up on his behalf. “Listen, Y/N, nobody is really allowed to talk to you right now. The captain said anyone who’s caught talking to you will have to run 100 laps.”

Your mouth opens, but you have no words to say. Your tongue feels so dry, your voice scratchy as you close your hanging jaw.

Why is he doing this to you? You’ve been picked on, forced to do extra duties such as stable and kitchen chores, and now you can’t even talk to anyone?

“Fine. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to run laps either.”

You pick up your tray and move to a lone table in the back. You don’t even have an appetite anymore, and you leave your tray as you head back to your quarters. When you get there, you see that your bed and trunk is gone.

“Wait…what the fuck?”

Tracking down your things, you find that Hanji has been forced to move you down to the basement of the dorms. When you inquired about the status of your room and why this is suddenly happening now, she only gives you a faint shrug and begins tinkering with something in her workspace.

“Hanji…Did Levi put you up to this?”

Again, she offers no response, but that only cements your theory.

———

Sitting on your uncomfortable cot in the basement, you watch the mice scurry back and forth, darting around in the dark space. It’s damp and cold down here, and you don’t even have a blanket to keep you warm.

Your eyes try to close, and after an hour of shivering, you finally succumb to a restless, dreamless sleep.

———

Being late has become a bad habit for you, and Levi takes it upon himself to fix it. Being down in the basement, everyone has forgotten about you. You have no alarm system to wake you up, so there’s no way of knowing when roll call or even breakfast starts.

You scream as two very strong male cadets carry you from your room and out to the barracks. They tie you to the whipping post just outside of where roll call is taken every morning.

“Wait, what the fuck is going on?! Please, tell me what’s happening?!”

You cry out, feeling the tip of a sword trail up your back, slicing your shirt and bra in half. They fall off of your shoulders, completely baring your skin.

Those familiar footsteps walk up behind you, and you freeze in fear.

This has to be the captain’s doing. No other cadet would be whipped after a week of showing up to roll call late. No, this would only happen to you.

You watch as he stands to your right, and you can see he exchanged the sword in his hand for a whip.

“Seven days in a row of being late, cadet? That looks rather bad. I’m a merciful captain, however, but you have to earn my mercy.” You feel his index finger move a lock of your unkempt hair behind your ear. “You know how to do that, right? Can that tiny brain of yours remember what to do?”

“Eat my shit.” It’s tumbles out of your mouth before you can truly reflect on it.

His eyes widen, the grey orbs narrowing into slits moments after. His footsteps are heavier with determination as they round to your left side, and he raises the whip just as roll call begins.

You’re only allowed a break between every five soldiers called. The lash strikes your back with the fury of lightning. You try to bite your lip, stomp out the pain, anything to keep from crying in front of the other cadets. Once you feel the sixth welt cross over two previous ones, you vocalize your agony in a miserable howl.

No matter how hard you wail and sob from the whipping, you’re too stubborn to plead for him to stop. You won’t, for all the strength that you have left, beg for his mercy. Even with your knees buckled, your tied up wrists above your head the only thing keeping you on your feet, hanging there like a fish, you have a tiny ember inside of you that just refuses to go out.

The pain over comes you. It’s too much. You feel the blood trickling from your open wounds, catching on the waistband of your pants. There’s a moment where you see your mother and father in a bright light. Your mother is holding her hand out to you with a smile on her face. Your father is whispering a gentle song that he always used to sing to you right before bed.

The picture of them fades, and darkness is all you see.

———

Waking up on a cot face down, you startle as something stings on your back.

“Hold still. I’m just cleaning up the wounds so it doesn’t get infected. You’ve been out for a while now.”

Your eyes travel up towards your captain. Why is he here? Why the fuck is he here?! You don’t want him here.

“Please, just leave me alone.”

He tsks at you, clicking his tongue out of dissatisfaction before pressing harder on a split welt.

You didn’t have any time to prepare for the sudden pain, and a scream flies from your throat.

“I’d be thanking me instead of complaining, L/N.”

“Captain, it hurts too much! It hurts! Fuck!”

The stinging of whatever liquid he put on your wounds almost drives you back into unconsciousness. He seems to understand, and he relieves the pressure but continues dabbing at the sores.

“This will take a while to heal. You’ll be suspended from training until then. In the meantime, you’ll be on kitchen duty full time. Is that understood? Think your pathetic ass can handle washing a few dishes with a few scratches on your back?”

A few scratches on your back…you’re in the most pain you’ve ever been in, and that’s saying something considering you fight titans.

“Yes, Captain, I think I can manage that.”

“I’ll have to check your back every day to make sure you won’t be lying to get out of training once you heal.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, and he laughs at what he deems is your petulance.

“It’s funny. I thought you’d take your punishment much better than what you displayed in the barracks. You try to present yourself as this tough soldier, but you’re not that at all, are you? No, you’re a weak and fragile woman. Everything about you scream pathetic. You cried like a bitch because you’re nothing more than that. I bet you cry to to the other male cadets for their cocks with tears in your eyes. I’m guessing you crawl into their room at night, groveling on your hands and knees with tears in your eyes.”

“Please, stop,” you whisper while clutching the sheets beneath you.

Levi’s hand travels down to cup your clothed sex. He rubs you through the fabric of your pants, feeling the heat which gathers between your thighs.

“Stop it!” You kick your foot out, but all it earns you is a sharp pain in your stiff back.

The captain leans down and whispers in your ear, “You know where I’ll be when you want all of this to go away, and you know how to ask for it like a good girl.”

He pats your bottom, enjoying the way it feels in his hand, before leaving you all alone in the room.

———

It pains you to even think about doing this as you go to Commander Erwin’s office, but you refuse to back down against Levi. You also can’t live like this anymore. You’re always on edge, paranoid even more ever since the whipping. You feel isolated, and you’ve become even more of a mess.

You rap on his door lightly before being invited in by the commander.

Sitting at his office, he’s doing his own set of paperwork.

“What can I help you with, cadet L/N?”

“I would like to leave the Survey Corps, sir.”

Looking up from his paper work, he folds his hand and glares at you. “Are you really that selfish, cadet?”

You glare at him. “I’m not the one being selfish here, Commander.”

“And, what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone sees the way Captain Ackerman treats me. It’s because of his own desires to covet me that I’m asking to be released. You’ll never stop him, and I know that, so I’m asking to be removed from the equation entirely.”

A humorous smile grazes his lips, and you feel like you’re about to be given unsettling news.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, cadet. We lost too many soldiers on the battlefield just last weekend. You need to stay and continue training. Try to think of the benefits in the long run. You’re saving people. Isn’t that something you’ve always wanted to do?”

“And who’s going to protect me from Captain Ackerman?”

“Think of that as just something you’ll have to put up with.”

“With all due respect, Commander, you can’t force me to fight.”

He stands up, regarding you with a a set of taut lips. His demeanor has changed significantly. You feel as if the room is as cold as ice now because of how serious he looks.

“If you leave, I will have you brought back here and whipped, and I think Captain Ackerman would be more than happy to do so.”

“But, I’ve just recovered from my last whipping!”

He rounds his desk, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Then behave, and you won’t have to endure another one.”

You swear on the walls that you could crumble like ash right now under his very grip. Tears swell up your puffy and tired eyes. You pass by a mirror on your way out of his office, and you honestly hate your reflection.

There are dark circles under your eyes, your face looks pale, your hair is run down and lifeless. You have no energy anymore, and you pad your way out the door, down the hall, twisting around a corner, until you arrive at the captain’s office.

You don’t even knock. You just enter.

“You look like shit, cadet. You could at least clean yourself up before coming to me for something.”

You fall to your knees right at the open door. You haven’t cried since the whipping from two weeks ago, but you find every bit of pent up emotion coming out from all of your experiences over the last few months of absolute torture.

“Cadet?” He’s not quite sure what’s going on.

“Please, Captain, make it stop! I want it all to stop! I don’t wanna be isolated and punished anymore. I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want! Please, just, God! Please, Levi, please…” you place your hands on the floor to keep yourself upright.

It might not be the perfect picture he had in mind, but here you are on hands and knees, begging for his mercy. He has to hand it to you, you held out for a lot longer than expected. All it took to break you was five months of the pure hell he promised to deliver. It might not have been what he wanted to do, but he’s glad he succeeded in driving you to your breaking point.

You hear Levi’s footsteps stop in front of you, and your sobbing dies down when you feel him pull you into a hug. “There’s a good girl. I knew you’d finally come to your senses. You put on a brave act, but it’s good that you’re finally seeing the truth. I’m the only one that can keep all of the bad things away.”

You nod into his shoulder. “Does this mean people can talk to me again and you’ll stop punishing me?”

“Mmm, not quite. I’ll need you to prove to me just how much you’re willing to submit.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. He wants to claim all of your holes and make you his little slutty pet. He wants to see you cry while coming on his cock over and over again until he’s satisfied with your obedience. These are all the things he’s admitted to you before, and while you’d rather slap him and walk out, you know the consequences.

This will just get even worse for you if you choose that path.

Nodding your head in response, Levi closes the door, locks it, and leads you over to the sofa in his office. He sits down, making himself comfortable. The captain gives you an expectant look.

Resigning yourself to your fate, once again, you kneel in front of him and work his already hard cock out of his pants.

What a sick bastard.

You take a deep breath before taking him in your mouth. For a short guy, he sure is big. Your head bobs up and down his length, slicking it up with your spit.

You hear him moan with how pleasing the sensations are.

Fuck, just hurry up and come.

You’re not at all experienced with this kind of thing, so Levi has to guide you. He spits direction after direction in your ear.

“Ah, fuck, don’t use your fucking teeth, you bitch!”

“Fuck, go a little deeper. Come on. Gag on my cock.”

“Swirl your tongue around the tip.”

“There you go. Now, start humming.”

That last one seemed to really be Levi’s favorite as he’s making all kinds of noises. His deep voice grunting with joy.

His hands fist your hair, making your mouth go the pace he wants as he face fucks you. It’s no longer in your control anymore, and you can’t help feeling nauseous from all of the gagging.

You try to relax your throat and breathe through your nose, but you still feel light headed.

And then something gooey oozes into your mouth and down your throat. Your face twists at the taste. You don’t like the salty texture at all.

Is that what come tastes like?

You immediately try to rip your head away from him, but he holds your head there firmly for a few more seconds. You push at his thigh, trying to get off of his dick. He finally lets you up after he’s done using your mouth to warm him.

“That was a shitty first time, Y/N. I’m rather displeased. I guess I’ll just have to train you.”

“Yes, Captain.” You look down at the ground, still sitting on your knees. “May I go now?”

“Don’t be stupid. You think you can just waltz out of here after a half assed blowjob and think everything will just magically be okay? We’re nowhere near done. My first lesson that I’m going to teach you is a good cadet follows orders.”

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monstersdownthepath · 4 months

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Herald of Iomedae: The Hand of the Inheritor

CR 15

Lawful Good Large Outsider

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 292 (image from the Wrath of the Righteous video game!)

Among the most famous of the Divine Heralds is the first one we'll be looking at during Heralds of Hope Month. I say 'most famous' for a few reasons; he's one of the most active Heralds on the planet, what with that whole Worldwound problem going on in the north. There is rarely a moment's rest allowed for the Hand of the Inheritor in the tireless battle against the Abyss' expansion, so it's perhaps no small surprise surprise that he would eventually make a terrible and tragic mistake and end up the mercy of someone without any.

There's other reasons he's famous, in and out of universe, and those reasons are why he's no longer the Herald of Iomedae.

But this isn't talking about the now, we're still in the then! When he was at his strongest, healthiest, and least corrupted most devoted to the ideals of the Inheritor Goddess. Fittingly enough for the servant of what is essentially the Goddess of Paladins, the Hand is an angel blessed with the powers of a Paladin, built for and unafraid to put himself right in the middle of a pitched battle and cut his way through Evil like a hot knife while they struggle ineffectually to harm him. Like all angels, he's protected by a 20ft "nuh-uh" bubble that shields himself and all his allies from Evil creatures, granting them and him +4 to AC and to saving throws versus Evil creatures and effects, while also hedging out Evil summoned creatures and stopping any spell of 3rd level or lower from entering this sphere of protection, stripping many fiendish minions of their ranged options.

But of course, that's just what every angel can do. Let's look at what the Hand's unique powers have in store...

HAH, gotcha! The Hand of the Inheritor has no unique powers! I wasn't joking when I said he was basically an angel with Paladin class levels. ... except not really, because an angel with Paladin class levels would actually be much better than the poor Hand actually ends up being. But we'll get to that in a moment, so first, the positives!

Perhaps fittingly for a man who finds himself fighting alongside the front lines against demons, the Hand is just as useful bolstering his allies as he is actually leaping ahead of them into the fray. He has Aid, Lesser Restoration, Dispel Magic, and Magic Weapon all at-will, can grant himself or his allies Bull's Strength or Resist Energy 3/day, can swath the battlefield in a calming Prayer up to 3/day, and give everyone around him some extra stats and 18 temp HP with Burst of Glory 3/day. Any ally that falls in the midst of battle may be re-raised with his 3/day Raise Dead, but actually killing anyone he's trying to protect in order to draw out that resurrection is incredibly hard because of his 1/days: Death Ward, Dispel Evil, Greater Restoration, and Heal.

Killing HIM is even more annoying, because he's got 15 charges of Lay on Hands, which means +9d6 hitpoints for him as a swift action, IF you manage to get past his 32 AC. With such a menagerie of protective magic, you may think he's got no room for offense, to which I answer: 3/day Flame Strike, Holy Smite AND Order's Wrath to bring down on his foes from a distance, smiting entire crowds of them at once, and of course that's nothing compared to what happens when he gets in close. His 150ft flight speed lets him cross entire battlefields in seconds and settle down to begin Full-Attacking up to four times a round with his +2 Holy Longsword for 2d6+9 (+2d6 vs Evil) damage. Not only does he have a threatening sword, but his shield isn't just for defense, and he can indeed bash someone twice a round with his +2 Heavy Steel Shield for 1d6+5 damage. Anyone slammed by his shield is subject to a free Bull Rush attempt from the Herald as well, letting him reposition dangerous enemies as he needs.

Quite the force! But, sadly, that's about where everything of particular note ends. His Protective Aura is always on, and he's also got a 10ft Aura of Courage to grant his allies +4 against fear effects... But nothing else. Why, exactly, he lacks any of the other aura abilities a Paladin of his HD would have is a question I have no good answer for, and while he DOES have Lay on Hands (9d6 HP, 15/day), he lacks any Mercies to flavor the ability in any way or make it any more substantial... and, even more damning AND more baffling, he has no ability to Smite Evil. Given where he works, you'd think Mercies and Smite Evil would have been the second things Iomedae wrote on his sheet right after she finished giving him his gear.

Fun fact on that note, though: He wasn't originally Iomedae's Herald, he was Ragathiel's, and joined Iomedae's crusade after being awed by her skills and her sense of justice. She didn't even make him! But being the Herald of Ragathiel just makes his lack of auras, Mercies, and Smite Evil even MORE glaring, because Ragathiel has all of those.

There's also one unfortunate choice in regards to his skills that feels like a pretty big weakness: His impressive flight speed goes to waste with his lack of Fly ranks, meaning anything but a straight line is difficult for him to manage, and certain weather conditions or enemy attacks can severely impact his ability to remain airborne. He has more ranks in SWIM than in Fly! SWIM!

A lot of the Heralds in Inner Sea Gods have similar design choices, which is a huge shame, because that's where almost every Good-aligned Divine Herald is found! Whoof! His showing in the Wrath of the Righteous video game was significantly more impressive, with the ability to use Wall of Force and apply Smite Evil to entire crowds of enemies at once.

I'm not saying he's weak, no, he's actually a very powerful and stubbornly resilient melee beatstick that's outright immune to most demonic tricks and tools, but he's got some design flaws and odd choices that make it hard for someone like me to be interested in him. Perhaps this is why he's eventually superseded by someone with actual Paladin levels.

You can read more about him here.

#monster spotlight #holy heralds month #CR 11 to 15 #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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emsvertigo · 11 months

Text

Money Power Glory

image not mine, found on pinterest

summary & genre — angst & slight nsfw. after the death of a gang member you take a moment to reflect in your tent. however with dutch standing so close you confide in him, which leads to a rare moment between the two of you. takes place in chapter 4 of rdr2.

warnings — touchy reader!!, canon typical violence mentioned, smoking, sensitive conversation topics, major character death.

character & pairing — dutch van der linde x fem!reader (red dead redemption 2. 2018)

word count — 2.2k

a/n — it’s finals season and i’m dying but i’m kinda obsessed with rdr2 rn cause i’m playing it for the first time (ahhh!!) i’m currently on the epilogue but i’m missing arthur’s story with the gang, especially dutch haha, so i decided to write this. obviously once again it is really self insert but i don’t care. if you’re reading this i love you and really hope you enjoy!

also!! don’t worry i’m still writing for ryan! i’ve got a draft in the works!

major spoilers for chapters 1-3 of rdr2!!

find my old fics here! ✿

From outside the tent, hearty singing could be heard, ringing out into the night breeze, a rare occasion for the camp as of late. The notes performed on guitar signified health and victory, however not everything that day brought had been pleasant. The death of a member of the gang had always been celebrated with memory and tales, yet the member who lay was not old enough to carry a lasting legacy. Sean’s death had been greatly overshadowed by the retrieval of Jack. Cheers echoed throughout the camp, yet there was a falseness to the smiles, which didn't quite reach the wearer's eyes.

Not that you didn't love Jack, of course, you did, just like every other member of the gang. His face lighting up with a smile was a blessing, and the only pain you wanted to witness him feel was a full stomach from eating too much. Of course, you wanted nothing but the best for the small child, but a young man had been killed only hours before. A young man that meant more to the gang than they dared realise.

You had passed Karen on your way to your tent, her head in her hand, beer beside her foot, swaying and swearing under her breath. You could never understand her pain, but you could understand the worry and apprehension of a loved one leaving for a mission. Someone who you adored so much that they were a piece of you, who could be taken in an instant. You had feared this moment would come to you, seeing as your lover was reckless, but never to someone as young and treasured as Sean.

You had tried to have a word with her and attempted to offer her comfort in her time of need, but she had shooed you away, drunkenly pointed to your tent, betrothed standing outside. She had slurred something about focusing on your problems and returned to the bottle.

It felt wrong to think of your own life and stupid measly controversies and bickering quarrels when Sean’s brains lay splattered across the ground in Rhodes. But he would have wanted your life to continue, and to think about the present and not the past. Although that didn't stop you from taking the time now to sit unattended, far from the party.

You played with your fingernails, chipping away at the red tint which matched Dutch’s waistcoat. Another way to establish your bond with him, to show that it was you that the infamous gang leader became soft and melted around. How a vicious man became putty in your hands a few years ago and every day since. Yet the days had drawn cold, and his stares distant, his kisses hurried and hasty. His voice always sang praise but never the words you wanted to hear, the poetry he had spoken years previous had turned sour.

With his back to you now, amber firelight illuminating his bloody maroon waistcoat, you observed the muscles in his arms tense as he surveyed the camp. A cigar was placed in his firm grip, blowing clouds of smoke into the air, his hat tilted to cover his eyes. His jaw was tight, small specs of stubble tracing his chin. The look of an elusive and feared leader. But you always could tell when your other half was tormented, and this was one of those times.

You let out a sigh. Just being able to be this close to a man that feared was enough to make you come undone, but his demeanour was not an invitation to show him affection. You believed him to be tired of you, and more interested in the youthful women within the camp. Not that you reprimanded them of course with their flowing hair and high-pitched laughs, any man would swoon at the sight of them. But Dutch? Dutch was your lover, and you couldn't bare to catch a glimpse of his eyes lingering on Mary Beth for a second longer. You wanted him to yearn for you again, to be satisfied with your touch.

But it appeared that he wasn't satisfied with anyone, not even those closest to him, since Blackwater.

“Dutch.” You called out to him, your breath was airy and welcoming. His shoulders tightened, and he took another long drag of his pipe, the amber light illuminating his face for a fleeting moment.

“Dutch.” You repeated, this time in a sing-song voice, trying to gather his attention. You wished to have him wrapped around your pinky yet again. But when he didn't respond and his position stayed intact, you decided to stand and make your way towards him.

You placed your hands over his back, running them up and around his neck, carefully tracing your fingertips along his throat. Dutch startled for a second, but calmed into your touch.

“Didn’t hear you comin’.” He whispered, turning his head towards you for a moment before returning his gaze to his family. He took a final drag of his cigar and dropped it, crushing it below his feet into the ground.

“I called but you didn't answer.” You smiled into his neck, holding him close to you. A gesture that used to be so frequent between you both, but had now become tiresome and unwanted. When Dutch remained silent, you spoke again - worry evident on your lips. “What’s on your mind?”

You noticed his eyebrows furl as he grimaced at his reflection. He sighed before replying, a pause between each statement. “Sean. Jack. John. Micah. Sometimes even Arthur and Hosea.”

As of late it wasn’t commonplace for Dutch to confide in you, and as you smelled the alcohol on his tongue you understood how much he needed comfort.

“I can’t stop thinking about Sean.” You sighed, nuzzling your cheek further into the crevis between his jaw and shoulder. “I know I didn't see it, but I keep picturing him laying there.”

“I know,” Dutch replied, an uneasy tone across his lips, “I feel as though I’m responsible for his death.”

You retreated from his shoulder at this remark. How could his mind twist his goals into acts of brutality? He had always been a good man, and you understood that more than anyone.

“Dutch..” You gently grasped his hands in yours, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t blame yourself for something you weren't there to prevent.”

His head dipped, hat sliding down his forehead as he did. You reached one hand up to grasp the hem of his hat and removed it from his head, dropping it to the side of your leg. The same hand then arose to cup the side of his face, running fingertips across his jaw. Your fingers danced into his sideburns and fiddled with the short hair growing there.

“This whole gang is fallin’ apart,” He paused, soaking in the emotion in your eyes. “Nobody has any goddamn faith anymore!” He spoke.

The silence that followed that statement was only heard by you, blood pumping in your ears as you thought back to every time you had been by Dutch’s side. How long you had been with him, and how much you had been through.

“Except for me.”

He lingered, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Yes. Except for you.”

Moments like this were so hard to come by. Dutch had been so occupied recently, going out scoring for the gang, all the while his conscience was plaguing him with ideologies and problems. Problems that were causing him to completely forget his old, loving, self. Beats like this one had to be shared with complete tranquillity. It didn't matter that Dutch had been eyeing other women, the only woman he could have at any moment was you, and sometimes you wished he would take advantage of that gift.

“I’m here for you, Dutch.” You whispered, his hands coming to find your hips and walking you back into the tent. “I'll always be by your side.”

“I know.” His reply solidified his tough exterior, but you knew that it meant a hell of a lot more to him that you had vocalised your trust in him, and the faith he so desperately clung to. “Just as I am to you, my sweet.”

The saccharine words dripping from his tongue sent you spiralling, but you knew of his silver tongue personality and understood he would use it to get whatever he wanted. He used it with the men, so why wouldn’t he use it to make your brain melt away? But as compliments fell from his mouth, you allowed yourself to be caught like a fish into his lure.

The music playing outside seemed to fade away, muffled by the intense stare Dutch was delivering. His eyelids were slightly heavy from the drink, and in close proximity, you saw his eyelashes flutter. One of his hands trapped yours in a gentle clutch, rubbing circles over the skin there. Your hand cupped his face, sliding your thumb against the stubble. You had hoped to discuss the issue surrounding his loyalty to you, but with his breath fanning your face with hot air you couldn't bare to let the moment disappear.

“Don’t worry, Dutch.” You exhaled, lips almost locking with your own. “You always think of something.”

Dutch reached his hand up from your hip and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His golden rings brushed against your cheek, which sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Looking back down at you he confessed;

“Right now I can’t think of anything but you.”

A small smile formed on your face as he leaned forwards and connected your lips in a tender kiss. A sigh escaped his lips as you drew your other hand up to cup the opposite cheek and tug him closer to you, closing your eyes as his chest met yours. His arms snaked slowly around your waist, placing themselves flat on the small of your back, cupping the material that sat there. The hair from his moustache tickled your upper lip and left you smiling into the kiss. His lips danced carefully around yours, making sure to keep the steady tempo of hearts melting into one. The souls of two individuals becoming a singular feeling.

Dutch dipped his tongue into your mouth, running his way along your bottom lip and encouraging your mouth to open and invite him inside. A small groan escaped his lips as the kiss became more heated, his hands lowering to grab at the bottom of your ass. The taste of smoke and whiskey was overwhelming in your throat as his tongue traced your teeth, and both your breaths met in the slim space between your starving bodies.

Dutch mumbled your name across your mouth, a noise that created a large arousal in you. Your hands reached down and glided slowly along the front of his waistcoat and down his chest. Your lips then disconnected when your hands found his gun belt, tugging at the rough leather found there. The buckle under your fingers, cool against your skin as his golden chains bounced onto your knuckles. His forehead connected with yours, breath tumbling from his lips.

“Darlin’...” He groaned, bucking his hips as your hand fell further onto his clothed crotch, feeling him beneath your touch. You spoke his name like a prayer, running over his lips with furious kisses. Your shawl fell to the ground, as his hands moved around your neck, your hand still pressing further into his most sensitive spot.

A moan escaped your lips as he jerked his hips forward, melting into your touch, pleading that you please him and rid him of this dreadful tension building up underneath our palm.

Suddenly there was a shout at the mouth of the tent and a wolf whistle to accompany it. Breaking your intimate moment, your cheeks burned red and Dutch turned to the entrance to confront the intruder, panting hard.

“Look at you!” The voice shouted, words slurred into one another, the stench of alcohol flowing through the air. You'd recognise that disgusting drawl anywhere. Micah. You could've cursed Dutch for allowing him to join the gang, let alone wasting this private moment.

Dutch shot Micah a glare and turned his body to cover you, flashing the silver pistol in its holster towards Micah. A loud and clear threat of death if Micah was not going to leave. But at this display of powerful rage, he backed off, grasping the bottle in his hand and throwing it into the swamp.

Dutch kicked a tent pole which caused the entrance of your makeshift home to close, excluding the rest of the world from your sanctuary. Another firm non-verbal to Micah, or anyone else in the gang, that you were his and no one could disturb you.

Dutch’s mouth was soon at your ear, tickling your skin with his moustache once again.

“Now, where were we?” He cooed, bringing your attention back to him. He placed one hand on either side of your hips and walked you back into the tent, seating you on the edge of your cot.

#dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #dutch rdr2 #dutch van der linde fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #hioreh fanfictions

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thedeadparrot · 2 months

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wout/christophe, rain

for @cycleprompttuesday and the prompt 'rain'.

---

The road is slick underneath their wheels. Their tires kick up water, splashing against their legs and backs. Their bibs are soaked through, clinging to their skin. Rain drips down Wout's face and leaves wet trails along his chin and cheeks. The team car is in their ears. They have one minute on their chasers.

Christophe pulls ahead. Wout settles into his wheel. The rain comes down harder. Droplets are smeared on Wout's sunglasses. They have thirty kilometers left to go. Keep pedaling he tells himself. The rain doesn't matter. The wind, the cold, they're just distractions. What matters is the road, his bike, and Christophe.

Wout knows the power of Christophe's legs, but he also can see the strain in them. He's pushing himself hard. They both are. Fighting, as always, to keep going. They can't let the fatigue, the pain stop them. There is a finish line in the distance. They just have to reach it.

"Don't lose him," the team car says as they climb the Kemmelberg. And of course, Wout never had any intention of doing so. He pushes himself to to the top, and then he slows down, letting Christophe take his wheel again. They are in this together.

Together, they chew through the kilometers. Wout takes his turn at the front. Then Christophe does. They are not a single organism. They are two separate ones, working in tandem. Wout lives to race. Sometimes it's just him against his competitors. Sometimes it's this, too: the thing they create by working together.

As they pass underneath the flamme rouge, Wout asks, "Do you want it?" Christophe put in the work. He is here at Wout's side, suffering through the rain, the cobbles, the climbs. And after all that, Wout can give away a part of himself. He's won this race before. He doesn't need to win it again.

"Yes," Christophe says. He smiles. Wout can see the flash of his teeth.

When they reach the finish line, Wout pushes Christophe across it first, arms outstretched. It's a beautiful sight, Christophe's happiness. It's one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

They get swarmed by cameras and attention. Everyone wants their own piece of them. Wout lets them have it, lets them bask in this reflected glory. Christophe pulls Wout into a hug. His kit is damp and wet under Wout's hands. They are both water-logged. There's rain everywhere. In their shoes, their hair, their bibs, their ears. He smells like the roads they've been riding on. Asphalt and dirt and car oil. "Thank you," Christophe whispers into Wout's ear. Wout holds this moment close, closer than he can hold Christophe while they have an audience.

A small couch. A podium. A shower of champagne. Both of them so full of joy they're bursting with it.

When they're alone again, Wout kisses Christophe's lips. They taste like the champagne. Christophe's hair is still damp with rain and sweat. Wout closes his eyes, and thinks of this: the road stretched out in front of them, the rhythmic push-pull of Christophe's legs, the too-sweet artificial taste of gels in his mouth.

Christophe makes a small, pleased noise, and Wout tastes it instead. Drinks it in. Christophe's hands cup Wout's chin and cheeks. Christophe's stubble scratches against Wout's skin. Wout's limbs feel heavy. It was a long, hard race.

It's still raining outside. Raindrops splatter against the windows. Wout leans into Christophe. He's warm, and he's solid. Wind rattles through the trees. It whistles. It howls.

Is this what love is? Two bodies moving together through misery and pain to find something beautiful beyond it? Wout doesn't know. What he does know is this: they won a race today. They were strong, strong enough to survive the wind and the rain and the chasing peloton.

And then Christophe wraps his arms around Wout's neck, and he slides his tongue into Wout's mouth, and Wout doesn't think about anything else for a while.

#my fic #cycling #wout/christophe #cyleprompttuesday

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daimyosprincess · 1 year

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PART II: INTRODUCTION

—PAIRING: Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—SERIES RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—SUMMARY: Professor Fett helps you learn a few new things about yourself through some old-school discipline.

—WORD COUNT: 7.9k

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), reader described as having enough hair to grab, dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, reader is a BRAT and I love her, some self-discovery, some pinches of soft Boba for good measure, spanking, praise (so so much praise), use of pet names, making out, dirty talk

As always, let me know if I missed anything that needs to be tagged!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Ok so this ended up being wayyyy longer than I thought so I broke up this scene into two parts (don't be mad at me 😭). Also I like to think that life has been a little bit kinder to Professor Boba and thus he's a little softer around the edges when it comes to expressing emotion.

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

The two of you don't even make it through his door before you're on each other like a couple of teenagers, groping and gasping, grabbing whatever parts of the other you can get your hands on. Your purse and his keys are flung carelessly to the side—anything that wasn't the warmth of his or your body entirely unimportant.

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, his breath hot and seductive against your heated skin, “this is what you wanted all along, isn’t it, princess?” The raw, molten want makes Boba’s voice even deeper—its rumble shakes your very core and it makes you gush as its ridges ripple over you. Bunching the slick material of your dress in his hands, Boba pulls the garment over your hips so you can straddle him properly when the pair of you collapse onto the couch.

Now freed to follow your desire, you slot your knees around his hips, a smart-mouthed reply ready on your lips. Before it can make it to his ears, however, Boba grinds his impossibly hard bulge into your aching center, pulling you against him roughly. Electric pleasure skitters up your nerves and he feels so damn good pressed tight between your thighs. All those nights you dreamed of this, all those self-indulgent daydreams, couldn’t come close to the tectonic gratification of Boba sliding against your throbbing cunt.

The mewl that tumbles from your lips when he ruts into you again is positively pathetic, the sound of your desperation on full display despite your pretense of self-control. Your cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment, and you try to hide in the crook of his neck to pull yourself together—you don’t want to give him the upper hand, not just yet; you’ve still got some fight in you and you want him to earn it. His body under yours is more than you could ever imagine and still woefully not enough, you want him, you need him in the way a drowning man needs air. The struggle to get it would make your reward all the sweeter.

A laugh rumbles dark and heavy from the depths of his broad chest. “Don’t hide now, little princess, not when you were so eager just a few moments ago.” One of his large hands leaves your hips and skims up your side to cup your jaw, angling your face to back up to his. The hungry look in his umber eyes recalls images of gnashing teeth and hard-bitten pleasure, of sin itself in all its tantalizing glory.

You do your best to glare at the handsome man before you, but you know the battle is already lost, the cracks of your resolve echoing in your ears. “Wasn’t hiding,” you insist, your eyes rolling back behind fluttering lashes when the seam of his pants scraps along your center with luscious friction. Your hands slide up his chest to latch on to his lapels in an attempt to ground yourself against the unrelenting tide of him.

“No need to lie, not when I can feel that needy little pus-”

Your courage rallies at his taunting and you yank him forward by his collar to crash your lips into his, nipping at his lower lip in defiance. “You sure do like to talk,” you pant between the hot press of his mouth, “must be why you became a professor.”

Boba drops his hand down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat and squeezing. You squeal, your hips grinding down on his lap on their own accord. Fuck, I want him to do that while he’s balls deep in my guts. His large hand wrapped around your airway sets off an urgent, primal need that has been locked away in the mantle of your being, hidden and unanswered. It’s going to burn you alive, char you over until you’re nothing but a pile of ashes; it’s terrifying and exhilarating. Boba Fett is the answer to a question you didn’t even know you had, and by the fire in eyes and the set of his jaw he knows it.

“You talk to everybody that way?” he grunts, tutting as he releases the pressure on your throat to just firm enough to be a reminder of its presence. The words stick to your tongue, so you answer with a disparaging expression that makes his eyes flash and your heart race. “Looks like you’re going to have to learn some manners then, little one, because I am not everyone.”

The obsidian gravel in his tone is tearing your sanity to shreds and by all the gods in the heavens you can’t find it in yourself to care—being whole never felt as good as this. Boba tugs you towards him by your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But that’s what you like, isn’t it?” he taunts, pure confidence dripping thick from his words, “You want someone who knows just what to do with a mouthy little brat like you, don’t you?”

The magma of his words melts your bones. Your composure is a shard away from shattering under the enormous pressure of your desire for everything Boba Fett has to offer. All you have to do is throw the final stone. “And I suppose you’re just the one to teach me some, then?” you retort with all the derision you can pull together.

“Oh, little princess,” he growls, deep and throaty, the vibrations of his desire magnifying your own, “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” He sears his assurance into your very soul with a white-hot kiss that’s all sharp teeth and fire, leaving you nothing more than a molten, gasping thing when he pulls back. “And you’re going to beg me to do it.”

You moan a curse, the sound long and heady. The rush of sensation, pleasure, anticipation, and pure carnal hunger fills your lungs, displacing any oxygen left in your chest. Rather than feeling fear, however, all that burns through you is craving, a perverse longing for predatory violence. You cant your hips over his straining erection like a creature in heat, chasing the relief that only he could ever provide.

As soon as the coil of pleasure in your belly begins to splinter, Boba tightens his fingers around your throat and presses you still against him. You writhe in his grasp, desperate for more friction and more of him. Blood is in the water and it’s overwhelming everything else in you.

“Easy now, you’ll get what’s coming to you, don’t worry, princess,” he assures calmly. “Now I’m going to let you go and you’re going to sit still.” There’s not even an inch of space left for disobedience in his tone. He releases your throat, massaging the delicate skin lightly before removing his hand completely to fall back to your hip.

It takes all your willpower not to wriggle and grind your soaked panties on his crotch. Biting down hard on your bottom lip, you suck in a deep breath to try and settle your screaming nerves, your eyes sliding shut. Rather than fighting him for control, you’re fighting yourself—and you don’t have much left in you.

Boba’s thumbs rub soothing circles into the softness of your sides. “There you go, that’s a good girl,” he coos in his smoldering timbre, a smile dancing on his words.

A bolt of pure lightning strikes down your spine straight to your slick core, splitting you in half and fusing you back together ragged and sharp all over again. Good girl good girl good girl. You’re on his lips in an instant, moaning and fervid. Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, I’ve never wanted anything so bad, I’ve never been this turned on in my whole fucking life-

When Boba tears you away from his lips with a hand around the back of your neck, you whine high and pitchy at being denied once more. “Hush,” he orders sternly, his handsome bronze features lined with seriousness. “Behave or this ends now.”

The heat of the electricity pumping in your veins runs cold and you freeze, staring at Boba with wide, anxious eyes—you might just die if this stops. And dying without knowing him and what all this man is promising you is a fate even worse than death, so you do your best to swallow back the desperation in your gut.

“You going to be good?”

You nod fervently, eager to show your remorse so he doesn’t completely deny you. How in the hell is he keeping it together? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with a harder cock in my life.

“Answer me,” he prompts, then adds more gently when your brows crease in confusion, “Use your words, little one.”

“Y-yes.” Your voice comes out tentative but sure. “I promise I’ll behave.”

Who is this and what have they done with the girl who thought you were? Since when were you one to promise a man such a thing? And since when did you want to? Boba was right about one thing: he is certainly not like everyone else. If anyone else asked such a thing of you, even called you a single one of the little names he did, you would bite their head off. You never were one for bossy men in the bedroom—or life, for that matter—so why are you positively aching for it now?

“Good.” Boba rubs the back of your neck with a warm hand. “Good behavior gets rewarded,” he instructs, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. You do your best to stay still in his lap. “Tell me, princess, have you ever done something like this before? Let somebody else be in control?”

“Why, what does it matter to you?” You prickle at the thought that he would care about such a thing.

“Easy,” he repeats patiently, “I’m asking because we need to make sure we’re both comfortable and on the same page if that’s what you want.”

Oh. That’s not what you were expecting. “Oh, um, no, not really. I’ve only really had, you know… regular sex?” You bat back the anxiety of disappointing him that gnaws at your ribs.

Boba hands settle at the small of your back, his calloused fingertips brushing light shapes over your satin dress. “So what makes you want something else with me?”

“You,” you blurt out before shame can stop you, only to feel the heat rising up your neck a second later. Scrunching your nose, you wince at your answer.

Boba’s eyes sparkle with mirth, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that staves off some of your embarrassment. “Don’t be ashamed, little one, honesty is vital. What about me?”

Chewing your lip, you consider his question, fiddling with one of the shiny buttons of his dress shirt. “I don’t know… no one has ever made me feel this way. I didn’t know I could feel this way.” Boba doesn’t rush you, his fingers continuing their soothing designs. “I never thought I would want a man to tell me what to do or treat me like… like what you’re saying. But ever since I met you, you’re all I want… you make me think and want all these crazy things…” The burning desire in your belly has quelled to embers, but they still burn hot.

Peeking through your lashes at him, you turn the question around. “Do you want… what do you feel about me?” Obviously, you both want to fuck each other’s brains out—there’s no doubt in your mind about that—but Boba’s query has you wondering about his own feelings now.

Reaching up slowly, Boba brushes a scarred knuckle over your cheek to under your chin, holding you in place while he studies you. The sudden softness amongst his thunderous desire and being so plainly seen is a little unnerving, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“You've got more nerve and a bigger mouth than any person I’ve met. You push buttons just to see what happens and you’ve got a fire in you that can't be put out. You’re stubborn and confident and have a wit that can cut a man to pieces,” he lists out.

You gulp, dropping your gaze, unsure of what direction this is going to take. Boba swipes the pad of this thumb over the petal of your lip and you flick your eyes back up to his. They’re warm and excited, making you brighten. “You’re everything I crave, princess, and it all drives me fucking crazy.”

A warmth—a different, happy warmth—glows in your chest. You’re sure you have a big dopey smile stretched across your face but you couldn’t care less. Boba wants me just as much as I want him and he likes me. “I have that effect on people,” you giggle, nipping at his thumb below your lip playfully.

Boba arches a meaningful brow—behave—but the smile stays on his lips. “I bet that’s why you want someone to put you in your place so bad, isn’t it, little one?” He rolls his hips up into you, stealing all your focus with the promise of pleasure. “You’ve never had someone who could reign you in and give you what you really want, have you?”

You bite down around the moan bubbling up from your chest, clawing your way back to controlled composure, Boba’s efforts to the contrary be damned. Hell, how does he have such an effect on me?

“And just what exactly do I want so bad, hmm? Since you apparently have me so figured out,” you fire back, eyeing him up and down. All his talk is fanning the coals glowing in your core, making it harder and harder to stay still.

Boba leans back into the cushions, shifting his hips forward and bringing you with him by the hand splayed across the small of your back. You catch yourself with your palms pressed into the thick muscle of his chest, the heat of him sinking through the crisp material of his shirt into your waiting skin.

“What you want,” he begins, his voice low and certain and his eyes dancing with dark fire, “is someone to take charge. Someone to make the rules and punish you when you break them, and reward you when you're good. Someone you can trust to shut that smart mouth up when no one else can.”

His thumb drags down your bottom lip and you clench to keep whimpering, your mind scrabbling for the last dregs of control as simmering arousal begins to pool hot and torrid in your belly. “Someone who knows your body better than even you do, someone to explore the limits and boundaries of your pleasure. Someone to take care of you, treat you like you deserve, worship that gorgeous body and send you back out into the world with more than just a memory of who that pussy belongs to.”

Boba leans into your neck, tilting his lips up to your ear and you tremble when the warm puff of his breath hits your damp skin. “But most of all, princess,” he whispers, a glinting lilt to his syllables, “you want someone who can make you beg for it.”

You’re unable to stifle the moan that tears from your chest this time, it scrapes up your throat and hangs heavy in the heated air between you. Your nails dig into his shirt’s fabric and you pitch into him, caught in the magnetic field of his words and promises. “Please, Boba,” you gasp, desire swelling in your throat, “please can I kiss you? I want-want to kiss you… please!”

Your words shake, quivering with the last of your resolve—you want this, you want everything he said so fucking much and he knew it before even you did. Boba Fett did, in fact, know exactly what you want and it’s going to be the end of you.

“Look at my smart girl already learning some manners,” he praises, an air of teasing enveloping his statement. He feathers light kisses down your jaw and up to your lips, pressing a final kiss there before pulling back. Your lips follow his and he smirks at your neediness, clearly pleased with his effect on you.

Lava creeps through your veins, melting you into the mold you never knew you wanted so desperately to fill. You’re burning to death in your own skin and you can’t wait for the sweet release of the reaper if it means he’ll give you everything he said.

“Let me hear you say it, little one, tell me what you want and it’s yours,” he prompts softly, his fingers tracing the soft outline of your clavicle.

The last of the fight bleeds from your body, sealing your demise—the old you is now dead and buried. The new you forms itself from the minerals of your bones, the iron in the soil, and the heat of his burning sun. Your forehead falls against his and your hips bump together, making you both shiver into one another.

“I want it, Boba,” you breathe into him, “Want everything you said, want it all so fucking much. Want you to show me. Want to be all yours.” The simple act of admission unlocks the cage you weren’t aware you were trapped in—all the choppy energy roiling inside you finally finding an outlet in Boba’s strong, able hands.

His lips find yours this time, avid and keen on stealing the little air left in your heaving chest. You cross your wrists behind his neck, pressing every inch of you into every inch of him in an offering of desire. You confessed your sin and you’re ready to be blessed with his atonement.

“It’s all yours,” he promises in urgent honesty against your lips, “I’m all yours, princess.”

You kiss in a hazy bliss for who knows how long, relishing in the confirmation of shared attraction and devotion, affirmations sealed into skin with the press of a lover’s lips. When the rhythm of your hips starts to speed up once again, Boba breaks away, much to your dismay. He’s set on ruining all my fun, you gripe internally, knowing that complaining aloud wouldn’t do any good on the man underneath you. The concentration set in his brow gives you some solace, however; you can see the restraint cording the muscles in his neck.

“We need to set some rules first, princess, that’s how this works,” he explains. “Rules make sure no one gets hurt, they keep us safe, and they're what builds our trust.”

You tilt your head to the side. “But I do trust you.”

Boba smiles a warm, soft smile and chucks up your chin. “And that means more to me than you’ll ever know, little one. But, we still need to agree on a few things, negotiate what we’re comfortable with so when things get heavy we don’t accidentally cross each other’s boundaries.”

“So you don’t make all the rules, even though you’re in charge?”

He nods in confirmation. “That’s right. We’re equals in this exchange.”

“Oh.” Boba gives you time to ponder over everything he’s told you, rubbing his palms up and down your thighs slowly. “And can we add to the rules if we find out we don’t like something?” you ask after a moment.

“Of course,” he acknowledges, giving your legs a soft squeeze, “our rules grow and change with us.”

You bite down on your lip, turning over his words in your mind. It all made sense now that you think about it; Boba didn’t seem like the kind of person who would want anything else, he is sure of his power and doesn’t need to steal it from others. That’s what makes him so damn attractive, it’s what made you trust him.

“So what are your rules? I don’t really know what mine would be,” you admit. You hope your uncertainty doesn’t stop him from tearing into your panties tonight. Judging from the hard press of him between your thighs, it doesn’t seem like it will, but you’re soaked and desperate for him. All the vibrators in the world wouldn’t make up for his touch if he denies you tonight, even if it’s for the best.

Boba smiles, pleased with your openness. “First is honesty. When I ask you a question, you need to tell me the truth and vice versa. If something hurts too much, tell me. If something makes you uncomfortable, say so.” His tone is firm enough to set a boundary, but soft enough to invite clarification if needed. “I will only ever give and accept honesty when we’re like this.”

That’s nothing I can’t handle. You nod. “I can do that.”

“Good. Second is respect, for yourself and for me. Respecting yourself means listening to what your body tells you, making sure your needs are met, and asking questions when you’re unsure of something. Respecting me means using your manners and trusting me when I say enough. Even if that sweet little pussy tells you otherwise.” He taps his fingers on your back for emphasis.

You duck your head, heat rising in your cheeks at the thought of him finding out just how sweet you can be. “O-okay,” you stutter, the warring desire to give up control and snatch it back is nearly giving you whiplash. You wriggle a little around Boba’s thighs, itching for an outlet for your energy building in your core.

He soothes his hands down your ribs, their callouses catching on the satin of your dress. “You’re doing so good for me, princess, being so patient when you’re all worked up. Look at me,” he commands softly, and you peek back up at him, warm with his praise. “We’re almost done but I need to know that you’re listening.”

Sucking in a steadying breath, you shift your weight back against his legs, sitting up straighter. You want to please him, earn more of his approval any way you can.

Satisfied, Boba nods and continues, “My third rule is a little different, but I think it will help since this,” he gestures at the space between you, “is new to you. I want you to try whatever I ask of you at least once. If you don’t like it, you can tell me and we won’t do it again.”

You can’t imagine he could do anything to you wouldn’t at least like a little bit but you nod in agreement. That voice of his could get you to try anything he asked.

“Which brings me to my next point.” Boba tilts his head in curiosity. “Have you heard of a safeword before?”

“Like the thing a person says when they want to stop?” you answer tentatively, your fingers loosely looping in the bunched material of his shirt.

“Exactly,” he beams, “Knew you were my smart girl.”

His praise makes it feel like the sun itself is shining through your ribs, dazzling and quenching a thirst you didn’t know your soul had—it’s utterly addicting. Just another way he’s going to absolutely ruin me.

“When one of us says the word, everything stops immediately, no questions and no consequences. We’ll talk about what went wrong, maybe not right then if it’s too overwhelming, and we can work through it together. Does that make sense?” he asks, searching your face for understanding.

“Yes, it does.” As you stare into his brown eyes, a sudden, overwhelming wave of fondness for the man before washes over you, dragging you under the weight of the bone-deep feeling. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your face into the dip of his shoulder.

“Hey… hey,” Boba murmurs softly into your temple, running reassuring hands over your back, “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once, babygirl. It’s alright, nothing has to happen tonight. All this can end right now. Forever, if you want it to.”

Babygirl. Of all the pretty names he’s called you, it's the softest, most endearing. A promise of his tenderness and protection.

“No, ‘s not that,” you mumble into his shirt after a moment. He’s so warm, so perfect, so strong and patient… hell, he even smells like everything you’ve always wanted, cool earth, warm wood, and balmy spices. And the sound of his voice… oh, the sound of his voice when he calls you princess and babygirl, it's the most delicious music to ever grace your ears. Is it possible to love someone after just four weeks?

“Take your time, I’m right here,” his voice rumbles from his chest into your own. You let yourself melt into him, all your muscles going loose. He traces nonsense patterns over your shoulders and spine as you ride out the staggering emotion rolling through your body. Everything about him is so new, so unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and yet he settles into your soul like a long lost piece. It’s overwhelming.

Eventually the tide of it all pulls back and is replaced by a renewed fire flickering to life in between your thighs. Now that your body has caught up with your mind, your desire is bright and sharp. Easing up from your cradled position, you place a quick kiss on Boba’s soft lips. “Thank you… I’m good now.” You brush your palms over the broad expanse of his chest as if you can sweep away what just happened, skirt the magnitude of it all to get to the pleasure. “Where were we? Safewords?”

“Not so fast, little one. Remember the first rule, honesty? I need to know what’s going on up here,” he taps a finger against head, “before we can continue.”

You groan, letting your head fall back against your shoulders. Feelings are hard and… embarrassing.

“Do I need to remind you about the second rule?” he asks more firmly this time.

You huff and bob your head back to the front. “No, ‘respect for me and you,’ I remember.” Exhaling a long breath, you force your eyes to meet his. “It’s just that… that…” His gaze is too hard to hold while you try to get your sentiments to coalesce into actual words, so you scrunch your eyes closed. “It’s just that you’re so fucking hot and perfect and patient that it’s like you walked out of a dream and I don’t want to wake up if this is a dream and I’m so wet I think I’m going to lose my mind and-”

The feeling of Boba shaking beneath you makes you stop mid-sentence and crack open an eye. You’re met with an amused grin and sparkling brown eyes. “What’s so funny?” you demand, folding your arms over your chest defiantly.

“You really are something else, princess,” he chuckles, his mirth intertwined with affection. “But I didn’t mean to interrupt, go on.”

“No, not if you’re going to laugh at me,” you pout, turning your chin up dramatically.

“Hey, come on now,” Boba coaxes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I can’t help what you do to me either.”

What I do to him. The idea that you do to him anything like what he does to you is an alluring one. Humming in consideration, you let yourself be led back into him like a flower turning back to the sun. “Fine. Let’s just say that I really, really like you, professor.”

Holding your face steady with his fingers on the swell on your cheek, he brushes his lips over yours. “That’s good to hear, pretty girl, because I really, really like you, too.” Boba lets you capture him for a languid kiss, his hands finding their way back to your hips to pull them flush against his own, his half-hard cock swelling as it grinds it against the lace of your panties.

This time, you’re the one who breaks the kiss. “Now hurry up and tell me what else I need to know to get you inside of me,” you demand, dragging slow circles against him with your hips. You can only be expected to be so patient, after all.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” Boba teases, raking his eyes over your rumpled appearance. “You’re lucky I don’t have it in me to make you really wait. Now, rule number four is important, are you listening?”

You still in his lap, looking up at him with rapt attention, eager to hear what else he has to tell you. You nod, then remember he likes to hear your affirmation out loud. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Good.” Affixing you with a libertine stare, his fingers dig into your hips. “The fourth rule, little princess, is no coming without permission.”

The skittering beat of your heart skips in your chest and the rushing sound of hot blood fills your ears. Your nails dig into his pectorals and your mouth goes dry as the bass of his words reverberates in your ears with their salacious implications. When you try to swallow the weight of it down your throat, it sticks to your tongue like sand; he would hold your everything in the palm of his hand, you would be at his complete mercy.

Your legs shudder at the fresh arousal slicking your folds and Boba smirks, his eyes dark and electric, the embers of his irises sparking with things promised. His gaze falls to the futile bob of your throat before crawling back up to your face. “That’s all for my rules, anything you want to add?”

“N-not that I can think of right now… sir.” The epithet drips from your parched lips thick and sweet, dribbling down your chin like the dark juice of some exotic fruit. Paired with your hungry, sabled eyes, the sight makes Boba’s straining cock twitch against the heat of your inner thigh. Your tongue swipes over your lips and his eyes follow its movement with total attention.

“What do you want the safeword to be?” he asks after a tense couple of heartbeats, the heat of his desire curling up the edges of his words.

You think for a moment, then answer, “Kamino.”

“Looks like you really do hang on my every word.”

“Looks like you’re stalling.”

“Hmm, you look so pretty though,” he hums, “sitting in my lap all hot and bothered.”

Slitting your eyes in a siren stare, you lick your lips. “Bet I’d look even prettier underneath you naked and stuffed full of your cock.”

Boba groans, a strained huff puffing from his barrel chest. “Oh, I’m definitely going to have to teach you a lesson about patience after this one, little brat.”

“Can’t wait to attend that class, professor,” your murmur, swaying forward to steal a kiss from his soft lips.

Your joke earns you a quick chuckle from him before his face falls into something more serious. “So do all the rules sound good? Do we agree to them?”

You force yourself to actually sit back and consider all that he said instead of blindly agreeing to get to the part you want—him fucking you into whatever surface he throws you over. You’ve definitely jumped into bed with less forethought in the past, but those times weren’t this, they weren’t him. Your heart wasn’t on the line, and for once you truly care that your partner’s is too. “Yes, Boba, I agree,” you answer after a minute.

A smile like the sun shines forth from him at your acceptance. “Then these are our rules until we decide to revisit them. And it's ‘sir’ when we’re doing this. Repeat everything back for me, princess,” Boba directs. The glowing affection in his face and voice show his genuine appreciation for your cooperation as well as hint at his desire for what is to come.

The combination of his restraint and respect only heightens your intense need to have this man so deep inside you that you feel him in your very soul. “Honesty, respect, try things once, and n-no coming without permission. Kamino is our safe word. And I call you ‘sir,’” you list off obediently, doing your best to show him you took it all as seriously as him despite the arousal slicking up your thighs.

“Good job, my smart girl! Now, I’m going to make you feel so, so good, sweetheart. So good, that when I’m through with you, I'm going to be the only thing left in that pretty little head of yours.” His purred promises and the unholy tint of his dark eyes have you clenching and squirming in his lap, the burning ache between your legs almost painful.

Sliding his hands over the curve of your ass, Boba grips the back of your thighs and stands, hoisting your legs over his hip bones. You yelp, slinging your arms around his neck for balance and his chuckle buzzes in your ears and rumbles through the space in your chest. Carrying you down the hall, he nudges a door open, revealing the cozy interior of his bedroom. “You’re all mine now, princess, all mine to do whatever I like with,” he announces scornfully, “that’s what got you all riled up, isn’t it? Bet you’re so desperate you’d thank me for whatever scraps I give you.”

You know he’s baiting you, testing to see if you can keep your mouth shut and manners in place. Although it’s been barely two seconds since you rattled off the rules, you’re already sure you’re going to break the second one—probably often, if you’re being honest. But, if he wanted a docile, governable woman in his bed he certainly wouldn’t have picked you in the first place. “You gonna talk all night or are you gonna fuck me?” you challenge, biting down on his earlobe and tugging.

Boba claps an open palm against the plush of your ass and you cry out in surprise. It stings.

“Best show me some respect, pretty girl,” he hisses, “because punishment for breaking the rules is whatever I think you deserve, and I have plenty of ideas that’ll make you sorry.”

“Oh, what? Like you’re going to put me over your knee and spank me? I’m not a child,” you retort, rolling your eyes, your heart thundering in your chest. There’s no decorum to save you from his wrath now. But I’m not here for salvation.

Boba lets out a sharp, acidic laugh. “You’re right, sweetheart, you are all grown up. That means I don’t have to hold back… or stop when you beg me to.” With that, he sinks down to sit on the mattress and slings you face down across his lap like a rag doll.

Blood is pooling in your brain, your muscles burning with tense adrenaline and your hands scrambling to cling to his leg at your sudden change in position. The thought of Boba doing just exactly as he promised has you clenching around nothing, much to your horror. Using his ankle as leverage, you crane your neck back to glower at the smug man. “You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you warn, though the lurid gleam in his eye tells you he absolutely would.

Boba grins like the damn devil, his scarred hands shoving your dress up to reveal the bare skin of your cheeks in response to your threat. He lets out a low groan at the sight of your lacy crimson panties and traces a finger over the delicate material, sending a shiver rattling through you.

“Oh, my pretty little princess,” he purrs, the dim light glinting off his canines, “you want this so karking bad, don’t you? You want someone to shut you up so damn much you’ll throw yourself right into the lion’s den to get it. Don’t worry, I know just what to do with brats like you.”

It feels like every last drop of moisture evaporates from your throat while your heart howls in your ears. You’re about to be burned at the stake and all you can think about is handing him the fucking match. “Do it then,” you spit out, digging your nails into his leg.

“You remember your word?” he confirms, his voice rough with authority.

Am I really going to let his man spank me? You swallow, your cunt burning against your panties. Both of your questions end up being answered by your mouth a second later. “Y-yes, sir.”

He smooths his broad palms over the globes of your ass, warming the skin up. “Good girl,” he praises, “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

Your face flashes with the dual heat of mortification and desire. The pool of arousal in your lower belly begins to scald your insides as his flames lick up your legs.

“Now, I was going to give you just five. But since you wanted to run that big mouth of yours so much, you’re going to get ten to make sure you learn your lesson,” Boba taunts, harshly palming the flesh in his hands. “And you’re going to count each one out loud for me, understand?”

Your brain is boiling with the opposing urges to try to twist out of his grasp or kowtow to his every demand. Boba runs his thumb under the waistband of your lingerie and snaps it against your skin. You squeak and shuffle in his lap, your answer spilling from your lips. “Yes, sir!” Evidently, your mouth had a mind of its own.

Or do I actually want all of this as bad as he says I do? Before you can ponder that revelation any further, however, a crack splits through the room and stinging pain erupts across your right cheek. “Shit!” you cry out, your back arching up off his thighs at the searing blow.

“What, you thought I was going to go easy on you?” Boba barks out a laugh and shoves you back down, rubbing a soothing hand over the prickling skin. “You little brats always think you can just do whatever you want and get away with it, that’s why you need someone to mark you up and remind you who’s in charge. Now remember to count or you get more.”

The number comes out as a croak. What had you gotten yourself into? Why is this making you even wetter? And why do you want him to do it again?

All those questions scatter as the next four strikes land in quick succession, sharp and precise across the expanse of your backside. Each one sends you sprawling across his lap and Boba rubs a comforting hand over your abused flesh as you squirm back into position. Your voice sounds utterly wrecked when you stammer out the number five.

Tucking an arm around your waist, Boba leans down to gently scratch his fingers against your scalp. The juxtaposition of his pain and pleasure is dizzying in the best way, like the golden buzz of sweet wine mixed with the harsh burn of honied whiskey. “You’re doing so good for me,” he hums, deep and warm, “taking your punishment so well. Knew you could do it, my strong girl.”

The satisfaction of pleasing him burns bright in your chest. More dangerously, however, it makes you want to do whatever it takes to hear it again.

He retracts his hand a few moments later and you groan at the loss of the pleasant scratching, your head following in its wake. Boba chuckles and rearranges your weight over his thighs. “You’re almost done, you can do five more, can’t you, princess?”

Screwing your eyes closed, you press your face into his calf. “Yes, sir,” you grumble into the fabric of his pants.

“Can’t hear you,” he taunts, kneading the heated flesh of your ass.

You repeat your answer louder. How is this so hot and embarrassing at the same time?

“Atta girl.”

His next smack collides with the outside of your left cheek and you can’t decide if it hurts more or less when his hand comes into contact with new skin. Number seven and eight make you make you reconsider each time, and nine sends a plea rushing from your lips.

“Aw, is it too much for you? Too much for my little princess?” he mocks, his voice flush with false sympathy. “Maybe next time you’ll actually think before you open that disrespectful mouth.” His worn hands massage the pain into your rear as he continues on, his voice dropping to almost a groan, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this, sweetheart, waiting to teach you some goddamn respect. That’s why you act out, isn’t it? You’re desperate for someone to put you in your place, filthy brat.”

“Please!” you moan, your head swimming with want. You hear Boba’s breath catch and a curse hiss from his lips. Shit, did I say that out loud?! The final blow lands directly over the damp fabric stretched over your slit and you cry out in a mangled moan, jagged thrills of pleasure spiking through your core. “Ten!” you wail, relief swelling in your chest. It feels like your ass is on fire, pin pricks of pain needling your abused flesh.

Boba scoops you up, his powerful arms tossing your knees around his hips and he seals his lips over your own. “Fuck,” he pants into you, his cock twitching against your thigh, “you did so good for me, taking it all like the good little girl you are.” When you break for air, his hands come up to cup your face. “How’re you feeling, everything okay?” he asks, brushing his thumbs over the tops of your cheeks, “You can talk to me regularly, princess.”

You wince as your tender skin comes into contact with his thighs, but the pain is quickly dissolving into a warm, corrupted pleasure—like rubbing away the pain of a bruise. Your eyelids drift close, your cheek coming to rest on Boba’s own, seeking the comfort of his skin on yours. You don’t know just what you feel, not exactly and not yet. There’s so many feelings and thoughts flicking through your head, of desire and emotion and revelation, that it’s all a blur like a swirling sea. Boba stands as the one island in the vastness of this churning ocean, strong and steady—a refuge to weather the storm in.

Rule one, be honest. Rule two, respect myself, listen to what my body tells me.

“Can… can you just hold me for a moment?” you whisper against him, leaning into his inviting warmth.

“Of course, babygirl, come here,” he murmurs, the domineering edge to voice gone. He eases you forward into his chest where you immediately find your favorite spot in the crook of his neck. “Is it too much?” he questions softly. “We can stop, I won’t be upset. This is about you enjoying yourself.”

“No…” you sigh into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent of him. “It’s… it’s just that I am enjoying myself. But I’ve never felt all these things and I’m not sure if I should be embarrassed or ashamed that getting spanked and talked down to makes me so fucking turned on. What does that say about me?”

An affectionate, comforting sound rumbles from his chest as he strokes the nape of your neck with light fingers. “Thank you for being honest, I know it can be hard.” He lets you snuggle up against him and continues once he feels the muscles in your shoulders relax. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying these types of things, it doesn’t mean you’re weak or any less of the confident, assertive woman you are.”

“So why do people enjoy it, then? Giving up control?” you press, hoping his experience would tell you something about your own. He always seemed to have all the answers.

“Lots of reasons. Some say they like to give all the decisions to someone else, to clear their mind and just be told what to do. It lets them let go of everything and explore parts of themselves they don’t usually get to or don’t feel comfortable doing in the ‘real world.’ For others, they like pleasing their partner and the act of ‘being good.’ Some even find it empowering, letting their partner know exactly what they need them to do in order to experience intense pleasure. It can be a mix of these reasons or none of them at all, it’s different for every person,” he explains, resting his chin on top of your head.

While you see the appeal of those reasons, you’re not totally sure if any of them are what you’re looking for. It makes you wonder what Boba seeks in all this. “What about you, why do you like being in control?”

His chest rises and falls with a couple breaths, carrying you with him, before he answers. “It… it feels good to me, almost natural. It calms my mind and lets me focus, really and truly focus. Knowing that I decide the when, where, and how of someone else’s pain and pleasure… it’s powerful. The trust that my partner has in me is another facet of it, I enjoy making my partner feel safe and looked after.”

“You make me feel safe,” you sigh contentedly. “But I never… I’m not supposed to need looking after. I can take care of myself, I always have.”

“As you should. But everyone needs someone to care for them once in a while, princess, that’s why people like to do it in the bedroom. I like taking care of my partner, spoiling and rewarding them as much as I do punishing or denying them.”

Realization snaps into focus in your mind and you sit up, staring into the dark depths of Boba’s eyes. You can almost feel your pupils dilate as your thighs tense around his broad frame. Your mouth falls open but no words come out, your eyes pleading for his understanding instead. While the cage of your true desire had already been unlocked, it’s only now that you understand why.

“Oh,” he breathes, his chest shuddering with a sharp intake of air, “that’s it, isn’t it, little one? You want to be taken care of, spoiled… to have someone give you everything you’re too scared to ask for. You need permission to give it all up, don’t you? You need to know it’s okay to let go?” His eyes burn with the fires of your rebirth and you’re ready to be thrown on the pyre.

You nod hastily, earnest and eager, your teeth biting down on your lip. You need to know it’s okay to give up control of the blaze in your chest, that it would be fed and tended to carefully and with good intentions—that it wouldn’t be doused or tamped down to crushed coals. And maybe, if you were so lucky, it would even be funneled and fanned by expert hands that knew how to harness its power.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Boba croons, the gravel of his rasping voice smoothed over with adoration, “precious thing, I’m going to take such good care of you. You can let go, my pretty little princess, I’ve got you, it’s okay. I’m going to treat you like you deserve, babygirl, don’t you worry anymore. Just let go.”

And just like that, your entire universe erupts into full color, your stars aligning with his planets to unlock your deepest desires. All it took was letting go.

#and so the smut begins #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #professor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #professor boba fett #fanfic #ex libris fic #zwei writes

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